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Published: December 25th 2008
As it is Christmas Eve and I'm working the graveyard shift, and as I am terribly lonely and bored, and seeming they haven’t blocked this website at work (yet) - I figure it's the perfect opportunity to recount what has been the most epic year of my life. This is also a good chance to pay my respect to the people who have not only made it possible, but also made it unforgettable. And maybe take you on a trip with me down old memory lane.
Also, seeming there are a lot of memories flying about as I put all this into perspective, and seeming I keep getting interrupted by jobs to do around the hotel, I apologize in advance if this entry is a little fractured and jumpy.
Where can I begin? Fittingly, I suppose I should start with a thank you to my family (not Tom) for taking me in and looking after me for a few months as the year began, and as I saved up for what would become a mammoth trip in every sense. How wonderful to stay with my family again - God knows we all need it sometimes and how lucky of me to get mine for 3 months after not living with them for four years. Although NZ was great fun, I suppose I was mostly working and sleeping, but the family time we did get was tear-jerkingly beautiful. And even though listening to James sleep talk most nights was fun, watching Eddie (or Elizabeth actually) go sleepwalking was even better. You kids are great, thanks for putting up with a big old handsome boofhead like me for so long. Mum, thanks for everything as always, and Dad, same to you. And happy 25th Wedding Anniversary once again. Well done, and congratulations on raising such good looking children, of course besides James... (cover his eyes for that bit).
Leaving New Zealand, the couple of months I spent in East Africa stick in my mind in a series of wondrous highs and crippling lows. The time I snapped my spinal cord in Uganda is an example of a crippling low. I'd been caught standing up in the truck over a terrible lurch in the road somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There was an almighty snap and I fell to the ground in a heap of excrutiating pain and paralysis. Being the tough and brave individual that I am, I took it in my stride and lay there quietly, unable to move, until we stopped that night. Luckily a woman on the truck saw that my pain was true, and confessed she was a sports therapist (she didn't want to let anyone know in case she ended up giving massages every day). After the expert diagnosis, it turned out to be only a torn muscle. The snapping sound was just a wild gorilla moving through some nearby jungle. I spent the next few days in bed and I had a friendly guy rubbing some sort of African Deep Heat into my back while I sung jungle mantras and the Ugandan Pygmy tribesmen forged healing effigies by my bed.
Some of that story was even true.
Moving on from Africa, I have made a series of expeditions to Europe, always in different company to different places. And this side of the world has offered me some of my memorable memories too. Like that time in Naples with the boys, when our olfactory senses were shooting into overload with all this talk of the world’s best pizza. Salivating at the chance to sample the original margarita, we based our directions on our sense of smell, unfortunately leading us into the very depths of the mafia-ridden backstreet slums teeming with dog-sized rats and armed street-urchins. Not to mention the shady dealers behind every garbage can... hang on, I said Naples didn’t I? Probably not garbage cans then. Just big piles of garbage. (Oh yes, I said it. Naples is a FILTHY city). We made it out alive in the end, but
was this just because of our affiliation with Papa Antonio, our silver-haired and kindly receptionist? I'll let you be the judge.
We found the pizza in the end as well. Delicious if you were wondering.
On top of all this madness and sadness, I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend. Times when even the charity-hyenas on the streets of London have unlatched themselves and walked away from me when they found I had no permanent address, when all I wanted was a conversation. Being on the road alone can be difficult, that's for sure. But blogging about loneliness is the beginning of a downwards spiral I'm not going down again. Anyone who's read my "Tears, pizzas, and thoughts of home" series will be glad to hear this I'm sure.
I have been able to marvel at some mighty contrasts too. Compare this: I have stayed in a hotel room which was apparently worth £250 a night (that was today in London) and I’ve saved money by sleeping in the back of a moving truck in the middle of the night in Africa, on a makeshift bed of camping mats and rolled up tents (which was exactly what the truck was shifting). This was halfway through a 4 day transit from Livingstone (at the bottom of Zambia) to Arusha (at the top of Tanzania). Look it up on a map. Four days! I'd done my shift on the road and just wanted some shut-eye. A man's got his needs. Found out the hard way that there's no way to tell the driver to stop if nature calls at night time. My God, that was a tough one to figure out - but another story entirely.
I’ve had moments of such squalor that I was reduced to begging for a pound (if you please, guvner) on Oxford Street. Tim was there. In fact, I think it was his fault we'd run out of money. Again. Wasn't it Mark Twain who always went on about how you've gotta be careful who you travel with. I should try to remember that.
I find it strange that so far, I have only really talked about the lows of the past year, I bet you're probably wondering if it's been this way all year. Well, you obviously haven't been keeping up to date on the blog. Anyway, it's past midnight now, so it's technically Christmas. Time to cheer things up a bit I think.
Events this year which will always stick in my mind as highlights would have to include standing in Trafalgar Square with what seemed like the entire population of London as the Olympic torch was passed over from Beijing to London for the 2012 Games. Seeing so many Londoners happy at the same time was overwhelming and a little bit scary, but absolutely amazing to be a part of.
I also vividly remember one afternoon I spent fishing with some Kenyan guys at Lake Naivasha, listening to their stories about all the tourists and fishermen that get bitten in half by the local hippos. They kept telling me to watch the water, as it was just about time for them to surface for the evening. I watched as the water was eerily disturbed all around the little pier we were sitting on, a bit terrified, and completely ready to run. I remember sitting there, waiting, then watching awestruck as all these hippos slowly began emerging from the lake, gleaming fat phantoms of the night, ready for their nightly grazing.
I didn't catch any fish though. I think it was the way I was casting off. Rubbish.
Besides my immediate family who I've already mentioned, I want to put out a very special thank you to two families who have been absolutely instrumental in making this year so spectacular for me.
The Maddick family in St Albans firstly, who took me in off the dirty streets of London, washed my clothes, even ironed my clothes!, fed me when I was hungry, warmed me when I was cold, and cared for me when I came down with the Black Death recently. (Only the good lord knows how I made it through that one, but I have a feeling it was my Auntie's mother-like care. Or maybe it was her lemon teas - I don't know) They are even having me over for Christmas today, which I am glad to be spending with them. I've thanked them before and I'll thank them again. They're all lovely, but my Auntie E is truly has a heart of gold. Thank you.
And the Gee family in Arusha, Tanzania, who took me in when I arrived in Africa, confused by all the enormous unusual looking insects climbing up my leg. They also fed me and looked after me when I came back and forth through Tanzania, probably a lot more dirty than you could imagine. And my Uncle who helped me with my travel around Africa, what a guy. Perhaps a little crazy from the old 'too long in Africa' syndrome, but great nonetheless. It's alright, he won't read this... I'm pretty sure I can get away with calling him a crazy Mzungu on this page. It's Christmas anyway.
I have spent a year watching and learning. Wasn’t it Euripides who said that experience and travel are education in themselves? I wouldn’t know - I never studied Roman history. But I think you get my point. Travelling has opened my eyes and taught me things about even myself that I didn't know, let alone the world and its people.
I have earned an even greater appreciation for Perth and Australia - especially after spending the past few months in England and even more especially after visiting the seaside in Brighton. Oh my. Would we call that a beach?
Finally, I must pay thanks to: anyone who has let me stay at their place, whether they know it or not. (Simultaneous apologies and thanks to Brad's roommate who was holidaying in France, not keeping an eye on her double bed in Leytonstone - and to a couple of hostels around London).
To anyone who has listened to my dreams and ever-changing plans for travel. I must have made a thousand plans and followed through with about 8.
To anyone who has sent me a friendly email. Even if it is a boring one, I have loved getting emails from home, from people I've met along the way, and from hostelworld.com, (but that’s only because it’s nice to get that friendly confirmation every night). I have told some people personally how much I appreciate their contact, and I truly do, and that goes for everyone. Sometimes the best cure for homesickness is a little chunk of home in your inbox.
To any of the people who have showed me into their homes and let me in on their way of life. Grandma and Alan in Leicester, Julie in Burgundy, the Kuikens in Amsterdam, the Gianoms in Zurich, the South Africans in Wimbledon etc etc etc.
To my brother Tom, who is probably wondering why he hasn't got a mention.
To all the people who have visited me in London, and all the people who have taught me something.
To all the people who have given me good advice, a cheaper ticket, or even that extra scoop of ice cream.
To all the people who have made me laugh, and all the people who have looked after me.
Thank you.
As far as I know, all the places I have visited will still be there if I wish to revisit them (except Venice - poor drowning Venice), but the people I have encountered along the way I may never see again. Who knows what will happen, but I'm sure glad I met them all. Even the crazies.
***
All in all, the more I have seen, the bigger the world seems - and that’s a frightening thought.... But isn't it exciting?
Merry Christmas and thanks for reading!
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non-member comment
O - Nice update, Merry Christmas, now go back to work!, D