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Published: August 17th 2009
Bondi Beach
note the tell-tale traveler signs, killer tan, soft midsectionNote on the title: Unlike many Americans, I do understand that the city is not pronounced "Mel-born" However the proper pronunciation kills my little pun. For the record, it's "Mel-burn." The phonetics are a little unfortunate considering the recent Australian bush fires that have ravaged the Victoria countryside. These of course differ from American Bush fires, which tend to be effigies.
Australia is a land of anomalies. It's this massive hunk of Earth way out in the middle of nowhere Indian Ocean. Its nearest neighbor is Asia, it's heritage English but its attitude is pure Southern California. Outside of a paint splatter of tiny island nations, Australia makes up the entirety of a continent (Austrailasia, Oceania, whatever the hell people are calling it these days). However its population barely surpasses that of Tokyo alone. For all the land that Australia is given, the Aussies only use a small smattering. Other than a handful of coastal cities that circumference its outer rim, the country is made up of vast expanses of sparsely populated dust. Australia's interior is like the dance floor at a middle school homecoming. All the nervous little 7th graders hiding on the perimeter, terrified to break the ice
and be seen in the middle. That is of course except for Ayer's Rock, who is the fat kid in the center doing the robot.
Millenia of isolation has allowed the flora and fauna to develop without outside genetic influence. From Freakish beasts like the kangaroo and platypus that indefinitely prove God is a drinker, to Red Beets on hamburgers to the series of clicks and grunts that they call the English language. Everything is weird down under. (Quick Aussie vocab lesson: They do say G'day and mate, but dare not to tell them to put another shrimp on the barbie. "We don't even call them shrimp, we call them prawns" From my observations, Jim Carrey's indiscretion in Dumb and Dumber just barely beats out British colonialism as the greatest injustice in Australian history.) The most amazing thing about Oz is despite all of the wackiness you're confronted with at all times, how at home we felt.
Certainly our comfort level had a lot to do with the fact that we had been bombarded by neural hacky-sack session that is travel in Asia. With our minds pummeled into a gelatinous goo by the never-ending difficulty of typically simple
tasks, returning to a land where they speak my language (sort-of) was a huge comfort. After months of that classic Asian blank stare that tells you despite your screaming, sweating, pantomiming, charade-like attempts at communication, absolutely no information has been transferred, I can handle cars on the wrong side of the road (you'll notice i said wrong. We invented the automobile, we decide. Just to make things Even-Steven, we'll call or fries chips from now on. A deep fried olive branch.) Our comfort level was then multiplied to the umpteenth power by that recurring theme that seems to pop up so frequently in recent writings: a familiar face abroad. I feel like i should change the name of this blog to "How to make up for being a massive burden abroad by showering down praise to strangers over the internet."
The first humanitarian to graciously take in our weary bones was Jenny's old Bacara friend Katie in Sydney. Katie holds a special distinction because it was a conversation about her travels that eventually spawned the first-ever travel chat that Jenny and I had (we all know what a disaster that turned out to be). Katie was kind enough not
only to put us up in her house in Newtown, but to parade us around to all her favorite digs. Thanks to her guidance we were able to compliment our lame tourist checklist of activities (which included the Harbor Bridge, Opera House, Sydney Zoo, Bondi Beach and Oceanarium) with time spent at some very cool local spots that no visitor would ever just wander into on their own (unless they were drunk, in which case they're probably Australian to start out with).
Sydney was rad but the absolute highlight of our time with Katie was an opportunity provided by her incredibly gracious roommate Emmie. Emmie's parents bailed on the hustle and bustle of a life in London to set up shop on an olive farm in Australia's heralded wine country called the Hunter Valley. For two days we lavished in the joy that is wine tasting, fishing, bonfires, atv's and some of the best food I've ever eaten, EVER. We even got to see wild kangaroos and plant our own olive trees that i assume are kicking the shit out of all the others in the field (they are in fact American trees, winning is what we do. Except
in soccer and healthcare). The hospitality we received from Katie, Emmie and her parents was truly staggering and humble words from a sarcastic punk like myself don't come close to doing it justice.
As all good things must, our Sydney time came to an end. A quick 1 hour flight to Melbourne led us to a reunion that had been 12 months and 6 continents in the making. We were finally brought back together with our famed friends Anthony and Katrina (quick recap: we met these two in Peru on our Machu Pichu trek in '07. We were green, inexperienced idiots and they were in the end of an epic 3 years abroad. Our month together through South America became backpack boot-camp where we learned all the skills we've employed through our wanderings. They spent their last days traveling with us and it was only fitting that we brought our trek to a close by their side.) Melbourne is a city that maybe lacks Sydney's overtly sensational tourist appeal, but the proper guide and a touch of faith to follow them down some back alley's back alley show it to be a place that induces more vastly more entertainment.
If you begin to think, "I should not be in this alley. I am mere moments from being robbed, raped and murdered," you know you're close to a great pub.
Melbourne is the best friend from every John Hughes movie who is always in the background while the lead character lusts after the most popular chick in school, whom he inevitably wins over only to spurn for the friend after he learns that the popular chick is a superficial skank and the friend is totally smoking hot, if she'd just take of those damn paint splattered overalls. I'd love to tell you about all of the great spots to hit in Melbourne, but the fact of the matter is we were there to connect with people not a city. Not only is Melbourne home to Anth and Trin, but also our buddy Phil with whom we trekked through Botswana, Zambia and Mozambique. Unfortunately, our time with Phil was stunted by the fact that he was in the middle of finals. (He begged us to stay longer, even offering to pay for our new flights home to spend more time with him. What a guy. Legend if you will). Thankfully,
Anthony and Katrina had ample time off (and a car, a luxury only a backpacker can really drool over) allowing us to get out of town and out into the staggering Victoria countryside.
First was a trip out to Philip island where we watched hundreds of teacup penguins scamper up the beach after a day at sea fishing. Next a little waddling of our own in Yarra Valley wine country before returning to Melbourne for what is hopefully becoming a tradition for this foursome: Thanksgiving. Avid readers (aka grandma) will remember our thanksgiving meal that we shared with this very couple in '07 in Mendoza, Argentina. This meal was almost a carbon copy of that event. Same people, same food (chicken instead of turkey again, shit) and Anth even had the foresight to save a bottle of Argentine Malbec for the occasion. Only myself and Jenny could find a way to turn a stopover in one of the most geographically remote places on the planet into a homecoming. These again are the closing sentences in which i laud praise upon the people who took care of us in any given locale. Feels a little redundant? Too Bad, we were
A moment of reflection
"when is the next time i'll get some chocolate?" cared for with first class service all throughout the land down under and we are eternally grateful. Anth, Trin and Phil made it so on our homeward bound flight we were dropped of by loved ones in Oz and received by loved ones in the U.S. (After a three day stop in Fiji of course. What? want a Fiji blog. Ok, Title: Fiji-whiz. The beaches were stunning, Cava makes your tongue itch. the end).
Our return to U.S. soil marked the end of our aimless wanderings for the foreseeable future, call it an extended stopover. (if i were to write a blog about this current period it'd be called "CailForNowli" This trip has driven a love for travel deep within us, a thirst that can never be satiated. It has become a huge part of who we are and who we will be. Less life-defining, more life-affirming. Whatever ruts we find ourselves dug into in our lives, at least we can say "I was (insert amazing place) and I did (insert amazing thing)" Of course it's a complete and utter lie to say "I" did anything or even "me and Jenny" did anything. (it is also grammatically incorrect). The
Fishing
This precedes a horrific incident of all of us struggling to remove the hook while the fish clung to life and Jenny screamed "this is the worst moment of my life" over and over fact is, all of our experiences are inexorably indebted to more people than we can possibly ever thank. So at the risk of sounding like a total cheese-ball douche, I feel that a thanks are in order (in no particular order): To our families for their emotional, financial and logistical support. You saved our asses so many times we cant begin to list them. All of our traveling partners throughout the planet. Travel is 10% where you go, 10% what you do and 80% who you do it with. We've made friendships that will transcend distance, time and my intolerable lack of punctuation. As long as i have a place to sleep myself, so will all of you. To every cabbie who didn't fuck us over, every immigration official who eventually brought that stamp down, every street vendor who let me feel good about bartering d own to only 8 times the actual price, every adorable baby no matter what the shade, every hostel everywhere, every dorm-mate who kept his masturbation to a low shuffle, every creature from elephant to scorpion that reminds that while we may be the most complicated, man is certainly not earth's sole masterpiece. To internet
cafes, to facebook, to lonely planet, to the book exchange, to the almighty power of American currency (they say that God can't be bought, but if he could, he'd take dollars), to local beer, to the proliferation of the English language and every opportunity we had to not use it, to lusting for chaos while trying to maintain order, to every 20% tipper, to George Bush for making instant in-depth conversations with any foreigner, to yahoo sports fantasy football, to skype, the hostelbookers, to STA travel, to every struggle, awful time, injury, inconvenience, expense, sickness, lost article, broken bus and nightmare situation for providing a lens through which to compare all of the wonderful things. To everyone at home who has given me compliments on this blog. I have never been as proud of anything in my life as this trip and my documentation of it. Your praise has literally changed my life. Someday hopefully you'll be forced to pay for this shit.
I told myself i was gonna say goodbye in every language i know to finish this entry out, but i couldn't recall any but the obvious. I guess it's telling about the nature of the world
RangTang
Sydney Zoo that I can't muster even a few goodbyes but i know an litany of hellos.
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Christelle
non-member comment
Nice!
Hey! Your pics from Oz, and Fiji are amaizing. So nice! I 'll be traveling in Oz soon, around Melbourne, Adelaide and Qweensland, may be you could give me some tips :) I'm kinda jalous when i see your pics, cause my dream was always Fiji lol ! thks