May – August, 2003: Passport Page 1 & 2 - Australia

Introduction

Some time ago as I was walking along the Thames River on the way to meet a friend, I began to think about the things which needed to be done over the coming weeks, and one of the main tasks was to send off for a new passport. My current one was in condition that gave me trouble entering foreign countries. But, not to worry, for all the grief I received, it was equally reciprocated by my own country, the U.S.

It took almost 9 years to beat and shred the passport to its state whether through the washing machine, blinding Brazilian mist and dense mud,  Swiss snow, oppressive Australian sun and sea, freezing English rain, mind numbing Slovenian gales, Spanish botellones, Patagonian expeditions, Moroccan bush, and the rough and tumble back pocket of my jeans. It has been through its test, survived and, now, retired.

On my way to put the document to rest, I took it out one last time to look at all it had been through. As I flicked past the blue, frayed and tattered cover and began looking through each of the worn pages, I started to realize what a journey it had been on. Over the past 9 years, a collage of stamps had been littered over 54 pages and, in doing so, left a trail crossing 5 continents, over 30 countries, encountered a collection of some of the best people in world from so many different backgrounds and generated memories that have and will continue to propel my soul to the place it eternally longs for and will never cease searching for again, again and again.

Each page, unequivocally, owns a unique memory, person or group of friends, a memorable place, an adventure and, ultimately, a place in my heart that will forever bring tears of happiness to my eyes for the life and friends that I´ve been so fortunate to have. As I go through, what I consider to be, my life´s journey up until now, I want to sit down and memorialize a selected memory from each page of my passport in an effort to crystalize and record the amazing times we´ve shared over such a short period. Even more importantly, such an endeavor, I would hope, will ultimately serve and remind us of the opportunities we are so fortunately given and to take of advantage of them as you never know when they´ll pass you by again.

So, on we go….

May – August, 2003: Passport Pages 1 & 2 - Australia

To this day, I can remember the genesis of the idea, which started, for better or worse, the insatiable desire to travel as far as the mind will permit.

It was in the University of Georgia library in Athens while ostensibly there to study. For what? It wasn´t important whatever it was since the idea hatched that day has undoubtedly led me to where I am today.

It was the beginning of our sophomore second semester, and I was there with a group of four or five friends pondering what we could do over the upcoming summer. There was the usual talk of going to the beach and finding work, perhaps doing a road trip to Bonnaroo or doing summer school – to name a few. However, the most compelling and seemingly far-fetched idea that emerged was to head to Australia, find work and live in a city like Melbourne or Sydney - the only two places we had even heard of at the time.

So then and there, the research began. I can vividly remember the dreams of immaculate luxury we thought we´d be able to afford given the strength of the greenback relative to the Aussie dollar. We envisaged renting beautiful condos perched in the center of Melbourne or Sydney with sun drenched pools, living a stone´s throw from the beach, surrounded by American crazed women and, who gives a damn, it was Australia!

It was going to be an adventure fit for kings, Australian beer (probably Fosters) and the all too obvious kangaroos, koalas and “crocs.” Of course, this was ignoring the fact we did not have jobs even remotely close to arranged, much less even started considering. As the journey unfolded, we could not have been further from the truth except for the beer (but not Fosters).

Unlikely where you think it would be....

As the trip began to materialize with the visa process and rounding out the cost, the number of interested and disillusioned fell down from five to four and then there were three left at the end. John Fleming, Wes Conner and me (and eventually my brother Jackson).

After considerable research and whimsical dreaming, the final plan was a cinch and as follows:

• Fly 24 hours, halfway across the world to a place we had never been. Like taking candy from a baby.

• Arrive in Sydney, get our bearings straight over 2 days and buy a second hand car. Ok, slightly more complicated but easy enough. We can drive – never mind it will be on the left side of the road.

• Drive north, no particular destination in mind, and find a suitable home for 6 – 8 weeks. Dreaming is easy. Reality…we´ll get to that when we have to.

• Find a job. Secondary…shouldn´t be tough…

• After 6 – 8 weeks, quit the job and travel for another 4 weeks or so. This was what the trip was all about...

•  Fly back to the U.S. and start our junior year of college in late August. Crikey!

In early May, it began. 

I was the first to arrive in Sydney with John and Wes touching down two days later. By the time my comrades had gotten to Oz, I had picked up and moved out to Manly Beach to begin the search for our car and, lucky enough, I had already tracked down a “gem,” which would later earn the name Bessy - what a bitch she would be but we loved her.

To give you an idea of the machine we had purchased for about USD$1,000, she was a Holden Commodore manufactured in 1979, ran on leaded fuel, came with some camping equipment you could have likely bought at the DollarTree on sale and was jammed full of other surprises which would uncover themselves as the trip took its course.

What a bargain, right? We had no idea what ole´ Bessy had in store for us.

After a quick tour of Sydney´s harbor quay, Opera House and spotting the fountain from the first Matrix movie, we headed out to Manly to pack up our things and meet up with an English bloke travelling with us for the first leg of our trip up to Nimbin, a hippie community in north New South Wales, located about a 8 – 10 hour drive from Sydney.

Since Brandon was from England and was accustomed to driving on the left side of the road, we opted to let him start the driving. It was soon apparent he wanted to get there quickly, so Bessy was awakened – with a vengeance. Brandon, followed by us, proceeded to push her as hard as she could go, and within 2 – 3 hours, she started to become aggravated and began to rattle. Not bothered one bit, onward we went as fast as Bessy could manage. Close to 6 or 7 hours into our drive, the rattling and ceaseless engine whining became so loud talking was not an option, but on the flipside, you were given a never ending ass massage from the car´s vibrations.  Our journey continued ignoring the cacophony of sounds engulfing us.

I can clearly remember when the noise and vibrations stopped while cruising through a roundabout. We thought “it must have fixed itself”! Finally, conversation could resume. Shockingly, five minutes later we immediately knew an issue had arisen when we saw the temperature gauge off the chart, and before we had time to think that one through, steam started billowing out from underneath the hood. Immediately afterwards, the engine stopped.

And there we were – our first real night in Oz, on the side of a dark isolated, Australian back road somewhere about 5 miles from a town called Casino with dingos howling, thunder rumbling off in the distance and road trains occasionally blowing by us with no intention of stopping. This wasn´t at all what we had imagined back when the idea took hold back in Athens.

Finally, after a pathetic attempt at trying to fix the engine, we managed to hitch a ride into town, have the car towed and spent our first night on the road sleeping inside that bitch Bessy. The next day we fortunately were able to locate a mechanic, fix the car, make it to Nimbin and meet one of the more memorable characters of our trip – an old burnt out, nearly toothless hippie named Jimmy.

According to Jimmy, he had travelled the world (who knows if it anything he told us was true), which was pretty cool given we had relatively limited experience, especially when in comparison to the tales we were regaled with. But, even more noteworthy was the way he compared the cost of everything, especially in India, to the dollar, Australian! Why we chose him to speak to…I do not know. He was probably the drunkest (or highest) guy in the bar, but we were pretty open to talking to anyone given what had happened the prior 24 hours.

Upon further recollection, we sat there and talked with him for hours I´d bet – probably to educate ourselves on the FX rate between Jimmy´s selected country and the dollar – Australian! So, there ended our first night in Nimbin, a beautiful and definitely unique village nestled in the green mountains of interior New South Wales.

Bessie doing the "walk of shame" in Casino

The next morning Bessy gave us another surprise. She didn´t start. Shit. We were pretty upset at that point, but we obviously had more to learn about her subtle nuances. After 30 minutes or so of unleashing a creative outpouring of disparaging remarks aimed at our workhorse, Wes figured out the key to awakening Her Majesty. The car apparently had a choke! Five minutes later, we were off and up the eastern coast of Australia
.

First to the posh, surfer town of Noosa for a night, and, after an hour or two of searching for work the following day, we decided best to push on ahead - destination Cairns in the far north of Queensland. After 18 hours of driving and unparalleled teamwork, we made it to our “home” for the next 7 weeks. Little did we know, the adventure had only just begun.

While Cairns isn´t known for its charm, it does serve as a gateway to the tropical north of Australia, and during the winter, the weather is spectacular with abundant sun, pleasant temperatures and its waters generally free of the most deadly animal in the world – no, not the great white shark, but the box jellyfish. Read about them. Pretty fascinating.

Cairns is also relatively well known on the backpacker circuit for the nightlife – good or bad…depends on who you ask.

Japenese fire twirling - our hostel´s nightly entertainment

• While I could write a hundred pages retelling the rest of our adventure, I´m going to attempt to summarize the key memories I´ve taken away and will always remind me of just how sweet our journey to the other side of the world was.

• Lived in a long term hostel, sharing a room with, initially, three but expanded to five in our last days. Other tenants were primarily comprised of Japanese and European hippies spending endless nights occupying the concrete courtyard behind the hotel, twirling fire laden rods, blowing on the didgeridoo and sucking down some delicious XXXX (Queensland´s beer).

• Within the first week, we befriended a guy who invited us out to his boat to cook us some “prawns” (shrimp) and showered us with his stories of being a fisherman. Given his congenial disposition, we asked if he wanted to move into our hostel and share a room. He did. What did not know was….while he wasn´t plucking prawns from the sea, he was contracted as a male escort, to put it diplomatically. In other words, a gigolo. Needless to say, this was a first and likely the last. I can now put a tick next to that box.

• This won´t mean much to those who haven´t spent time in Cairns, but we were frequent guests at the Woolshed, the SportsBar, Tropos – all of which were on the Cairns bar and Ultimate Party circuit. You´ll have to experience those places to understand, but I wouldn´t be in a rush to make it back, especially for the Ultimate Party side 

Not sure what I´m supposed to say here...

Our employment, following a dismal attempt at selling tickets for this shitty pub crawl called the Ultimate Party, was the following: John – a scam cook at the Hogsbreath Saloon, me – a full time dishwasher and, to this day, I don´t think Wes worked other than driving Dan, the gigolo, to his engagements. I firmly believe that over those 7 weeks I washed more dishes than many of you will do in a lifetime. Each night I can rest with the comfort that if my current job does not work out, dishwashing will forever be a profession in which I can shine like no other – pun intended.

• Hearing “Aye boys! Aye boys! It´s Dan. Let me up!” at 3 a.m. the morning.

• Watching Wes run like a little girl when a bat flew into our room.

• Watching the movies “Made” and “Saving Silverman” probably 50 times each. My favorite quote extracted from the two (it makes me laugh every time):

o   Ricky (Vince Vaughan): I don't understand why you're picking on me Max

o  Max: Because you lost my fuckin' carpet-cleaning van, and I don't like you, you cocksucker!

• Perfecting the art of cooking ramen noodles and miraculously lowering the cost of food anytime we wanted. I remember our discovery of mixing ramen noodles with cheese, and the dramatic impact the dish had on our stay, except when you passed out with a full bowl in your bed and were reminded the following morning of the disaster it actually was. We also managed to purchase all cakes and other sweet delicacies from Woolworths, the local supermarket, on sale. How? That is for you to figure out.

• Attending a rave underneath a star lit sky in a clearing within the rainforest until sunrise, and Bessy nearly giving out while trying to drive back.

I was not part of the team, but apparently, John, Wes and Dan performed a strip show for a bachelorette / hen party, bring down the house and losing all their clothes to Jungle Boogie. Surely, that will be their fall back – far more glamorous than my dish-washing. The Yongala shipwreck by Magnetic Island - sublime at 40 meters down. Equivalent to visiting another realm, and I will never forget watching a massive ray emerge from the deep, blue Coral Sea – seemingly floating through space to a magical oasis, which we were so fortunate to experience.  Fraser Island – home to Lake McKenzie and one of the most amazing places we visited. Being turned loose on the largest sand island in the world, devoid of roads, a massive 4x4 loaded with mountains of XXXX beer, camping each night beneath the stars and a stunning coastline is a recipe for building an unforgettable trip. After the rainforest rave... My naïve brother´s comments, to be fair he was only 16 or 17 at the time, and, during a coconut shot put contest, claiming he did a proper shot put only to be proven otherwise by a photo, which I still have as evidence – hurling the coconut like John Rocker (a baseball pitcher). Pushing that bitch Bessy into the scrap metal yard and selling her for 100 bucks – Australian! Tears of happiness and sadness at the same time. Surfers Paradise was likely the craziest night out of entire trip. While on our way to a hostel, we bumped into three guys emerging from a dark alley (why? Only we will know), and after the usual exchange of witty banter – mainly from their side, they invited us to stay at their place. We said what the hell and off we went. It must have been divine intervention. This group of surfers commanded a palace on the water with extraordinary views of the ocean and the Surfers skyline. That night John and I proceeded to float atop the clouds in a dizzying array of lights, music, alcohol and who knows what else in the bars and clubs of one of the more renowned party venues in Australia. One night and one night only...that was enough for sure.

 To sum it up, it started it all. Hold on for the ride.


Comments from John:

Hit the following topics:

1. The Rave/Full Moon Party - especially Dan acting like a cop (somewhat ironic given he was arrested several times while living with us)

2. The Lagoon at the Esplanade.  Lots of topless women and a few man beasts in thongs.

3. The arrival of Action Jackson and the hilarity in ensued (i.e. his skills with women via a Smeagol impression and some long discussion about Lincoln's secretary being named Kennedy and Kennedy's secretary being named Lincoln, drooling uncontrollably after a particularly large challenge, sleeping with the dog in Surfer's)

4. The Fantasy Song League/Draft.  Picking songs that we knew we were going to hear every night.  You could probably work this in to you discussion of Sports Bar/Tropos/The Woolshed.

5. Ricardo - our Brazilian scuba-friend.  Remember when his Dad came and went out for drinks with us 

6. Playing penny slots at the Casino to get free beer and watch the State of Origin.

7. Taking day trips to Port Douglas and the rain forests north of Cairns. (I believe Wes chauferred Dan there for one of his engagements)  

8. Getting pulled over when you accidentally decided to drive on the wrong side of the road (I think we were coming back from Port Douglas) and again at night a few weeks after our registration had expired.

9. Wes working at the Good Food Cafe (with pictures of the food on the walls)

10. The pool party with the Ultimate Party Crew.

12.  The ride from whatever town where we stayed the night before Bessie broke down, I have some video footage of us topping out at about 15 km/hr with smoke coming out of the hood.

14. Mickie - the Swiss, cougar, mindbending-goddess

15. Johno's Blues Bar (Mustang Sally)

16. Being terrible at trying to sell tickets to the Ultimate Party.

17. When I was trying to drive that truck on Frasier's Island, I think I gave those Brits whiplash.

18. The shitty boat we were on in the Whitsunday Islands.  It looked great in the brochure, but is was old as hell.  Plus that guy on the crew who looked like the Australian Paul Shaffer.

Our captain...

19.  The awful food at the Woolshed, and trying to save up 50 cents to get extra cheese on your spaghetti.

20. Leaving Wes with Dan, I was worried we might never see him again