As my 12 hour flight approaches its close after a winding flight plan detouring numerous countries due to pollitical turmoil, I glance out my window to see baron lands, sparsly scattered with white buildings and imagine bedouins on their camels camping down for another night in whichever place they have decided to call home.
As the plane makes its final turn over the mediterranean sea the view from my window changes dramatically, the sky aglow with the beaming beacons of downtown Tel-Aviv and I am immediately struck with the notion that this country might not be as backwards as I originally thought.
Your first step in downtown Tel-Aviv will re-assure you that you have entered one of the worlds most thriving metropolosis. An almost tailored mix of traditional middle eastern architecture and towering glass clad skyscrapers gives you a feeling of humble beginnings and bright futures. A city littered with cafés, restaurants, bars and clubs it is as if this city has been evacuated by all those over the age of 40.
A glance in any direction and you are met by the stares of locals eclectically dressed in Orthodox Jewish outfits or those donning the latest of designer bikini’s yet you can’t help but notice that there is no animosity between either faction, this is the key to Tel Aviv’s success, “come, and be who you are”.
From my hostel on Ben Yehuda St, one of Tel Aviv’s busiest streets I walk one block West and am met by a rush of mediterranean sea air. Sand glimmering with the beautiful pink sunset that graces this city every evening. All of the cities residents of whom have grown accustom to this have vacated the beach with the days sun. You find yourself in city, with a population of over 300,00, with your very own piece of mediterranean sand.
As the sun hides behind the horizon for another night, you ponder the nights meal and take a stroll up Tel Aviv’s main strip. Spoilt for choice between fresh falafel, shwarma and hummos on every corner you take the time to sit at a cosmopolitan café reminiscent of early Paris and watch as the fashionista crowd re-grace the streets for the evening ahead.
A pick of any bar near Tel-Aviv’s Carmel Markets will find you among throngs of young people, drinks in hand dancing away to classic rock and roll, more than willing to share their space with the foreigners. You would be hard pressed to spend 3 days in Tel-Aviv without being asked on trip around the country or back to someone’s house for a ‘proper’ Israeli meal.
A region steeped in difficulty, this shining light shows promise for the future of the region. ‘Care free’ does not due justice to the spirit eminating from the youthful smile Tel-Aviv constantly wears, and wait long enough into the night to hear a rapturous L’Chayim (to life) from any bar, to serve as your proof.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Memoirs Part 2
Travis and I sat around with the boys in senior hall for a few minutes, before we ventured on with the rest of the sign up procedures. I had to pick my classes, get my photo for my student id (the photographer has some magic trick where he makes everyone look like there from an episode of Saved by the Bell) and then we were on our way back for Travis’s birthday party.
It was an overwhelming experience meeting the extended family of the Armstrong’s and I hope they forgive me for not remembering all their names now but it was a long time ago, a time when I still retained a few more brain cells too. If you can imagine the Beverly Hillbillies in modern times, that’s a bit what it was like, an Aunty that’s a career Walmart employee, a female cousin decked out in Denim overalls, a Grandma from Georgia who comes close to the sweetest person I’ve ever met in my life (she kind of reminded me of the Granny off Sylvester and Tweety Bird), and a bunch of Jerry Springeresque males talking about the 6-point Deer they nearly shot last weekend on a hunting trip in Eastern Washington. As overwhelming as it was, until that point in my life I had never felt more comfortable with any group of people.
The first few weeks of my stay went by in a blur, hanging out with the family and kicking it with the boys, including my first introduction to Washington weed. If memory serves, it was Alan, Josh, Kyle and I; we’d taken off just before lunch started at school. Alan came from a wealthier family and had got a old school Cadillac coupe, leather interior, electric seats and one of the loudest stereo systems I have ever heard, well until I got back to Melbourne and started doing “Chap laps”. We were round at Josh’s cousins place, and they loaded up the bong with some stuff they called “White Rhino”, now I have never considered myself an expert on smoking protocol not even back then when smoking was the norm but I understood what was expected of someone when they were handed the bong in Melbourne. I wrongly assumed that smoking etiquette was a globally understood language, as I sucked the last of the dusted green through the foot long, freshly cleaned glass bong, I was met with gazes of amazement by my Cheech and Chong brothers. It didn’t take long for me to realize why one does not need to suck the whole cone down himself when dealing with really strong weed, I sat paralyzed while the world zoomed passed me, I could have been sitting on a couch full of infested nails but to me it felt like the most comfortable place in the world. I had a thousand hands all massaging every part of my body, the only problem was that we had to be back at school soon and I had to try and learn American History while feeling like I had just achieved my Buddhist enlightenment. I remember cleary the walk to Alans car, it felt like walking on of those moving sidewalks you find at airports, consistent speed without any work, I was sure I only existed from the waste up. Getting into the car was a little harder; because I literally could not feel my legs, I had to slide my hand along the seat to make sure I was at the right height to sit down. I’m pretty sure everyone knew where I had been when I got back to my American History class simply because I giggled every time I heard the name Sacagawea, and got the munchies when we spoke about General Custer…mmmmm Custard.
I dropped out of my calculus class, it’s strange to realize that as a standard year 10 student in Australia you can go to America take their hardest math class, and then drop it ‘cause it’s too easy, I switched classes to “Strength Training” which is hands down the best class I have taken in all my years of schooling, If you turn up to every class you get an A. The rest of my academic schedule was, English, Photo Journalism and I’m sure there was another one but I can’t remember what.
School went by as school does, Travis and his girlfriend were spending more and more time together which left me to my own vices, it wasn’t long before most of the school knew I had my older brothers old license, fortunately we look very similar and it also said I was 22. This gave me great power, and with great power comes great responsibility. It was my leverage for getting rides home after school when Travis was busy or if I wanted to go hang out somewhere after school. A quick trip to the liquor store and I had a chauffeur for the afternoon. That was, until Theresa found out what I was doing and confiscated the license from me.
I remember one after school trip succinctly; Travis and I drove down to his girlfriend Ashley’s place, they had apparently found a chick they thought was perfect to set me up with. Ashley’s family had a beautiful home, a nice two-story place but all that was down stairs was Ashley’s bedroom, a bathroom and another, living room I guess you’d call it.
It was in Ashley’s bedroom where I met Holly. The three of them sat on Ashley’s bed chatting about whatever, I wondered around Ashley’s room staring blankly at photo’s of that years festivities and posters of her current heartthrobs. My nerves were working overtime, no matter how many times I had watched Cruel Intentions or Stiflers god-like workings in American Pie, nothing had prepared me for this moment, but I somehow knew that Holly was going to be the one. With the grace of a three legged hippo, I slid myself onto the bed next to her, only to trip on a cord for Ashley’s bed side light, landing me squarely on top of Holly, I tried to play it off and started tickling her, this seemed to go down well until her right arm flung wildly in glee and smacked Travis square on the nose. We all sat upright a little shocked by the last 15 seconds happenings, if I could have crossed my fingers any harder or prayed anymore that this wasn’t going to stop my first time I’m sure I would be magic.
Holly grabbed my hand and begun to walk out of the room, and the nerves came rushing back, I don’t know if I was so nervous about what was actually going to happen I mean I knew how things worked, I had done a lot, I mean a lot of research (Dad’s internet bills will attest to that) I was more nervous about afterwards, it was my first time and I was already worried I wasn’t going to be good enough, or what I was going to talk to her about afterwards. We tried to get things started in the downstairs living room but with every noise from the rest of the house (Ashley’s mum and two little sisters were upstairs) my soldier reverted back to the trenches. After fumbling round like a monkey trying to solve a Rubik’s cube Holly took charge, she led me to the downstairs bathroom, turned on the radio and proceeded to give me the best 36 second of my life, then we went at it again, with Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” spurring me on from the radio I went at it like all the stars I’d seen, I was channeling Johnny Holmes, and Ron Jeremy moving with systematic rhythm. Well truth be told it probably looked more like a three year old dancing to drum and bass, but in the end I felt proud of my achievement. There was no awkwardness afterwards, just a grin from ear to ear. I had come to America in search of the infamous high school cheerleading girls with fake titts, Holly was neither a cheerleader or fake tittied, actually she was fairly naturally blessed I think that if she had added any more she’d look a little more like the hunchback of Notre Dam, but I still felt like I had conquered Everest. Now the world really was my oyster…
I didn’t see Holly again after that day, she had asked me to come back and see her a couple of times, but I had tasted manhood and know I wanted to beeline it for the buffet.
I guess losing my virginity that way I can understand why I have had so many one night stands with girls who’s names I don’t even know.
Next was homecoming having never been to a school dance before other than primary school where we weren’t allowed to dance to close to the girls, I was nervous about seeming a fool. I didn’t really have any close girl friends at school, and there wasn’t anyone I was hunting at the time, worked out in my favour though. My friend Josh came to me one day at the end of lunch and told me there was a cute Sophomore girl that still didn’t have a date to homecoming and I should ask her. Through the linoleum foyers we walked through the school cafeteria, around 30 circular tables each surrounded by blue plastic chairs, like the ones you sat in during grade 2. To the right side of the cafeteria was the food, a waist height metal pole led you around a semi circle in front of a number of bay marees bearing the days monstrosities, soggy burgers, cold hot dogs, an interesting version of a taco salad, and a fridge full of “juices”. We came out the other side of the cafeteria into the Sophomore Hall, and not 2 minutes later I was introduced to Amanda Poirier. She is still to this day one of the most beautiful I have ever met in my life, both inside and out, and after a brief introduction and a few words to each other it was decided she would be my homecoming date.
I had to rent a tux for the dance, buy a corsage, and then work out how I was going to get to Amanda’s place to pick her up considering I was about as useful as a one armed trapeze artist with and itchy arse on my own.
I had never rented a tux before so I went the whole shebang, suspenders, cumber bund, vest and bow tie, I didn’t realize at the time your not supposed to wear them all together. I sort of looked like a deli sandwich with all the meats laid on top of each other. It didn’t take many inquisitive looks for me to loose some of the outfit, relax a little and take note of the preparations that had gone into the dance. It was the “homecoming committee” that had completely transformed the school gym into our own little paradise, it was just like it’s shown on the movies, hanging drapes of the schools’ colours covering the walls, glitter and light dancing off the floor and the ceiling, and the silent pause as the homecoming King and Queen took their first dance. I got passed around like condoms at a whorehouse once the floor was open again; I think I danced with every girl in school that night and I’m sure I broke more than one toe.
Amanda and I have stayed friends since then, we actually hardly talk at all anymore but that’s due to my religiously erratic behaviour surrounding contact with friends overseas, but she will always be a shining light in my life. I have actually been back to Sedro-Woolley to stay with her, and her parents have come to Melbourne and stayed at my family’s beach house.
Alright this bit was a little cheesy I admit, but the stories will get better as the tale goes on, I am just stretching out what I can while I can remember it…
Hope your still enjoying all…
Appreciate the comments of everyone, I didn’t think my tales were all that different from everyone elses..
“My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them”
It was an overwhelming experience meeting the extended family of the Armstrong’s and I hope they forgive me for not remembering all their names now but it was a long time ago, a time when I still retained a few more brain cells too. If you can imagine the Beverly Hillbillies in modern times, that’s a bit what it was like, an Aunty that’s a career Walmart employee, a female cousin decked out in Denim overalls, a Grandma from Georgia who comes close to the sweetest person I’ve ever met in my life (she kind of reminded me of the Granny off Sylvester and Tweety Bird), and a bunch of Jerry Springeresque males talking about the 6-point Deer they nearly shot last weekend on a hunting trip in Eastern Washington. As overwhelming as it was, until that point in my life I had never felt more comfortable with any group of people.
The first few weeks of my stay went by in a blur, hanging out with the family and kicking it with the boys, including my first introduction to Washington weed. If memory serves, it was Alan, Josh, Kyle and I; we’d taken off just before lunch started at school. Alan came from a wealthier family and had got a old school Cadillac coupe, leather interior, electric seats and one of the loudest stereo systems I have ever heard, well until I got back to Melbourne and started doing “Chap laps”. We were round at Josh’s cousins place, and they loaded up the bong with some stuff they called “White Rhino”, now I have never considered myself an expert on smoking protocol not even back then when smoking was the norm but I understood what was expected of someone when they were handed the bong in Melbourne. I wrongly assumed that smoking etiquette was a globally understood language, as I sucked the last of the dusted green through the foot long, freshly cleaned glass bong, I was met with gazes of amazement by my Cheech and Chong brothers. It didn’t take long for me to realize why one does not need to suck the whole cone down himself when dealing with really strong weed, I sat paralyzed while the world zoomed passed me, I could have been sitting on a couch full of infested nails but to me it felt like the most comfortable place in the world. I had a thousand hands all massaging every part of my body, the only problem was that we had to be back at school soon and I had to try and learn American History while feeling like I had just achieved my Buddhist enlightenment. I remember cleary the walk to Alans car, it felt like walking on of those moving sidewalks you find at airports, consistent speed without any work, I was sure I only existed from the waste up. Getting into the car was a little harder; because I literally could not feel my legs, I had to slide my hand along the seat to make sure I was at the right height to sit down. I’m pretty sure everyone knew where I had been when I got back to my American History class simply because I giggled every time I heard the name Sacagawea, and got the munchies when we spoke about General Custer…mmmmm Custard.
I dropped out of my calculus class, it’s strange to realize that as a standard year 10 student in Australia you can go to America take their hardest math class, and then drop it ‘cause it’s too easy, I switched classes to “Strength Training” which is hands down the best class I have taken in all my years of schooling, If you turn up to every class you get an A. The rest of my academic schedule was, English, Photo Journalism and I’m sure there was another one but I can’t remember what.
School went by as school does, Travis and his girlfriend were spending more and more time together which left me to my own vices, it wasn’t long before most of the school knew I had my older brothers old license, fortunately we look very similar and it also said I was 22. This gave me great power, and with great power comes great responsibility. It was my leverage for getting rides home after school when Travis was busy or if I wanted to go hang out somewhere after school. A quick trip to the liquor store and I had a chauffeur for the afternoon. That was, until Theresa found out what I was doing and confiscated the license from me.
I remember one after school trip succinctly; Travis and I drove down to his girlfriend Ashley’s place, they had apparently found a chick they thought was perfect to set me up with. Ashley’s family had a beautiful home, a nice two-story place but all that was down stairs was Ashley’s bedroom, a bathroom and another, living room I guess you’d call it.
It was in Ashley’s bedroom where I met Holly. The three of them sat on Ashley’s bed chatting about whatever, I wondered around Ashley’s room staring blankly at photo’s of that years festivities and posters of her current heartthrobs. My nerves were working overtime, no matter how many times I had watched Cruel Intentions or Stiflers god-like workings in American Pie, nothing had prepared me for this moment, but I somehow knew that Holly was going to be the one. With the grace of a three legged hippo, I slid myself onto the bed next to her, only to trip on a cord for Ashley’s bed side light, landing me squarely on top of Holly, I tried to play it off and started tickling her, this seemed to go down well until her right arm flung wildly in glee and smacked Travis square on the nose. We all sat upright a little shocked by the last 15 seconds happenings, if I could have crossed my fingers any harder or prayed anymore that this wasn’t going to stop my first time I’m sure I would be magic.
Holly grabbed my hand and begun to walk out of the room, and the nerves came rushing back, I don’t know if I was so nervous about what was actually going to happen I mean I knew how things worked, I had done a lot, I mean a lot of research (Dad’s internet bills will attest to that) I was more nervous about afterwards, it was my first time and I was already worried I wasn’t going to be good enough, or what I was going to talk to her about afterwards. We tried to get things started in the downstairs living room but with every noise from the rest of the house (Ashley’s mum and two little sisters were upstairs) my soldier reverted back to the trenches. After fumbling round like a monkey trying to solve a Rubik’s cube Holly took charge, she led me to the downstairs bathroom, turned on the radio and proceeded to give me the best 36 second of my life, then we went at it again, with Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” spurring me on from the radio I went at it like all the stars I’d seen, I was channeling Johnny Holmes, and Ron Jeremy moving with systematic rhythm. Well truth be told it probably looked more like a three year old dancing to drum and bass, but in the end I felt proud of my achievement. There was no awkwardness afterwards, just a grin from ear to ear. I had come to America in search of the infamous high school cheerleading girls with fake titts, Holly was neither a cheerleader or fake tittied, actually she was fairly naturally blessed I think that if she had added any more she’d look a little more like the hunchback of Notre Dam, but I still felt like I had conquered Everest. Now the world really was my oyster…
I didn’t see Holly again after that day, she had asked me to come back and see her a couple of times, but I had tasted manhood and know I wanted to beeline it for the buffet.
I guess losing my virginity that way I can understand why I have had so many one night stands with girls who’s names I don’t even know.
Next was homecoming having never been to a school dance before other than primary school where we weren’t allowed to dance to close to the girls, I was nervous about seeming a fool. I didn’t really have any close girl friends at school, and there wasn’t anyone I was hunting at the time, worked out in my favour though. My friend Josh came to me one day at the end of lunch and told me there was a cute Sophomore girl that still didn’t have a date to homecoming and I should ask her. Through the linoleum foyers we walked through the school cafeteria, around 30 circular tables each surrounded by blue plastic chairs, like the ones you sat in during grade 2. To the right side of the cafeteria was the food, a waist height metal pole led you around a semi circle in front of a number of bay marees bearing the days monstrosities, soggy burgers, cold hot dogs, an interesting version of a taco salad, and a fridge full of “juices”. We came out the other side of the cafeteria into the Sophomore Hall, and not 2 minutes later I was introduced to Amanda Poirier. She is still to this day one of the most beautiful I have ever met in my life, both inside and out, and after a brief introduction and a few words to each other it was decided she would be my homecoming date.
I had to rent a tux for the dance, buy a corsage, and then work out how I was going to get to Amanda’s place to pick her up considering I was about as useful as a one armed trapeze artist with and itchy arse on my own.
I had never rented a tux before so I went the whole shebang, suspenders, cumber bund, vest and bow tie, I didn’t realize at the time your not supposed to wear them all together. I sort of looked like a deli sandwich with all the meats laid on top of each other. It didn’t take many inquisitive looks for me to loose some of the outfit, relax a little and take note of the preparations that had gone into the dance. It was the “homecoming committee” that had completely transformed the school gym into our own little paradise, it was just like it’s shown on the movies, hanging drapes of the schools’ colours covering the walls, glitter and light dancing off the floor and the ceiling, and the silent pause as the homecoming King and Queen took their first dance. I got passed around like condoms at a whorehouse once the floor was open again; I think I danced with every girl in school that night and I’m sure I broke more than one toe.
Amanda and I have stayed friends since then, we actually hardly talk at all anymore but that’s due to my religiously erratic behaviour surrounding contact with friends overseas, but she will always be a shining light in my life. I have actually been back to Sedro-Woolley to stay with her, and her parents have come to Melbourne and stayed at my family’s beach house.
Alright this bit was a little cheesy I admit, but the stories will get better as the tale goes on, I am just stretching out what I can while I can remember it…
Hope your still enjoying all…
Appreciate the comments of everyone, I didn’t think my tales were all that different from everyone elses..
“My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them”
Memoirs Part 1
So I’d decided to pack my bags, leave all of my worldly possessions behind and set about on an adventure to end all adventures. I’d worked tirelessly for 6 months and I told my parents I’d be home when I was home. I was going to take on obstacles no one in the world had faced before and meet thousands of amazing people in thousands of amazing places. I would walk the roads that people in ancient times carved with their bare hands and stand still shocked with amazement at the beauty and engineering magnificence of the worlds’ newest structures. I was going to taste tastes that should never be cursed upon the most evil of people, and see things that only eyes of the enlightened should see. I was destined somewhere during this journey to find myself, and discover what it is I would do with the rest of my life…
The naivety of the young wayward traveler, the above paragraph is something I firmly believed in before I took my first round world adventure. I am now 5 round world trips under my belt as well as countless overseas holidays, I have lived in numerous countries, worked an overwhelmingly large number of jobs, met some of the most amazing people in the world, and been arrested in three different continents, and now know that everything I have written above, well nearly everything is left completely upto chance.
I cannot take a standpoint for the rest of this story as a critic and inform you of the pros or cons and ins or outs of all of the worlds independent states. I can however talk honestly and factually with the occasional flamboyant exaggeration of my own experience as a globe trotting bandit who started with a wild history making dream and ended up sexually diseased, alcohol addicted and in a horrendous amount of debt.
My travel career started early, I don’t remember much of the trips anymore as my memories of my younger years seems to fade away with each new hangover, (it’s a good thing I have finally decided to take a month of booze, this is the only reason I can write this book now as if I were still drinking I wouldn’t remember what the last paragraph was about) I do remember little things though, walking down the beach bright red in Bali after deciding that I was too cool for sun block(a decision I’m sure I’ll regret in the not so distant future), taking the shot over jet boat in New Zealand and marveling at how precise the driver of the boat was with all of his turns, and standing in sheer admiration on Turtle Island in Fiji when first being introduced to a turtle at least 1 and half times my own size. I have lots of these little memories from our family holidays a picture here and there from all the different holidays, occasionally I flick through them in my head and think Forrest Gump didn’t really do that much. I’m sure somewhere through these trips I discovered within myself my curiosity for different cultures, different environments and how much I loved doing something that was just, new, no matter what it was. After all I needed to come up with some reason why I liked travelling so much and I figured if I can some how revert the responsibility back onto my parents then they can’t get so pissed off that I’m a 23 year old travelling bum.
“It’s not my fault, it’s because you guys took me on too many holidays as a kid now I just want to keep going”
I don’t really know if that excuse is working at all but I’m going to stick with it for now until I can think of something better. So like I said my travel career started early with a bunch of family holidays, a few trips around Australia, but the ones I remember most are a few trips we made to Bali, and one trip me and my sister made with my Dad and Step Mum to The USA, I think the trip to the USA was the trip that really opened my eyes to how different the rest of the world was to Australia. You would probably imagine that I would notice a bigger difference between Bali and Australia than between the States and Australia, but I think because I had just got into Hollywood movies, going to the states and to Disneyworld and Hawaii was a huge eye opener for me.
I loved it so much that a few years later when the opportunity came around I took it by the balls and went to study high school North of Seattle in Washington State. When I say the opportunity came around I guess that’s not really explaining it enough. My best mate, Jarrah Thompson who I have known now for 18 good years has some extended family in the states I think nearly all of them live in Las Vegas and surrounding so somehow he managed to stumble upon a student exchange program that had him leaving Australia in January bound for a year of high school in Vegas, I was so jealous of him, not only was he going to school in Vegas and getting away from the shithole of a school we were going to, but he was a good looking Australian kid going to school in America, we’d all heard stories about how easy it was to pick up as an exchange student (it was the year after American Pie had come out and we were sure it worked the same way for male exchange students as female ones), so I was jealous. I sat thinking one night, I believe it was just after I had watched “Cruel Intentions” for the first time and wanted to see if I could plot as well Ryan Phillipe, so I wrote a note something along the lines of the following..
“Dear Mum, I’m sorry..i’m sorry I can’t be more like Annabel(that’s my little sister), I’m sorry that I keep disappointing you guys so much… and that I don’t make you proud of me, if I could only go to school in America I’m sure I can make everything better” etc etc…
I then took it one step further and cried on the letter making it look like I really was a depressed child (thinking about it now I’m sure Ryan Phillipe would have been able to come up with an idea that definitely would have had contained a little more finesse). Anyway, it worked I left the note on my bed then next day went to school then came home, the note was gone and bed was made, step 1 was underway Mum had found the note( I still to this day don’t think she knows it was ploy but if she’s willing to pay for a copy of the book then I guess she deserves to find out the truth) however the whole plan worked so much faster than I had dreamed, not only had mum found the note but she had got in contact with Jarrah’s mum found out the organization that constructs the exchange program and gotten every piece of literature available on studying abroad. It was another couple of months, a couple of introductory meetings and a couple of shopping trips before Dad, Mum, my oldest brother and my little sister stood at the entrance to passport control saying goodbye to a beaming 16 year old Aussie kid, who thought Stifler was about meet his competition.
I didn’t stop smiling the whole way there, I still remember it all, I flew United Airlines flight UA 830 from Melbourne to LA, I was supposed to be wearing a student exchange t-shirt so I could meet up with a group of other kids at LA airport, check in with a couple of oldies there and then they would walk me to my next gate…fuck that..I was 16 about to embark on 6 months of fraternity style partying with cheerleaders and fake tittied 18 year olds, I certainly didn’t need two old biddies holding my hand and making sure I made it to my next flight on time.
Fortunately after about 45 minutes walking around the wrong terminal I ran into the group and “the old biddies” walked my to my gate, they let me keep my dignity and didn’t hold my hand or make me put on the t-shirt. I boarded the second last leg of my trip upto Seattle and again couldn’t stop smiling, I’m not one that much for sleeping on planes anyway but there was no chance of adjusting to the right time zone now. I had had a couple of e-mails back and forth with host family I was going to be living with so I knew a little about what I was heading towards but was still completely uncertain about how the next 6 months of my life was going to plan out. I arrived in Seattle some time in the middle of the morning I think, my heart had started pounding I was scared one of beats was going to break my ribs and allow my heart out of my chest so it wouldn’t make the rest of this journey with me, I was so excited I still couldn’t stop smiling but now some nerves had managed to work there way into the mix too, the inevitable questions, what if I’m not what they expect?, what if my host family are freaks, what if?? What if…..
My nerves were calmed a little when I walked over to stunningly gorgeous flight attendant and asked her where my gate was. How do you think I felt as a 16 year old, when one of gods finest creations responded by saying “I’ll walk you there as long as you keep talking to me in that sexy accent.”
Oh yeah Stifler, here’s Tommy..
I had a couple of hours sitting around Seattle Airport before walking down the walkway onto the tarmac and out to little maybe 15 person plane that would take me and a few others the final leg of the journey to Bellingham Airport in Northern Washington State, where I would meet my maker(or makers as it would be). I say maker as they literally were my gods when I got there I knew nothing of my surroundings, culture and in some cases language, I would rely completely upon them until I could stand upon my own two feet and then I would still respect and thank them for everything, religiously much the same as people do with their respected gods, hence the reason they were my “Maker”.
I jumped off the little plane, and stood still for a second wondering where the fuck I was, I didn’t know airports came this small…
I knew McDonalds’ in Melbourne that were bigger than this airport, I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with small airports, hey, there’s no point having a big one if there’s not enough traffic coming through, but that’s what established my concern. A place that doesn’t have a big airport, probably doesn’t have a lot of people, a place that doesn’t have a lot of people probably doesn’t have a lot of cheerleaders and faked tittied 18 year olds.
I walked into the one roomed airport, quickly stepped sideways as I’d managed to find myself in the checking-in line accidentally then stepped out the other side of the building, and there they were, Jim, Travis, Theresa and Kurtis, they stood in line a like set of Matryoshka dolls from tallest to smallest. We said hello, it wasn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it was going to be, and I felt at home almost instantaneously among their warm smiles. Believe it or not though this little airport still had a baggage carrousel, it started inside the building behind a black wall obviously were the loaded the bags on, then it carried them outside for you right to the side of the road were you were forced together like sardines in a can simply by the fact that there was no where else to stand. One of the best things about being at a small airport is that it never takes longer than 5 minutes to get your bags, so out they came, the Armstrong’s (that was my host family’s last name if you didn’t figure that out)gave me a hand with the bags I had and we walked to the car, this was a telling stage of what sought of life I was going to be living, we loaded the bags into the back of a jacked up Ford Bronco, one of the ones with the wood grain panels like the car out of Harry and the Hendersons. I had sought of figured by this point through a number of telling signs that I probably wasn’t living with the richest family in the city, and I also probably wasn’t living in the city. At this stage after over 30 hours of travelling no showers about 74 conversations about how brave people thought I was, and thousands and thousands of my own personal expectations about what this experience was going to be like I was physically and mentally numb.
Travis was a year older than me and he sat in the back of the bronco with me while we were riding back to the house, he passed me a swisher sweet cigar, those little cigarette sized cigars, and I didn’t know whether to hide it or smoke it, but when he asked his Mum for a lighter I knew that it was probably alright if I smoked to, so I sent myself to sleep in the back seat of the ford bronco with a lit swisher sweet cigar in my hand and a pair of parachute material pants on. I very quickly became the owner of home made pair of parachute material shorts and never have I smoked a cigar laced with burning material since. I struggled to stay awake for the rest of the ride back to Hamilton, Washington, but scared I would somehow destroy the rest of my clothes or the car I forced myself to at least make it back to the bed I would be calling my own for the next 6 months. Although the Armstrongs had everything they needed and most things they wanted they, and I can really only guess now, had decided not to spend the money they had on property, their house was about 15 minutes outside town and house might be to kind of a description. For me it was the first time I had seen a house that could actually fit on the back of a semi trailer a fact that I was soon to learn was actually the way house got onto the block of land where it sat when I got there. Although house may be to grand a description of the building after no more than 5 minutes between it’s walls it was clear to see that the Armstrong definitely had a home and a beautiful one at that. I actually felt like Charlie Sheen in Loaded Weapon, when he walks into his caravan and is greeted by miles of marble flooring and granite columns. What I’m saying is the place was deceptively large, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, large living room, dining room attached to the kitchen and a laundry right out the back. Plenty of room for the 5 of us, as long as I shared a bedroom with Travis, at this stage it was the last thing I was concerned with I dumped my bags in the room asked for the phone so I could call home and let them know I’d made it alright then I wanted to pass out for at least 3 days. I woke up the next morning fairly early still feeling a little uneasy about walking some strangers house I sat in bed looking around Travis room, observing what would become my point of view nearly every morning for my stay. The was a red electric guitar in the corner of the room behind the door, and bench press kit, a small tv and vcr stand underneath the window, the bunk beds that me and Travis slept on were opposite the bench press and next to us was the built in wardrobe, my bags lay scattered on the floor in front of stack of woodgrain shelves that held lots of little knick knacks, one shelf in particular grabbed my attention though, it was literally littered with little gold statues, it was enough to get me out of bed for a closer look, turns out Travis used to be quite a baseball pitcher for the school team and had one a few medals for it. I figured seen as I had made the big trip down from the top bunk I may as well continue out into the rest of house and see where I was living. I looked back at Travis’ room one last time to be sure I was comfortable leaving the room(I don’t know why I was so scared, I guess it’s like staying at someone else’s place when you don’t really know their parents, then having that awkward conversation in the morning when you’re trying to leave) when I noticed a few further details that made me crack a smile, Travis was still sleeping with baseball covered sheets and the curtains on the windows looked remarkably similar to some I had seen in the Myers kids section days before leaving Melbourne. I walked out into the hallway, noticing the way the terracotta colored semi-shagpile carpet felt under my feet, there was a smell of fresh firewood burning and a slight hum of cartoon themes came every so gently out of the TV in the living room. It must have been early as the Sun was only just starting to peak through the windows so I walked into the living room and pulled back the curtains admiring the way the sun weaved it’s way through the evergreen forests that seemed to surround the Amstrongs property. Jim and Theresa had both gone to work and Travis was still sleeping and took me about 5 minutes to realize the Kurtis was curled up in a ball watching cartoons right in front of me. We chatted for a little bit, until he got to frustrated at trying to understand what I was saying, I was glad he got frustrated first because I had no idea what he saying either. So we stopped chatting, but Kurtis took me into the kitchen and I had my first real American breakfast, a little bit of sugar, topped with some sugar pretending to be something healthy, then finish it off with a little bit of sugar. I think Kurtis called it Captain Crunch.
It wasn’t long before Travis woke up and we did the whole sugar breakfast thing all over again, and I finally realized what it must be like to have attention deficit disorder(ADD) a term I became all to familiar with over that 6 months as apparently every parent in America thinks their kids have ADD. We watched a little American morning TV and I was first introduced to the 500 channels these guys had grown up with their whole lives, I was dumfounded by the fact that they could still flip through all these channels without find anything they wanted to watch. After watching Regis and Kelly(Americas answer to Mel and Kochi) flip through the box a couple times we decided it was time to get my first real day in the States underway, it was Travis’ birthday the day I got there but due to the fact I was arriving in the afternoon the celebrations had been delayed a day, so the extended Armstrong family was due to pop round at some stage during the day but before we got to the fun stuff we had to go register for school.
Like I said earlier the Armstrong’s lived about 15 minutes outside of town and it seemed like every one of those minutes lasted an hour on that day, I was excited and nervous and scared and worried but mostly I was excited. We drove into Sedro-Woolley the first time at about 11.00am on August 20th 2000, it was the first time I had ever seen a town like this. There was one main road in town, and those ingenious Americans had worked out a way to make sure that everyone knew which one it was, they named it Main Street. At one end of Main street there was a vacant block, opposite the police station(which definitely looked like the newest building around). Further down a clothes store a bank, a video store and a couple of other one-story building scattered upon the street. My worst fears were slowly being confirmed, I had ended up in the arse end of no where and my dreams of becoming the next Van Wilder were drifting away through the empty streets of Hicksville, USA.
At the far end of main street you could see the schools football stand, like every good American School it seemed like the majority of the schools funding had been pumped into the athletics program, with the Football stadium encompassing a full size American football field, a running track, and various other activity areas for what ever a sports inclined being could dream of attempting. The students’ parking lot was the size of a football field in itself, and even though there was no game on today the lot was filled, it was strange for me to watch as we pulled up, that kids that looked no older than 12 were jumping down from their jacked up pick up trucks. Obviously these kids were all over 16 and had their licenses; well I found out later that nearly all of them had their licenses the rest just didn’t care. We joined the masses in the students lot, put out our smokes and headed towards the orange brick school building, it was one story nearly the whole way round and reminded me of a hospital from the outside. It was a daunting feeling walking into that building, and if it had only been my concern for not knowing what lay inside the glass doors in front of me I probably would have got through the day alright, but looking at the signs on the wall next to the door put my concern levels into overdrive. One was your standard “no smoking” sign, you know the one cigarette smoking with a red circle round the outside and a line that goes through the cigarette, fairly understandable seeing as we were walking into a school, it was the one below that, that shocked me, same layout as the no smoking sign but there wasn’t a cigarette, just a picture of a handgun. Like it’s not an unwritten rule that handguns have no place at school. There was a typed letter next to the no handgun sign that listed other types of weapons that weren’t to be taken within the school grounds. It’s a good thing everyone obviously had high respect for those signs as security was unseen beyond the signs on the wall.
As Travis walked through the glass doors ahead of me I was struck with awe at the linoleum-lined corridors that sprawled out in front of me. To my right was the schools reception a larger than life woman spoke loudly like a good American down the phone to what must have been a disgruntled parent, the receptionist sounded strangely like Stephen Hawking and I guessed at the time that it must have been caused from a lifetime of being addicted to the cancer sticks. Branching off the reception was the Headmasters’ office, a place I fortunately never had to visit. To the left of the entrance, one of the schools many trophy cabinets, any movie you have ever seen that has a scene based in a high school will take you passed one of the cabinets, and it looks exactly like the movies in real life. The white walls of the schools corridors where stylized with waist height strip of royal blue paint that ran the whole way round the school, White and Royal Blue were the schools colours. I stood by randomly following as close behind Travis as I could ‘cause if I lost him I felt I would never be able to find my way out even though we were no more than 3 meters from the schools entrance. I got introduced to a few people here and there no one whose name I remembered and continued walking through the seemingly never ending corridors. I remember turning one corner and cracking a smile, it was my first introduction with High School cliques, we had entered the Seniors Hall(each year level had the own area of the school, so dependant on which year you were going into let you know which area of the school your locker would be in) I watched as younger kids walked through while the seniors stood around chatting to each other about what they had been upto over the Summer and occasionally pushed a Freshman into the lockers. I was only in year 10 in Australia but due to the age they start school in the states I was going into year 11 or my ‘Junior’ year over there, Travis was a senior and because I was living with him, we shared a locker in the Seniors row.
Corridors full with Royal Blue lockers lined nearly every hall of the schools premises, and once school started there was very rarely a time when you couldn’t hear a student kicking the locker because they’d forgot the combination or slamming the shoddy built doors.
If anyone has read this, and wants more let me know, I wrote this bit a few years ago and have sought of put it on hiatus but if the demand is there I can always start her up again…
Much love all..
Tommy
The naivety of the young wayward traveler, the above paragraph is something I firmly believed in before I took my first round world adventure. I am now 5 round world trips under my belt as well as countless overseas holidays, I have lived in numerous countries, worked an overwhelmingly large number of jobs, met some of the most amazing people in the world, and been arrested in three different continents, and now know that everything I have written above, well nearly everything is left completely upto chance.
I cannot take a standpoint for the rest of this story as a critic and inform you of the pros or cons and ins or outs of all of the worlds independent states. I can however talk honestly and factually with the occasional flamboyant exaggeration of my own experience as a globe trotting bandit who started with a wild history making dream and ended up sexually diseased, alcohol addicted and in a horrendous amount of debt.
My travel career started early, I don’t remember much of the trips anymore as my memories of my younger years seems to fade away with each new hangover, (it’s a good thing I have finally decided to take a month of booze, this is the only reason I can write this book now as if I were still drinking I wouldn’t remember what the last paragraph was about) I do remember little things though, walking down the beach bright red in Bali after deciding that I was too cool for sun block(a decision I’m sure I’ll regret in the not so distant future), taking the shot over jet boat in New Zealand and marveling at how precise the driver of the boat was with all of his turns, and standing in sheer admiration on Turtle Island in Fiji when first being introduced to a turtle at least 1 and half times my own size. I have lots of these little memories from our family holidays a picture here and there from all the different holidays, occasionally I flick through them in my head and think Forrest Gump didn’t really do that much. I’m sure somewhere through these trips I discovered within myself my curiosity for different cultures, different environments and how much I loved doing something that was just, new, no matter what it was. After all I needed to come up with some reason why I liked travelling so much and I figured if I can some how revert the responsibility back onto my parents then they can’t get so pissed off that I’m a 23 year old travelling bum.
“It’s not my fault, it’s because you guys took me on too many holidays as a kid now I just want to keep going”
I don’t really know if that excuse is working at all but I’m going to stick with it for now until I can think of something better. So like I said my travel career started early with a bunch of family holidays, a few trips around Australia, but the ones I remember most are a few trips we made to Bali, and one trip me and my sister made with my Dad and Step Mum to The USA, I think the trip to the USA was the trip that really opened my eyes to how different the rest of the world was to Australia. You would probably imagine that I would notice a bigger difference between Bali and Australia than between the States and Australia, but I think because I had just got into Hollywood movies, going to the states and to Disneyworld and Hawaii was a huge eye opener for me.
I loved it so much that a few years later when the opportunity came around I took it by the balls and went to study high school North of Seattle in Washington State. When I say the opportunity came around I guess that’s not really explaining it enough. My best mate, Jarrah Thompson who I have known now for 18 good years has some extended family in the states I think nearly all of them live in Las Vegas and surrounding so somehow he managed to stumble upon a student exchange program that had him leaving Australia in January bound for a year of high school in Vegas, I was so jealous of him, not only was he going to school in Vegas and getting away from the shithole of a school we were going to, but he was a good looking Australian kid going to school in America, we’d all heard stories about how easy it was to pick up as an exchange student (it was the year after American Pie had come out and we were sure it worked the same way for male exchange students as female ones), so I was jealous. I sat thinking one night, I believe it was just after I had watched “Cruel Intentions” for the first time and wanted to see if I could plot as well Ryan Phillipe, so I wrote a note something along the lines of the following..
“Dear Mum, I’m sorry..i’m sorry I can’t be more like Annabel(that’s my little sister), I’m sorry that I keep disappointing you guys so much… and that I don’t make you proud of me, if I could only go to school in America I’m sure I can make everything better” etc etc…
I then took it one step further and cried on the letter making it look like I really was a depressed child (thinking about it now I’m sure Ryan Phillipe would have been able to come up with an idea that definitely would have had contained a little more finesse). Anyway, it worked I left the note on my bed then next day went to school then came home, the note was gone and bed was made, step 1 was underway Mum had found the note( I still to this day don’t think she knows it was ploy but if she’s willing to pay for a copy of the book then I guess she deserves to find out the truth) however the whole plan worked so much faster than I had dreamed, not only had mum found the note but she had got in contact with Jarrah’s mum found out the organization that constructs the exchange program and gotten every piece of literature available on studying abroad. It was another couple of months, a couple of introductory meetings and a couple of shopping trips before Dad, Mum, my oldest brother and my little sister stood at the entrance to passport control saying goodbye to a beaming 16 year old Aussie kid, who thought Stifler was about meet his competition.
I didn’t stop smiling the whole way there, I still remember it all, I flew United Airlines flight UA 830 from Melbourne to LA, I was supposed to be wearing a student exchange t-shirt so I could meet up with a group of other kids at LA airport, check in with a couple of oldies there and then they would walk me to my next gate…fuck that..I was 16 about to embark on 6 months of fraternity style partying with cheerleaders and fake tittied 18 year olds, I certainly didn’t need two old biddies holding my hand and making sure I made it to my next flight on time.
Fortunately after about 45 minutes walking around the wrong terminal I ran into the group and “the old biddies” walked my to my gate, they let me keep my dignity and didn’t hold my hand or make me put on the t-shirt. I boarded the second last leg of my trip upto Seattle and again couldn’t stop smiling, I’m not one that much for sleeping on planes anyway but there was no chance of adjusting to the right time zone now. I had had a couple of e-mails back and forth with host family I was going to be living with so I knew a little about what I was heading towards but was still completely uncertain about how the next 6 months of my life was going to plan out. I arrived in Seattle some time in the middle of the morning I think, my heart had started pounding I was scared one of beats was going to break my ribs and allow my heart out of my chest so it wouldn’t make the rest of this journey with me, I was so excited I still couldn’t stop smiling but now some nerves had managed to work there way into the mix too, the inevitable questions, what if I’m not what they expect?, what if my host family are freaks, what if?? What if…..
My nerves were calmed a little when I walked over to stunningly gorgeous flight attendant and asked her where my gate was. How do you think I felt as a 16 year old, when one of gods finest creations responded by saying “I’ll walk you there as long as you keep talking to me in that sexy accent.”
Oh yeah Stifler, here’s Tommy..
I had a couple of hours sitting around Seattle Airport before walking down the walkway onto the tarmac and out to little maybe 15 person plane that would take me and a few others the final leg of the journey to Bellingham Airport in Northern Washington State, where I would meet my maker(or makers as it would be). I say maker as they literally were my gods when I got there I knew nothing of my surroundings, culture and in some cases language, I would rely completely upon them until I could stand upon my own two feet and then I would still respect and thank them for everything, religiously much the same as people do with their respected gods, hence the reason they were my “Maker”.
I jumped off the little plane, and stood still for a second wondering where the fuck I was, I didn’t know airports came this small…
I knew McDonalds’ in Melbourne that were bigger than this airport, I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with small airports, hey, there’s no point having a big one if there’s not enough traffic coming through, but that’s what established my concern. A place that doesn’t have a big airport, probably doesn’t have a lot of people, a place that doesn’t have a lot of people probably doesn’t have a lot of cheerleaders and faked tittied 18 year olds.
I walked into the one roomed airport, quickly stepped sideways as I’d managed to find myself in the checking-in line accidentally then stepped out the other side of the building, and there they were, Jim, Travis, Theresa and Kurtis, they stood in line a like set of Matryoshka dolls from tallest to smallest. We said hello, it wasn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it was going to be, and I felt at home almost instantaneously among their warm smiles. Believe it or not though this little airport still had a baggage carrousel, it started inside the building behind a black wall obviously were the loaded the bags on, then it carried them outside for you right to the side of the road were you were forced together like sardines in a can simply by the fact that there was no where else to stand. One of the best things about being at a small airport is that it never takes longer than 5 minutes to get your bags, so out they came, the Armstrong’s (that was my host family’s last name if you didn’t figure that out)gave me a hand with the bags I had and we walked to the car, this was a telling stage of what sought of life I was going to be living, we loaded the bags into the back of a jacked up Ford Bronco, one of the ones with the wood grain panels like the car out of Harry and the Hendersons. I had sought of figured by this point through a number of telling signs that I probably wasn’t living with the richest family in the city, and I also probably wasn’t living in the city. At this stage after over 30 hours of travelling no showers about 74 conversations about how brave people thought I was, and thousands and thousands of my own personal expectations about what this experience was going to be like I was physically and mentally numb.
Travis was a year older than me and he sat in the back of the bronco with me while we were riding back to the house, he passed me a swisher sweet cigar, those little cigarette sized cigars, and I didn’t know whether to hide it or smoke it, but when he asked his Mum for a lighter I knew that it was probably alright if I smoked to, so I sent myself to sleep in the back seat of the ford bronco with a lit swisher sweet cigar in my hand and a pair of parachute material pants on. I very quickly became the owner of home made pair of parachute material shorts and never have I smoked a cigar laced with burning material since. I struggled to stay awake for the rest of the ride back to Hamilton, Washington, but scared I would somehow destroy the rest of my clothes or the car I forced myself to at least make it back to the bed I would be calling my own for the next 6 months. Although the Armstrongs had everything they needed and most things they wanted they, and I can really only guess now, had decided not to spend the money they had on property, their house was about 15 minutes outside town and house might be to kind of a description. For me it was the first time I had seen a house that could actually fit on the back of a semi trailer a fact that I was soon to learn was actually the way house got onto the block of land where it sat when I got there. Although house may be to grand a description of the building after no more than 5 minutes between it’s walls it was clear to see that the Armstrong definitely had a home and a beautiful one at that. I actually felt like Charlie Sheen in Loaded Weapon, when he walks into his caravan and is greeted by miles of marble flooring and granite columns. What I’m saying is the place was deceptively large, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, large living room, dining room attached to the kitchen and a laundry right out the back. Plenty of room for the 5 of us, as long as I shared a bedroom with Travis, at this stage it was the last thing I was concerned with I dumped my bags in the room asked for the phone so I could call home and let them know I’d made it alright then I wanted to pass out for at least 3 days. I woke up the next morning fairly early still feeling a little uneasy about walking some strangers house I sat in bed looking around Travis room, observing what would become my point of view nearly every morning for my stay. The was a red electric guitar in the corner of the room behind the door, and bench press kit, a small tv and vcr stand underneath the window, the bunk beds that me and Travis slept on were opposite the bench press and next to us was the built in wardrobe, my bags lay scattered on the floor in front of stack of woodgrain shelves that held lots of little knick knacks, one shelf in particular grabbed my attention though, it was literally littered with little gold statues, it was enough to get me out of bed for a closer look, turns out Travis used to be quite a baseball pitcher for the school team and had one a few medals for it. I figured seen as I had made the big trip down from the top bunk I may as well continue out into the rest of house and see where I was living. I looked back at Travis’ room one last time to be sure I was comfortable leaving the room(I don’t know why I was so scared, I guess it’s like staying at someone else’s place when you don’t really know their parents, then having that awkward conversation in the morning when you’re trying to leave) when I noticed a few further details that made me crack a smile, Travis was still sleeping with baseball covered sheets and the curtains on the windows looked remarkably similar to some I had seen in the Myers kids section days before leaving Melbourne. I walked out into the hallway, noticing the way the terracotta colored semi-shagpile carpet felt under my feet, there was a smell of fresh firewood burning and a slight hum of cartoon themes came every so gently out of the TV in the living room. It must have been early as the Sun was only just starting to peak through the windows so I walked into the living room and pulled back the curtains admiring the way the sun weaved it’s way through the evergreen forests that seemed to surround the Amstrongs property. Jim and Theresa had both gone to work and Travis was still sleeping and took me about 5 minutes to realize the Kurtis was curled up in a ball watching cartoons right in front of me. We chatted for a little bit, until he got to frustrated at trying to understand what I was saying, I was glad he got frustrated first because I had no idea what he saying either. So we stopped chatting, but Kurtis took me into the kitchen and I had my first real American breakfast, a little bit of sugar, topped with some sugar pretending to be something healthy, then finish it off with a little bit of sugar. I think Kurtis called it Captain Crunch.
It wasn’t long before Travis woke up and we did the whole sugar breakfast thing all over again, and I finally realized what it must be like to have attention deficit disorder(ADD) a term I became all to familiar with over that 6 months as apparently every parent in America thinks their kids have ADD. We watched a little American morning TV and I was first introduced to the 500 channels these guys had grown up with their whole lives, I was dumfounded by the fact that they could still flip through all these channels without find anything they wanted to watch. After watching Regis and Kelly(Americas answer to Mel and Kochi) flip through the box a couple times we decided it was time to get my first real day in the States underway, it was Travis’ birthday the day I got there but due to the fact I was arriving in the afternoon the celebrations had been delayed a day, so the extended Armstrong family was due to pop round at some stage during the day but before we got to the fun stuff we had to go register for school.
Like I said earlier the Armstrong’s lived about 15 minutes outside of town and it seemed like every one of those minutes lasted an hour on that day, I was excited and nervous and scared and worried but mostly I was excited. We drove into Sedro-Woolley the first time at about 11.00am on August 20th 2000, it was the first time I had ever seen a town like this. There was one main road in town, and those ingenious Americans had worked out a way to make sure that everyone knew which one it was, they named it Main Street. At one end of Main street there was a vacant block, opposite the police station(which definitely looked like the newest building around). Further down a clothes store a bank, a video store and a couple of other one-story building scattered upon the street. My worst fears were slowly being confirmed, I had ended up in the arse end of no where and my dreams of becoming the next Van Wilder were drifting away through the empty streets of Hicksville, USA.
At the far end of main street you could see the schools football stand, like every good American School it seemed like the majority of the schools funding had been pumped into the athletics program, with the Football stadium encompassing a full size American football field, a running track, and various other activity areas for what ever a sports inclined being could dream of attempting. The students’ parking lot was the size of a football field in itself, and even though there was no game on today the lot was filled, it was strange for me to watch as we pulled up, that kids that looked no older than 12 were jumping down from their jacked up pick up trucks. Obviously these kids were all over 16 and had their licenses; well I found out later that nearly all of them had their licenses the rest just didn’t care. We joined the masses in the students lot, put out our smokes and headed towards the orange brick school building, it was one story nearly the whole way round and reminded me of a hospital from the outside. It was a daunting feeling walking into that building, and if it had only been my concern for not knowing what lay inside the glass doors in front of me I probably would have got through the day alright, but looking at the signs on the wall next to the door put my concern levels into overdrive. One was your standard “no smoking” sign, you know the one cigarette smoking with a red circle round the outside and a line that goes through the cigarette, fairly understandable seeing as we were walking into a school, it was the one below that, that shocked me, same layout as the no smoking sign but there wasn’t a cigarette, just a picture of a handgun. Like it’s not an unwritten rule that handguns have no place at school. There was a typed letter next to the no handgun sign that listed other types of weapons that weren’t to be taken within the school grounds. It’s a good thing everyone obviously had high respect for those signs as security was unseen beyond the signs on the wall.
As Travis walked through the glass doors ahead of me I was struck with awe at the linoleum-lined corridors that sprawled out in front of me. To my right was the schools reception a larger than life woman spoke loudly like a good American down the phone to what must have been a disgruntled parent, the receptionist sounded strangely like Stephen Hawking and I guessed at the time that it must have been caused from a lifetime of being addicted to the cancer sticks. Branching off the reception was the Headmasters’ office, a place I fortunately never had to visit. To the left of the entrance, one of the schools many trophy cabinets, any movie you have ever seen that has a scene based in a high school will take you passed one of the cabinets, and it looks exactly like the movies in real life. The white walls of the schools corridors where stylized with waist height strip of royal blue paint that ran the whole way round the school, White and Royal Blue were the schools colours. I stood by randomly following as close behind Travis as I could ‘cause if I lost him I felt I would never be able to find my way out even though we were no more than 3 meters from the schools entrance. I got introduced to a few people here and there no one whose name I remembered and continued walking through the seemingly never ending corridors. I remember turning one corner and cracking a smile, it was my first introduction with High School cliques, we had entered the Seniors Hall(each year level had the own area of the school, so dependant on which year you were going into let you know which area of the school your locker would be in) I watched as younger kids walked through while the seniors stood around chatting to each other about what they had been upto over the Summer and occasionally pushed a Freshman into the lockers. I was only in year 10 in Australia but due to the age they start school in the states I was going into year 11 or my ‘Junior’ year over there, Travis was a senior and because I was living with him, we shared a locker in the Seniors row.
Corridors full with Royal Blue lockers lined nearly every hall of the schools premises, and once school started there was very rarely a time when you couldn’t hear a student kicking the locker because they’d forgot the combination or slamming the shoddy built doors.
If anyone has read this, and wants more let me know, I wrote this bit a few years ago and have sought of put it on hiatus but if the demand is there I can always start her up again…
Much love all..
Tommy
Motorcycle Diaries Part 2
So it’s Wednesday the 6th of January now, a whopping 24 hours since my last update and I’m on my way to making money already. Today I have my pre-screening test to see if I am appropriate to be a human guinea pig. If I’m accepted I’ll be having a week long stay at the Austin Hospital in Heidelberg, hopped up on drugs they administer to people who have organ transplants. It’s a new drug they have developed hoping to cut down the side effects that exist with the one currently being used. It’s not the first time I will have done one of these things but this one is a little more serious than my last, I even have a bunch of visits I need to make back to the hospital after the tests are finished this time, just to make sure I haven’t grown a third arm or fourth leg since leaving.
I’m hoping all goes well today, as this will see me pretty much break even at the end of January. Clinical trials pay pretty well apparently, I’ll be taking home $2400 tax free at the end of the study. Due to the fact that I have overwhelmingly generous spending habits, my bank account is not looking to healthy at the moment. Actually if I look as poorly as my bank account does now when I finish the clinical trial, I’m sure I’ll be close to my last breath. So this little cash injection will put me back on the road (so to speak, still have to get my license) to India.
Also booked in for my drink drivers course today, first class on the 11th of January, I get the thrilling opportunity to sit and listen to ex-alcoholics talk about the naivete of youth for 4 hours, really happy actually as there is nothing in this world I would like to do more, especially in the Summer time when it’s obviously the worst time of year to be outside doing something normal. Best part of this, is that a a week later, I get to go back and do it all over again. Yay.
Court is also booked in, 27th of Jan, I’m actually really concerned about this one, this could be the straw that broke the camels back. I am really counting on the judge looking deeply into my soulful blue eyes and losing all sense of justice while listening to my inspirational monologue delivered charismatically to the courtroom, I’m hoping only to be out shon by the standing ovation topped with rapturous applause from the rest of the courtroom as they fall victim to the charm that is Tom Cooney. Can’t blame a guy for dreaming can you……………..
……….Alright I just came back from my medical testing screening, all green lights so far. Just have to go and fill a cup with a serving of little Tom Cooneys and drop it off at the pathologists then we should be a go for operation Guinea Pig.
I know this one didn’t have a whole lot to do with the motorbike ride but it’s all preparation, both cash for the ride and writing experience to keep you(or me if no ones reading this) upto date.
Alright, I’ll let you know in a couple of days if I got in, also should be getting some info regarding buying motorbikes in India for anyone that’s interested.
You stay classy San Diego….
I’m hoping all goes well today, as this will see me pretty much break even at the end of January. Clinical trials pay pretty well apparently, I’ll be taking home $2400 tax free at the end of the study. Due to the fact that I have overwhelmingly generous spending habits, my bank account is not looking to healthy at the moment. Actually if I look as poorly as my bank account does now when I finish the clinical trial, I’m sure I’ll be close to my last breath. So this little cash injection will put me back on the road (so to speak, still have to get my license) to India.
Also booked in for my drink drivers course today, first class on the 11th of January, I get the thrilling opportunity to sit and listen to ex-alcoholics talk about the naivete of youth for 4 hours, really happy actually as there is nothing in this world I would like to do more, especially in the Summer time when it’s obviously the worst time of year to be outside doing something normal. Best part of this, is that a a week later, I get to go back and do it all over again. Yay.
Court is also booked in, 27th of Jan, I’m actually really concerned about this one, this could be the straw that broke the camels back. I am really counting on the judge looking deeply into my soulful blue eyes and losing all sense of justice while listening to my inspirational monologue delivered charismatically to the courtroom, I’m hoping only to be out shon by the standing ovation topped with rapturous applause from the rest of the courtroom as they fall victim to the charm that is Tom Cooney. Can’t blame a guy for dreaming can you……………..
……….Alright I just came back from my medical testing screening, all green lights so far. Just have to go and fill a cup with a serving of little Tom Cooneys and drop it off at the pathologists then we should be a go for operation Guinea Pig.
I know this one didn’t have a whole lot to do with the motorbike ride but it’s all preparation, both cash for the ride and writing experience to keep you(or me if no ones reading this) upto date.
Alright, I’ll let you know in a couple of days if I got in, also should be getting some info regarding buying motorbikes in India for anyone that’s interested.
You stay classy San Diego….
Mototcycle Diaries Part 1
I have washed dishes in Tel Aviv, I have worked the cashier in McDonalds, I have erected scaffolding in Melbournes outer suburbs, I have sold sunglasses in Scotland, I have cleaned toilets all over Europe, I have taught swimming in the states, I have been an Accounts Payable Officer at home, I have walked a Donkey in Greece, I’ve bartended in Mexico, I’ve sold phones in England, I’ve cooked in the Holy Land, I’ve organised activities in Fiji, I’ve wheeled patients from surgery in Hawthorn, I’ve trained Lifeguards in Massachusettes, I’ve run a hotel in the country, I’ve picked apples in Ardmona, I’ve sorted mail in the city but as the song so eloquently puts it, I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…
The biggest problem is, this isn’t even the full list of my employment history and I’m only 25 years old.
I’ve decided to try and tackle one last great trip with a naïve travellers approach “I’m going to try and find myself” hopefully along with finding my inner most being I will also stumble upon that ever elusive perfect career path.
I have been travelling on and off for the past 7 years, and although the travel bug is so clearly still eating away at any solidarity I have left, I have decided it is about time to establish a little more of a structured life, I figure this can only be done by taking one last trip of epic proportions.
Along with two friends I am endeavouring to get to India around mid-2010 buy a motorbike a begin a massive journey through 11 countries and end up in Thailand some 18 months later, minus one friend(I don’t think he’s going to die or anything, he just has to go back to work in September).
I’ve figured that if this trip doesn’t eliminate the travel bug from my system nothing will(secretly I know that taking this trip will undoubtedly ensure the travel bug is, for all means, a vital part of my being for the rest of my life).
It is now Tuesday the 5th of January 2010, I haven’t booked plan tickets, got a new passport, applied for a visa, or done any general planning yet, all in good time my friends.
I don’t currently have a job which believe it or not, is currently throwing a little spanner in the works regarding saving money for this trip. I do however, have a job lined up. I’m moving down the Great Ocean Road to a place called Deans Marsh to work at a retreat centre, hopefully situating myself away from the hustle and bustle of the city I’ll have more opportunity to hoard my gold bullion. I will be starting down there on the first of Feb and I have a few tasks to tackle before I go. I have to apply to have my drivers license re-instated(yes, I was a very stupid person a couple of years ago), after which I can apply to get my motorbike license, well my Learners license. A true believer in ignorance being blissful I have decided to tackle some of the toughest riding terrain on earth only weeks after I will get my probationary license, if all things go according to plan.
I’m going to try an update this as often as I can for anyone that’s interested, otherwise it’s always a good way for me to keep track of what I’ve done.
See ya’ll for the next update,
T
The biggest problem is, this isn’t even the full list of my employment history and I’m only 25 years old.
I’ve decided to try and tackle one last great trip with a naïve travellers approach “I’m going to try and find myself” hopefully along with finding my inner most being I will also stumble upon that ever elusive perfect career path.
I have been travelling on and off for the past 7 years, and although the travel bug is so clearly still eating away at any solidarity I have left, I have decided it is about time to establish a little more of a structured life, I figure this can only be done by taking one last trip of epic proportions.
Along with two friends I am endeavouring to get to India around mid-2010 buy a motorbike a begin a massive journey through 11 countries and end up in Thailand some 18 months later, minus one friend(I don’t think he’s going to die or anything, he just has to go back to work in September).
I’ve figured that if this trip doesn’t eliminate the travel bug from my system nothing will(secretly I know that taking this trip will undoubtedly ensure the travel bug is, for all means, a vital part of my being for the rest of my life).
It is now Tuesday the 5th of January 2010, I haven’t booked plan tickets, got a new passport, applied for a visa, or done any general planning yet, all in good time my friends.
I don’t currently have a job which believe it or not, is currently throwing a little spanner in the works regarding saving money for this trip. I do however, have a job lined up. I’m moving down the Great Ocean Road to a place called Deans Marsh to work at a retreat centre, hopefully situating myself away from the hustle and bustle of the city I’ll have more opportunity to hoard my gold bullion. I will be starting down there on the first of Feb and I have a few tasks to tackle before I go. I have to apply to have my drivers license re-instated(yes, I was a very stupid person a couple of years ago), after which I can apply to get my motorbike license, well my Learners license. A true believer in ignorance being blissful I have decided to tackle some of the toughest riding terrain on earth only weeks after I will get my probationary license, if all things go according to plan.
I’m going to try an update this as often as I can for anyone that’s interested, otherwise it’s always a good way for me to keep track of what I’ve done.
See ya’ll for the next update,
T
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