Perf!

I'm writing you from Australia's sunny left coast now - madness! Flight was an easy five hours. I find flying pretty dang easy, but the marvel of modern flight still hasn't worn off on me. I felt like flying over the Oz trivialized the size of the country - which it does. The weird part is I've never thought it flying across the States, and it's just as true for that. Curious.

Anypoop, two kickass days under my belt. Aside from getting up at 5:30 after like four hours of sleep each night. Wednesday I made a day trip into the Blue Mountains, about 70km west of Sydney - a two-hour trip and $24 return ticket from Syd to Katoomba. I got some package deal with a Blue Mountain tour bus for $40, but never used the bus. Tour busses remain dumb. Random dude sat down with my at breakfast, and was entertaining. I like to pretend I'm better than tourists, but when I asked the dude where to go in the bush, and he said don't. He worked in the bush his whole like, and takes his vacations outside of it. I'm not being particularly articulate, but it definitely made me realize I'm a tourist in my own way. (speaking of tourists, I know I've been trained that laughing at other cultures is bad, but the horde-of-camera-wielding-asian-tourists thing gets me every time, and I'm not sorry.) And speaking of breakfast, one thing that pissed me off here was the European view of breakfast as a light snack. Then, in Katoomba, I get a solid, Americany eggs-bacon-toast breakfast, and it just felt like a lead brick in my gut. I remain confused.

Anyway, the Blues were gorgeous, I hope to spend a day or two there on my way back down the east coast. Here's a meh picture, I'm too lazy to bust out the SLR's card reader:


(The only way i have to resize these things is typically MS Paint, which leaves a JPG marginally nicer than crumpled newspaper. I'm sure you can deal though)
This is from the Giant Staircase, which drops of the plateau right behind the Three Sisters. The Three Sisters (go google it) are a 'landmark of spiritual significance to the Aboriginal people', said so in that way that sounds like the person saying it doesn't really care, know, or understand what the deal is. "Oh honey, look, that's of Aboriginal significance!". Definitely a weird scene. Anyway.


Had a great two-hour conversation about the world with Steve the Hungarian-Australian, and then took a suspiciously expensive bus a little further out to Blackheath. I hoofed it out to the national park (4k away! That's like 12 miles!) only to find that they've had some problem with fires, and everything not burnt is closed. The burnt stuff was also closed. I bummed a ride back into town from an older dude named Ollie driving an ancient Holden. '64, if memory serves. Designed in Detroit, built in Oz, I think.

Back in Blackheath, I've got two hours to kill before my train rolls through. Blackheath is a wee town, and great in the way small towns are. Seeing two people walking on the street greet each other warmly makes me smile. It was also bad in the way small towns are. In that without knowing the people, there was squat to do. So while wandering around in this sub-Keene sized town, I see a guy in a UNH shirt in a group of college students. I obviously can't pass this up, so I ask what the deal is, assuming I'll get something along the lines of 'no mate, just know a bloke who went there.'

Turns out Dan - and Lindsey, whose conversation with Dan I so rudely interrupted - was actually from UNH, and the group (of American students studying abroad) was abseiling (rappelling) for a group bonding/fun time thing. Dan has the bright idea of sneaking me onto the tour bus (read: asking if i can go), which worked perfectly. So instead of riding home alone on the train, I get a great conversation and two thoroughly fun hours hanging out with Lindsey and Dan -



I also got to feel like I knew a crap ton about Sydney - which couldn't be further from the truth.

After that, it was a horrible night of sleep in the same room as Nathan, the worst snorer I've ever head. I had a full size blanket wadded up to just pillow sized, and was sweating buckets under it in the futile attempt to block out the sound. Even under the blanket, it sounded like a chainsaw was starting - in my brain. Words do not do the one-man lumberjack competition justice.

The flight was a blast, Qantas is great - hot breakfast, spiffy 3D map thing (with exterior temperature!). In between staring out the window and dozing, I caught most of some Russell Crowe movie - A Good Year, i think. I was surprised to find I liked it, except that Crowe's character at first reminded me way too much of my landlord in Berkeley, which was a bit unsettling.

Made it Perth proper, then to my hostel, grabbed a kickass spicy chicken sandwich for lunch with Adam (a motorcyclist doing business with the hostel owner), did my laundry, line-dried it (Perth is not cold), wandered around Perth, saw a footy (heh, footy) team doing tryouts running up a huge staircase, met my first Bruce (a farmer, father of a kid trying out), talked to Bruce about politics (Bruce also said there was a single American girl living near his farm. He also asked if he mentioned she was single), and then moseyed back to the hotel.

The kicker on the day was a great dinner with Katharine - a Middlebury friend (Middlebuddy?) of Rich's. Katharine's been in Perth for three years, and had a pile of recommendations for Perthy things to do. We talked about a ton of things, but mostly travel and all the quicky crap Australia does. I learned that I really should have done another major in undergrad - she got to hit Iceland and Antarctica for geology stuff, and has done multiple laps around the world. Me? Australia's the seventh time I've left the east coast of the US. She also explained why everyone thinks I'm Canadian - they don't want to offend Canadians by assuming they're American. And here I thought it was just because I've got some hip Canadian vibe going on. I'll have to call the next Aussie that does that out.

Anyhoot, Katharine let me ditch my motorcycle gear with her while I go up and down the west coast - which is a huge favor, and ought to make what I want to do next way easier. I'm off to Freo (Freemantle) to try to swing a working crew gig on a boat going north, and the less crap I have, the better my chances. So I'm gonna cut this novel off, and start trying to swing that. Wish me luck!