Throwback

It rained at ConFest this morning, the first time since 1984. The pelting water through the trees settled the pervading dust. Now, what used to be everywhere in the air, in our eyes, in our clothes and tent, has settled down to earth with the rain. And so it is, as Blake pointed out at breakfast, sitting on tree trunks eating our icecreams, that it's the last day of the year. Just the last two days out here in the bush has laid everything in the past year to rest. Perhaps it is the general comatose here, or perhaps it is the benefit of hindsight, but nothing that happened is worth holding onto now. Past relationships, most essentially R, and from this year Chia Lun, and maybe even Harith dont seem to grate too terribly anymore. The mega-decision of dropping NUS Law School seems more to be a release than a commitment. Working in the past year at CCSG was prolly one of the better decisions. 'Twas the only social life to be had for a while and helped to pay for me to be here now. For a while maybe I should have been doing something like theatre or organised sports. Perhaps I should've, but it was all I could do to keep up at NS and whenever I could keep up all that was on my mind was getting out to the rest of the world. This is a typical feeling. This year was about coping. But next year, next year the world shall cope with me. I shall be a whirlwind and know every tree and tune. Next year, over the shoulder, will be mine, mine, mine.

Kiss Me!

NYE is Wendy Rulz, mango pixies, didges, flag stealing, belly dancing, kissing and wearing a heart on your sleeve.

Last Nite

Maggie wakes up in the middle of our sleep because it's too cold, so I give her my sleeping bag and she rolls over into the dark. Me, im left wrapping myself up in Harith's jacket the way i used to back in the basement of 4th Div. There isnt any need to sleep just because it's night though, because I'd already slept heaps on trains and buses in the day. So I crawl out of the tent and walk across to the rainbow tree to joint the pow-wow. Chai is handed out, names are exchanged and we sit around the fire singing to songs on the guitar and reciting Calvin and Hobbes favourites. The party thins as people start making for the fire circle so I go back to the tent. Again, ah, there is the sound of the violin and the flute drifting from the camper behind our tent, and still there is no reason to go to sleep, so I climb out yet again and join the little recital on the bongos. There's homemade brews and cider flowing freely and so do I partake, if not as freely as the sweet dew itself.

The camp stirs and I emerge from the coccoon finally after much sleeping in. Maggie has gone to get some brekkie and my hair is standing up just the way I like it, I think. There arent any mirrors around at all but I'm feeling good enough about it as it is. The pottery corner is quite aptly around the corner and I stumble across in my ratty jeans to see whats there. Quentin from last night at the rainbow tree is there and he teaches me how to, uh, pot while I educate him a little in the plot of Ghost. We go for a dip once im done with my egg cup and his potato sculpture. The campsite is dissected by a meandering river forming heavenly billabongs. Quentin and I strip down right outside our tent on the small private beach we have and lay our clothes in neat squares on the fallen trunk. The water chills and refreshes but the striking thing is the aroma of the ti tree oil from the leaves floating on the water. There isnt any need to shower for the rest of the day so Maggie and I plot our escapades.

Juggling workshop draws us to it, and for the first time in all this years, after so many years of plotting, im finally learning to juggle. Quentin is there and he's pretty good at it. Over in the corner is the French dude with the coriolanian nose, Eric, who's also pretty good at it. Thats done and dinner is at the Marketplace with Maggie. We decide to bring some cakes back to the rainbow tent to offer it to the kind souls at the rainbow tree, where once again, the party starts for the night.

Transfers Epilogue

It's an uncertain departure from Beth's place as she sends us to Traralgon Railway Station. We dont know where we're going, how, nor when. This is only an idea, we're in pursuit of an idea called ConFest. Farewells are in order and it's a three hour train ride to Melbourne, where we dither for an hour looking for food and internet. We catch the train to Bendigo, and thats another two hour train ride, a bus to Swan Hill, thats another three hours on the bus. Things come to a head in Swan Hill where we have nothing to take us further. We spot a Federal Hotel and walk a little bit towards it, crossing the border between VIC and NSW. We try hitching a ride from there and Maggie is unanimously nominated the thumber. We discuss how long we will be there and how best to keep up our kefe. but before any keeping up needs to be done, a trucker named gavin pulls his monster truck up alongside the road. we load up and are on our way to moulamein on TANK12. Gavin is a quote-unquote old-style man. He goes out of his way and sends us to the gate of ConFest 10kms out of Moulamein. At the gate we see our first naked old man and get a ride into the campsite on the back of someone's truck. maggie and i spend a little while picking a campsite and we cannot agree. i go along with her astute feminine senses, setting up camp under the old gum trees' branches. but she may be right yet...

Transfers

every time i think about the work left to be done in jurong fire station, and i think about the journey i am undertaking now, i almost cannot see the difference. i am far away from home, my entire being is consumed and i cannot look beyond the next hour. but there is a difference, there must be a difference.

JFS took every part of me but i have left nothing there. i am enamoured by the firefighting and rescue work, but that was from the days of Central. JFS reminds me now about surviving as the leader. it was sleepless nights, worrying about my men, thinking about decisions that had been and to be made, at times even doubting my own dedication. so all the time the mantra was to try harder, be better, dont do that shit again, do that with finesse. it was about being professional and impeccable in PR. it was about being THE man among men when i was really just a boy in this field of men. now at the end of it, there is just relief, because i dont want to be in a place that doubts me even after having swallowed me.

and right now on this crazy journey, my body, mind and soul are once again occupied. but this is not new. this journey has taken me since the dreariness of work set in. at times when i was swamped and struggling to breathe, all this was a little mental oasis. now on the bus to ConFest for NYE, i am living its reality. this is a biting reality though, because we dont know how we shall carry on the journey after we get down from the bus. this isnt such an enchanting idea but it's necessary - the adventure is final. it'd have been a lot easier to stay at mayour beth's place in stratford. but it'd also have been a lot easier to stay home in singapore.

back in JFS, everything had to be done instantly because the coding could go off anytime. work would assault me like waves and lists never grew shorter. now only the present is real. yesterday's experiences have been packed away and tomorrow is a thick fog. i could climb, swim, run, as far as i have to go, but sitting on this bus going through small towns with only maggie is what i want to do now. it has been a year in the making, and i am living a year's worth of living.

Napping on the Verandah

Tilly's the only one who's not sick and today as we send Ruby (the other girl cousin who did the Donnie Darko-esque dance) away, everyone's feeling a little short. Not to mention that Magy brought her to Holly's Lolly shop for her weekly retail practice. She gives me her blue candy because she hates it, but finishes the rest with the voracity only my sister could muster, guaranteeing a sugar high, oh, like, now.

With superior reflexes and agility, I corner her into the hammock on the verandah and start to panic. Time is running out and unless i occupy this crazy bundle of energy within the next 20 seconds, I'll have a worse time keeping up with her OUTSIDE the hammock. Think, Ivan, think, think like a five-year-old girl! So I started a story of Princess and the Pea, and I'm very surprised she hasnt heard of it before. Silly gruff voices for the king/prince/peasants and the pricky voice for the princess. Im just pulling stuff out of the hat as I remember parts of the story, and make up others, including a sub-plot about peasants and a broken wheel (from my favourite story We Need A Wheel). Maggie is on the deck chair with her Lonely Planet Australien and Erika is on the other hammock. Turns out that they're listening to my vocal and mental acrobatics in glee as they take time to buzz.

By the end of the story, I'm parched but Tilly's asleep so it's game point to me. Molly comes to visit as she returns to the circus and I speak with her about ConFest. Of course, she's gone, and now I definitely have to go. Lauren, Beth and Magy were pretty okay referrals but Molly, now, thats an iron alibi. So I run back to the verandah where Maggie is and tell here we are going to the festival. We immedately make plans to leave tomorrow, and Tilly wakes up with all the excitement much to our dismay

Mr. Ripley

We go cycling to feed the horses at the church, and pluck apples and nectarines from the trees. Now everyone in the house is unwell. Beth has made Maggie feel very uncomfortable about staying any longer with all the talk about us going to ConFest. The WWOOFing game hasnt been completed but we all feel too lazy. Ah... I could stay like this forever. Or at least for A Very Long Time. Maggie and I have to clean the damned chicken coop. She is disabused of her concept of chickens and personality and I'm convinced we're getting hay fever.

freezing fingers

The mercury in front of the sink in the kitchen reads 12 degrees celsius. It is not so funny. We fall back into the routine of fruit salad muesli yoghurt for brekkie and then work the rest of the morning. Lunch is courtesy of me as I fry up the leftovers into nasi goreng

"Buzz!"

We all emerge from the coma of Christmas night ready to assault our tummies again. That is, except for Maggie, who regretted last night's excesses more than any of us because of her gluten intolerance. Breakfast was Erika's Santa Lucia buns that come with a romantic and sordid tale.

Santa Lucia was a girl (woman, lady, female, whatev) who really REALLY liked a guy who didnt reciprocate. So as girls are wont to do, she poked her eyes out and gave them to the object of her affections. Now, I wont go into how it ties with the buns or how she became a saint but you must admit it'd make you want to eat more buns! If you really want to know the story NOT as told by Erika, read up more on Santa Lucia.


Beth, Tilly and Magy rehearsing "Shine the nose of Rudolph". Midway through "fill his sacks with presents..." Tilly starts to play the trombone, which coincidentally, is lying around the house.





Regretting now that we forgot last night's regrets, we sat down, stuffed, in the hall to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Lets just say it brings more irony to the term Happy Belly. All hibernated, we load the Christmas gifts under the tree into the cars and head off for Beth's sister's place where there was a clan reunion and Christmas lunch(!)

'Twas a beautiful house which would typically have cost, oh, 5M back home but they had built it themselves instead. That explains why they'd stay home to defend it from the encroaching bushfires just last week. Beth's 17-year-old nephew, Henry, was a sight and I spent most of the afternoon flirting with him over pool and music talk. This of course simultaneous with the 101 other female cousins and my growing attraction for 23-year-old cousin Molly who came back from working in the circus.

So presents were exchanged, I gave Beth a congkak board and got nuts and curry and chocolates in return. How apt, for I am prone to starving myself on the road. The day ended with a bizarro Christmas medley by Tilly and Beth and a Donnie Darko-esque dance by the other baby girl cousin.

I can only buzz that the buzz was really buzz.

When Santa Claus Came!

at 5am, the bus deposits me outside Stratford PO after i say goodbye to the nice lady behind me whose mother has just been ill. it's pitch dark, freezing, and no one will be awake until two hours from now. i need to pee badly and find a friendly tree. beth comes to pick me up and by 5.30 im comfy under five layers of bedding, lying down flat for the first time in four days.


The five layers of bedding.

the sun has risen around me and i hear a prating on the stones coming into my little "outhouse". i pretend to be asleep because the draught coming in through the open door isnt terribly inviting. there's the cutest little girl in a tiny fairy dress prancing about my bed with the clock telling me it's actually her alarm clock but her granny took it and put it there on my bedside without her express approval. so i wake up.

this girl is tilly, the five-year-old granddaughter of beth. i walk into the house and there in the kitchen is maggie slicing fruits. ah... fondness. there's another wwoofer, erika from sweden with her. living with them is magy, beth's old mate who used to live up here in singapore. we have brekkie and head out for some gardening, mulching, and spring cleaning, also some fly-waving and nose-choking. lunch is turkish wraps, which reminds me of mum's popiah parties back home, in between visits to the rubbish tip. the work is done for the day and cooking for christmas eve dinner commences. maggie and erika start on their elaborate christmassy dishes while i plot my first pot of chicken curry ever. it's easier to think in bed so i crawl in and think of chicken curry and how nice it would be to have a little nap... maggie comes to wake me up so we take a little walk to the local IGA to get supplies. we catch up a little while and im just so very glad to see her again.





the next few hours are a blur of table-setting and cooking and by that time, everything is ready for the guests and of course i need to shower first to impress. visitors include the police chief, which isnt surprising considering that beth is the mayor. which is very surprising to me. the folks back home would be so proud of my decency. dinner is a righeous stuffing and by the time we're having christmas pudding with custard im almost bent over in pain and dozing off. one of the guests, clare, is a music teacher and reads stories. one of it is a children's books about beth's late-partner jim who was a musician. the other one was Kafka's Soup. twas a little cookbook written in to style of great authors like Pinter, Chaucer and Greene. fantastic, and by that time Tilly had to be tranquilised and dragged to bed in preparation for Santa Claus to come. we didnt need any nudging though, and all trooped to sweet sleep for christmas day tomorrow.

The Sydney Express

The train pulls into Sydney Grand Central Station and the clocks begin ticking for my four hour layover in Sydney. First things first, it's farewells (again) to Christian, Wally, Simon and Odile. So, I'M IN SYDNEY, SHIT. of course it's only for four hours, the way everyone says, "Oh, I've been to Singapore... airport", so i dont know sydney the least bit , but I'M IN SYDNEY SHIT. thats years and years of listening to stupid people talking about Sydney and now finally i've joined the club.



a tour down oxford street, self-guided, no less, is in order. but first the slight logistical problem of footwear needs to be sorted out. as luck would have it, my thongs were thrown out of the train back in adelaide, the thongs that half-belonged to harith and another half to wei xian. but no matter, as im losting in sydney, i find myself standing right in front of a scientology booth with free e-meter readings for passers-by. point is, this booth was in front of a discount store, the type with the loopy loudspeaker offering branded perfumes at warehouse prices, except this time it's a nice lady's voice in aussie englYsh instead of a sweaty uncle breathing down a broken microphone. so, discount store, 3AUD aussie flag thongs that seem all the rage among other Budget Travellers. johannes, for example, would be so proud of me. thongs on, oxford st here i come (but maybe i should've went for the e-meter reading too).

on the corner of oxford st is a gorgeous guy (is it me or is it the other me?) selling AidsTrust wristbands for 2AUD. so for the chance of getting to know him (in both ways) and to support a just cause, i go up to him. ah, but he's german, and im sick and tired of german for a little while so i cough up and exeunt.

back to waiting for the bus, im bored and the book is not so interesting for now so i call up Dharma, who's in Singapore right now. but she's all busy stupid about it so i tell her that she can go spend all her life with her Brahmin friends and family. of course i dont. ok, maybe just a little. I call Hon Lyn and she's not coming down anymore. I call Fariz and he's studying in Monash(!) from Capitol Centre (er...). Nevermind. Bus comes and i'm on my way, but not before a right hippie tries to get on with his worldly possessions but is rejected for some reason the thick glass windows conceal. he throws a little fit and loses all his hippie-cred as the bus pulls away. play on, blue sky.

on the cursed bus to Stratford, VIC now. Mt. Bulli is ridiculously foggy for no particular reason. maybe it's cold outside. the guy sitting beside me is called mark and we share food and listen to janis joplin as we make our way through bateman's bay. at 2am we stop at a Mac's where there's a sweetheart called daniel eating on the roadside so i join him with my two day-old bread from adelaide. by this time, im pretty certain it's the other me. shit.

Home is Adelaide

back to adelaide again. this time a sense of familiarity and complacency dominates me. i'll give directions to you, and for you i'll show you where, how and what bus to take. so i say goodbye to jana who's gonna stay at backpack oz, which i have incredibly warm memories of. from there it's a short walk to the central market for Fresh Food Finally. needless to mention i go a little wild and splurge (16.70AUD!) to feed me until tomorrow. what tremendous luxury and another dreary train ride to look forward to. i say, sydney, here i come!


"at the turn of the century, the weather became a matter of life and death." and how true too! this billboard was on my long trek from hay st mall to the east perth railway station. all of a sudden, the thought of walking four kms with two backpacks doesnt faze me the way, say, the walk to the mrt station every day, would.

Leaving

Perhaps it is one thing that is making me very happy this past month. Sleeping on the floor below Jana, with a towel that she has specially laid for me, I have a dream that keeps coming back. It is the one with the O/A Levels and I do not study for my Geography/ History/ Economics/ Literature and I'm sweating in my proverbial panties. But that is over now. I have left that frightful space, I have left the days of being a cadet in CDA, and I have left Jurong Fire Station. This is very important - I'm no longer stuck in whatever I have to be doing. For now, I'm in a place and time entirely of my own volition. I'm no longer the left but the leaving. I have a choice of going, staying or returning. Like the day I got my driving licence, there is an inexorable feeling that I'm no longer The Driven. NOW! It is my purpose that propels me, my destiny to fulfil. On a train in the middle of nowhere on this Southern continent is where the adventure is final, the road is the destination and life is at the ends of the world.

Redux

There are some things I've become very well-trained at.

Shopping for groceries at Wooly's/ Coles's means first a stop at the expiring bin and then walking along the aisles looking out for yellow "specials" tags. Grocery shopping this morning with Johannes and Lukas cost 4.80AUD for two days' worth of food. Lukas goes into the church and remarks at how strange Aussie churches are. They are so new it loooks like a furniture shop inside.

Getting around cities means taking only free buses, walking a lot and travelling only when you can get special-priced tickets. The walk from Hay St to East Perth Railway Station was about an hour long but cost only a few hundred calories. From there, it was trying not to look overwhelmed with my bags while attempting to get ready for the three-day train ride.

Making friends on the train and/or with Germans. A nice blonde blue-eyed girl is sitting beside me. Of course we become buddies in the next few minutes. Her name is Jana and, surprise, surprise, she's German (yay.) German girls are strange somehow and for lunch we are already sharing food (does not happen with Korean girls). At night she cannot sleep and asks so nicely for me to sleep on the floor so she can have my seat, which I do. German girls are strange somehow.

Being prejudiced against "abbos". How racist am I really? After all, I might not have as much a sense of justice as I think I do. My contact with aborigines have been minimal. I'm almost afraid of them. Is that a consequence or a coincidence? I brush off someone who comes to wish me Merry Xmas and I feel guilty. A few minutes later, Jana told me that the person who wishes you Merry Xmas will also ask for money. Maybe I am well-trained...

Salsa

Learning salsa in the Mustang Bar on a Tuesday night with a stranger, drinking something we have no idea about just because it's cheapest.. Always, always having a crazy time with Johannes and Lukas

Rottnest Island

As opposed to a..?


Stupid animals.

Adam and I start the day by driving to Fremantle. People mistake me for and American driver when I drive on the right side of the road but all I am is a poor driver. On the 0930 ferry, I meet a retired doctor from UK who also has glowing reviews of Sheffield. Yay. We get to Rottnest Island at 1000 and embark on our own quokka spotting walk. It is not difficult to find them even though they are small. Their favourite places are public taps (where they drink the water thats spilt on the floor) or under trees (where it's shadier). A while later I'm hungry so we set off looking for quokka burgers but find none.


We then take a glass-bottomed boat out for a spot of snorkelling. There are shipwrecks centuries old and underwater arches for testing your courage and diving skills. Back on land, we hire push bikes (read: mountain bike) to cycle to Wadjemup Lighthouse, the tallest point on the island. En route, my Tour de France performance causes the tyres to blow so we're sitting at the side of the road on the causeway between two salt lakes, under the whoosh-whoosh of the huge wind turbine. A little picnic is in order and we enjoy ourselves a bit.

Causeway, salt lake, wind turbine

The recovery team comes for us and gives me a new bike but as soon as this is done, the lighthousekeeper is coming along in his mini-bus. We'll never make it in time if we cycle there so he loads our bikes on the bus and drives us to his lighthouse. Turns out, we're the only two visiting the lighthouse at this slot so we get a private and personalised tour. The lighthousekeeper is kind and warm. He even points out some birds so we can watch with his binoculars. After everything's done, he even sends us all the way to the bike rental shop. Talk about service!

It's checking us out too..


We first meet on The Ghan and now on MV Eagle Express.

On the ferry back, we're minding our own business in the open deck when I see Pat. Earlier, I thought I saw him but convinced myself it wasnt. Now this guy is standing in front of me as we embrace and marvel at meeting all the way out here in Rottnest Island. We catch up a bit and exchange numbers. Most of all, I'm amazed with all the serendipity I have with all my fellow train passengers who I later meet all over Australia. Trains are the only way to go!

Firsts

So yesterday was full of firsts. Today was no exception. I was out cold first last night and this morning I woke up squashed between Olle and Adam with a huge frickin' echidna in my head. A nice long shower settles that and then I go for a run to burn away yesterday's excesses. There's a garage sale going on, the ones that you see on TV and I buy a tent for only 20AUD. It'll come in handy when we go for the hippie festival over NYE because thats in the middle of the Victorian forest. Next stop, tarts. tarts is an amazing cafe up Lake Street in Northbridge, Perth. It opens at 0700 daily and sells a tantalising smorgasbord of breakfast items. There's a great atmosphere - dogs tied to the lamp posts look pitifully at the al fresco diners, inside you can choose to curl up in a cosy corner or join the party at the big central table. Service staff are warm and know their work - they man all positions and that means they prepare your food/ drinks and they serve it to you and then see you at the "till" (Singaporeanese: cashier) when you're leaving.

Turns out that I have to eat the breakfast alone at home because Olle and Adam dont wake up until it's 2 in the afternoon. We make plans to go to the beach and Adam's in charge of the day's activities. Turns out that we're not just going to any beach. We're going to Swanbourne Beach (Nude Section). On first arrival at the beach, everyone looks pretty young and I'm a little encouraged. But the closer we get to the non-clothed section, the average age gets a little higher, and higher, and higher until receded hairlines and acceded waistlines are in Full view. Most of the patrons here are old fat men! We make the most of it and position ourselves as much as possible to the Rest of the Civilised World. I go for a pee at the sand dunes behind the beach as there arent any toilets around and the water didnt look very inviting. As I'm happily minding my small business, (bald) heads start popping out from the bushes and in a grip of regret I realise I'm holding my genitals in a cruising area.

I fly back to report my findings to the two who immediately set off to explore it. While they're off, a young slender woman is walking towards the Huns. I watch as she strips slowly (like in the peepshow) and spreads sunscreen all over her fair skin. I try to take a few pictures discreetly. Later, we also spot a young man, good features, coming towards us in a sarong. He's wearing shades as I am but a baby rat could tell we were checking each other out. So anyway he strips and goes for a swim in the icy Indian Ocean. He emerges and we expect to see Little Sally Anne but he's huge, so we decide he was masturbating in the Indian Ocean. He dresses and goes into the sand dunes (crisis!) so Olle urges me to go and rescue him from the perils of old fat bald men. But there I am on the beach, reading my huge book about the Titanic with Max Kingsley Jr. singing the tunes, so 'twas about five minutes before I pluck myself up. Besides, I swore he glanced over to us before he went. But for 10 minutes I'm a bit lost and afraid in the Desert until I see him. It is nice to see a friendly face so I speak to him. We chat as we walk back towards the beach and he gives me his number. Tuesday, Tuesday we shall meet again.

I hide behind my ball to snap the Naked Lady.


Naked Lady and Beached Whale

191206: I remember the wrong number so I cant contact him. The whole morning is spent using what little knowledge I have of probability and Perm and Comb to figure the right number. Finally I mix two numbers around and I'm speaking to Josh.


Dinner every night is an event.

Way out!

This morning Olle and I highfived and started a long day with just the two of us. It starts fairly innocently and descends into absolute depravity. What a way to travel! Errands are first on the agenda and we barely finish them when I decide the crazy summer weather means we have to get home for a quick shower. Apparently in Swedish lingo, quick shower = bondage and that is unfortunately what Olle thought I was thinking. Sun sets and we go for the University of WA's Festival Films on the college greens. It's something like the Moonlight Cinema that we went for except this time it's Breakfast on Pluto, which isnt a very good film. We meet some of Olle's friends and they provide our picnic from Red Rooster, which is to KFC as Hungry Jack's is to BK. I sleep through most of the film and have to drive everyone home as they're all pretty tipsy from imbibing large quantities of wine. So we get home and settle in, all five of us around the table in the backyard. We're talking and everyone's drinking more wine while I'm suckling my waterbottle. Adam disappears into the kitchen for a while and he comes out with two joints and poppers. Lethal combination. Very lesal kombinasion.... after a while we're pretty high and then it's all the way to one love with no return

The Rehabilitation of Ivan

Because I will be 52 wishing I was 20. So it's no more mourning for opportunities past...

are you gonna live your life wondering/ standing in the back,/ looking around?/ are you gonna waste your time thinking,/ how you’ve grown up,/ or how you missed out?/ things are never gonna be the way you want./ even at 25,/ you gotta start sometime./ i’m on my feet i’m on the floor i’m good to go./ now all i need is just to hear a song i know./ i wanna always feel like part of this was mine./ i wanna fall in love tonight./ crimson, and clover,/ over, and over./ our house in the middle of the street/ why did we ever meet?/ started my rock 'n roll fantasy./ dont dont, dont let's start./ why did we ever part?/ kick start my rock 'n rollen heart./ i’m on my feet i’m on the floor i’m good to go./ so come on Davey sing me something that i know./ i wanna always feel like part of this was mine./ i wanna fall in love tonight

Keeping Dry

Max Kingsley Jr. says: The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by The Postal Service

A tattoo with the Aussie flag adorns my right foot, and that's about the only thing I did today. Walking around the city, I'm singing The Postal Service from the iPod. Today is an excellent example of the down days when there isnt really anything to do or anywhere to go. Travelling between places, I am a visitor here, I am not permanent, and the only thing keeping me dry is...

I get too comfortable thinking that it's okay to be isolated when I'm travelling when the fact is I'm like that even at home. Olle tells me after dinner that every person has three legs - family, friends, and his occupation - which all complement each other. When I return home, I wont be fond of my family, prolly wont meet my friends and wait tables at a lousy cafe in Siglap.

We go to Court Hotel where the crowd is very sorry - big hairy lesbians and fat mama shop uncles gather there to celebrate the weekend. Adam tells me to go there just to laugh at the people, check out the old and fat go-go boy, and see the drunk Aborigines around the pool table. We go next to Connections where the crowd is a lot better. The bartender's really hot and so I keep ordering vodka redbulls. Olle brings me to the peepshow where there were girls getting hot and heavy for just 2AUD - worth every cent.

Back home, I lie awake from all the Red Bulls and count the number of ambulances speeding past nearby Newcastle St on the way to the Royal Perth Hospital. D.C. sleeps alone tonight...

Sweet Transvestites!

Thursday, Adam and I rut around at home for most part of the morning and then we drive out to get a job for him. As expected, we got hopelessly lost, leaving my armpits sweaty as I drove through freeways north and south and construction sites with every legitimacy of a chipmunk. Finally finding our way home, we stop at a Viet-run provision shop. Dont be fooled by its scale, it's actually host to, oh, all of East Asia's culinary needs. Adam gets kentang kalipap and green tea and I get some lontong to go (no, actually I got some Chicken in a Biskit). Back home we pack a picnic basket for the Moonlight Cinema later that night, with full wicker do, towel lining, wine, glasses, grapes and Tim Tams too. Adam says its ridiculous but I say it's only because he doesnt watch enough Touched By An Angel.

Crazy day along the Swan River. The swans try to get into the middle of everything but we fend them off. I almost manage to persuade Olle and Adam to pose like they're making love on the beach but they're old fogeys really.

Afternoon gets a lot more exciting when we go to the Swan River parks for Olle's company function. We're all playing frisbee golf for starters, just a little warm up for the ultimate frisbee later on. I learn to sail a catamaran from Gordon and Carly, friends of Olle. The Swan River has nice robust winds and we skim the surface as we talk about all the watersports Perth is great for. There's a free barbie going on. with sausage sizzle and the all important onions. I have three of these as I talk to Mrs Goldstein, the wife of the big boss, who's the watermelon cutter. It's nice to know that Sheffield University has such a faithful following among the old Aussie and Pommie set. Makes me think that maybe I'll click with the parents of my schoolmates next year.

Nice and comfy on bean bags and under blankets. The gang behind are real fans.

At sunset, we go to King's Park for the Rocky Horror Picture Show. It's a great film and I have no honest idea why I've never seen it before. The crowd is great, we all sing and dance to the songs on the film and some can even recite lines and impersonate characters. I'd be very lucky if I can go for the same thing when I'm in Sydney. Sweet transvestite! Proud transsexual!

On the Indian-Pacific (Kalgoorlie)

last night we all slept well, i think. hyo ju, the girl beside me, reminds me of hwee ying, dimpled cheeks and dainty chin. Prince's voice reminds me of 1996 when he was formerly known as Prince, when Power Rangers saved the world (Angel Grove) every week and when unbreak my heart and betcha bye golly wow were a chart-toppers. this was while travelling in indonesia with my family.

Hyo Ju accompanies me through the empty Nullarbor.

ten years later, betcha bye golly wow is playing on max kingsley jr. but im in australia alone and the only thing that happens for sure every week is a right good fuck. railways, or at least GSR ones, are very odd. we travel through the ugliest corners of cities and then go straight into vast swathes of nothingness. it is bewildering and peaceful all at once.

In Alice Springs, for example, The Legendary Ghan pulls into a scrapyard.

the indian-pacific goes through the Nullarbor (No-tree) Plain now. i contemplate taking a picture now but instead i write. because i know ten minutes later, after i've finished writing, it will still be harsh treeless unending land. if mountains are the upheavals of the earth's heart, then i think i've found the spot of the earth where its heart unfolds into peace. the lands stretch till they meet the sky. without a whisper or sigh, everything is as-is, contented and sleeping since the sea went away.

the sunset is magnificent. a vengeful red pours out of the clouds. there is no amber or purple; it is all the colour of bloodlust. i think of taking a picture but sit and enjoy it instead. because i know i can enjoy the moment and write about it later.

The Mighty Indian-Pacific stops at Cook for one hour. An abandoned railway town with a population of 4, it's easy to appreciate the cunning sense of humour of all its residents.

while on the GSR network, feel free to go on the whistle stop tours. they're very value for money and it beats sitting in the train anyway. in kalgoorlie, you can either go on a guided tour for 20AUD (good for the first trip) or you can walk into town on foot (good on the return trip).

On the Indian-Pacific

max kingsley jr. says: The Dream of Evan and Chan by The Postal Service

as i was walking home from mars bar early this morning, a preppy-punky guy overtook me. at vic square, he took out his handphone (Deutsche: handy), sat on a bench, doubled over and started to rock and cry. how do you say to a stranger i've been here and how to help him when it has nothing to do with protecting and saving lives and property? i go to him and ask him if he's okay. of course he is, he's great (he even smiles). i asked if he needs someone to speak to but why would he need one (he's great)? so i tell him to take care, definitely he needs to to. but how? i hope he knows how.

on the road, i see many things, all the same things. it is homely but not home. i see old things in new places. i have old feelings at new times. i could go on like this forever, between places and people. because when im on the road, im allowed to be this way. how else can i be? what else could i be doing?

when on any mode of transport with mealtimes inclusive, dont be embarassed to bring your own food on board. food on GSR trains are ridiculously overpriced (as they are on "budget" airlines). i spent 4.40AUD at Wooly's for a can of sweetcorn, one can sardines, one can mushrooms in butter, two cans spaghetti and a loaf of bread. with proper rationing and a can-opener on my swiss army knife (courtesy Sherman), this'll last me through today and tomorrow. in all fairness, the vegetarian options on GSR Red Kangaroo diners are delicious, come in good portions, and are value-for-money

Out with the GBL Club

we wake up at steph's place having spent the night drinkin, smoking, stuffing our faces with domino's and laughing at Little Britain. definitely not what i had in mind for the holiday, but par for the course taking into account the past three weeks' surprises. when i wake up, i need to kick ella (steph's dog) off me. this is my antagonistic relationship with australia (and, i suppose, any other nominally-white country). everywhere here, it's let's go drinking! or ham and cheese sandwiches or come make love to my fugly dog! (no! no! a thousand times no...). but then here are people watching Little Britain and for once, people get the joke when i say computer says no...

we go shopping at the suburban mall on a record 43 degree day.the metal of the car burns our skin and everyone seeks refuge at the aircon oasis. service in australia has been remarkable. you know it when the punky store assistant is all flighty and happy. it reminds me a bit of CCSG. except they prolly do not bitch around as much as us. aussie behaviour at department stores, however, is appalling. they mess up the displays and leave things anywhere they wish. if i worked at Target (say tar-jeh for more class) i'd bring a gun to work every day.

i do miss the guys at CCSG, especially surya and rizal. but im thinking of staying for another month. after all, my visa lasts that long. and my railway pass twice as long (hmm..). everyone i meet here stays for six months or a year. two months is nothing. australia is a huge country. please do not try to see it all at once unless you have a few years. it's a continent after all, and as large as the USA.

we go to semaphore beach - it's a terrible beach. there are aborigines jetty-jumping and people swimming in the deep waters (shark-infested, too). if my friends are to be believed, aborigines do not follow laws and are ugly and stupid. from the little i've seen, there are loads of dark and scary-looking ones, always dressed in rags. i'll need to see and hear more before i comment more.

i cook dinner, pasta with crushed chilli, extra virgin olive oil, sliced carrots, lemon juice and salt to taste.

we all dress up in white tank tops and ties to go out at night. i've never been part of a group that wears the same thing for a night out.maybe we've had a theme or a dress code, but this was white tank tops and ties unanimously. i'd never wear anything like that given a choice, plus it was real faggy so i was pretty out of it.

first we went to tap inn to celebrate the birthday of a sporean girl jen. apparently she's a druggie. it's sad and stupid that singaporeans with a little money and no brains flock to australia to study about drugs, sex, accents, shopping. but no surprise, considering how paltry the selection is in singapore. sometimes im afraid to be mistaken for a sporean student. maybe i am not so different. there are a few white blokes in a punch-up, girls crying, men fucking and police coming. all ingredients for a good porno, if in a different order.

we go to mars bar where there're loads of lesbians and a huge scene. alll the hottest girls are lesbians and the cutest boys are straight. there's a guy josh, cute as a button, great to dance with, but he's making out with another guy outside the toilets. i was pretty hung up and bummed out so i went home alone - but not before an asian lesbian catfight, a polar opposite of the first fight of the night. the lesbians didnt go home that night. she either got laid, arrested, or killed. maybe all three.

Boys and Men

We spend the afternoon at Vic Square just chatting about ourselves and our lives back home.


Lukas insists on going into Enigma, so we do. Pints are 3.50AUD and there's free internet (guess what we all ended up doing) but the music's too loud and the crowd's too young.


So we go to The Cavern where there're live bands and 3AUD mixers. Johannes and I are pretty buzzed by now and for a while I thought I'd kiss him.

Franckely...

Johannes and I go to Glenelg Beach to meet Mai and Linda. There we swim (with sharks and boxfish - box jellyfish) and toss our new rugby ball around. We head for the trams without taking a shower. The conductor catches us trying to get a free ride and we meet Mai and Linda coincidentally on the tram.

Kangaroo Island Chase

Today is the long-awaited and much-debated KI tour. We set off at nine freezing a.m. for Little Sahara. It's a hidden part of KI off the tourist radar. And thats good because when we were there, we had the whole place to ourselves. We run amok around the sand dunes and tumble our way down, screaming head over heels.


Maggie and Franka sitting at Vivonne Bay. The girls are beginning to bond now.


The waves from the Southern Ocean come crashing into the rocks at Vivonne Bay, sending spray three storeys high. We all enjoy climbing up and down the rock thinking we're far enough from the sea spray. Johannes spots a huge one coming so we jump across a few rocks to get front row seats. This time the sea is cunning and gets Johannes and I. We enjoy seeing big waves, and end up freezing...


We go to the abandoned cave at Kelly Hill Caves. This is the one that tourists arent allowed to go to anymore. Except for gung-ho WWOOFers. We climb down an old ladder to enter the caves. I go first and my gallet torch comes in handy. It's a labyrinth of dead animals in there..

Lunch is a picnic at Hanson Bay. It's also quite and peaceful, the only sound from the waves crashing. Thats the way KI should always be. Johannes and I tear off our clothes and race into the sea. It's frigid and the moment we reach thewater we're screaming like girls with erect nipples. We ride the waves, throw dead fish at each other, wrestle and dunk but finally decide the water's too cold to stay for long. We return to the girls who've already started the picnic. Lunch was amazing and it felt like the peak of the holiday so far. After lunch, us boys go walking around where we spot a dead but fairly well-preserved (salted) seal. We try to tear it up but the meat tearing and the skeleton is too much of a sight so we start running away in terror.

WWOOFing on KI

during breakfast we are told to gear up in some work togs, which are really just old clothes left by previous wwoofers. everyone does a pretty good job of looking like the odd job labourer and we promise to take a picture at the end of the day.


first order of business for the day is catching chicks. the eggs have just hatched and we need to move them into a warmer pen. we all like the chicks but i havent had chicken in a while. meat is scarce here (for me). the only chicken i get is roasted at reduced price in wooly's during closing. lunch is a whole spread, we think because we're being made to work the whole day today. we have potatoes, salad, carrots, spag 'n cheese and a beef pot with rice.


wwoofers, we are


we all want to be in all the photos on all cameras. franka insists on carrying the "pinemelon" (there is no taste) while meddling with her camera. so i tell her to put it on the ground


cement workers, we all. lukas, maggie, franka, johannes and i looking triumphant after a long day..dinner is kangaroo which is horrible and i couldnt finish it. yahtzee and scrabble, and then it's bedtime.