On the Southern Road - Redux

The Southern Cross hung brightly in the sky while anothere constellation was being pointed out. tail body heart left claw right claw. Before this, there had to be NS, CD, ERS, Central, BOC, Jurong, OC41 and a credit card. The freebie that came with credit card - an air ticket, from Officer Commanding to NSF Rota Commander of Stn 41 and a plot hatched. An old book found in a store room that said Field Officer's Diary in bold black letters - it is a journal of another sort now. One year and eight months before the introduction of scorpio was a visit to Fariz's and notes kept about that visit. And then the hatched plot became an actual journey (that visit happened before the journey), a flight to Australia on a credit card's companion freebie. And in Australia too-many-things happened, including the Outback-Star-Gazing-Oh-God-Take-Me-I-Could-Die-Now and the It's-Raining-and-Pissing-Cold-and-Dark-But-Let's-Go-Eel-Fishing, but most important of all there was the Change-of-Heart. There was another change of heart in Singapore, where a poor decision was made and then made better by another correct one.

And this Change-of-Heart, after all the fire station and Australia business, is how the Southern Cross came to hang in the sky while scorpio was being pointed out. As I sat there I listened to Achil's astronomical explanations and the scary nearby-faraway waves. I held the line with which we anticipated fish for tomorrow's breakfast. It was easy to see how all these events lined up to bring me here, right here and now. This cannot be an accident, it must have already been mapped out by events which in themselves could-or-could-not-have-been accidents.

It wasn't hard to gain perspective then, with such a strong sense of history and purpose. How simple it was, to look back at the past year, before then, to realise what mattered and what didn't. Did it matter that I did not do Art at 'A' Levels just to keep the Humanities Scholarship? Did it matter that I could've gone to Law School for cheap knowing that a career waited for me? Did it matter that I was finally a Psi U brother (am I really - it still doesnt feel as real as everything else that has happened)? Did it? Did it really matter? No? Yes, no. What mattered was knowing, finally, that at the click of that button, the whole art-or-humans-scholarship-heart-or-head saga was resolved. That click that said no thank you, i will be going to wesleyan instead. You see, it doesn't matter that I don't already have a career. What matters is music - creating out of nothing - and adventure - that thump-thump in the heart - and discovery.

What matters now is learning - from things, on my own, from people. What matters now is the effort put into crew the past year (and can you do it again? i said yes to Jeremy Brown. Things have been mapped out). What matters now is Hannah and her spastic laughter and the way her pants hang on her hips, and Miles and how he drives me crazy but I still love him and can't wait to live with him next year, and Ryan, sexy beast Ryan who makes me feel so loved and whom I know loves me unconditionally, and Jeremy, that boy with his masterful dick-moves, with the girl problems, who was there for me through the Psi U ordeal, and I have a feeling he will always be there for me. And then Chip, the boy that I met too-late-at-the-right-time, Chip the boy I can't wait to see and touch again, knowing he's not judging me.

So that was what happened, how a boy ended up sitting on a beach in a deserted island between the Indian Ocean and Sumatra, listening to waves as the smell of Sampoerna filled the air. This was how I realised some of the things I already knew.

leaving everything behind

the full moon comes out tonight on a day when i begin the process of leaving and detachment. i used to be pretty good at this, but the last five years have been about attachment and building bridges, so expect a few missteps.




two weeks ago i quit all my jobs, upped, and headed down under. saying goodbye to gorgeous gavin today, i realise that maybe i dont want to be the leaving, as much as i dislike being left. there's been something like a suspension of disbelief in the past months. it was as if i never had to leave and i'm spending this perfect life in singapore. now there's no denying the change anymore, and i'm starting to hope again for more time. if there's anything the past year should've taught me, it is courage, understanding and love to cope with change, separation and all sorts of other upshetting things. if thats the case, im not off to a good start seeing how much i'm missing Gorgeous Gavin and Beautiful Byron Bay.

i fuck insects

we live in exciting times. the coach drops me off in byron bay earlier than i expected, and i found myself thrown out in the freezing east coast morning. the streets were limp and lifeless. with nowhere to go, no warm bed, nothing to do, i decide to pad up and try to get warmer. that takes a good ten minutes in the bus stop, during which i realise that there's no point in lying down in the cold, so i decide to walk around town and and then to the beach to watch the sunrise. that becomes the single most colossal decision of this month and sets the tone for the rest of the day.



as i look into the frigid distance at main beach, there are three hotties canoeing out to the julian rocks and there are... dolphins. two pods of dolphins just playing around, their black fins occasionally breaking the surface, just like in television. not bad at all.



i go towards the lighthouse with my haversack in tow, but it's getting warmer and i actually begin to perspire for the first time in a week. tshirt comes off, and so do shoes, and what a sight i must've been as i trekked along. a carpet snake comes out of hibernation to greet me. i say hello, we take a few pictures together, and he scoots away, so we go our separate ways.



up the lighthouse where the view is not so special (except if you psycho yourself into believing it is because it's the "easternmost point of the australian continent"), there's a volunteer chick showing people how to spot whales. she lends me a pair of binoculars - free - and i stand there for an hour with her and some other retirees from Blighty. well, of course there're whales, their shiny black backs catching the sun's rays and my heart melts from watching their gentle and quiet strength. they send a spray of water up, their tails pop up from the water when they dive down, and i'm thinking, this is fucking incredible.



afternoon was spent trying to be a surfie, the waves were wicked for an amateur, and we kept going at it till it was dark and too cold. we get back into town at six, and as far as i'm concerned, it could be midnight. im freezing, just wearing my boards, and i run into the hostel which two boys (this is Cute French Guy if i ever tell you about him) at the lighthouse recommended to me.

so i'm checking in, and for once i'm on the other side of the counter, and i'm playing the person who's My Favourite Guest Because He's Cute and Funny and Crazy Cool. i open the door to my dorm, and there's a dorm party going on. before i can say bugger off, they're offering me free chocolates and get this, surf lessons. thats, uh, good. so, free room and board from tomorrow onwards, free surf lessons, cute french boys and free internet. things are looking good.

before i left sydney, i told darius from confest that something will definitely happen, and many things have. it's amazing then, how in the midst of all this change there's still a very reassuring sense of continuity. ladies and gentlemen, everything is under control.

addendum:
i go with boys from dorm to cheekymonkeys and cocomangas, and for one night only, i'm living the east coast backpacker life. in a while though, the loud and bad music and overall ugliness of british gappers makes me leave for the warm comforts of bed. but not cute frenchie's.

AND THE CURE!!!

i've actually got a facebook account now, after so many years of holding out against friendster. paul from the inncrowd adds me to his facebook and i'm really delighted because he's such a cutie, and i really liked him from when he was in the hostel. ALSO because he's "IN FUCKING SYDNEY TOO"! so we meet today on oxford, and i wondered if something was up.

i'm sitting outside stonewall, the sun is full in my face and two council workers are doing what council workers do, or rather, not do. he appears looking really pasty and white, but cute. we settle down in battuta and i go for lemon twist tea by reflex. we're chatting for a little while about nothing really, when paul just came out and said it. which made things easier. we then spent hours on that little table beside the window watching boys and discussing our experiences. i'd jump him, but not yet, maybe when i have a joint and we both have jobs.

it's amazing because last we met we'd been trudging down selegie in the swamping heat, perspiring and looking for ah-balling. now we're walking down city streets together in jumpers, in the sydney winter, watching boys, and huddling together because of the cold. it's awesome, fucking amazing.




it's also really grand how i was working just last monday and now i'm cavorting around the harbour bridge and opera house and blue mountains and oxford street. things are happening so quickly now, and i simply do not have time for moments. it's all a whirlwind of dashing madness. this is 16, 17, 18, thinking of possibilities. it is now, on the train to byron and nimbin. to indonesia, to packing, saying goodbye to friends and then leaving. it's all happening now and i'm afraid i'll miss it. but we'll see, there's still the ocean to reckon with.

synapse

i was walking through katherine - on the tail-end of my journey, the return trip on the ghan - feeling so self-assured, knowing exactly what i was doing, all because i had saved a bit by walking into town instead of taking a bus. i was bored, though, because katherine on a sunday afternoon had the combined energy of two ants on a treadmill.

by this time, i considered myself highly experienced with turning down aboriginal requests for, variously, money to buy meat, cigarettes, and spare change. the style i adopted had evolved from flat out "no", to "hell, i need money too, can i come with you?" so imagine the warmth of familiarity in my heart when a group of three aboriginals approached me for some kindness on a desolate street. at that very moment i decided to employ a new tactic, because i was an aboriginal from taiwan who could not speak english, was very glad to be on their land, and would love to be in possession of some kindness too. THAT worked like a charm because god knows prolly the only thing aboriginals cant stand is someone exactly like themselves.

Dividends

Morning is just a rehash of last night except we're dirtier because there hasnt been a real shower for either. I'm sitting topless in the passenger seat as Daryl brings us home. The wind is passing us by and I want to scream, which I do. We stop for three spots fishing for barra but fail quite miserably. Well, at least money buys us barra at Fisherman's Wharf again, just like the first time, but here we bump into Teddy and Ayumi, my trainmates who inspire laughter in between their Japanese-Korean attempts at English.



It's time to say goodbye, and this is the final entry On the Southern Road. But I know, when the police pulls us over on the way to the airport, there is no need to say goodbye, because, well, too many things can happen. You just gotta have faith, faith, faith.

Lords of the Flies

It's my last day on the trains and I've fallen into a sleepy routine. The seats in front turn around to form the most comfortable bed I've ever had on the trains. Meal times and movie times are scheduled finely. Meals are simple affairs, consisting of yesterday's leftovers, Home Brand canned food and one orange. The staff know that I'll be interested in the expired chips special and I am, so I buy two (it's a treat)! Reading, listening to Max Kingsley Jr, sleeping and spacing out at the window take turns like they're learning to waltz.




Darly picks me up and we head straight for Lichfield National Park. It's a one hour drive on the road and another hour off it. Daryl's 4WD goes over rocks, crosses streams and breaks stumps like only a man's car can. We arrive at the campsite and set up camp but immediately the mudflies attack, so we hurry up and jump into the waterhole. up here in darwin, the waterhole is surrounded by familiar tropical trees, a much welcome sight. The water is sparkling clear, crystal cold and there are a series of falls so we sit under them, letting the water wash everything away.

Sick!

Kristie and Erin from back in the IP pick me up at Todd Mall after farewells with Dan. They've prepped a picnic and we're going to the West MacDonnell Ranges today. We try to channel Peter McDouall Stuart's spirit for a little bit at Serpentine Gorge but fail miserably. Ellery Creek Big Hole is the most beautiful place I never thought Alice Springs could have. There's so much fun to be had swimming and we're eating for too long so by the time we've left we're already late for my train. There's no point stressing about missing the train though, it'd just be oddly funny at this point of a trip in which nothing bad has happened. So we sing to The Audreys, play with stuffed toys, and poke our heads out of the window screaming bloody murder. By the time we fly into the railway station, the train doors have already been locked but I'm just in time so they let me in anyway. As Kristy puts it so well when I sms the girls goodbye, "I bet no one else on the train was swimming in a waterhole an hour ago."

Warmer Weather

They climb to the top of King's Canyon in drag and at the top, they wonder at all the space that doesnt seem to end. Where do they want to go now? Home. Maybe that is the purpose of travel, to go to the ends of the world in order to appreciate the place where you came from, to understand your relationship with your origins,because, perhaps, proximity breeds contempt.


Mercury reads 47. Yes, it's celsius.

Queen of the Desert

Our favourite tree, the ghost gum. It can decide to drop leaves or even certain branches if the going gets tough



This morning only four of us from the tour group want to go for the King's Canyon Rim Walk, presumably because of a segment called Heart Attack Hill. When the guide, Matt, comes, I realise he was the one behind the bar last night at dinner. We strike up an instant friendship and go on the jolly way.


I'm naked in the waterhole


She's a cool French lady who even did the Marrakech marathon last year

Matt is, very surprisingly, a qualified airline pilot

The Uluru Climb

the Mingo Mob.


The Anangu dont want us to climb but still it is open. I decide that cultural sensitivity can wait until I'm older. I'm fit now and my knees are still working so I'll climb it. It's a convex slope so what you can see from the ground is only a quarter of the way up. It's very safe but because I'm like an ant on the Rock, it feels as though I might slip off or get blown away.









The view is magnificent, of course. Sun rising over the red earth in a slight mist and Kata-Tjuta greets us from the distance. The way at the top is funny, running down a slope so the momentum brings you up the next one. Who cares about the painted white lines? I dont, and have a ball of a time climbing up and jumping down everywhere.


My bushfly cemetery

Mt. Connor and the land and I


No more SPAM sandwiches!

My Hotel Room

My Hotel Swimming Pool

My Hotel Room Service

My Hotel Dartboard

Dan brings me to see the crazy stars on the boardwalk. The stars are terrific and just sick. I wish the stars could take me. I wish I could take a picture properly