Before I get to that I would like to take a moment to reflect on my slowly fading time here in Australia. I will be home in less than twenty days, and with that will come an end to this blog. I hope, through my writing and photographs, I have been able to give you at least a small taste of Australia. I promise I will do my best to achieve a strong ending to this blog through my final entries.

            Without Further ado here is my story. Enjoy.

 The Indian Pacific

The last time I traveled between Sydney and Perth it was in the opposite direction. I was about to start university. In fact the ten year anniversary of that trip will be next month. I wish I could say that I was still filled with the same vigor I had in those early days, that I still got the same thrill from looking out the window at the infinite red landscape. Instead, I’m feeling smothered by piles of unfinished treatments, not scripts just treatments, in this damn minuscule compartment.                                                                                                                                              

I wasn’t producing anything.  I moved to the city, hoping to find inspiration. Instead, I found walls, giant grey monstrous constructs, and the living dead, completely reliant on coffee to keep their hearts beating. Even my overpriced apartment was nothing more than four walls and it was becoming hard not to notice the heap of Starbucks cups accumulating in the rubbish bin.

            When I got a call from an old mate from university about a job opportunity I had to take it. He was looking for writers for the pilot episode of a new series he was working on in Perth. He even offered to pay for my train ticket. So here I am in a private cabin on the Indian Pacific, still restrained by walls.  Even the steel titan rushing through the infinite red landscape can not break free from the tracks and roam free. 

            My mobile phone began to ring. I looked at the number and to my surprise it was my father. We haven’t talked much since I left for university. I answered the phone curious and a little nervous.

‘Hello?’

‘Your mother passed away last night . You know she’s been in the hospital for the last month. It seems after years of fighting, her body finally lost to the cancer. The funeral will be held in two days. You should probably start making travel arrangements… oh and have a speech ready.’

‘I’m on a train headed for Perth right now. I’ll get there on the morning of the funeral. Can you pick me up from the station?’

‘Sure. Say a prayer for your mother’

I sat down in the arm chair in my cabin and stared out the window. For a long while that’s all I did. I must have looked as though I was catatonic, but as my body was still my mind raced furiously. My body started to tremble and tears rolled down my face, I couldn’t sit any longer. I couldn’t handle this right now and if I sat any longer I was going to snap. I glanced at my watch. It was noon so I decided to get some lunch.

The food was fine enough. In fact, under any other circumstance I would have been quite impressed with the quality. But not today, today nothing had much taste. It occurred to me I needed something stronger. I made up my mind to go to the lounge once I had finished my meal. At the very least, it would be better than spending the entire day in my cabin.

When I reached the lounge I headed straight for the bar, ordered a whiskey sour, and found a lone seat. I finished the first drink rather quickly, and the second, and the third. I decided to nurse my fourth drink and stared out the window. I notice the bartender was a bit stingy with the alcohol when pouring the fourth drink, he probably was hoping I would not make a scene. In his defense, so was I. About half way through the fourth drink, memories of my childhood flooded my mind.                           

I worked relentlessly trying to find my place in school. At different times I was involved in school produced plays, the literary magazine, the yearbook association, I even tried out for a sport or two at my fathers urging. I remember the way his face lit up when I told him I was trying out for the cricket team and then how the glow disappeared the day I was cut.

 I wasn’t completely unsuccessful in my search, but it became increasingly apparent to me that I did not belong there. My parents picked up on this and when I expressed my plans to move to the city they were both very supportive, in fact it seemed they were aware I would leave home before the idea had even formed in my head.

What I did find, though I never intended to, it was a love that remains to this day as my one and only true love, a love sure to embrace and comfort me on my worst days. That is my love of movies. Rather it was comedy, some deep narrative on human nature, or simplistic escapist fantasy, I could always drift away from real life in a small town for about ninety minutes and become absorbed in the colors and sounds of another place and another time.   

My mum and I were very close. My father and I got along fine enough. I mean, I loved him and he loved me, but we never really connected. He was an old country boy, always had been. He loved action movies, but that was about it. We were able to enjoy Mad Max, because, as he put it, Mel Gibson was badass. Other than that our taste in movies was as far apart as any aspects of our personalities.

He grew up in the Northern Territory with two older brothers on a cattle ranch. He was content with the pure joys of wrangling cows and hunting with his brothers and his father. It was there that he met my mother. When they got married they moved into a tiny apartment. It was arranged that if they moved to Perth, closer to my mother’s family they would receive some financial support. They knew it was the best decision, as they were planning to start a family.

My reminiscing was interrupted when I noticed a woman had walked in and was heading in my direction. The sole purpose of picking this seat was to ensure that I would be able to drown my sorrows in relative privacy. I vowed not to look up from my drink or show any sign that I recognized her presence. As she passed by the smooth silk of her sundress brushed against my hand which was resting on the arm of the chair. Curiosity got the better of me and I looked up.

I watched her pass and take a seat some two meters away from my own. Despite more pressing concerns, her beauty did not escape me. But, it was her face that intrigued me. She wore a large smile, but it was forced. Any attempt to conceal her emotions was betrayed by her eyes. Though the redness was now only a pale pink, it was clear she had been crying. She had not even bothered to fix her makeup which had begun to run beneath her eyes. I did not expect her to say a word.

‘I’m waiting to see some motorcycle gang appear and try to hijack the train.’

 ‘Huh?’

‘The landscape… it’s like something out of Mad Max.’

‘Oh. Ha-ha your sure right about that’

‘My name is Lauren, by the way. What’s yours?’

‘Brock.’

‘So Brock, where are you headed?’

‘I’m headed to Perth for my mum’s funeral.’

‘God, how awful. You have my sympathies.’

‘Thanks, that’s very kind of you. How about yourself?’

‘My husband recently passed away. We had been living in his parents’ house after they moved into a retirement community. Well, his family and I had always had a rocky relationship. So, when he passed I decided to travel around Australia for a while looking for a place to live. I’m actually considering moving to Perth.’

‘Funny, I’ve been thinking of finding somewhere new, myself. Maybe I’ll just jump off the train at the next stop and wander into the bush.’

‘It sounds like your running from something, mate.’

‘No, just looking for something.’

‘Well, you’ll never find it out there all alone’

I took the last sip of my fourth whiskey sour and looked at my watch.

‘It’s been nice talking with you Lauren, but I need to start writing my speech for the ceremony.’

‘See you around Brock. Once again you have my sympathies.’

  I returned to my room and almost immediately I began feeling smothered again. I cleared a space among my mess and put pen to paper. There it remained still. Hours passed and my hand barely moved. I passed on dinner and continued my struggle to get a single thought onto paper. By eight o’clock I still had nothing. I decided to call it a night. My mind was still distraught as I drifted off to sleep.

My eyes opened to a peculiar scene. The cabin was different. Nothing was where it should have been, but I was mostly concerned about the red light seeping through the window blind. I pulled it to one side and stared at the landscape rushing by and disappearing behind the train faster than normal. I looked down and to my astonishment the train had come off the tracks. The train continued to hurtle forward into the infinite red space until the landscape became nothing more than a blur.

I should have been horrified, but an aura of peace filled the cabin. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be swept up by it. When I reopened my eyes the cabin was back to normal and dark except for the digital alarm clock which read 2:30 A.M. and the light creeping under the door from the hallway. I struggled to make sense of the dream, but exhaustion overtook me before I could make any progress.

When I awoke in the morning I could still vividly recall my dream. But, within moments reality sunk in and I knew I was still on a train headed for my mum’s funeral. I went back to work on my speech, but still nothing came to me. Noon came around and I left my cabin to get lunch. The meal looked excellent, but once again nothing had much taste. As I sat and stared out the window I felt myself longing to be in the train of my dream, hurtling into that infinite red space. To my surprise, I also felt myself longing for something else, the company of Lauren.

The rest of the day past painfully slow. It was spent replaying memories of my mum in my head and fighting to hold back tears.  It went on this way until dinner and than it was back to the lounge and my search for some comfort at the bottom of a glass. When I arrived Lauren was sitting in the same seat I had been in the night before. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I made my way over to her.

‘Could I buy you a drink?’

‘That would be nice. By the way, how is the speech going?’

‘Honestly, it’s not. I can hardly write a word.’

I made a trip to the bar and returned with two martinis. A smile spread across her face. It seems she was pleased with my choice. She gingerly took her drink from my hand. My body tingled as her soft skin of her hand brushed against mine.

‘There has got to be something you can say about your mother.’

‘Sure, but it’s hard to put them into words. I’ve spent so many years away from my family I’m not sure I want to confront my past, especially like this.’

‘Why’d you leave?’

‘I didn’t fit in where I grew up. I was young and had some romantic view about leaving on my own and beginning an epic journey. Turns out I don’t belong where I live now either.’

‘That’s only because your journey isn’t over yet. A journey is only ever complete once you’ve returned to where you came from.’

Right then I knew what to write. This beautiful woman with sad eyes also had a keen mind. Within minutes of talking she was able to see the core of my troubles. She was able to express what I had struggled with for years. I didn’t want to leave I could have continued talking to her forever, but I could not waste this moment of perfect clarity.

 I said good night to Lauren and went back to my room. I put pen to paper and the words started pouring out. Among all the amazing times it was one seemingly unimportant memory that stood out in my mind. It was a Saturday night and instead of going out with my mates I went to the cinema with my mum. We saw some awful movie, I can’t even remember the name, but afterwards we went out for ice cream. We sat in the diner for hours talking about the movie.

 Then it occurred to me that must have been the night. That was when I first fell in love with movies. Over the years my love had been tainted. I looked to movies as an escape. When I first fell in love it was because of their ability to bring people together. Those massive grey walls that were the cause of my horrible claustrophobia were put up by me. Somewhere down the line my journey had been interrupted and soon it became an exile. I had isolated myself, but now it was time to return.

I fell asleep that night with my mind at ease.  I was only awoken in the morning by the ringing of my mobile phone. I fished it out of my pocket and saw that it was my father calling.

‘When do you think you’ll arrive at the station?’

 ‘I should be there in an hour.’

‘How long do you think you’ll be staying?’

‘About that. Would it be o.k. if I stayed at the house for longer than I originally planned?’

‘Of course it is. What for?’

‘Well, I was thinking about looking for a place of my own. If this television pilot is successful I might have a good steady job for a while. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m coming home.’

My father didn’t respond immediately. I could only imagine what a shock this must have been for him.

‘Dad, you still there?’

‘Yeah, I’m here. I was wondering when you would finish that journey of yours. It’s about time.’

I made sure I had all my belongings together and was ready for a quick exit when the train arrived at the station. From a distance, I saw my dad in the crowd. He looked older, but he had somehow managed to age more gracefully than I had. I waved my arm to get his attention and our gazes met.

We embraced for the first time in nearly a decade. I felt no urge to hold back the tears coming from my eyes. As we parted I realized he had been crying, as well. What a scene the two of us must have been. He spoke first.

‘Welcome Home. Your mum would be happy that you’re here.’

            Saturday called for an early start as well, for the night before we had agreed we should all have a cookout at Kawanas beach. As soon as we arrived I laid out my towel and began another long day of lounging in the sun. I gave into some positive peer pressure from my friends and, despite an overall lethargy brought on by the dry Australian heat, braved the cold ocean.

            Not only was the ocean cold, but the waves were fierce. It was not a day for those who enjoy wading in the water and occasionally enjoy a crisp cool wave tumble over their head. If anyone planned on enjoying the ocean that day they needed to enjoy the excitement of facing the powerful and relentless waves crashing over them. They would have to be having their wits about them and be prepared for some spills. I was not ready for all of that. I admit I felt a temporary rush of adrenaline, but the call of my towel under the hot sun was to alluring.

            As for the cookout, I could not have asked for anything more. Once we were all sufficiently exhausted and relatively dry, we made our way to the grocery store and picked up lunch. We then walked back to the beach and made use of the public grills. We feasted on sausage, chicken, and kangaroo. I was primarily in charge of grilling the kangaroo. I like to think I am proficient at the when it comes to grilling, but even I found cooking kangaroo to be a bit of a challenge. There is a very small window of opportunity for perfection. While it was not my best work, I am happy to say it was still quite delicious and no one should be suffering from mad kangaroo disease.

            It was exactly what a cookout is meant to be. We were surrounded by good friends and good food. We all found relief from the sun under the shade of a pavilion, while still enjoying the fresh air and the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. When it was time to catch the bus home, I feel we were all very content with our time spent at the beach and were looking forward to reconvening later that night to celebrate Halloween.

            The only thing that signified Saturday night was different than any other night of drinking was the costumes. I must say, the effort and creativity put into costumes was quite impressive. However, when all was said and done, I feel we all just wanted to enjoy another night of drinking with good friends.

            For me the true celebration was Sunday night. This was truly Halloween night and I figured it needed to be celebrated properly. I was perfectly content spending my night watching horror movies and eating loads of candy. I enjoyed sampling many of the tasty treats Australia has to offer. As much as I am looking forward to returning to friends and family at the end of the month I will truly miss Cherry Ripes and Aero Bars.

            Monday was reserved for rest and recovery after a very long and enjoyable weekend. I have made a promise to myself to make the absolute most of my time left in Australia. And I feel that this weekend kept in line with this promise.

            I was awoken Saturday morning by a phone call and half an hour later I was on a bus with friends headed for the beach. I am still red and it sometimes hurts to move. Despite slathering on sun block what seemed like every five minutes, the suns intense rays won out. The cool crisp ocean felt more refreshing that day than has ever before. I happily endured being bowled over by wave after wave, as it was a needed relief from the sun.

            As enjoyable as Saturday was it was the Friday before that I will never forget. This past Friday I walked on holy land. I visited the Australian Zoo, a giant monument to the late great Steve Irwin. It is impossible to visit the place and not see a photograph or statue of this man. In addition to the unavoidable presence of the spirit of Steve Irwin, I saw many amazing animals. The zoo is home to many of Australia’s most poisonous snakes. It is worth noting that being Australia’s most poisonous snakes means they are some of the world’s most poisonous snakes. I also saw many Australian classics like kangaroos, koalas, and wombats.

            Not only did I get to see these animals, I was able to feed and pet kangaroos and pet a koala. In one section of the zoo the kangaroos roamed free. By roam I mean the lounge in the sun all day, barely moving. It is this freedom granted to the animals that makes the zoo so amazing. It is not uncommon to run into large lizards or bush turkeys as you walk the concrete paths around the property.

            I must say that I was surprised that the zoo was relatively small and did not have many animals that were not indigenous to Australia. Looking back I realized this adds to the experience. It creates a more intimate setting free from gimmicks. The trip is all about the animals and becoming closer to the beauty of nature. There is also a great emphasis on efforts to save the environment, as well as charities and a hospital set up by Steve Irwin.

            I was able to watch the croc show, one of the main attractions of the zoo. Sadly, I was not able to see the legend himself at work, but his predecessors are very talented. It is absolutely amazing to look into the trainers’ eyes as they focus so intently on the task at hand. This focus can be the difference between life and death. Even though the animal is trained it is still a couple hundred pounds and over six feet long with powerful jaws. It was amazing how far the crocodile could get out of the water when it lunged for food. I have no doubts that it was once a dangerous force in the wild.

            All in all it was an amazing experience. I took many great photographs to record my trip. However, I do not think I will have to worry about the images I saw with my own eyes fading from memory. While I have been here for a good time now I am still constantly surprised by what Australia has to offer. It is a vast and often exotic continent. The zoo brings much of the exotic nature of the rainforests and out back closer to the masses. It reminded me of why Australia has occupied my imagination since I was young.

            Instead what I have decided to do is post the original draft of the short story I am working on for my creative writing class. I realize there are flaws. It was my first time writing a story that relied so heavily on dialogue, so at times the writing feels a bit clumsy. I am currently working on my third draft. Since the original draft I have fine tuned the dialogue, made better use of symbolism, got rid of unnecessary parts, and removed two characters.

            I will post the final draft in two weeks. For now, I hope you enjoy the original draft of the story despite its flaws. Feel free to leave comments. 

            The Indian Pacific

“Hello.”

“Your mother passed away last night at. As you know she has been in the hospital for the last month. It seems after years of fighting, her body finally lost to the cancer. The funeral will be held in two days. You have a long trip ahead of you, so you should probably start making travel arrangements.”

That was the first phone conversation I had with my father in a month. Hardly a second after I put down the phone it started ringing again.

“Cate Blanchett”

“What?”

“She would be perfect for what’s-her-name, our stars girlfriend.”

“Alana?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“I suppose. But, shouldn’t we find a star first. Who’s to say anyone will even want to make my script into a movie?”

“Don’t sound so pessimistic. You’re new to this whole thing and you’ve already had some success with one of your scripts. Plus you’re working with one of the best producers in Sydney mate.

“I’m hardly new to all this, I’ve been trying to find my niche in this business for five years now. Plus my one script that was turned into a film was the sloppiest, most clichéd piece of garbage I’ve written. No one will even take the time to look at my deeper work. I’m not even sure why you’re wasting your time with it.”

“I’ll tell you why. I have faith in the movie viewing public. There are plenty of people looking for a story that can challenge them. Plus, when you pitched me a story about a down and out artist moving to the city and trying to find his place in the crowd, only to get mixed up in its seedy drug culture I was blow away.”

“I’m not sure it’s well placed, but I appreciate your faith in me. I’ll talk to you later Heath.”

“Alright mate. Take it easy.”

Once again I put the phone down. I did not have time to sit and process the news. I had to make travel plans. Luckily, I was taking the month off from work to write, so I would not be missing any days at the office. O.K., so I was fired. That doesn’t change the fact I plan to take a month to work on another script before I go looking for another job. Anyways I shuffled over to my computer and started looking for the best deals.

The last time I traveled between Sydney and my hometown in Perth I was headed in the opposite direction. In fact the ten year anniversary of that trip will be next month. I was twenty when I hopped in my car with two suitcases packed with only the bare essentials. I had only started to make concrete plans less than a month before, but the idea of leaving my hometown had been with me for many years.

I grew up a single child. I went through the normal life routine. I had some good friends. My parents loved me and often spoiled me. By no means did I live a bad or less than comfortable childhood. None the less, I never felt content.

 I fell in love with movies when I was young boy. My favorite memories are of going to the theatre with a few friends on the weekend to see a movie and going out for ice cream afterwards. I know it sounds so clichéd, really cheesy stuff, but hey it’s the truth. 

I worked relentlessly at trying to find my place in school. At different times I was involved in school produced plays, the literary magazine, the yearbook association, I even tried out for a sport or two at my fathers urging. I wasn’t completely unsuccessful, but it became increasingly apparent to me that I did not belong there. The one thing I knew I could always fall back on was movies. Rather it was comedy, some deep narrative on human nature, or simplistic escapist fantasy; I could always drift away from real life in a small town for about ninety minutes and become absorbed in the colors and sounds of another place and another time.   

My parents knew this and when I expressed my plans to leave home they were both very supportive, in fact it seemed they were aware I would leave home before the idea had even sprouted in my head. My mother was particularly supportive. That is how she had always been. Being a free spirit herself when she was younger, she understood what it was like to get that itch. That very itch which I had, that all encompassing feeling of unease, that feeling that there must be more out there.

We got along well. Sometimes, when I was younger, she would take my friends and I to see movies we were not old enough to buy tickets for and see on our own. Afterwards she would eat ice cream with us and discuss the movie. She was the one who introduced me to all the great American directors. I fell in love with Hitchcock, Kubrick, and Capra. She sparked my interest in all different genres. She was the one who pushed me to study film in a university.

My father and I got along fine enough. I mean I loved him and he loved me, but we never really connected. He was a blue collar worker, always had been. He loved action movies, but that was about it. He didn’t particularly care about the directors or the stories about how the movies were made. He saw one of the three plays I was in and only read some of the pieces I had written for the literary magazine. He was really excited when I tried out for the cricket team, but I got cut half way through try outs. Still, he was a great father. He just came from a different background and I understood that.

He grew up in the Northern Territory with two older brothers on a cattle ranch. He spent his days wrangling cows, riding around in his jeep, and hunting with his brothers and his father. It was there that he met my mother. When they got married they moved into a tiny apartment. It was arranged that if they moved to Perth, closer to my mother’s family they would receive some financial support. They knew it was the best decision, as they were planning to start a family. My father was able to find work shearing sheep, which he enjoyed. However, he was never really comfortable. For him home was back on the cattle ranch.

After a bit of searching I felt I had found the best mode of transportation, the Indian Pacific, a train that went from Sydney to Perth. It was a three day trip that would arrive at a station near my home town early on the morning of my mother’s funeral. It departed later today and by some miracle there was still an empty cabin. I had to pay a little extra, but I was not to upset about the price, because it was a single. The last thing I wanted to do was share a small cabin with a stranger for three days that I would be in a less than sociable mood.

I packed a small suitcase full of the necessities, being careful not to wrinkle my suit too greatly. After packing I had an hour before I had to leave for the train station. I did not dare sit, for fear of breaking down and being late because of uncontrolled emotions. I scurried around the house making sure things were in order. Finally, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out the door.

The trip to Central station did not take long and I was on the train in no time at all. Suitcase in hand, I made my way to the cabin assigned to me. I threw the suitcase on the table and sat down in the arm chair beside it. For a long while that’s all I did. As my body sat still my mind raced furiously. This was the first moment of calm since the phone call from my father and the sadness which had been repressed welled up inside of me.

I was suddenly shaken out of my wallowing by a strange grumbling sound. It took a moment to realize it was coming from my own stomach. Come to think of it I had not eaten since breakfast, around the time of the phone call. I looked at my watch and realized I had been sitting in that arm chair for hours. I waited for the redness in my eyes to subside, cleaned up a bit, and made my way to the restaurant car.

The food was fine enough. In fact, under any other circumstance I would have been quite impressed with the quality. But, tonight nothing had much taste. It occurred to me I needed something stronger. I made up my mind to go to the lounge once I had finished my meal. At the very least, it would be better than spending the entire night in that small cabin. 

When I reached the lounge I headed straight for the bar, ordered a whiskey sour, and found a lone seat. I finished the first drink rather quickly, and the second, and the third. I decided to nurse my fourth drink and stared out the window. I notice the bartender was a bit stingy with the alcohol when pouring the fourth drink, he probably was hoping I would not make a scene. In his defense, so was I. It felt as though all those emotions and tears could well up at any moment.

Eventually, a mother and her daughter chose to sit in a place very close to me. The last thing I needed was a loud little kid running around the place while I’m trying to drown my sorrows. To my pleasure the daughter was well behaved and rotated between talking with her mother and reading a book.  Under any other circumstance, I suppose, I would have noticed that the mother was quite attractive and seemed to be about my age. But, as I was in no shape to be hitting on attractive women, I went back to my cabin and prayed that I would be able to sleep.

I was able to sleep and I awoke refreshed in the morning. First thing I cleaned up, put fresh clothes on, and headed back to the lounge. There I sunk into an armchair and stared out the window. Sitting, staring, and thinking are three things I have gotten very good at over the years, and it is often when combining these three actions that I have my greatest realizations and most insightful ideas. I remained like this until lunch time, when I headed for the restaurant car.

I ordered a ham sandwich on Turkish bread and a bowl of pumpkin soup. Once again nothing had much taste. Outside the window the red earth was scorched and barren. There had not been a good rain in this part of Southern Australia for a while and the plants were brown and wilted. Two people were seated at the booth directly connected to mine. I recognized them to be the mother and the daughter from the night before. I was just finishing my food as they ordered. The waitress came and removed my dishes, but I continued to sit and stare out the window. 

I’m waiting to see some gang in crazy cars appear and try to hijack the train.”

 “Huhh.”

“The landscape… it’s like something out of Mad Max.”

“Ha-ha your sure right about that”

“My name is Lauren, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Brock.”

“So Brock, what are you doing here on the Indian Pacific?”

“Well, I’m headed to Perth for my mother’s funeral.”

“God, how awful. You have my sympathies.”

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you. How about yourself?”

“I got a bit of a sad story myself. My husband recently passed away. We had been living in his parents’ house after they moved into a retirement facility. Well, his family and I had always had a rocky relationship. So, I decided my daughter and I should travel around Australia a while looking for a place to live. Funny, I’m actually considering moving to Perth.”

“I’m sorry for you loss. It must be hard on ahhhh…”

“Oh, Claire. Yeah she’s only four. But, she knows daddy is in a better place. Right honey?”

“Yup.”

“Well, it was nice talking to you Lauren, but I’m going to go back to my cabin and work on my speech for the funeral. I hope everything works out for the best.”

“Same to you Brock.”

When I was back in my cabin I did not feel like writing a single word. I really just used the speech as an excuse. She seemed like a great person and I did not feel at the moment I would make the best first impression if conversation kept up. The rest of the second day went much like the first. I spent more time in the arm chair, went to the restaurant car for dinner and than to the lounge. After I had spent a good hour in the lounge and far too much money on a few drinks I noticed Lauren walk in.

Feeling a little more upbeat than before, I “accidentally” bumped into her at the bar and bought her a drink. It seemed that Claire was asleep and Lauren was looking to partake in the same relief from grieving I was. From that point on a great conversation started.

            I have never had such a heartfelt conversation with a complete stranger. We talked about love, loss, our families, traveling across the continent, and much more. It was more than the alcohol or the fact we were both grieving. Her childhood situation seemed very similar to mine. However, she was able to eloquently express the emotions and thoughts that I struggled to present in my scripts. Three hours had gone by before either of us looked at our watches.

            “I better get going. If Claire wakes up she’ll be wondering where I am.”

            “Where in Perth are you staying?”

            “I don’t know. I was going to move around for a while and stay in motels.”

            “Would you like to… or would you mind… would you join me”

            “At the funeral?”

            “Umm… yeah at the funeral. There’s a nice motel very close, a big grocery store, and Claire might like the playground.”

            “Yes. I would like that.”

            “I’m glad. Well, good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            Shortly after Lauren left the lounge I headed back to my cabin. I slept well that night and was only awoken by my phone ringing. I fumbled around in my pocket trying top locate it. It was my father. Two phone calls in one week. This will make it the most we have talked in a long time.

            “You almost here?”

            “The train will arrive at the station in two hours.”

            “Do you need a ride from the station?”

            “That would be great. I hope that it’s O.K. a friend of mine and her daughter will be joining.”

            “No worries. So how long are you staying before you head back home?”

            “Sydney? That hardly feels like home anymore. Actually, I was thinking about sticking around for a while and looking around for a place in Perth, maybe the old home town.”

            “You know you’re always welcome back home. “

            “Thanks dad. I’ll see you soon.”

            Before I could even get out of bed the phone rang again. This time it was Heath.

            “I think I found someone who is interested. I’ll give them a call today to set up a meeting. When will you be back?”

            “Actually, I’m thinking of staying here for a while. I got a new idea for a story.”

            “What’s the idea?”

            “It’s the story of a young man who is lost until he takes a train ride across the continent. It follows him closely as he develops emotionally on the train. In the end he realizes he was never really lost. He just didn’t know what he was really looking for.”

            “Great. I liked your last idea, but I love this one. Take all the time you need. But when you’re finished promise to give me a call.”

            “I will. Don’t worry.”

            “Send your family my regards.”

            I took my time and ordered coffee to be brought by room service. I did not have time to sit in the armchair this morning. I wanted to look nice for when I met Lauren and Claire outside. I just finished cleaning up and packing as the train arrived at the station. When I got off the train they were already waiting for me.

            “It took you long enough.”

            “I know. I know.”

            “No worries. You ready for this?”

            “Yeah, I’m ready. It’s time to go home.”

            I attempted to start my new routine of swimming a mile at least three days a week as soon as I wake up. Up to this point I have been unable to commit, but this week I felt extra inspired. I knew if I could only get the three days in this week I would have the drive to make it a permanent habit. Unfortunately, I was only able to swim two mornings before it started half way through the week.

            Now when I say it started to rain, I mean to say that it poured. It continued to pour the rest of the week. There were multiple intervals, but they never last for more than a few minutes. In addition to being incredibly wet, it was cold and windy as well.

            As I sat at my desk with the aforementioned tea and book, I would occasionally glimpse out the window at the grey stormy atmosphere around me. My attention was often captured by the loud howling noise that came from outside. While it may have lead one to believe that a train was running right through the apartment complex, it was, in fact, the ferocious wind.

            I would lay awake at night listening to that howling wind causing the shrubs outside to drag across my window making an awful screeching sound and the steady barrage of rain drops on roofs and windows all around the complex. Despite the chaos outside, I found the sounds oddly soothing and eventually settled into a good nights sleep.

            As I said before, a majority of my week was spent reading. I was reading a book for class. Luckily, it was an excellent thought provoking and touching book. In English literature we are looking at the genre of science fiction. The book I was reading is The Dispossessed. It is the story of a man who from an anarchic planet who attempts to bring his theories to another planet in hopes of perfecting simultaneous communication, there by creating brotherhood between the two planets. In fact, the planet which he goes to is a large utopian society.

 However, this utopian society has a hidden secret, a large discontent group of underprivileged. Hundreds of years ago a group of these underprivileged fled to the near by moon creating a new society, the planet from which our scientist friend comes from. The book studies what makes a utopian or anarchic society as the distinctions are blurred. 

There was an interesting excerpt from the book which has remained in my head for the past few weeks. The main character is thinking about the people who founded his planet years ago and attempts to make a comparison with his own journey. He attempts to make a distinction between an adventurer and an explorer. He proposes an adventurer is one who leaves his home to traverse the globe, inevitably bound to a life of solitude. An explorer, however, leads a more fulfilled life. This is because he realizes the importance of the return trip to the entirety of the journey.     

I feel his musings are intrinsically linked to my personal musings from last week. I have mentioned many times I feel blessed to be able experience such an amazing journey. However, I have been thinking about home more often. The knowledge that I will return home is what allows me to enjoy my time abroad. It is my anchor, my base camp that I can return to after my long journey.

When I return home I hope to apply the lessons I have learned and the new view and understanding of society to my life back home. I feel this is what the character was primarily focused on. The journey is worth nothing if there is no one to share it with. The ultimate goal of the journey is to learn and bring home new ideas. I have plenty of new ideas and a whole new outlook on life.

There was one special thing about this week. Tony, a friend from back home came to visit. Let me clear this up. I have not see Tony since I graduated from high school. However, he was studying in Sydney. This weekend he came to the Sun Shine Coast. It was good to see him and catch up on things. Along with Mark and Pat, we went to Noosa beach. It was the least stress filled day I have had in a while and it was nice to spend a laughter filled day with just the guys.    

It seems it really is a small world after all. In addition to realizing just how tiny this gigantic planet is I have experienced another phenomenon. I have heard that everyone has a doppelganger of themselves somewhere else in the world. I swear this is true. Since I have been here I have often seen look-a-likes of old classmates on campus. Oddly enough, they are often people I have not spoken to in along time and have do not any particular reason to be thinking of. I often spot these doppelgangers out the corner of my eye, and swear it is the real person. It is not only locally that I see these doppelgangers. I have seen plenty in Sydney, albeit most of them are Asian version.

I’m sure in reality it is just my mind playing tricks on me. I suppose it could be my subconscious occasionally dropping me reminders of home. Home has been on my mind quite a lot lately, since I have recently passed the two month mark of my time in Australia. My time is slowly coming to an end and I really do not want it to. This realization becomes more and more vivid everyday. It is already time to think about signing up for classes next semester at Towson.

As I said, I do not want to leave. I have to admit, though, thinking about being welcomed home by friends and family I have not seen for months is quite nice. When I really reflect on my time here I come to realize I have spent my time well. I have created strong friendships, even a few I will be able to continue once home. I have traveled around Australia, seen many of nature’s most beautiful monuments, immersed my self in the bright lights of the city, and relaxed on some amazing beaches. I have seen exotic animals, ate terrific food, and I have documented much of it in photographs.

Not only have I seen and experienced a lot, but I have learned a lot as well. I have somehow managed to keep focused on my studies and am doing well in school. I have learned much about the Australian culture and history. This includes modern Australians as well as the indigenous people of the land. I have learned about new music, food, art, and movies. I have also had a lot of practice in communicating and living with people from different places around the world. For better or for worse, this last part has primarily involved learning to curse in many European languages.    

On a more technical level, I have learned to be much more self sufficient. Every week I am required to shop for food and cook for myself. This has also forced me to learn the metric system, rather it should have. I have used more public transportation since I have been in Australia than I have in my entire life. I feel I am a much better traveler. I have learned how to pack more efficiently and navigate unknown cities.

When all is said and done, I have taken a lot from this experience and it is not over yet. I have come to the conclusion that when I am about to step foot on the airplane that will take me back to the states I will be satisfied. I will not be anxious to leave or said that I am departing. I feel I will be able to look back on my time here and know that I made the most of it. That knowledge and the excitement of seeing all the people I have missed should make for a smooth transition.

  So basically, my trip was indescribably amazing. It all began when I left on an over night bus for Arlee beach. That’s the location from which the Tongarra departed. The Tongarra was the large wooden ship I spent three days and two nights in the middle of the ocean on. Good times were had on board the ship. Bluey our captain and Binky our guide were quite humorous fellows, but they were also quite skillful at navigating the high seas and knowledgeable on the area.

Binky only aloud English on his ship, for everyone spoke it and he wanted everyone to mingle. The punishment for disobeying the rule was a spoonful of vegemite, a fate far worse than death. For even the most true-blooded Australian can not stomach more than a little bit on his toast. This rule seemed to accomplish its goal. I’m sure the fact that B.Y.O. was in place didn’t hurt either, or the fact that there was constantly food and meals were well made by a friendly cook.

Twice, we left the ship for near by islands. There we alternated between lying out to tan on the gorgeous beaches and throwing on a mask and joining the fish. The reef was beautiful. I’m no good with elaborate flowery descriptions, but even the most well crafted one would not convey how amazing a sight it was to behold.

The fish were wild, a multitude of sizes, shapes, and colors. They were quite friendly and out going as well, particularly when a guide threw food in the water. On more than one occasion I was engulfed by an orb of tiny blue fish. None seemed scared of humans, rather intrigued. Most opted to swim up against you and not retreat to the nooks and crannies of the reef. I was also fortunate enough to come in contact with a local celebrity. He goes by the name of Elvis and he is the dominate male of the place, like the others he was quite a friendly fellow. Luckily, I had the foresight to by n underwater camera. I can not wait for the pictures to be developed.

Following the Great Barrier Reef, I headed for Alice Springs were I went on a three day camping trip. I visited Uluru, Kings Canyon, and the Olgas. It seems I am truly cursed. It was once joked that my Boy Scout troop always brought rain along. We ended a drought in New Jersey, brought hurricane weather to Broad Creek, and now I have brought rain to Alice Springs in January. If the there was one group of people surprised by the rain more than anyone else, it was the locals. Apparently each year there is only about one inch of rainfall in Alice Springs during September. This year however, I was constantly forced to slosh through deep mud and on a few occasion ford a few raging streams.

I did not get to see the legendary sunrise over Uluru, for the sky was constantly grey. However, it was still and amazing time with amazing people. I did not meet any Aborigines, but I was able to learn a great deal about the culture. In fact I even ate some bush tucker. For dinner we cooked roo meat and camel sausages. Well, camel is not true bush tucker. There are many wild camels, but they were introduced by a European. Kangaroo, however, is. It is a bit gamy, but I found that it was quite delicious with a bit of garlic.

Our guide was young, short, and full of energy. He had a laugh like a hyena. Despite the rain and the gray sky, his spirits were never down. He was resourceful and knowledgeable about the land. He was quite a character and had a knack for rallying the troops and boosting morale. I owe him much gratitude for making my experience so memorable.

Finally, it was time to return to a more modern setting and spend time in the city. I caught a plane and made my way for Melbourne. Melbourne is the greatest city I have ever visited. It’s a big city without the big city complex. I was fortunate enough to stay in a hostile located just outside the city center in St. Kilda. I was even more fortunate that it was located above a British pub. The many restaurants that lined the street were filled with patrons reading, writing, and listening to music. It was an atmosphere I could thoroughly enjoy.

As I ventured into the city I visited many of the city’s hotspots. I visited Lygon street, The Australian Center for the Moving Image, Chinatown, the botanical gardens, and many other great places. I came upon a great stroke of luck when I visited the         ACMI, for they were holding an exhibition on the works of Tim Burton. It was the very same exhibition held in the Museum of Modern Art in New York, which I had sadly missed earlier in the year. It was well worth the price, for I saw the Batmobile, along with Edward Scissorhands’ scissor hands, and much more.

While I was in Sydney, I left on a single day tour of the Great Ocean road. The area surrounding the city is breathtaking. I photographed an amazing group of rock formations known as the twelve apostles and obtained amazing views of the cliffs and gorges which protrude from the rough seas. We were guided by a lovely, free spirited lady with a great talent for story telling. She topped off the trifecta of great tour guides I had on my journeys.

From there I spent one more day in Melbourne before I headed for Sydney. The bus ride was long and grueling, but worth it. Sydney is a massive city of bright lights and great crowds. I am convinced that the city never slept. I spent my time all over the place. I visited Darling Harbor, Chinatown, Bondi Beach, and other places. I also visited the Sydney Aquarium, the National Maritime Museum, and the Sydney opera house. The opera house may be the most intricate and magnificent piece of architecture I have ever witnessed. It was a highlight among the many places I had visited during my two weeks of travel.

Throughout the first week I had most meals included in the price of the excursions I participated in, therefore they were regulated. Once I was unleashed in the city I feasted like a king on a budget. I finally sampled each of Australia’s traditional deserts, each one delicious and decadent. But, by far the best food I had was in the Chinatown of each city. I ate some truly great Chinese food. I’m not talking about the stuff from your local Golden Dragon that comes in one of those white cartons. I’m talking about shark fin dumpling, Peking duck, and squid and cow stomach soup. I also feasted on plenty of mochi.

I ended my traveling feast at a small quiet restaurant called Rum Diaries. It was as though this place was designed for me. It had an incredible tapas menu, over ninety types of rum from around the world, and it was named after a great book Thomas Hunter. The guys working the bar were quite helpful and we chatted about the history of drinks when they were not busy. The place was perfectly pretentious. I felt perfectly comfortable around other bearded patrons, wearing scarves, and vests, and the like. The place had a perfectly crafted soundtrack, featuring the likes of MGMT and Vampire Weekend.

            By far the best part of the place was its drink selection. Being my last night, I indulged. I spent seventeen dollars on a mere three ounce drink. It’s called the Hemmingway Special. Ordered by Hemmingway himself, it consists of rum, liquor, grapefruit juice, and lime juice. I forgot the exact recipe, but everyone should look it up. It was the best mixed drink I had ever had. Once finished the liquid I went for the cherry at the bottom of the glass. By this time it had soaked up the rum and the liquor. I am sure that as soon as I sunk my teeth into that decadent treat I saw God.

            I am overjoyed that I had the chance to visit such diverse and amazing landscapes and taste such amazing foods. I feel I have truly experienced Australia and am convinced now more than ever I could stay here the rest of my life. But, when all is said and done I feel come November 27 I will be more than ready to return home to friends and family.

Long story short, my relationship with Bank of America is rocky at the moment. Luckily everything worked out and I have just finished paying for the most amazing trip of my life. I will depart for said trip this coming Friday on an overnight bus with one bag of luggage and a book bag. I pray that this week goes by quickly.

After many revisions to my itinerary and much help from the awesome people at Mooloolaba Backpackers, I have at last finalized my plans. The first part of my trip came to be mostly out of pure luck. The first week I was in Australia I went to a small pub with some friends. I ended up winning a free raffle I entered and one a free sailing trip to the Whitsunday Islands. During this trip I will explore different sections of the Great Barrier Reef and spend the night sleeping under the stars on the deck of the boat. From their, I will head for Cairns where I will experience the excellent night life before I wake up in the morning and leave for the second part of my trip.

From Cairns I will hop on a plane headed for Alice Springs. I feel this will be the most fulfilling aspect of the whole trip. I will two nights and three days camping in the dessert of the great Out Back. I can not describe the excitement I feel when I think that I will soon be visiting Uluru, one of the Holiest places to the Aborigines. I have not yet decided if I will climb the rock. I will only know for sure once I speak to guides and determine what action will best show reverence for the indigenous culture. Regardless what I choose to do, I will wake up each morning under the great red rock as I watch the sun rise over the vast desert.

After much time experience the diverse and beautiful landscapes of Australia, I think it will be nice to spend some time in the city. That’s why I will spend a few days in Melbourne, arguably the food capitol of Australia. Melbourne is filled with modern Australian culture. Rather one is interested in food, art, music, or, sports, it seems the place to be. I will also enjoy time in the beautiful seaside town that surrounds Melbourne. To break things up a bit I will take a quick excursion on the Great Ocean Road, where I will see such amazing sights as the Twelve Apostles, beautiful rock structures in the middle of the rough ocean.

I will finish my trip in Sydney, where I will meet up with some friends. I am looking forward to seeing the opera house. I am quickly reminded of that beautiful image that enthralled me when it graced our television screens during the Sydney Olympics. After exploring this Continent independently for a while it will also be nice to meet up with some good friends and talk about our separate adventures. Of course I also am looking forward to having a group of friends to come along to experience the great city’s night life until the early morning.

I feel it is only fair to let everyone know that I will not be posting an entry this coming week. But worry not, I will return strong with an extra long entry which I am sure will be filled with excellent stories and accounts of my journey. There will also be many pictures to look forward to.

I wish I could express in words the absolute ecstatic state I am is as I think about the chance to experience diverse cultures, both modern and ancient. Plus, there is excitement of experiencing the bustling city and the vast wilderness. I feel this experience will be much more than the greatest journey of my life. I feel it will be a life changing journey. After all, who could not see the sunrise over Uluru, swim with the fish around the Great Barrier Reef, mingle with people from all parts of the world and not return a changed person?

 It took my friends a lot of effort and a bit of alcohol to convince me to go. But, at some point I caved and went to the dreaded 2-40s, the dirtiest place I have ever been in. It was better than my first time at the club, most likely because I went with a larger group of closer friends. While it was not all bad, it only confirmed that clubbing is just not my scene.

The rest of my weekend was pretty excellent. That is, other than the fact it was very frustrating scheduling an appointment to plan my two week vacation. But, I was given an excellent chance to vent, so I will not complain. I went along to the driving range with a few of the guys. It felt good to take my frustration out on the poor defenseless balls. It is funny; a girl I am friends with almost did the same thing at the club. But I digress, the outing was nice, despite the fact I am a bit rusty. I think this is something we will keep up, as we plan on going to the golf course, after a bit more practice.

Saturday I was able to have my long awaited appointment. I am incredibly excited for the epic adventure I have laid out for myself. First I will go on two days and two nights sailing trip to the Great Barrier Reef. This is a trip which I won for free in a raffle. Then I will head west to Alice Springs and visit the majestic Uluru. From there I will head south to Adelaide, Sydney, and Melbourne. Finally, I will complete the loop and head back north in time to start classes again. I have decided to take this cross country tour on my own. It even sounds a bit insane to me, but part of my decision to travel came from a want to test myself. This may be the most epic personal test I have ever faced.

I spent Sunday on the beach with some friends. It was a cool cloudy day with the constant threat of a storm. Oddly, enough I think I enjoyed it more than I would have if it were a bright sunny day. The waves were rough and the image of the sailboats against the expansive grey sky was breath taking.

 At some point, while we were lying their, my friends convinced me to go to church with them. I must admit, I had been thinking about going for a while. I suppose, it may seem like a strange thing to think about on my great Australian journey, but I really do not believe it is. From the beginning this trip was meant to be a journey of self growth. When you start to view yourself in the midst of great mountains, and rainforests, and oceans, and beautiful sunsets, you start to feel small in comparison. This is by no means a bad thing. You come to realize you are part of something much bigger than yourself.

 I guess, I feel church could help me gain greater insight into this realization. So, I went and I was totally overwhelmed. There was a rock band. My initial thought was “great a bunch of Jesus freaks.” I kept repeating in the back of my mind “do not drink the Kool-Aid.” When someone did come up to speak things calmed a bit and he actually made some good points. I am still not sure how I feel about the whole thing, but I think I will go back. Maybe, there is something to the craziness. At the very least there is free food.

It is a very youth oriented group. The main crowd is young adults. In fact, many of us went to a bonfire after the service. It was a great time. The house was in the middle of the woods, far from the sand and ocean. The house was clearly of lower middle class status. It was on stilts and underneath was the gathering area with an assortment of lightly weathered furniture. Shortly after we arrived the fire was roaring at twenty feet tall.

In a large herd we all headed towards the fire, carrying blankets, chairs, and even a sofa or two. A car was pulled down to the fire and the radio played. Soon, the radio was replaced by an acoustic guitar and the singing of everyone there. I felt more at home around in the woods around that campfire than I have since I have steeped foot in Australia. It was the perfect ending to a great weekend.

This past weekend was quite excellent. Once I had finished my assignments Friday, I was exhausted from the long week. I had no desire to go out and felt that it was going to be an early night. After lying around a while, I was struck with a powerful urge I could not shake. I needed dessert, the fact I had not yet eaten dinner was irrelevant. I would have killed a man for a cookie and shown no remorse. Luckily, I remembered I had bought all the ingredients the past week and I decided to make cookies. I was happy I would not have to kill anyone, because I was feeling far too lazy.

Instead, I called up two lovely lady friends of mine and we spent the night baking and talking. Admittedly, it was not the manliest of activities, but the important thing Is that I ate heavenly oatmeal raisin cookies and you did not. Finally, I read a good book and fell asleep. I awoke with tons of energy and jumped at the opportunity to go to the beach later in the day with some friends.

When we arrived and laid our blankets on the beach the sun took the energy out of me in about five minutes. I very much enjoyed lying around with absolutely nothing to worry about. But, as the day progressed I painfully remembered there is no such thing as a perfectly peaceful day. We stopped at a very cheap, yet very delicious Tai restaurant. I ended up leaving staring at the ground, for I was to embarrassed to look any of the employees in the eyes.

I feel there was only one employee who knew more than five words of English. We were constantly handed other peoples’ orders and when we asked if it was the correct dish we were rarely given a reply. One of my friends, I will not divulge her name, had finally had enough. I feel sorry for that short Asian man. When she got through with him he seemed genuinely horrified. I feel that night many people felt their image of the stereotypical loud and obnoxious American was justified. I feel this is incredibly unfair, because the person doing most the yelling was Canadian.

The night ended on a high note, as we all met up at a friend’s apartment and had a few drinks. The following morning on the other hand is a totally different story. I t seems the night before I had a little too much to drink, okay maybe more than a little. I awoke early the next morning, feeling like I was going to die. I prayed for another one, or two, or five, or ten more hours of sleep. Sadly, my prayers were not answered. I spent a majority of that day in bed with the blinds down.

The cause of my suffering is that damned goon. For you Americans, that is what Australians call cheap boxed wine. It is not the type of alcohol you buy because you like the taste, for it is truly awful. It is the type of alcohol you buy because it costs ten dollars for five liters. In a continent where a fifth of Smirnoff costs fifty dollars it is just to good of a deal for any college student to pass up.

Fortunately, I recovered by the late afternoon and was able to go meet my friends at O’Malley’s for karaoke night. Unfortunately, my friends never showed up. I stuck around for a while, had a Guinness and enjoyed the singing of the mostly tone deaf but enthusiastic patrons of the bar. I left to find some food. I had a hearty steak and mushroom pie and spent the rest of the night walking the beach. The beach is awesome at night. The waves are rougher and crash against the shore. The breeze is cool, crisp, and just a bit salty. The sky is perfectly clear and you can see every star. The best part is that there is hardly any other noise, but the ocean.

The weekend had its ups and downs, but it was always interesting. That night on the beach seemed a fitting ending to such a hectic week. For the first time that week I was able to take in the beautiful place around me and reflect on how I got here. The more I think about it, a perfectly peaceful weekend would have been perfectly boring. When thing do not go as planned it ads a bit of spice to the whole adventure and makes for some very entertaining stories.