From Thailand to Australia
"I cannot explain, a man must feel it, but once he has felt it will divide his year into two equal halves, one half looking back on his latest trip, and the other planning and preparing for his next" H.E.Newton, 1912.
1.jpg)
kings Canyon
I like this quote because have been living the nomad existence for exactly six months now and, coincidently, I'm geographically halfway across the world. New Zealand's time zone is GMT+12 and with the 18.500KM separating it from Europe, I couldn't be further away from home. As the quote suggests, it is a good junction to reflect on the experiences gained in the first half of the year and to make an assessment on the adventures lying ahead for the coming half.
If anything has really caught me by surprise on this trip, it is the unconditional love I have developed for Asia. This continent is so richly diverse that it is hard to come to grips with all the wonders it has to offer. First and foremost, it is home to Humanity's most ambitious and creative architectural achievements with buildings such as the Great Wall of China, Angkor Wat in Cambodia and Indonesia's Borobodur. Secondly, Asian landscapes are so diverse that you'd be hard pressed ever to get bored with the stunning sceneries unfurling in front of your eyes. From mighty Mount Everest in the Himalayas to mysterious Halong Bay in Vietnam, down to the pristine beaches of Thailand and the steaming jungles of Malaysia and Indonesia, the landscape never lets your interest waver. Wildlife is also very diverse and exotic. Populations of these different countries and cultures are fascinating; pockets of minority groups, whose prehistoric traditions and elaborate costumes are challenging to comprehend, invariably populate mountain regions.
Travelling across Asia has opened my mind by making me reflect and change my perception about the human condition. I have been most fascinated and fallen head over heels for this continent because of the Asian peoples' admirable resolve in the face of adversity and chaos; the region has been overshadowed from ancient times through to this date by the turmoil of totalitarian regimes, genocides, massacres, wars, rampant poverty and recently also by the most devastating natural disasters in recorded history. Yet, it is the people's profound religious belief and faith in life that has provided them with an undercurrent of peace that is simply unmatched in the Western world. Contrary to my initial belief, I have also felt very safe all across the region, much safer then in certain suburbs of Paris or Brussels.
The best part about travel is the people you meet. Over a week or even a few days, you can come to know someone incredibly well if you spend every hour of the day together. Back at home, it's hard to log that much time with close friends in months or even a year. Think of it – in a week, you can easily spend over 100 hours in the company of a complete stranger, chatting about journeys and histories and life and nonsense.
The worst part about travel is sometimes moving on, saying goodbye to newly-made friends, parting ways and knowing that you may never see each other again; but still you do it. You meet people and are attracted toward those who share similar interests, humour or just destination; you stay longer with the travellers you like, maybe even changing itineraries to buy more time with them, but inevitably you part, go your separate ways, and then you do all over it again, sometimes within minutes.
I've met some extraordinary people whom will definitely remain friends for life. However, by and large, I'm growing less confident in the potential longevity of these "hit and run" friendships. I know that life is supposed to harden you to loss, but I think that it really just depends on the emotional investment you’ve made. I'd hate to think that I may become more risk-averse and stop investing in these high-risk friendships and therefore I just keep doing it.
Travelling also gave me the opportunity to reflect on the condition of citizen of certain countries. It profoundly irritates me to witness the abuse US citizens currently have to endure on a daily basis. It largely surpasses that of any other nationality. Contrary to popular belief, Americans are not dumb, nor rude, nor egocentric. In fact they are amongst the most articulate, intelligent, open-minded and friendly travellers I've encountered. And yet, not a single day passes without its American-bashing festival, especially if one or more Americans join into a conversation.
I'm not debating anyone’s antagonism towards the current American Administration; everyone is entitled their opinion about it. It is a public office and putting it to question is healthy. What I disagree with is this trend to generalize and misjudge nationalities. Insulting perfectly nice and innocent people because one considers their President to be a brainless dick is the epitome of narrow-mindedness and stupidity. Unfortunately for the Yanks, I don't see this trend ending anytime soon. To the American readers, I want to take this opportunity to congratulate you on the remarkable way in which I've seen you cope with this situation. Keep your head up guys, and don't take all the abuse too personnaly. I can´t help but wonder how wearing it must be for those of you who have cast a Democrat vote in the past elections.
Traveller "routine"
The routine of travelling, if such thing exists, consists in spending most of your time fulfilling the very basic needs of finding food, shelter, and people to socialize with. Considering there is so much time at hand, you take it for everything. There is no rush to finish a meal, to find accommodation or simply to move around. You also tend to devote a lot of time mingling with the local populations to try and understand their customs or to pick up a few words of their language. Most of your time is spent simply enjoying the experience though. If the bus breaks down or if you end up in the wrong town for the night, who cares?
It is said that the longer you travel, the softer your brain becomes and consequently, it is claimed that you lose up to 10 points worth of IQ over a 6 months period. I find this alarming but somewhat hard to believe. Yes, travellers are lazy and sometimes a bit too easy going, but they are also very curious and open minded. It is true that while you travel, you rely on your instincts more then on your intellect. If this theory was ever proven solid, I would like to believe that whatever Intellectual Quotient points taken away were in fact not lost but simply transferred and converted into Emotional Quotient points; I wouldn't see anything wrong with that. Indeed, speaking of getting emotionnal, you occasionally get a bit less rationnal then you normally would and lose your temper over very stupid things. This is particularly true when you realise you have packed your bag like an idiot and are cursing yourself during an electricity outage because your entire bag needs to be unpacked in the darkness to grab that fucking Maglite you've stuffed in the bottom. Other momentary lapses of reason occur when desperately searching for that roll of toilet paper when you need it NOW!
But overall, I'd say travelling is a relaxed experience thanks to the nice people you meet and the great places you see. This matching combination of right people and right place reached its climax when I got back to Thailand, late in May, to meet up with my great friend Rogier.
Rogier
Thailand
I was very excited the evening before Rogier's arrival. He was scheduled to arrive at 6AM in Bangkok. I had been flipping over and over in my bed for more then 4 hours, so at around 3AM, I ultimately gave up on the idea of sleeping and went to a bar downstairs to get some coffee. While I was reading my book I couldn't help checking my watch every five minutes; it is amazing how time seems to decelerate when an event you've been longing for is nearing. About 20 minutes before his scheduled arrival at the hotel, I went up to my room for a shower and then re-packed my bag to kill some time. I eventually lay down on my bed to read. I was shocked in disbelief when I woke up 4 hours later, a time span that hadn’t lasted more then a few seconds! Curse, curse, curse.
While I'd passed out, I got a text message saying he had checked into another room of the hotel. I looked for his room, but it was non-existent. There are in fact two hotels with the name New Siam located just one block away from one another. The owner of both places has very creatively called them One and Two to distinguish them and avoid confusion, but of course, just to tear that IQ theory to shreads, I mixed up on the numbers, thereby demonstrating that it is not 10, but 70 points that are lost in six months.
What I couldn't figure out though was why the receptionists of the two places, who I'd both informed the evening before of Rogier's arrival, hadn't redirected him to my place. Well, Thai people struggle with the letter "R" (which can be a problem when your names are Rogier and Remco) and this is somehow what should explain why couldn't find me in the registration form. Anyway, we eventually found each other.
Rogier was in a state of complete exhaustion due to a combination of Jet Lag and a nasty illness that had almost forced him to cancel the trip a week beforehand. We were therefore quite adamant to hit the sunny beaches as soon as possible and, after a revitalizing Thai massage, we took the night train to Koh Tao, where we arrived early on the morning after his arrival.
Our initial plan was to see how little one could do in a day, and I must say we did very well. Apart from catching up while roasting in the sun or taking two steps for a refreshing dip in the pool, our main activity would be to play some games of backgammon in which the loser would have to walk the exhausting 10 meter distance separating us from the fridge to grab a couple of cold beers. Damn I walked loads. At sunset, we would have large dinners consisting of sea food, skewers and other Thai delicacies.
Yes, life can be a tough bitch at times.
My Thai buddy Dang, from Simple Life (the place I'd been marooned at for several weeks in February), organized us a day trip around the island with Piac, one of his friends, on board of his long-tail boat. The skiff came complete with snorkel gear and booze. We had a great time in the water until we started getting attacked by a bank of zebra fish who'd mistaken us for lunch.
Considering the amount of sea food we'd had up to that point, it was only justified that those little buggers would bank on us to give them back some of what we had taken form the sea. Until this day, kicking around at small fishes in the confines of shallow waters must have been one of my lowest points in life and it's fair to say we did look like two complete morons fighting those nibbling Nemo's in their environment.
A bit later, just to add onto our already wounded egos, the staff of the resort on neighbouring Koh Nang Yuan didn't look too impressed with us either when we arrived at the hotel’s pier in our Hawaii shirts on a rusty skiff flying a pirate flag.
Piac
Oh to hell with them, at least we had a good laugh.
After a couple of easy nights out, it was time for Rogier's rite of passage into the Southern Thai culture by coming to grips with the "Bucket Experience". Let me explain this crazy idea, which the last living brain cell of a Thai barman must have come up with some time ago, but has spread across Thailand like fire devouring dry weed ever since. Not too surprisingly given the name, this five dollar drink consists in a bucket (the type children make sand castles with) in which a full bottle of Thai Rum is poured, along with soda and a bottle of pretty dubious Redbull (rumoured to contain MDMA). It comes all complete with crushed ice and half a dozen of straws so you can pass it around to any beach-bummer lounging on the mattresses around you. While everyone digs into each others' buckets (I know how weird that sounds...), travel tales and other nonsense is exchanged across the inevitable paraffin fumes of the fire juggler performing his hippie show close by. It is definitely a great way to socialize; and to gain a ticket into the Guinness book of Records for most painful hangovers.
When dawn kicks in, people feeling depressed for having lost contact with their new buddies can find comfort in the presence of their new life-long friend Herpes, who will remind them throughout the years about the great bunch of people they have been hanging out with on that hazy night in the Gulf of Siam.
No, we chose to keep the buckets out of the equation and opted to head down to Koh Phangan to meet up with Liam and Charlie, two of Rogier's friends from his university days in Oxford. You'd be hard pressed to get bored when these two blokes are in the vicinity. Even though they are quite opposite in characters, they are totally complimentary, full of humour and both as cunning in their unsatisfying hunger for a good laugh. These two compadres are all-out, 24x7. Their presence redefined the reasons for Thailand to be called the Land of Smiles.
Liam, Remco, Charlie and Rogier
We didn't limit ourselves to playing Poker or Holland vs. England pool games or fooling around at beer-'O- Clock though. We also endeavoured into the usually life threatening activity of riding mopeds on Koh Phangan. Fortunately, since I last cruised around Koh Phangan in February, drastic changes have been made to the roads and most of the steep parts have been covered with a layer of asphalt that considerably improves security. It was quite enjoyable to pack a day bag and cruise off for a night in a random part of the island and leaving some broken hearts behind in our wake, or to just see some of the ridiculous things only an Asian country can try to get away with, like the house for rent on the picture hereunder.
After riding around Koh Phangan for a full day and taking in some of its stunning scenery, we discovered the island of Koh Ma, up North. We thought it would a great idea to snorkel around it but were caught by surprise with the amount of swimming it took to circle that deceiving bitch. We actually barely managed not to drown in the murky waters surrounding this miserable pile of rocks.
We had a great laugh on Koh Phangan but since the two of us had enjoyed Koh Tao quite a bit we decided to go back there. It didn’t take much convincing for our partners in crime to join us and reap havoc there. It was good chilling out there but the diving was left out due to poor visibility resulting from the low tide.
For the sake of our four reputations, I'll keep our nightly activities off the record but the days just went by too damn fast. Time seemed to have accelerated and we way too quickly hit the 12 days mark, meaning Rogier and I had to head back to Bangkok in order to catch our flights out of Thailand.
The numerous days I've spent in the Thai capital are a tribute to how big a fan of it I am. I just love the different areas, the apparent chaos, the people and the overall vibe of the city. One of the experiences I hadn't had in Bangkok since the New Year was to be spend a couple of days splurging and experiencing the city under a more luxurious light again. We checked into the Marriott where we had a few suits tailored before going out to the "Dome" for dinner. The Dome is home to the Sirocco bar, which is a premiere venue for celebrities to see and to be seen. Located on the 63rd floor of the State Tour, it is a perfect spot for taking in a great panorama of Bangkok, but it would be equally suitable for thrilling yourself with a "base jump" in case that's your bag.
sirocco
It was by all means a great place to finish our wonderful vacation, and I'll often look back at the good laughs we had in Thailand together to keep me cheered up throughout the second half of the year.
My most trying challenge so far was having to deal with the void his departure left me with. In the aftermath of these two wonderful weeks, I couldn't help feeling a bit homesick and lonely for a few days. Adding to my slightly miserable state, I was leaving Bangkok, a place topping my list of potential cities to relocate to in the future.
Human beings are a complex mix of anxiety and confidence. We wake up every morning with our scales tipping to one side or the other. While confidence leads to cockiness or sometimes naivety, anxiety leads to fear or paranoia. Either way, these two contrasting traits both cloud our judgement, and are to be avoided while living a nomad existence. It is crucial to keep both sides in check in order not to ruin the fun of travelling. Being anxious and overly suspicious would make it hard to have an enjoyable stay in a foreign town. By the same token, being too confident and behaving as though you owned the place might not sit very well with the local community, thereby causing considerable damage to your relationship with them, or to your dental work.
One of the tricks I've learned to preserve balance is to bank on my luxury of time and freedom of movement. If I don't feel in a good mood, I cash in my losses and simply move on (even if this fundamentally changes my initial plans). Regardless of where I am, I try to keep in mind that I am only in transit and there is nothing holding me back in a given place. A few days before I cross into a new country, I fire up my excitement by drawing a mental painting of the destination by dipping into the reservoir of images that the place evokes. This kind of reverie has worked wonders to cheer me up in Singapore, but hey, enough of the hairdresser psychology; I think you get the picture. Let’s give this post a spin and head into the vastness of Australia and New-Zealand to try and discover if Kangaroo's are fiercer fighters than Thai boxers, if Aborigines are potheads and if Frodo has really destroyed that damn Ring in New Zealand’s Middle Earth.
My springboard into Australia was Singapore, but as I said, I was terribly excited to arrive "Down Under" and having only spent a couple of days there, it is a bit difficult for me to provide an accurate view about the place. I will just leave it to some general observations about the city.
Singapore
For some people, one part of the appeal of travelling through Asia is feeling richer then the local population; well in Singapore, forget it. This is the kind of place where you only get used to the price of your food or drink once it is way too late, when you are flat broke and your credit card has completely melted down. The pricing policy reflects the level of advancement of the country's economy which, unlike its Malaysian neighbour, doesn't need to be artificially overvalued to be impressive.
When people are queried about Singapore, from the top of their head, they spontaneously qualify it as: modern, clean, safe and organized.
There is no reason for me debate any of these views. In fact I believe the whole place should be labelled with a big "Sanitized for your protection" sticker. I know of no other place on earth like it in terms of cleanliness. It makes even Switzerland look untidy. As soon as I got here, I felt as though I'd landed in one of IBM's adverts; one of those commercials which depict what, on the surface, looks like a futuristic display of technology.
In Singapore, anywhere you look on the streets or on trains or in front of McDonald's restaurants, you see blue-collar workers pounding on exotic electronic devices in order to update corporate information systems on the fly, either while they are on the job, or when they're on the move.
My customers in Europe often struggled with the idea that tangible benefits from this promising technology would materialize anytime soon but there would be no need for me to twist their arm and beat them into submission over here. The future is here now; it has simply not landed on a similar scale in Europe yet. Wireless technology is massively deployed and used and I've decided that, when I go back to my job next year, if I'm ever to be faced with sceptics challenging my sales pitch, I will invite them to our Singapore office for a sightseeing tour. This would not only save them a lot of questions but also considerably lower our cost of opportunity.
Singapore, just like any major city in the world, also features a Chinatown and I was very interested in investigating that particular part of the city to see if the Chinese community had managed to create an enclave of filth and vice in this sanitized ecosystem. To my great surprise and to the demise of my post about China, I am gutted to admit they have miserably failed in this easy task. The streets of Chinatown are just as spic-and-span as any other area in town and nobody spits or hawks or pushes; even the toilets are normal and quite clean. I wondered if I had been ripped-off by my cab driver and taken to some random city bloc outside of Chinatown, but in Singapore, you must have seriously pissed off Lady Luck if you ever bump into a lowlife cab driver, are bitten by a mosquito or are pick-pocketed; the probability of any of there events happening to you are as close to zero as you can get.
Moving on to a completely different subject, another striking evidence of the level of sophistication found in this "City-State" is the breathtaking beauty of the women. I had often met travellers raving about the stunning beauty of ladies in Singapore and I was very adamant on witnessing reality first hand. Well, to my pleasant surprise, all my preconceived ideas were in fact total understatements making the two days I spent there a feast of eye candy. Singaporian ladies of any age go out of their way in order to be stunningly elegant and attractive. It is very much like the Asia I know; only in Singapore there is an additional touch of class that is not the least unpleasant.
Forgive my rudeness, but I was transfixed in horror by the bunch of fat cows I saw a few hours later upon arrival in Australia. What are these stacky girls thinking while they dress and opt for the short tops showing their belly bulging over their belt? Yuk, Vomit. You go girl, and while you're at it, why don't you look into the Asian diet; you'd be surprized how much better it works then that supersized junk you just wolfed down at Burger King.
Rogier was in a state of complete exhaustion due to a combination of Jet Lag and a nasty illness that had almost forced him to cancel the trip a week beforehand. We were therefore quite adamant to hit the sunny beaches as soon as possible and, after a revitalizing Thai massage, we took the night train to Koh Tao, where we arrived early on the morning after his arrival.
Our initial plan was to see how little one could do in a day, and I must say we did very well. Apart from catching up while roasting in the sun or taking two steps for a refreshing dip in the pool, our main activity would be to play some games of backgammon in which the loser would have to walk the exhausting 10 meter distance separating us from the fridge to grab a couple of cold beers. Damn I walked loads. At sunset, we would have large dinners consisting of sea food, skewers and other Thai delicacies.
Yes, life can be a tough bitch at times.
My Thai buddy Dang, from Simple Life (the place I'd been marooned at for several weeks in February), organized us a day trip around the island with Piac, one of his friends, on board of his long-tail boat. The skiff came complete with snorkel gear and booze. We had a great time in the water until we started getting attacked by a bank of zebra fish who'd mistaken us for lunch.
Considering the amount of sea food we'd had up to that point, it was only justified that those little buggers would bank on us to give them back some of what we had taken form the sea. Until this day, kicking around at small fishes in the confines of shallow waters must have been one of my lowest points in life and it's fair to say we did look like two complete morons fighting those nibbling Nemo's in their environment.
A bit later, just to add onto our already wounded egos, the staff of the resort on neighbouring Koh Nang Yuan didn't look too impressed with us either when we arrived at the hotel’s pier in our Hawaii shirts on a rusty skiff flying a pirate flag.
Piac
Oh to hell with them, at least we had a good laugh.
After a couple of easy nights out, it was time for Rogier's rite of passage into the Southern Thai culture by coming to grips with the "Bucket Experience". Let me explain this crazy idea, which the last living brain cell of a Thai barman must have come up with some time ago, but has spread across Thailand like fire devouring dry weed ever since. Not too surprisingly given the name, this five dollar drink consists in a bucket (the type children make sand castles with) in which a full bottle of Thai Rum is poured, along with soda and a bottle of pretty dubious Redbull (rumoured to contain MDMA). It comes all complete with crushed ice and half a dozen of straws so you can pass it around to any beach-bummer lounging on the mattresses around you. While everyone digs into each others' buckets (I know how weird that sounds...), travel tales and other nonsense is exchanged across the inevitable paraffin fumes of the fire juggler performing his hippie show close by. It is definitely a great way to socialize; and to gain a ticket into the Guinness book of Records for most painful hangovers.
When dawn kicks in, people feeling depressed for having lost contact with their new buddies can find comfort in the presence of their new life-long friend Herpes, who will remind them throughout the years about the great bunch of people they have been hanging out with on that hazy night in the Gulf of Siam.
No, we chose to keep the buckets out of the equation and opted to head down to Koh Phangan to meet up with Liam and Charlie, two of Rogier's friends from his university days in Oxford. You'd be hard pressed to get bored when these two blokes are in the vicinity. Even though they are quite opposite in characters, they are totally complimentary, full of humour and both as cunning in their unsatisfying hunger for a good laugh. These two compadres are all-out, 24x7. Their presence redefined the reasons for Thailand to be called the Land of Smiles.
Liam, Remco, Charlie and Rogier
We didn't limit ourselves to playing Poker or Holland vs. England pool games or fooling around at beer-'O- Clock though. We also endeavoured into the usually life threatening activity of riding mopeds on Koh Phangan. Fortunately, since I last cruised around Koh Phangan in February, drastic changes have been made to the roads and most of the steep parts have been covered with a layer of asphalt that considerably improves security. It was quite enjoyable to pack a day bag and cruise off for a night in a random part of the island and leaving some broken hearts behind in our wake, or to just see some of the ridiculous things only an Asian country can try to get away with, like the house for rent on the picture hereunder.
After riding around Koh Phangan for a full day and taking in some of its stunning scenery, we discovered the island of Koh Ma, up North. We thought it would a great idea to snorkel around it but were caught by surprise with the amount of swimming it took to circle that deceiving bitch. We actually barely managed not to drown in the murky waters surrounding this miserable pile of rocks.
We had a great laugh on Koh Phangan but since the two of us had enjoyed Koh Tao quite a bit we decided to go back there. It didn’t take much convincing for our partners in crime to join us and reap havoc there. It was good chilling out there but the diving was left out due to poor visibility resulting from the low tide.
For the sake of our four reputations, I'll keep our nightly activities off the record but the days just went by too damn fast. Time seemed to have accelerated and we way too quickly hit the 12 days mark, meaning Rogier and I had to head back to Bangkok in order to catch our flights out of Thailand.
The numerous days I've spent in the Thai capital are a tribute to how big a fan of it I am. I just love the different areas, the apparent chaos, the people and the overall vibe of the city. One of the experiences I hadn't had in Bangkok since the New Year was to be spend a couple of days splurging and experiencing the city under a more luxurious light again. We checked into the Marriott where we had a few suits tailored before going out to the "Dome" for dinner. The Dome is home to the Sirocco bar, which is a premiere venue for celebrities to see and to be seen. Located on the 63rd floor of the State Tour, it is a perfect spot for taking in a great panorama of Bangkok, but it would be equally suitable for thrilling yourself with a "base jump" in case that's your bag.
sirocco
It was by all means a great place to finish our wonderful vacation, and I'll often look back at the good laughs we had in Thailand together to keep me cheered up throughout the second half of the year.
My most trying challenge so far was having to deal with the void his departure left me with. In the aftermath of these two wonderful weeks, I couldn't help feeling a bit homesick and lonely for a few days. Adding to my slightly miserable state, I was leaving Bangkok, a place topping my list of potential cities to relocate to in the future.
Human beings are a complex mix of anxiety and confidence. We wake up every morning with our scales tipping to one side or the other. While confidence leads to cockiness or sometimes naivety, anxiety leads to fear or paranoia. Either way, these two contrasting traits both cloud our judgement, and are to be avoided while living a nomad existence. It is crucial to keep both sides in check in order not to ruin the fun of travelling. Being anxious and overly suspicious would make it hard to have an enjoyable stay in a foreign town. By the same token, being too confident and behaving as though you owned the place might not sit very well with the local community, thereby causing considerable damage to your relationship with them, or to your dental work.
One of the tricks I've learned to preserve balance is to bank on my luxury of time and freedom of movement. If I don't feel in a good mood, I cash in my losses and simply move on (even if this fundamentally changes my initial plans). Regardless of where I am, I try to keep in mind that I am only in transit and there is nothing holding me back in a given place. A few days before I cross into a new country, I fire up my excitement by drawing a mental painting of the destination by dipping into the reservoir of images that the place evokes. This kind of reverie has worked wonders to cheer me up in Singapore, but hey, enough of the hairdresser psychology; I think you get the picture. Let’s give this post a spin and head into the vastness of Australia and New-Zealand to try and discover if Kangaroo's are fiercer fighters than Thai boxers, if Aborigines are potheads and if Frodo has really destroyed that damn Ring in New Zealand’s Middle Earth.
My springboard into Australia was Singapore, but as I said, I was terribly excited to arrive "Down Under" and having only spent a couple of days there, it is a bit difficult for me to provide an accurate view about the place. I will just leave it to some general observations about the city.
Singapore
.jpg)
For some people, one part of the appeal of travelling through Asia is feeling richer then the local population; well in Singapore, forget it. This is the kind of place where you only get used to the price of your food or drink once it is way too late, when you are flat broke and your credit card has completely melted down. The pricing policy reflects the level of advancement of the country's economy which, unlike its Malaysian neighbour, doesn't need to be artificially overvalued to be impressive.
When people are queried about Singapore, from the top of their head, they spontaneously qualify it as: modern, clean, safe and organized.
There is no reason for me debate any of these views. In fact I believe the whole place should be labelled with a big "Sanitized for your protection" sticker. I know of no other place on earth like it in terms of cleanliness. It makes even Switzerland look untidy. As soon as I got here, I felt as though I'd landed in one of IBM's adverts; one of those commercials which depict what, on the surface, looks like a futuristic display of technology.
In Singapore, anywhere you look on the streets or on trains or in front of McDonald's restaurants, you see blue-collar workers pounding on exotic electronic devices in order to update corporate information systems on the fly, either while they are on the job, or when they're on the move.
My customers in Europe often struggled with the idea that tangible benefits from this promising technology would materialize anytime soon but there would be no need for me to twist their arm and beat them into submission over here. The future is here now; it has simply not landed on a similar scale in Europe yet. Wireless technology is massively deployed and used and I've decided that, when I go back to my job next year, if I'm ever to be faced with sceptics challenging my sales pitch, I will invite them to our Singapore office for a sightseeing tour. This would not only save them a lot of questions but also considerably lower our cost of opportunity.
Singapore, just like any major city in the world, also features a Chinatown and I was very interested in investigating that particular part of the city to see if the Chinese community had managed to create an enclave of filth and vice in this sanitized ecosystem. To my great surprise and to the demise of my post about China, I am gutted to admit they have miserably failed in this easy task. The streets of Chinatown are just as spic-and-span as any other area in town and nobody spits or hawks or pushes; even the toilets are normal and quite clean. I wondered if I had been ripped-off by my cab driver and taken to some random city bloc outside of Chinatown, but in Singapore, you must have seriously pissed off Lady Luck if you ever bump into a lowlife cab driver, are bitten by a mosquito or are pick-pocketed; the probability of any of there events happening to you are as close to zero as you can get.
.jpg)
Moving on to a completely different subject, another striking evidence of the level of sophistication found in this "City-State" is the breathtaking beauty of the women. I had often met travellers raving about the stunning beauty of ladies in Singapore and I was very adamant on witnessing reality first hand. Well, to my pleasant surprise, all my preconceived ideas were in fact total understatements making the two days I spent there a feast of eye candy. Singaporian ladies of any age go out of their way in order to be stunningly elegant and attractive. It is very much like the Asia I know; only in Singapore there is an additional touch of class that is not the least unpleasant.
Forgive my rudeness, but I was transfixed in horror by the bunch of fat cows I saw a few hours later upon arrival in Australia. What are these stacky girls thinking while they dress and opt for the short tops showing their belly bulging over their belt? Yuk, Vomit. You go girl, and while you're at it, why don't you look into the Asian diet; you'd be surprized how much better it works then that supersized junk you just wolfed down at Burger King.
Even I have managed to lose weight off my already rather bony frame in Asia, although I ate heaps of food.
Australia
Oz
"G'day an' welcome to the floight" said the chief steward of the plane, a big bronzed bloke in a suit. Welcome to the land of Oz
Singapore was a good port of departure from Asia, especially when taking into consideration that Australians are rightfully very protective of their isolated ecosystem and are therefore taking the concept of quarantine extremely seriously. You wouldn't want to be caught bringing any sort of biological substance such as fruits, vegetables or wooden crafts into Oz. Fortunately, having the Singapore stamp in your passport in a certain way sterilizes you in the customs official's eyes and, after a quick sniff of your bag by the dog, you are soon enough warmly welcomed the Aussie way:
"How long’ll ya be stayin' in Aussie for, mate?"
"Well I'm not sure yet, but I would guess about one month"
"Good shout buddy! Hey that's quite a tan you got there in Asia mate, but don't get to cocky 'coz we've got the hole in the ozone layer right up our heads here, so best to always cream up mate"
"Thanks for the tip"
"No worries, mate, no worries. Also make sure you have a wicked time out here"
"I will, trust me"
I wasn't very genuine with my last reply because, in addition to not having overcome my three days of loneliness at this point, I also had to deal with an unanticipated culture shock. It felt very strange to be in a first world country with so many white people around me after having spent half a year in developing countries. Everything seemed to work too properly. Cars where brand new, roads where flat, everyone spoke English and the tolling bells of Catholic churches reminded me of the fact that I was in Darwin, my gateway back into the Western world.
Darwin
Darwin is the very isolated capital of the Northern Territory and is closer to Bali then it is to Sydney. Even though you can enjoy a fine subtropical weather up there, it is somewhat of a dull and boring modern city. The real attraction is the surrounding top-end natural park of Kakadu, where you can observe native Aboriginal Rock Art dating back as far as 20.000 years.
When I got from the airport to the hostel, and the clerk informed me of the price of a bed in a dorm, I almost fainted out of astonishment. That shitty bunk set me back four nights worth of accommodation in a nice private bungalow in most parts of Asia. I don’t think I have suddenly become stingy, but being forced to cough up more then 30 bucks for the privilege of sharing a 12 square meter room with five strangers sounds quite steep to me now. Anyway, I sucked it up and opened the door of the room. At this early hour of the morning three guys were snoring in the semi-darkness. The air was thick with an overwhelming smell of sweaty feet which almost made my stomach turn. I held my breath while I stored my pack in the last available locker and went outside straight away. I felt disgusted and miserable.
As if to convince myself that this was just a one-off bad call, a rip-off, I went to the library to get a guidebook. Over breakfast I flipped the pages in order to check the prices of accommodation and transport in various parts of the country. I was flabbergasted. My daily budget was going to have to be increased at least five-fold in order to enjoy a relatively decent quality of living here.
I have slept in rat holes across Asia and I have never really cared, partly because it was my choice there, but also because the owners had the decency not to charge more then a couple of Dollars. In Australia though, they are out to rip you off and I instantly knew I would have to face a serious lifestyle readjustment. Backpacking is a very juicy business in this country. The industry is mature and organized in a way squeeze out as much profit from very a low level service supposed to respond to your most basic needs. The very high sticker price of any tour is a testimony to this fact. It feels sweet to realize you are being properly milked.
I didn't like the people in the hostel either; they were mostly students in their gap year doing what students do: get drunk and try and get laid, non-stop. As much as I have enjoyed my university time, those days are long gone and, not being a nostalgic bloke, I've since grown up a bit. I felt absolutely no inclination to go back down that line. My best option was thus to kiss the sun goodbye, make it out of Darwin quickly and head into the Outback straight away.
kings canyon
Alice Springs
Alice Springs
Alice Springs is about 125 years old. It is located right in the middle of the country, close to the MacDonnell mountain Range. This is the Navel of Australia, as Aussies like to call it. The town centre is a compact grid just five blocs wide. Really dull and boring, it is only a launch pad to Uluru and its amazing surrounding canyons of Kato Tjuta (the Olga's) and Watarraka (King's Canyon)
Vincent en Marius (king's canyon)
I concluded that fate had taken pity in me as I looked around the bus and realized there were seven fellow Dutchmen, two Belgians and a French girl on it. These numbers added up to a disproportionate figure I'd never been exposed to on previous bus journeys. I thought a nest must have broken out in the area. Most of the Dutch came from the area close to where my family resides in Holland and the Belgians lived in a city just 20 kilometres away from Brussels, my hometown. I felt at home. My misery faded away in the laughter. It seemed I had needed this tap on the back from destiny to get me back on track. We had a good time camping outside in the rain in are not so waterproof "swags".
Uluru
Uluru is the natives’ name for Ayers Rock, a massive monolith situated on the aboriginal grounds right in the centre of the country. Australia’s favourite postcard is 350 meters high and is the Anangu natives’ most sacred site. Aboriginal people have a deep, spiritual bond with the land and their beliefs centre on the spirits that lived on earth before the arrival of humans. These spirits took different forms but as they travelled, they left signs to show where they had passed, such as trees, hills, crags, caves and unusual rock formations. Every person or animal is believed to have two souls, one mortal and one immortal. The immortal soul returns to the sacred site of its ancestor at the time of death, while the mortal soul disappears into oblivion. Each person is spiritually bound to the sacred sites marked by their ancestors and has a responsibility in performing the necessary rituals and songs that tell the ancestor’s. People are linked to their ancestors by individual totems that may take many forms: snakes, fish, birds, mice...
Aborigines have a long history, dating back as far as 60.000 years. Their beliefs have been passed on from one generation to another by oral tradition. It is against their law to record events in writing and knowledge has always been passed on by relying on the elders to educate the youth.
Australia
1.jpg)
Oz
"G'day an' welcome to the floight" said the chief steward of the plane, a big bronzed bloke in a suit. Welcome to the land of Oz
Singapore was a good port of departure from Asia, especially when taking into consideration that Australians are rightfully very protective of their isolated ecosystem and are therefore taking the concept of quarantine extremely seriously. You wouldn't want to be caught bringing any sort of biological substance such as fruits, vegetables or wooden crafts into Oz. Fortunately, having the Singapore stamp in your passport in a certain way sterilizes you in the customs official's eyes and, after a quick sniff of your bag by the dog, you are soon enough warmly welcomed the Aussie way:
"How long’ll ya be stayin' in Aussie for, mate?"
"Well I'm not sure yet, but I would guess about one month"
"Good shout buddy! Hey that's quite a tan you got there in Asia mate, but don't get to cocky 'coz we've got the hole in the ozone layer right up our heads here, so best to always cream up mate"
"Thanks for the tip"
"No worries, mate, no worries. Also make sure you have a wicked time out here"
"I will, trust me"
I wasn't very genuine with my last reply because, in addition to not having overcome my three days of loneliness at this point, I also had to deal with an unanticipated culture shock. It felt very strange to be in a first world country with so many white people around me after having spent half a year in developing countries. Everything seemed to work too properly. Cars where brand new, roads where flat, everyone spoke English and the tolling bells of Catholic churches reminded me of the fact that I was in Darwin, my gateway back into the Western world.
Darwin
Darwin is the very isolated capital of the Northern Territory and is closer to Bali then it is to Sydney. Even though you can enjoy a fine subtropical weather up there, it is somewhat of a dull and boring modern city. The real attraction is the surrounding top-end natural park of Kakadu, where you can observe native Aboriginal Rock Art dating back as far as 20.000 years.
When I got from the airport to the hostel, and the clerk informed me of the price of a bed in a dorm, I almost fainted out of astonishment. That shitty bunk set me back four nights worth of accommodation in a nice private bungalow in most parts of Asia. I don’t think I have suddenly become stingy, but being forced to cough up more then 30 bucks for the privilege of sharing a 12 square meter room with five strangers sounds quite steep to me now. Anyway, I sucked it up and opened the door of the room. At this early hour of the morning three guys were snoring in the semi-darkness. The air was thick with an overwhelming smell of sweaty feet which almost made my stomach turn. I held my breath while I stored my pack in the last available locker and went outside straight away. I felt disgusted and miserable.
As if to convince myself that this was just a one-off bad call, a rip-off, I went to the library to get a guidebook. Over breakfast I flipped the pages in order to check the prices of accommodation and transport in various parts of the country. I was flabbergasted. My daily budget was going to have to be increased at least five-fold in order to enjoy a relatively decent quality of living here.
I have slept in rat holes across Asia and I have never really cared, partly because it was my choice there, but also because the owners had the decency not to charge more then a couple of Dollars. In Australia though, they are out to rip you off and I instantly knew I would have to face a serious lifestyle readjustment. Backpacking is a very juicy business in this country. The industry is mature and organized in a way squeeze out as much profit from very a low level service supposed to respond to your most basic needs. The very high sticker price of any tour is a testimony to this fact. It feels sweet to realize you are being properly milked.
I didn't like the people in the hostel either; they were mostly students in their gap year doing what students do: get drunk and try and get laid, non-stop. As much as I have enjoyed my university time, those days are long gone and, not being a nostalgic bloke, I've since grown up a bit. I felt absolutely no inclination to go back down that line. My best option was thus to kiss the sun goodbye, make it out of Darwin quickly and head into the Outback straight away.
.jpg)
kings canyon
Alice Springs
1.jpg)
Alice Springs
Alice Springs is about 125 years old. It is located right in the middle of the country, close to the MacDonnell mountain Range. This is the Navel of Australia, as Aussies like to call it. The town centre is a compact grid just five blocs wide. Really dull and boring, it is only a launch pad to Uluru and its amazing surrounding canyons of Kato Tjuta (the Olga's) and Watarraka (King's Canyon)
.jpg)
Vincent en Marius (king's canyon)
I concluded that fate had taken pity in me as I looked around the bus and realized there were seven fellow Dutchmen, two Belgians and a French girl on it. These numbers added up to a disproportionate figure I'd never been exposed to on previous bus journeys. I thought a nest must have broken out in the area. Most of the Dutch came from the area close to where my family resides in Holland and the Belgians lived in a city just 20 kilometres away from Brussels, my hometown. I felt at home. My misery faded away in the laughter. It seemed I had needed this tap on the back from destiny to get me back on track. We had a good time camping outside in the rain in are not so waterproof "swags".
.jpg)
Uluru
Uluru is the natives’ name for Ayers Rock, a massive monolith situated on the aboriginal grounds right in the centre of the country. Australia’s favourite postcard is 350 meters high and is the Anangu natives’ most sacred site. Aboriginal people have a deep, spiritual bond with the land and their beliefs centre on the spirits that lived on earth before the arrival of humans. These spirits took different forms but as they travelled, they left signs to show where they had passed, such as trees, hills, crags, caves and unusual rock formations. Every person or animal is believed to have two souls, one mortal and one immortal. The immortal soul returns to the sacred site of its ancestor at the time of death, while the mortal soul disappears into oblivion. Each person is spiritually bound to the sacred sites marked by their ancestors and has a responsibility in performing the necessary rituals and songs that tell the ancestor’s. People are linked to their ancestors by individual totems that may take many forms: snakes, fish, birds, mice...
Aborigines have a long history, dating back as far as 60.000 years. Their beliefs have been passed on from one generation to another by oral tradition. It is against their law to record events in writing and knowledge has always been passed on by relying on the elders to educate the youth.
I couldn’t help but think about the disastrous effect one weak link could have on the rest of the chain. It took just one eccentric grandfather to doom the future of an entire tribe due to this rather rigid law.
Anyway, Uluru is sacred and you are kindly asked by the natives not to climb it out of respect for the aboriginal "Dreamtime" religion. While under normal circumstances, nothing prevents you from ignoring this request, in our case the Australian Winter took care of demotivating us. The weather also ruined one of the two nights we spent camping outside in swags (semi waterproof sleeping bags) and the picturesque sunrise and sunset vistas of Uluru, when you can normally see the Rock change colors every minute. We were privileged to witness a large cloud hanging over it though, which is an apparently rare event.
Surrounding the base of the Rock, the soil is red, the monolith is red and on clear days when the sun sets, the sky is auburn. You realize why it's called the Red Centre of Australia.
To add to our knowledge gained at the onsite museum, the tour ranger gave us verbal histories of the surrounding region to help us better understand the area. It was interesting to cross Aboriginals belief with geological facts about the formation of the monolith and see the huge difference between the two.
Our Ranger was the typical Australian that should never be granted any responsibility in being an Ambassador to his country. He was an okay bloke, but he couldn't help bragging about Australia. It is perfectly fine to be in love with your country but there are limits to the way you should advertise it.
- Australia is the place with the highest concentration of lethal animals. We have seven of the ten most poisonous snakes and spiders in the world (now that's one great thing to be proud of).
-The Great Barrier Reef is the only recognizable living thing seen from space (Ever heard about military satellite imagery, dude?)
-The Aborigines are the oldest living tribe in the world and they live right here in Aussie(yeah, luckily for them you didn't completely have it your way back in the days...)
The list went on and on; according to him Australia had the biggest or smallest, the highest or lowest, the strongest or weakest of just about anything his mind would randomly come up with.
My eyes were rolling out of boredom until the moment when he pointed out that if the Olgas hadn't eroded over time it would currently still be twice as high as Mount Everest... "We would also have the Roof of the World in Australia"
I had a hard time keeping my shit together over this ridiculous claim.
He also had some harsh words about Koalas and stated that they were by far the most stupid living mammal on the planet. Truth be told, from the detached look in their eye, which makes you wonder if there's anyone home, it is clear that the Koala isn't the genius of the animal kingdom. Biologists have found out that their brain is the size of a peanut and just dangles around in the fluids contained within their oversized skull. Anyhow, I don’t care if drop bears, as Australians call Koalas, are as dumb as bricks; I still find them very cute and lovable little airheads.
Cairns
Cains is an adrenaline junkie’s heaven and a fabulous base for exploring the Great Barrier Reef. It is also a popular place to hook up with fellow travellers. It has an irrepressible energy and a warm tropical setting.
When you've spent six years in a Sales department of a company listed on the New York Stock Exchange, your life rhythm becomes quarters, halves and full years. Making a quarter is of such crucial importance that your biological clock adjusts and dances to the quarterly tune. The closing days are intense, your focus becomes sharper and the adrenaline is pumping through your body. I came to realize that the rush I got from those days was addictive and I missed it. In the closing days of June, I substituted my craving for adrenaline by getting kicks from activities such as bungy jumping or skydiving.
I had initially planned a dive but cancelled it due to the bad visibility (again!)around the reef. I was a bit gutted missing out on the Great Barrier knowing I was leaving to Sydney the next morning so I wanted to make good use of my remaining time in Cairns. I looked at the folders of available activities. There was a vast array of things to do but my mind immediately set on skydiving. Fifteen minutes later, and 300 dollars poorer, I was picked up and taken to the airport for a quick briefing. Minutes later we were airborne. I hadn’t even had breakfast yet. My hair was still wet from the shower and this was not at all the way I’d pictured the day’s events when I had woken up about an hour earlier. Anyway, there I was, strapped to an instructor, seconds away from throwing myself out of a plane and plummeting earthwards from 14.000 feet at about 220Km/h. What was I doing?
Upon landing, while I enjoyed the warm adrenaline freshly pumped through my system and chatting with a fellow skydiver, I was informed of a pretty good “unlimited jumps” deal at AJ Hackett Bungy. I decided to go for it. An hour later, I was defying gravity again and jumped three times in succession of a 50 meter tour.
People often wonder if bungy jumping is similar to skydiving. I would say the similarity is that both are quite secure near-death activities. They share in common the defiance of a law in physics stating that any living body falling from height superior to 40 meters should meet their creator immediately upon landing and leave a squashed mess for others to take care of. No, apart from the fact that you shed buckets of adrenaline while the air rushes around your face at a high speed, the experience is radically different.
The ground-rush is much less intense in skydiving then it is with bungy jumping. The earth looks small from 14.000 feet and as luck would have it in my case, there was a comfortably looking layer of clouds under us as we jumped off the plane and enjoyed the one minute free-fall. I was much less of a hero when I first went off that bungy tower. My first attempt looked much more like I'd accidently fallen off the tower rather then jumped. As I stepped in the void, I couldn't even find the strenght to scream. While I fell, I was wondering "what the fuck have I just done?". When I later viewed the footage of the first attempt, my ego couldn't take it. There was no way I was gonna have only that lame jump on film so I went back up straight away for a decent dive. I did rather well but the third and last jump was the real thing: a terrifying backward flip which quenched my thirst for adrenaline during the closing days of the 2Q05.
Anyway, Uluru is sacred and you are kindly asked by the natives not to climb it out of respect for the aboriginal "Dreamtime" religion. While under normal circumstances, nothing prevents you from ignoring this request, in our case the Australian Winter took care of demotivating us. The weather also ruined one of the two nights we spent camping outside in swags (semi waterproof sleeping bags) and the picturesque sunrise and sunset vistas of Uluru, when you can normally see the Rock change colors every minute. We were privileged to witness a large cloud hanging over it though, which is an apparently rare event.
Surrounding the base of the Rock, the soil is red, the monolith is red and on clear days when the sun sets, the sky is auburn. You realize why it's called the Red Centre of Australia.
To add to our knowledge gained at the onsite museum, the tour ranger gave us verbal histories of the surrounding region to help us better understand the area. It was interesting to cross Aboriginals belief with geological facts about the formation of the monolith and see the huge difference between the two.
Our Ranger was the typical Australian that should never be granted any responsibility in being an Ambassador to his country. He was an okay bloke, but he couldn't help bragging about Australia. It is perfectly fine to be in love with your country but there are limits to the way you should advertise it.
- Australia is the place with the highest concentration of lethal animals. We have seven of the ten most poisonous snakes and spiders in the world (now that's one great thing to be proud of).
-The Great Barrier Reef is the only recognizable living thing seen from space (Ever heard about military satellite imagery, dude?)
-The Aborigines are the oldest living tribe in the world and they live right here in Aussie(yeah, luckily for them you didn't completely have it your way back in the days...)
The list went on and on; according to him Australia had the biggest or smallest, the highest or lowest, the strongest or weakest of just about anything his mind would randomly come up with.
My eyes were rolling out of boredom until the moment when he pointed out that if the Olgas hadn't eroded over time it would currently still be twice as high as Mount Everest... "We would also have the Roof of the World in Australia"
I had a hard time keeping my shit together over this ridiculous claim.
He also had some harsh words about Koalas and stated that they were by far the most stupid living mammal on the planet. Truth be told, from the detached look in their eye, which makes you wonder if there's anyone home, it is clear that the Koala isn't the genius of the animal kingdom. Biologists have found out that their brain is the size of a peanut and just dangles around in the fluids contained within their oversized skull. Anyhow, I don’t care if drop bears, as Australians call Koalas, are as dumb as bricks; I still find them very cute and lovable little airheads.
Cairns
1.jpg)
Cains is an adrenaline junkie’s heaven and a fabulous base for exploring the Great Barrier Reef. It is also a popular place to hook up with fellow travellers. It has an irrepressible energy and a warm tropical setting.
When you've spent six years in a Sales department of a company listed on the New York Stock Exchange, your life rhythm becomes quarters, halves and full years. Making a quarter is of such crucial importance that your biological clock adjusts and dances to the quarterly tune. The closing days are intense, your focus becomes sharper and the adrenaline is pumping through your body. I came to realize that the rush I got from those days was addictive and I missed it. In the closing days of June, I substituted my craving for adrenaline by getting kicks from activities such as bungy jumping or skydiving.
I had initially planned a dive but cancelled it due to the bad visibility (again!)around the reef. I was a bit gutted missing out on the Great Barrier knowing I was leaving to Sydney the next morning so I wanted to make good use of my remaining time in Cairns. I looked at the folders of available activities. There was a vast array of things to do but my mind immediately set on skydiving. Fifteen minutes later, and 300 dollars poorer, I was picked up and taken to the airport for a quick briefing. Minutes later we were airborne. I hadn’t even had breakfast yet. My hair was still wet from the shower and this was not at all the way I’d pictured the day’s events when I had woken up about an hour earlier. Anyway, there I was, strapped to an instructor, seconds away from throwing myself out of a plane and plummeting earthwards from 14.000 feet at about 220Km/h. What was I doing?
Upon landing, while I enjoyed the warm adrenaline freshly pumped through my system and chatting with a fellow skydiver, I was informed of a pretty good “unlimited jumps” deal at AJ Hackett Bungy. I decided to go for it. An hour later, I was defying gravity again and jumped three times in succession of a 50 meter tour.
People often wonder if bungy jumping is similar to skydiving. I would say the similarity is that both are quite secure near-death activities. They share in common the defiance of a law in physics stating that any living body falling from height superior to 40 meters should meet their creator immediately upon landing and leave a squashed mess for others to take care of. No, apart from the fact that you shed buckets of adrenaline while the air rushes around your face at a high speed, the experience is radically different.
The ground-rush is much less intense in skydiving then it is with bungy jumping. The earth looks small from 14.000 feet and as luck would have it in my case, there was a comfortably looking layer of clouds under us as we jumped off the plane and enjoyed the one minute free-fall. I was much less of a hero when I first went off that bungy tower. My first attempt looked much more like I'd accidently fallen off the tower rather then jumped. As I stepped in the void, I couldn't even find the strenght to scream. While I fell, I was wondering "what the fuck have I just done?". When I later viewed the footage of the first attempt, my ego couldn't take it. There was no way I was gonna have only that lame jump on film so I went back up straight away for a decent dive. I did rather well but the third and last jump was the real thing: a terrifying backward flip which quenched my thirst for adrenaline during the closing days of the 2Q05.
Footage of the skydive can be found here
Sydney 
Australia's oldest European settlement is a vibrant city that seems to fuse the best of elements of London and San Francisco with the laid back Aussie attitude. I absolutely loved it there. Sydney is built around one of the world's most spectacular harbors, instantly recognizable thanks to its Opera house and Bay Bridge . The harbor is mind blowing whether you are on it, in it, above it or just beside it.
I was staying in an area of town called King's Cross, which is a strange cocktail of seedy strip joints, crime, prostitution and drugs mixed together with great restaurants, hip cafes, up market hotels and backpacker places. It has attracted highlife and lowlife alike ever since it became Australia's center of vice during the Vietnam War. At night the area can be quite entertaining for people-watching purposes, but being invited into strip joints by touts or being hit on by fat hookers in the morning is not my ideal of a cozy breakfast.
I randomly explored the surrounding areas by walking down streets that have a distinct London influence to them with streets named after Liverpool, Oxford, Kensington, Grosvenor, York , Kent or King's Cross for that matter. The architecture is also a strong reminder of the way convicts must have felt about being extradited for life to Australia; they seem to have recreated a place reflecting the home they had left behind in Britain.
Although the weather didn't do it justice, I enjoyed being in Sydney and thought it was not only a great place for me to finish my Australian adventure with, but also a place I could consider relocating to some day. I had indeed come to the conclusion at this stage that Australia was definitely a brilliant country and probably a far better place to live in then to travel through.
New Zealand
I landed in Christchurch a few days later and also loved it straight away. I wasn't happy that I hadn't been able to obtain a seat on board of the plane a day prior to my arrival in order to see the town screaming its head off in support for the national Rugby team in a game opposing the All Blacks to the British Lions. From what I later heard, the city was absolutely packed and went wild after the All Black's crushing victory..jpg)
All Blacks in Christchurch, NZ
In New Zealand, one of the first decisions you have to make is the type of transport you want to use in order to travel around. I got quite lucky when I bumped into three backpackers from the Midwest who where in a rush to sell their car for a few hundred dollars. It was an absolute bargain and I decided to take the risk. This Honda Accord first hit the tarmac when I was an 8 year old boy, and I trust it has seen many of the roads I'm cruising through with it now. She offers me absolute freedom to discover this spectacular island at my own pace. When I first saw Peter Jackson's adaptation of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, I decided that I had to go to New Zealand, where the film was shot, to view this magnificent place with my own eyes. In terms of natural beauty, it would be very difficult to decide, if that was ever necessary, whether Nepal or New Zealand was the most beautiful country I've been to so far. I guess they both set very high standards, and if someday you would like to wander around inside of a living postcard, I can only recommend you to come here..jpg)
South Island, NZ
It is too gorgeous out there and the people are too friendly to justify spending time behind a computer, so I'll leave it here for now. I'll write an update on my New Zealand whereabouts once I have arrived in Latin America later in July.
In 1905, Einstein has developed the theory of relativity which predicts that time passes slower for moving objects than for stationary ones. According to the theory, by travelling very fast, one could experience time dilation and go back in time. My journey across the Pacific from New Zealand to Chile will be on board of one such time capsule and will give me a taste of this phenomenon.
Indeed a late afternoon flight, although lasting 11 hours, that still manages to land on the exact same day at a destination where the local time upon arrival is 4 hours earlier then the time of departure proves the theory to be solid. Another way to view it is to put it in Aboriginal wisdom: Einstein could have had a lot of totems, but he would definitely not qualify for the Koala. But hey, I have wasted enough of your valuable office time with this nonsense; I'm off to the ski slopes now. Please enjoy the summer and take care guys.
I wish you all the best,
Rem.
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posted by Remco @ 12:00 AM
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