Friends Keyword
Emmett Broaddus
Emmett was 21. He was from California. We met in the HI Vancouver. He was as he would like to say “like a cookie man, hard on the outside, soft in the middle…”. We partied hard, played harmonica and drums during a 4am street riot: one of the fondest memories of my trip. We travelled to Victoria, drank beers at Big Bad John’s and tried to pick up ladies always failing with a smile on our faces. We swam in frigid waters and he did the best Steve Irwin impression I have ever seen. We talked, sharing a love of music and travel. We travelled together from Victoria to Seattle on a boat and then met up again in San Fran were we drank and talked about our future travels and Emmetts plans to visit me in Australia. I said ’so long’ to Emmett in San Francisco, not farewell. He was funny, intelligent and profound. He was talented and energetic, open and compassionate. Most importantly he was my friend.
On Monday on his way to school Emmett was killed in a car accident. I’ll never get to introduce him to the ladies of Australia, or return the hospitality he showed me from the moment I met. The world is missing one magical person and is a little darker because of it. I hope that I can keep his memory alive by living my life as he would, always happy, always open and always with a smile on my face.
So long Emmett, I hope that where ever you are now the women are gorgeous and the beers cold.
San Francisco
It is strange to think that San Francisco had a population of only 1,000 people when the gold rush hit. The search for riches caused the number of residents of the bay to swell quickly to 25,000 in just one year. It must have been a crazy time, how ever San Fran’s history stretches as far back as 3000BC when local Cali Indians once called the area home before being displaced in the 1700’s by the Spanish. Now home to around 800,000 in the metro and 8,000,000 in the surrounding ‘burbs San Fran is a buzzing city.
The entire metropolis is quite beautiful and new, mainly due to the great fire of 1906. Over four hundred thousand San Franciscan’s were left homeless after an earthquake levelled buildings and ruptured gas lines causing massive devastation. Today the town is full of life and history. Its famous trams rumble through the city and the streets are teaming with tourists. Along the port restaurants and museums line the piers. Out to the west in the suburbs is Haight Ashbury, a very alternative neighbourhood with a cool scene. Grungy, dirty bars and music stores run up and down the main street and bums and hippies sit on side walks calling for donations towards cannabis research.
On Sunday Chinatown hosted a party, filling the streets with parades, food and music. The Chinatown in San Francisco is one of the oldest in the entire USA and it is huge, but difficult to find nice cheaps eat’s in. A few bars are scattered through the streets of Chinatown, and around the city in general but the best I found was The Utah. It sits on the corner of 4th and Bryant and is a great venue with music almost every night and an awesome vibe. The locals are friendly and the bar staff fun and tough.
In the evenings the fog that during the day contains itself to the bay creeps into the city turning it into a frigid yet beautiful place. It wafts into the streets and blows a cooling breath over the entire metropolis. It is so thick you can feel it dusting your face with a light mist.
I got to catch up with a couple of mates in San Francisco. Jenn, who kindly put me up for a few nights and Emmett who took me around the city on Monday and to Fishermans wharf in the evening. I had a great time here and I’ll be back for one last drink before flying to Hawaii in about a week. But right now I am due to catch a flight to Vegas.
Enforcers
It was a rainy day while I was in London that a post went up on the Penny Arcade website calling for volunteer submissions for “The Enforcers”. The Enforcers are the large group of people, clothed in black shirts that spot the Penny Arcade Expo generally being helpful and keeping everything running smoothly.
I knew of the group from discussions and news on the previous conventions and had always wondered if I could be part of something that seemed so cool. I applied for a job, not really thinking I would be accepted what being a travelling Australian and all. To my surprise soon I found an email from penny arcade in my inbox informing me of my acceptance to “The Black”. My life hasn’t been the same since
Being an Enforcer isn’t just a volunteer job. It is a way of life. Being surrounded by people who think, talk and act like you, all with an insane level of passion is intoxicating. Everyone is accepted. Parties are arranged on an almost weekly basis. Helping hands are offered to all those who have accepted the black. Being an Enforcer is about fun, games and friends. In the first two days of being in Seattle I attended two Enforcer gatherings, one specifically to welcome the 3 out of town enforcer Australians (and 3 local Aussies) at the Outback Steakhouse.
It is also about being some of the most professional mother fuckers around for the week of PAX. Exhibitors and staff of the convention were often amazed to find out that we don’t get paid for our work at the Expo. They were continually impressed by our expertise and professionalism. I explained to a few that asked me about it that I felt it came from a level of passion and dedication to the subject matter and organisers that you don’t normally see at most expos or jobs even.
I made more friends in my time in Seattle through the Enforcers than I have pretty much in my whole trip combined. At the moment my Enforcer badge is tucked neatly in my backpack, waiting to be hung somewhere safe at home to remind me of all those that made my time at PAX and in Seattle so wonderful.
Victoria
Back in January back in Sydney I met three very wonderful Canadians who were adventuring around the east coast. I chatted to Magena, Carlee and Kari often trying to learn what I could about Canada, knowing that in 8 months I would be seeing their homeland for myself. They convinced me that Victoria on Vancouver Island would be a great place to visit and I am glad I took their advice.
Vancouver Island lays off the west coast of mainland Canada. Getting there is pretty cheap and reasonably easy. I jumped on a bus from downtown Vancouver, then took a cheap yet HUGE ferry to the island. The cruise was fantastic, I am not sure how long it took in the end, I spent most of my time just watching the islands go by and enjoying the view. It could have been an hour, probably more, but I am not really sure.
After the enjoyable ferry ride I jumped on a bus to Victoria, where my hostel was located. Victoria is a beautiful little town, very cosmopolitan yet small enough that much of the city shuts down at night. As has become a bit of a feature of my trip I managed to time my visit at EXACTLY the wrong time, with the Victoria Fringe Theatre festival starting on the day I left the town.
The hostel was pretty good but not brilliant, luckily I didn’t spend too long within its walls. I met up with Emmet, a Californian I got to know in Vancouver and we hit up a local bar called Big Bad Johns. It was a cool little place with a great atmosphere. We downed a few beers there before heading back to the hostel. Back there we met Sarah from Quebec and chatted for a while.
The next day I headed out with Emmet, Sarah and her friend whom I forget the name of for a swim in the freezing waters off the coast. I couldn’t spend more than a few moments in the water before I was numb, but the sun was warm and it was nice to get out of the city for an afternoon. We grabbed some lunch and said farewell to Sarah who was headed back to Quebec that afternoon.
Now, remember those three Canadians? Luckily for me they were all back on Vancouver Island and invited me out for a drink to catch up. It was great to see someone you got to know 8 months ago again in their hometown on the opposite side of the world. It felt pretty surreal and it was nice to hear their stories of adventures from their travels. We had a drink in Sidney and the girls showed me around the small town. Magena gave me a lift back to my hostel, something I am very grateful for because the busses had stopped and my clipper to Seattle left early in the morning and I needed to pack.
Thea
Probably the one reason that drew me to Vancouver on my trip was to visit my good friends Laura and Murray to see their new baby, the very beautiful Thea. It has been a very long time since I saw Laura and her husband and it was very nice catching up with them. They are living full time in Vancouver now and raising their daughter, who is around 12 weeks old.
I had a great day with the new family, and Murray and Laura very kindly took me out in their neighbourhood for lunch where we chatted and enjoyed the wonderful weather. It was nice to take a moment out of my hectic travel schedule to stop and just enjoy a quiet afternoon.
I have to say Congratulations to Laura and Murray and a big warm welcome to Thea!
Montreal Centrale
I’ve mentioned my favourite hostel Montreal Centrale in my post about Montreal itself, but I have decided it deserved a special mention. Montreal Centrale was, by far and away, the best hostel I have stayed in in the Northern Hemisphere. During my time there (around 2 weeks in total) I met fantastic people, formed strong friendships, and had a great time. I helped in the Bar, organised pub crawls, cooked, moved furniture, lounged on couches and relaxed in the back courtyard.
Their setup is fantastic. The place used to be a hotel catering for “dubious business types” and has recently changed tack to catering for travellers and backpackers and the budget conscious. This is great because the hostel still has great hotel throwbacks, like clean rooms with TV’s and DVD players and ensuites in each, clean fresh linen, a pile of towels (hand, face, body) waiting for you on your bed at check in, great service and a pleasant atmosphere. The staff are very friendly always willing to come for a drink and entertain the clients.
I can’t thank Francisco, Joshue, Anna, Ben and the rest of the crew enough. If it weren’t for their welcoming smiles and open arms this hostel would have faded into my memories like so many others before it. They have created an environment that is extremely difficult NOT to make friends and meet people in and that is perhaps the most important part of any hostel experience. I met some people I wont ever forget here, and I owe a lot to the staff for enabling me to do so. Should I ever return to Montreal, which I definitely hope I do, Montreal Centrale will be my residence of choice.
If you’re wondering the significance of the image above, this awesome piece of art is what I marvelled at each morning across the road from the entrance of the hostel. Montreal is full of awesome graffiti.
Travel Friends
I love hostels. I love the instant connections they instil in their inhabitants. Everyone is in the same boat. We’re all sharing the same rooms with the same snorers, loafers and messy bastards. We’re all struggling travellers, excited and amazed by the smallest of things we experience on our adventures. Many are alone, seeking friendship at every corner, someone to talk to and share with.
Sometimes you find in hostels acquaintances, people to chat to and entertain for a moment, just a moment before they fade off into the night. Other times you meet those that you wish to surround yourself with for longer, filling your day with their company. I’ve met a few people like this on my trip. People that share a common outlook on the world and attitude to life.
Finding people like this is fairly rare but great. Of the hundreds upon hundreds of people I have met, shaken hands with, shared a beer and stories and laughs just a few make it into my hit list. They stand like mile markers in my adventure, my memories of them shining like beacons in rolling seas.
While I have become hardened against goodbyes, they are still are difficult, but the effect is reduced I have found when done over the hangover of a great night out. One such a great night was in the wonderful Quebec. And so, once again farewell my friends. May we find one another again in this wide world and raise a glass to our past, present and future.
Toronto
Toronto, not high on my list of “must sees” to begin with had quite a hard act to follow in New York. The city is the biggest in Canada with a population of around 8 million (depending on who you talk to), but it seemed empty and unsure of itself.
The tower that looms over the skyline is an example of this insecurity. It was built to show the world the power of Canadian industry and woah, was it mighty. Well… it was. It has since been surpassed in height and in the next few years there are several more buildings on their way to knock it further down the ladder. The Toronto feels a little like they are not accepting the fact that things are just moving forward, a constant progression that they are being swept along with rather than driving.
Don’t get me wrong, the people of Toronto aren’t backwards and the city is fairly modern but something just feels off. I feel I needed maybe more time and more local help to come to understand the importance and purpose of this city. Maybe it is that my impressions of Toronto were coloured slightly by the 35 day garbage strike that covered the city in a pall of rancid stink and litter. Or maybe even the unusual vibe of the hostel where a large portion of the residents were long-termers who’s attitudes formed a kind of “us and them” segregation that was hard to break the barriers of.
I did manage to get out and see a bit of the city, but it held no real wow moments, other than acting as a platform for me to launch into Niagara Falls. I went for a few beers at The Horseshoe, out clubbing with some other backpackers but was well and truly over it an hour in. I had a quiet night in watching movies and then quite the opposite drinking vodka with danes and germans till the wee hours of another night. Oh, and in what seems to be a staple of his holiday, I got completely and utterly drenched by a massive storm that swept over the city while I was out wandering. The skies opened up so much that within minutes of the torrential rain starting not a single inch of me was dry. I did provide a little entertainment to a collection of gym goers who had taken shelter in their lobby when I came in asking for a plastic bag to put all my electronic equipment in, dripping bucket loads of water on their floor and leaving bare foot prints leading out from their little refuge and into the dark beyond their doors. Some people look at me strangely when they see me walking barefoot through the city, but I believe feeling the ground beneath the hardened soles of my feet helps me to really connect with a place, to make it feel real. I don’t think there is a single city I have visited where I didn’t spend at least a day barefoot.
I said goodbye to Toronto with no real sense of dolefulness after a night of chatting with some frenchies until 5am. In fact I am sitting on my bus to Montreal right this moment wrapped in excitement in seeing somewhere new. I’ll also be meeting up with some of the nicer people I met at the hostel who will be making their way up to Montreal in the coming days. I hope to have a quiver of local knowledge to deliver when they come a-knocking.
Paris
My final stop in my European Adventure was Paris, but to get there was always going to be a mission.
After travelling through the very cool Liechtenstein, up in Germany to stay a night a Munich I jumped my final ever Busabout Bus. I was fairly lucky because, while it is a long bus, requiring a driver change I managed to get both Zoltan and Owen for my drivers: two of my favourites of the service. The drive from Munich to Paris took us from 8 am through till 9pm, nearly 12 hours of constant bus, punctuated by short rest stops with nothing really look at apart from boring flat french farmland.
It wasn’t until I got my gear into my hostel, had a rest and ventured out the next day that I really started enjoying Paris. While the disgusting smell of urine punctuates every corner of the city, the beauty of the place over powers it. The architecture, the city planning and the history combine to make for a wonderful city.
One of my favourite moments in Paris came in my second night and involved catching up with Sophia, Ben and little Max at a tapas restaurant in the heart of Paris. It was a great evening and Max has grown up heaps. Last time I saw him he was still pretty much just a poop machine!
During most of my time in Paris I wandered the city by day, did a walking tour with New Paris, made new friends and then more friends. We adventured to the Eiffel Tower at night, drank wine and enjoyed the lightshow. The next day I went wandering with some people from my room, checked out the Notre Dame and caught more of the city.
My final night in Paris I took part in a Fat Tire Night Bike, by far the highlight of my time in the city. Guided by the very cool, very chilled and very Californian Billy we wove through the streets of Paris in the gathering dusk. We saw the sun set through the pyramid at the Louvre, caught a boat cruise and drank wine as the Eiffel Tower lit up and still made it home before 12. Billy even taught me the ways of the Segway, something he said to keep on the down low.
The next day I caught the Eurostar First Class across the channel, waving a fond goodbye to Europe and the adventures I had there. I hope the US is just as exciting.
I was unfortunately feeling poorly for most of my time in Paris, so I didn’t get to do everything that I wanted to do, but I’ll be back again some day for sure. For those wanting to experience what was going through my head the whole time I walked Paris, just hit play on the video clip after the jump. I dare you to try and get that tune out of your head without a spoon!
Bath Water
On Wednesday I caught the train for about an hour and a half to see Bath. There to greet me was Lucy, one of my friends from the Sydney Railway Square YHA.
Lucy proved to be a very capable tour guide, showing me around the sights of the town. Bath is most famous for, you guessed it: the Roman Baths that were built here over the natural hot springs. Suprisingly the baths were lost for a long time, only being discovered when the basement of a house built over the area kept mysteriously filling with water.
The complex allows tourists to examine the baths but, unfortunately, not to swim in the warm water. Restored to what is believed to be a pretty accurate representation of how the baths would have looked during the Roman times (except there was a roof over the baths) the site does a pretty good job of transporting one back to the heady days of the expanding Roman empire.
On display are artifacts recovered during the excavations and rooms upon rooms of the original Baths. After walking through the site and seeing pretty much all we could, I downed a cup of the water, said to have restorative properties. It tasted like mineral water and eggs, and was served at body temperature supposedly straight from the source. It didn’t make me sick, so the water couldn’t have been all bad. Kinda is fun to say I’ve drunk Bath water from the Roman Baths in Bath.
At 11 quid for a self guided walk around the Baths it was a little expensive for a povo traveller, but worth a look for all those interested in taking a glimpse back in time.
The gallery attached to this post includes some shots from around Bath, most notably of the Abbey, the Royal Cresent and the Circus.