Friends Keyword
Here Comes the Sun
Just a little update on where I am at the moment. Having spent nearly a week at Simon’s place in Newington Green I have moved on to stay with Melissa Sorgiovani and her boyfriend Dave in St John’s Wood. A rather cool little place, the flat is located pretty much next door to Abbey Road Studios, meaning I cross the street at the famous cross walk nearly every single day. I arrived here on Monday, after a closed trainline meant I couldn’t head over on Sunday evening. Standing out front I was asked by a tourist if I was recording at the Studios as he spotted my guitar. I just had to laugh. After getting harrassed by the porter of Melissa’s building I got in, dropped my gear and headed out with Mel to do some shopping at Sainsbury’s. Stupidly at the end of the shop I left my Ray Ban’s hanging off the trolley and lost them. The first loss of my adventure.
On Tuesday, mourning the disappearance of my sunnies I stayed in and did my washing. I headed to the highstreet with a bag of damp clothes and read my book in a basement laundrette. Picking up an O2 phone card on the way home I headed into the nearest pub and downed a couple of Guinesses for St Patties Day. That evening I met up with Michael Fuller and Irene Rankin for a pub quiz in East Finchley but, with the early close of pubs in London, I was home by 11.
Wednesday I went on a mission to find a replacement pair of glasses. I hit Oxford Street in the morning, under some glorious sunshine, blew my budget at Selfrigdge’s and then headed to Hyde Park to soak up some rays. At 14 degrees I still had the chills but the Londoners were relishing the sunshine, walking around in tshirts and shorts. I relaxed for a few hours in the sun, then wandered past Buckingham Palace down towards the Embankment where I grabbed myself a late pub lunch. I caught the tube home, had a beer at the Duke and crashed out again on the couch.
Today the sun is out again, something I am told doesn’t happen much in these parts so I am off to go soak it up in Regents Park. Well I think I am pretty much up to date! Keep on checking in for updates and keep in touch. For those who want to call or message my new number is: +447518 906 273 (or 07518 906 273 in the UK)
Whynot Street
I’ve been in Brisbane a little over two weeks now. I’ve seen a little bit of the beautiful Sunshine Coast. I’ve been disgusted by the shallow, horrible, skyscraper laden hole that is the Gold Coast. I’ve wandered national parks, explored Brisbane town, gone over the Story Bridge, swam at a fake beach and busked with locals at Nimbin. I’ve even managed to squeeze in a visit to a gaming exhibition. All these things were interesting, nice little experiences. Each memory nicely wrapped in a neat little moment. Stored away, ready to jump out at an inappropriate time to remind me of days gone by.
None of these memories though, will fill me with as much nostalgia as those from Whynot Street. A curious name for a road, yet entirely fitting. Every moment at 38 Whynot Street, West End has been welcoming, exciting, relaxing, fulfilling, intriguing, enlightening and inspiring. I’ve met some of the most wonderful people you can imagine here. I’ve had a chance to hang out with my good friend. I’ve played heaps of guitar. I’ve read far too little of my books. I slept almost an entire day on the couch while the house partied on around me. I’ve fought with the tiny fridge, painted my contribution on the coffee table, played chicken with the temperamental hot water system and listened to the rain falling on the roof day after glorious day.
I’ll never forget the people I’ve met here. Selene, the mexican PHD student. Jamie the flighty, crazy New South Welshman. Antoine, the very cool and very relaxed French uni student. Jess, the arty, fun loving Australian who stole my shed. Julianna, Jamie’s Brazillian better half. The wonderful Frenchies. Tak, the Japanese massage student and of course, the wonderful Tegan and her fantastic, funny and intellectual boyfriend Sam.
I leave this place tomorrow, bound for Sydney on my Odyssey, but for tonight: we party, one last time.
The Blonde Nightmare
I promised I would write an article about one of the very interesting people I met in Sydney: Lucy Holden. A self confessed “blonde nightmare” or “A car crash of a woman”; Lucy headed to Australia with a few dollars, a working visa and an uncontrollable desire to buy any clothes she sees.
Full of life, Lucy was the mistress of the goon, often sneaking it into bars and clubs to drink on the cheap. She missed her first day of work at a cafe because of a big night out and still managed to bluff her way into keeping the job. She stole muffins from hostels, scammed a bed pretty much every night and found coles to be a great source of free food. Even with so little money Lucy could still pull out a big night.
The last I heard from Lucy was that she was headed down to Melbourne with a few hundred bucks donated from her mum. She’ll be looking for, and eventually flagging work in Victoria just as this post goes up. Good luck Lucy, I hope the reputation you earned at the YHA doesn’t follow you to Melbourne!
Monopoly
Last night was my last night at the Railway YHA with my new friends and I got to do something I have been hanging out to do for ages: Play Monopoly! I love Monopoly. I brings out the best and worst in people. It shows you how people think. How they reason. Something that can be difficult to discover when there is a language barrier. I met some more Canadians during the game which by the way, was very entertaining. For dinner we made Burritos and then had a few send off drinks down Sidebar. I woke up on the couch in front of an episode of Carnivale at 4am. It was a great end to an awesome 3 weeks at the Railway.
I’ll miss my new friends, but I am looking forward to getting know the new group of people I am staying with at Whynot Street in the West End of Brisbane. Tegan set us up the Shed, and everyone has been very welcoming. I have about two weeks here then head back to Sydney to head to Japan.
Recipe for Awesomeness
Take 6 crew, 25 sailing enthusiasts, a 75 foot America’s Cup yacht and the Sydney Harbor. Shake vigorously. Serve under blue skies with a selection of fruits and sandwiches. Best enjoyed with legs overboard.
In the Drink
Ok, I know I said I was going to try and limit my “I’ve been out drinking” posts, but this particular night calls for a special mention.
On Friday I caught up with my old mates John and Brett, starting the night with a fantastic dumpling dinner in what has to be the smallest and dingiest restaurant in China Town (you want the truth? YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”). Following that we had a couple of quiet drinks at a pub in Darlinghurst. John jumped on his train, and at about this point the night got off the hook.
We attempted to get into Sidebar, so I could show Brett the hottest bar chick in the world, but he was refused entry because he had no ID, so we resorted to the last resort: Scubar. We sat in the corner, drank too much Jager then met up with some of the crew from my Hostel. Sick of Scubar we formulated a new plan.
Jumping in a taxi we headed out to a club on Darling Harbor. Dancing ensued, as well as much drinking and debauchery and things got hazy. They only really get clear again when Brett and I stripped off and jumped in the harbor out the front of the club. We were quickly moved along, then got grabbed by Rangers who attempted to a) tell us we couldn’t swim in the harbor (which I called shenanigans on because there was no signs saying we couldn’t) and b) tried to bust us for indecent exposure as we were walking around in our undies. We had to get dressed while still soaked. Smelling like wet dogs we wandered the streets causing a ruckus and tooling about in general.
I got home at about 4am, smelling of harbor water and booze. It was a great night and, seeing as I’m still around to write this: proof that swimming in the Harbor isn’t as dangerous as it may seem.
Max & Pascal
Yesterday I said goodbye to a couple of new friends, namely Max and Pascal. Ever the party animals these two brothers from Quebec have been traveling around causing a ruckas and breaking the hearts of ladies all over the shop. They are two of the biggest stoners you’ll ever meet. I am glad to have got to know them these past couple of weeks as their antics always brought a smile to my face.
Viva Quebec fellas, enjoy your road trip to Melbourne with Jeff, Alban and Anrie and I’m sure I’ll meet you again in my travels.
Alcohol Free Days
I’ve hit the point where I need another AFD. I’ve been drinking too much. Way too much, as shown by the multitude of nights out photos that have graced the blog. It’s hard not to go out all the time when you’re surrounded by like minded people, and it’s kinda my tradition that whenever someone new comes into a dorm, we have to take them out on the town. People come into our dorm a lot. I think if it weren’t for my insistence on AFD’s at least once a week I think the entire blog would be just a series of blurred drunken photos of the interior of clubs.
I promise that from now on I’ll be limiting my “I’ve been out drinking” posts but for now: here’s a series of blurred drunken photos from the interior of a club.
Salsa Steve
One of the best and most interesting characters I’ve met so far in my travels is Salsa Steve. Harking from New Zealand, inventor of 6 hour mozzarella and accomplished musician Steve travels the world in search of the worlds best Salsa dancers and competition nights.
I had the pleasure of attending one of the organised Salsa nights that Steve had been chasing around the world and had a great night. The mood of the room was infectious, and had even the audience of spectators shaking their hips. I am glad I made the effort to see Salsa Steve in his element. It is something that will stay with me long after this trip is over.
Keep dancing Steve, may your adventures on this Earth always be filled with sexy Salsa ladies!
I can haz cak3?
I like the fact that humanity still continues to surprise me. Sometimes just the smallest actions on the part of individuals can completely restore your hope for the whole. On the evening of my Birthday some of the backpackers I had met (Joe, Lucy, Camilla, Jamie, Max, Pascalle et al) organised a surprise birthday cake at the Side Bar! They even got me a card signed by pretty much everyone who counts at my Hostel. Their little gesture made me feel so loved and provided entertainment for the masses at the pub.
I made some new friends that night, danced like I was possessed by the spirit of jazz and went to bed with a smile on my face. Best, Birthday, Ever.