general travel Keyword
Busabout
Probably the single greatest descision I made on my Odyssey so far was to jump on a Busabout coach, rather than buy myself a Eurorail Pass.
For those who don’t know Busabout is a service that runs a series of busses in constant loops around regions in Europe. They operate three main loops, North, South and West and offer a range of options for how you would like to tackle these routes.
The main benefit I thought intially was the flexibility it provided. You’re not locked into any particular schedule (other than the days the buses will be in your area) and you don’t need to follow any specific set route. If you want to skip a whole section and meet up with a bus a few countries away you can do that. While this was a bonus it wasn’t the be-all and end-all.
I then thought it was the convenience the bus provided. Being dropped right at the door of a hostel, bags all secure and after having had a nice relaxing bus ride is pretty awesome. Every bus has an awesome driver and talented guide who are always willing to help, but in the end it wasn’t this that has cemented busabout as my mode of travel of choice.
No it was the passengers. Each bus saw you meet up with new people, all who seemed like minded. Everyone was out to find their own adventure and have fun in the process. Busabout isn’t the boozy shagfest that Contiki and Top Deck are known for. You wont find (that many) deadhead 18 yearolds spending their parents money. I met awesome people with every bus ride, I longed for the busses to arrive at my hostels to see what old and new friends it might bring. Stories were swapped, tips made, drinks shared and friendships founded.
I had a fantastic time on Busabout, and anyone wishing to travel around Europe I can’t recommend the service enough. Infact I’m gonna apply for a Guide job the moment I hit Australia. I can’t get enough.
To my favorite busabout crew members: Zoltan, Nicola, Coops, Owen, Ben and the irrepressible Lucash. Thank you!
Pebbles
Why haven’t I posted an update for a few days? This is something I can’t really answer. I haven’t been doing that much. I’ve had something to do each day though. Wandering around London, checking out parks, museums, galleries. I’ve caught up with old friends. Went partying with Wayno and drinking with Alicia. I’ve slept in parks, enjoying what little sunshine the UK has offer. I’ve moved house, to Kentish town, staying at Michael’s share house. Sunday was an adventure to Brighton to see the pebble beach. Something so surreal I had trouble comprehending it. People lying on the cold gravel just as they would on the warm soft sand of Australian beaches. It seemed ludicrous.
The weathers turned bad. The sun we saw last week has receeded behind rain clouds. Chill winds are whipping down the street, dragging with them freezing drizzle and driving rain. I can see why people in London get depressed this time of year. I planned to go to Madame Tussauds today, but I can’t brace myself for the weather. That, and the hot water is off here which normally isn’t a problem, but cold water here is COLD water. Stinging points of ice that shred the soul. Ain’t no way I am jumping under that shit today.
London – innit!
For those keeping track, I’ve been in London a few days now, but I’ve been too busy and too sick to put up a post.
The flight here was fairly uneventful, apart from getting lost on the trains in Tokyo on the way to Narita and I arrived at about 5pm London time. I met my mate Simon at Covent Garden where I stupidly decided to take the stairs up from the underground. We’re talking nearly 200 steps, in spiral staircase fashion, and by the end of my power climb I felt like puking.
Simon and I had dinner at a local turkish seafood place, and back at his place I passed out on the air matress he had for me in the lounge. The next morning feeling refreshed I headed out to see London.
I walked a lot on Wednesday. Basically circling the center of London twice I took in the London Eye, Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, 10 Downing Street, Trafalga Square, the National Gallery, the Thames, the Tower of London, the Tower Bridge, the Gherkin, St Paul’s Cathedral and everything in between. It was a packed day. Thursday saw me stay in sick with the flu.
I am liking London. It’s a pretty cool place from what I have seen so far. So much history. Beautiful Architecture. The next few weeks will see if it really works its charms on me.
Studio Ghibli Museum
If you every want to see pure joy on the faces of children, then Studio Ghibli Museum is the place to be. Situated in Mitaka the museum houses exhibits including demonstrations of animation techniques which blew my mind, a recreation of Hayao Miyazaki’s studio and other great pieces of Ghibli history. Any place that has a full size Cat Bus is alright with me, even if they wont let adults join in the fun of climbing all over it. We spent around four hours wandering the halls of the huge building, tiny doorways leading in and out of corridors and winding staircases curling up three stories. We watched a short Ghibli film that is only shown in the museum, and had lunch at the cafe. It was a magical day.
Unfortunately the guards didn’t allow photos anywhere inside. I still got a photo on the roof though, and snuck a few sneaky vids that you’ll see in a few days.
The rest of the day consisted of wandering around Akihabara again, hitting Don Quiote and eating crepes. My new mates and I got into hostel late, negating any chance once again of going out on the town. Tomorrow for sure.
5am? WTF!
Got up at 5am this morning. It’s the best time for the fish markets apparently. Caught the train, my legs still wobbly as they tried to wake up. A group of us from the hostel wandered the dark streets in search of the entrance. What a place it turned out to be.
Everything was moving. Live fish, crabs, eels wriggled and squirmed in styrofoam containers and buckets everywhere. Huge black and silver tuna’s lay enormous on wooden trolleys. I have never seen such massive fish. Modern day samurai’s dice up the huge creatures with razor sharp swords as strange motorised trolleys raced around the warehouse. There were creatures I have never seen before. The spectacle of it all was pretty amazing.
We left the markets with the sun up, and found a fresh sushi place that was serving the day’s catch. I couldn’t stop eating the delicious sashimi. I have never tasted anything so fresh. The day had only just begun and I was already stuffed with more seafood than I would like to admit. The prospect of the free egg and toast breakfast back at the hostel didn’t really tweak my appetite but we headed home anyways. Planning for the rest of the day has begun, over coffee in the common room. I really should get some sleep though, but there’s too much to do!
Anne Hostel
Tiny is one way to describe Anne Hostel, home for my week in Japan. Wonderful is just as appropriate. Situated off the beaten track, close to Asakusabashi station the Anne Hostel appears, from the outside, to be just a small door in a typical Japanese suburban building. At the top of it’s four floors, slipping off your shoes you enter a neat little reception. Welcoming smiles beam at you from behind the counter. A Flat screen hangs godlike from the wall of the Japanese style common room. Travelers are plonked on tatami mats covering the floor. I felt at home as soon as I walked in the door.
When I say tiny though, I mean tiny. Tiny Rooms. Tiny Reception. Tiny common room. Tiny showers. Tiny toilets. No so tiny that you’re uncomfortable though, just tiny. Exactly what you’d imagine Japan to be like.
The word tiny can’t describe the enthusiasm of the staff. Quite the opposite. I have never felt such warmth from hosts. They obviously take pride in their Hostel, and love every minute of being around their guests. I look forward to seeing what the rest of the week turns up.
Sardines
I think my travel agent pulled some kind of sick joke on me by booking my flight to arrive at Narita airport at 6am. By the time I had picked up my luggage and passed through customs it was around 7am. The train trip from Narita to the edge of town is about fourty-five minutes, putting the time I would be hitting Tokyo proper smack bang in middle of the morning rush.
The trip turned from a nice, leisurely train ride to peak-hour chaos. Increasingly people piled onto the train. I managed to wrestle my guitar onto the luggage rack just as the last bit of space was consumed, but my backpack and daypack ended up between my legs. At one point I didn’t need to try to balance any more, the bodies around providing me with more than enough support to disconnect myself from the hand grip. The mass of bodies moved with the train, wobbling and waving with every turn. They moved down the carriage with each application of brake from the driver and returned to their spots as the train moved off again. More people were herded in by the handlers with their little white gloves at each station we hit. Japanese faces were literally pressed against the windows of the carriage, the walls and my shoulder blades. The momentum carried the swarm of people like seaweed on the tides.
I was getting kind of creeped out. There were hips and hands and arms and legs everywhere there shouldn’t be. I felt violated, and stared steadfastly through the window; too nervous to look around at who or what was poking into my personal space. I started to puff myself out, standing tall, pushing back against the flow of people. Up straight I was bigger and taller than 90 percent of the people in the carriage. I got to sticking out my elbows, trying to make space. It wasn’t working. Getting tired of being on guard I took off my headphones and looked around me, putting on my best “fuck off, weirdo” face. The train was silent. Strangely, eerily silent. Save for a few quiet coughs not one of the multitude of people crammed in around me made a sound. There was not a bleep from a cell phone. No school yard secrets were whispered between teenagers. Not even the distant tinkle of j-pop on headphones punctured the silence. I have been in Libraries louder than that carriage. It was so quiet I felt like whistling, just to break the implied tension that the silence generated. What’s more is that most of the people, including the four commuters pressed up against me, appeared to be asleep! Eyes closed, lids not even fluttering, calm, distant expressions on their faces. This was their moment of Zen. I relaxed. I rolled with it. All were one.
Finally reaching my stop, I groped for my guitar, apologising profusely in my sorry excuse for Japanese and started moving through the crowd. As packed as the carriage was I got through easier than I had imagined. Even with eyes closed my fellow sardines made space as I wiggled through. Incoming passengers waited calmly as a couple of other commuters and I popped out of the doors and onto the platform. The hole I left was quickly consumed, filled by eight Japanese salary men all assuming their eyes-closed, dreamlike look as the train pulled away. One of the guards on the platform smiled at me and gave me a little nod as I stood back taking a deep breath. I nodded back, picked up my gear, put my backpack on, and headed to the opposite platform to catch my connecting train. I decided to keep my gear on me this time. It was only a couple of stops. I stood first in line for my train. After only a moment it arrived, and a few people exited the packed carriage. I took a step towards the door and then suddenly I was careening across the gap. I didn’t so much as get on the train; I was forced. My feet lifted from the floor as about 15 people behind me, much more than the amount that left the train, rushed forwards. Gloved hands squeezed more commuters into the carriage, the doors ground shut and we rumbled onwards down the line.
I popped out the other side of the train at Asakusabashi Station, quickly found my hostel and dropped my bags. Still wearing shorts and thongs I hadn’t felt the one degree weather, but I changed into some jeans and whacked on a jacket after the staff at the hostel informed me it might snow today. SNOW!
This is Japan, and I love it.
Goodbye Sydney
Right now I am sitting in the boarding lounge at Sydney Airport. My feet itch with excitement. Out the window glitter the lights of Sydney. Lights I will not see again for about 9 months. Today I start the real Odyssey. You see, I am getting on my flight to Japan in about an hour. I am very excited, but still sad to be leaving the City I love most. I feel this way every time I leave Sydney. It is a magical place.
Goodbye Sydney, you shall see me again. One day.
Nimbin
My hire car is proving to be a boon to my travel situation. On Friday, gathering a group from the house, I loaded up the little Hyundai Getz with Crystal, Julianna, Antwon, and Jamie and headed south to New South Wales. “To Nimbin” was the call from the car as we pulled onto the motorway.
As we moved south, thick, lush rain forest bushland gave way to rolling, cleared farm lands. Rain, as it has for most of my adventure, bucketed down in torrents, at one point almost forcing us to stop the car. One-way bridges were covered over by the rivers they were traversing. The wipers couldn’t move the water off the windscreen fast enough and misting windows obscured my vision. We pushed on. The rain cleared as we pulled into the infamous town of Nimbin, leaving behind a thin mist and slick streets.
Nimbin, once considered almost a Utopian town by the hippies that resided there, is a small rural community with a population of around 350 “official” residents. While Nimbin originally began life as a dairy farming town, its main drawcard now is the fairly relaxed marijuana laws that exist there. Drugs such as various varieties of pot and hash, acid and mushrooms are sold relatively openly in the street. The heady aroma of grass and incense mingles with the sweaty, “haven’t showered since Malcolm Fraser” stink of the bums and druggies that wander the main strip. Large groups of stoned tourists shamble along, bleary eyed, talking shit and browsing hemp themed souvenir stores. Aging hippies sit behind street stalls selling shiny nicknacks and new age books. If it could be tie-died, it was tie-died.
While the utopian nature of the place may have gone, the druggies have not. The “free love” ideal brought to the town by the hippies that transformed it so long ago has been lost to drunk bums and modern meth head junkies.
I wandered the main strip, stopping into the local pub where loud music played from an old CD jukebox drowned out the caller on the TAB racing screens. I found the rest of the group chatting to some aboriginals busking in the street for booze money. I picked up one of their guitars and with Antwon grabbing the bongo we busted out a few tunes on the street. One of the buskers repeatedly yelled Superman while I played, in reference to my tshirt.
My time in Nimbin was a pretty surreal. While it made me a little sad to see what could have been a nice place turned bad, it was still an experience I have now crossed off my “things to do” list.
On the way back Jamie directed us to Mount Warning the highest, most eastern part of Australia. If you wish to catch the first rays of light hitting Australia on New Years, the top of Mount Warning is the place to be. The forest was lush, helped in part by the heavy rains and the running creeks and dripping foliage were very peaceful.
We crept back into Brisbane with its twinkling lights around 7pm. Just in time for some dinner. I sat listening to the creaking and popping of the car as the engine cooled in the moist night air. I decided that I would hit Surfers Paradise the next morning.
Sorting Shit Out
While I got seriously screwed over in regards to my UK working visa, I have made some progress in getting my trip on the right track. Today I have an official itinerary of flights. For those interested in my movements I’ve added a page with my Itinerary. I’ll keep this page updated with flight time changes and with “where I am now”. If you check out the itinerary, and see a time when I can catch up with ya, please let me know by adding a comment to the itinerary page, or by contacting me.
In other news, I have hired a car, so I am no longer restricted by public transport or the relentless rain of Brisbane. That’s right universe, I’ve got your number. I reckon I’ll be heading to Gold Coast, Sunshine Coast and maybe Byron if I get adventurous. I have the car for the next seven days, so I’ve got plenty of time to see the sights of Queensland.
As for the picture above: On one of the only warm days of this week Tegan and Sam took me to see the Streets Beach at Southbank. I found it mind blowing that I would be swimming at a fake beach in Australia. It seemed absolutely absurd, but it’s a nice place.