Home, Hiraeth, Old Friends and New

I uploaded two posts this time, this is the second, enjoy :)

Independent solo world travel one may assume is the pursuit of the extreme individualist. Rather, it is the path of one who seeks greater connection, not less. What seems like bravery, is trust in others.

We do not need to be complete, we will miss the mark if we try to , that is why there are other people on the earth.

The duality of ones existence, between periods of separation, isolation, coming together, becoming deeply attached. From unity of conception, division of cells, separation from mother, bonding to the breast, weaning, starting out, then getting scared, separation from family home, joining with others as friends and lovers, parted by death, returning to dust.

Some days are great, most are good, but many are dull, and some lonely or downright depressing. But still one presses on, because ultimately it is worth it. The skills one learns, confidence, the different views and ways of living and a beautiful active network of friends all around the world.

Returning, home can seem hopelessly prosaic, conservative and provincial. The pettiness, and trivialities that people allow to bother them are stark. Later, I learned that those little details had a quality, little acts that were the bread and butter of social interaction. Life is in the details it seems, little, regular thoughtful actions do more for the good feelings of people around, than big gestures.

I remember visiting Clyne botanical gardens in a week or so after returning from my last big trip, parking in what was my usual spot when I rented a dear little cottage opposite. On returning, two angry pages of A4 were attached to my windscreen, explained how difficult it was for the owner to get out of his driveway, “I have to twist right around to see, causing stain to my neck...”, and how desperately inconsiderate I was, my former neighbour standing on his perfectly mown lawn, affronted, arms folded while I read the note.

If you have ridden an unlicenced motorcyle at speed through a police block to avoid paying a bribe, refused change to limbless beggars, and seen homes pulled apart by buldozers with people still in them, screaming, hysterically it is hard to have sympathy for the whinger in his near million pound house.

The miserable old bugger was moved to ink by my car spoiling his idyllic view, what would he have made of the cremation I saw from ten feet in Mumbai. The searing heat, the sweet roast pork smell..

I have shared rooms with people I met only minutes before, and went on to spend weeks in each others company, sharing many stories, meals and sleeping spaces. Yet, returning, visited familiar homes, and not been offered time for a cup of tea and a conversation, the television still blaring inanities un-muted.

At times travelled hundreds of miles, slept rough, and walked for many miles in the heat to meet for a single conversation, yet friends would not walk to my house from town.

Lovers have flown half way around the world to share precious times, yet family members will not drive for twenty minutes to join me for lunch!

Rant over!!!!

I now realize people are just getting on with their own lives, in their own worlds, that have different limits to my own. Something the more experienced travelers have painfully learned to accept...

Leaving behind Crystal Waters Permaculture Village, sitting on the railway platform, I was joined by another wanderer who accepted my offer of a banana, and shared tales of hitching.

My last hitched ride had been with a red-neck whose hobbies included hunting wild pigs with a crossbow. His recreation might seem more unusual to others, but I listened with keen interest, we swapped recipes for sausages, pates and rillet.

In Bundaberg after another night in the park, I visited family friends, Greg and Delyth, admitting a touch of hireath seeing Greg's own water-colour rendering of Worms head, Gower, and the Welsh dresser I knew from happy childhood visits. The last time we met was in dry dock aboard their steel yacht Kate in which they had crossed the Atlantic, sailed on many occasions with my folks, myself and had been their base while moving back and forth between UK and Australia.

Just like the previous occasion, we managed to make a mess of ourselves, last time in Milford haven, on Bundaberg rum, this time in Bundaberg on native red wine. The couple have done many things I have longed to do, they farmed in Wales and sailed around the world. Two seemingly incompatable dreams that I have also shared.

Spending time with them I was able to unwind in the sea, in their pool, get laundry done, and get the chance to explain the reasons for my journey with people who knew me before I had known myself. They had been close friends of my late father, and knew better than anyone the dance between freedom and security I have inherited.

It had been my intention to travel to Cairns to dive the Great Barrier Reef, before flying South. This would not be possible, all trains to the area had been cancelled due to the flooding caused by the unseasonal rains. My generous hosts had planned to travel down the coast, and offered me a lift. My new intention to head to Fraser Island with camping and spearfishing in mind. Again I was thwarted by Hurricane Hamish, so I found myself on a train bound for familiar Brisbane.

From Brisbane I flew to Melbourne that night. Brisbane had been a welcoming city, but I felt I had been circling it like water around a plughole, reversed in this hemisphere.

Melbourne is a strange city, or at least Fitzroy is, the gentrified hippy artsy quater where I spent most of my time amongst the immaculately disheveled cappuccino crowd. Finding accommodation for one night only proved difficult, so again I bedded down in the park. The bivvy bag was unnecessary that dry night, so I slept with an extra layer under my Buffalo top on the thermarest.

The next morning I decided to smarten myself up with a lingering breakfast of eggs Florentine , good coffee, and morning Ashtanga class. The militant, wiry Scottish instructor was dubious about being able to handle his class, but allowed me a place near the back.

This was without doubt the most challenging class I have ever completed, though of course the battle is with ones self, and should not be a battle....

If my trousers and shirt had been soaked in a bucket of sweat, they would have been no wetter. At the end he shook my hand, and asked me if I had been to Mysore – the home that demanding yoga practice, a great compliment indeed. I had been, but to study massage, rather than four hours practice, six days a week. The bodies of those following the regime were like anatomical drawings, the ideal people to practice on.

One of the Ashtangis recovering over juice kindly offered his sofa to crash on and to show me around. Such offers have been common on this trip, and really lift the spirits, it was no real surprise he was another student of environmental issues.

That night in an overpriced hostel in town, one of the residents suspiciously asked me what I was typing on my laptop. After assuring her I was not a spy, to make light conversation, I asked her where she was from. She told me she had to find a husband, then she would know!

That night while dozing, she tapped me on the arm and asked if I wanted to come into her bed, I declined the deranged ladies offer and woke to find another of the bunk-dwellers had received a similar indecent proposal the previous night, he had used his backpack as barricade.

So it was with some relief and thanks I accepted Patrick, the yoga guy and life model's offer of sofa space in his share house, and a delicious meal under Orion's watchful inverted eye. That night was his life drawing class – which I joined, having not drawn properly since school. The progression of two and ten minute drawings I produced really encouraged me to start again – I will post them here when I finally get a decent connection to illustrate these adventures with my many photographs.

I am now in Apollo Bay, 3 ½ hours by train and bus ride from Melbourne, studying partner yoga and massage with a lady who organizes permaculture courses and has a business combining shiatsu with environmental education. It has been an inspirational time exploring these areas so close to my heart on the other side of the world; tagging along to permaculture workshops, meeting world renowned authors of ecological books, eating native edible plants and scouring refuse tips to make a chook (chicken) shed!

Peace

Jim

Crystal Waters – A Welshman, Irishman and Scot get deep.

The timing could not have been better, Vicky – my woofing host was driving up to Brisbane for her sisters birthday, allowing me to pick up my pack and catch up with Mel + Brett in town before heading to Maleny with Vicki's architect Mark.

Brisbane's West End, was a pleasant return to civilization, celebrated with steak sandwiches and fries, my first since arriving, but no wine. Over the years I have slipped out of regular drinking, preferring to put the money saved towards travel, that and the fact that hangovers are so much worse.

I remember when a hangover was a slightly vacant feeling and sore head that was all but gone with a lie in, bacon butty and tea. If it was really bad, a pint of orange juice and bit more sleep.

Now, I wake up at 5 or 6 am feeling top of the world, still drunk. By 4pm a pressure between the ears, and a sense of melancholia lasting well into the next afternoon.

So it was with some trepidation I accepted the Aboriginal's proffered foil wine skin.

Sat in the park dinking away the afternoon was a cross cultural party of bums. One of whom had a brand new mobile, he had proudly stolen from a traveler. “I told him three times not to leave it out!” Such is the twisted logic of the chronic alcoholic.

One girl, with a sweet smile, but tired eyes, smudgy tattoos and tell tale track arks offered me a cotton bud, thanking her as we cleaned our ears happily. Giggling when I exclaimed “eargasms”

When she left her light fingered companion took an album out of her bag and showed me pictures of her twenty years ago, glamor shots, beautifully composed black and white portraiture, magazine covers. “Damn stupid junkie bitch!” he shouted, slamming the album closed.

When the girl returned she saw her bag was open, and blamed the aboriginal lady who was injecting liquid feed into the stomach of her cleft pallated daughter.

The argument, was quelled before it turned violent. The quiet aboriginal who offered me the wine, spoke a few calm words and peace was restored, but only temporarily. I was still glad to leave. The book I had sat down to read appropriately: - Far from the Madding Crowd.

That evening Mel and Bret fed me a wonderful meal, and provided warm bed sheets. I wondered where the bums from the park had bedded down. The next morning Bret and I swam in the outdoor lake next the river in Brisbane. Hard to imagine I had walked by so closely and not even notices the free, warm pool. After lunch we met Mark – the architect with whom had I had arranged to visit Crystal Waters – a permaculture village, of a scale unseen in Europe. He had been in Brisbane on business, so I was able to get a ride, and see a gig in town.

Mark had recently split with his wife of nineteen years, the mother of his three children and was optimistically planning the next stage of his life. It continually amazes me the strength people find to move on.

As expected when Welsh and Scottish get together, we soulfully reunited our respective clans over drink. I discovered the family taking care of the campsite were Gourleys from Ireland. My name, Gourlay, comes from Scotland, earlier from Norman invaders.

The patriarch Murray, knew of our shared latin heraldic motto, which translates as “He who penetrates deep things” . The tendency to over-analysis, exploring to the point of obsession ran deep in his branch of the family too.

He was not surprised by the calluses I have on my left hand through nibbling on when I have a point to ponder.

Our Bacchanalian feast of wine, pasta, chillies, more wine, raw garlic on toast, a whole thumb of raw ginger and coffee was a wonderfully cathartic time, but did remind me of why I don't like to drink much anymore.

Jim's tips for resilient travel

Since being in Oz, I have stayed in a hostel for 2 nights. Unlike Asia, accommodation is very expensive, and often dominated my gap year students. I am a little bored of the typical questions of:- Where are you from? Where are you going? Did you get sick? and the conversations about anywhere except where one is right now!

By comparision with other places,Austrailia is so easy to travel in, I have been camping out, and accepting the generous hospitality of old and new found friends, more of which to follow.

These are a few tips and items I have picked up on the way, and would like to share. When I return I plan to go through my kit, commenting on the utility and number of times used for each item.

The first night in a new city, or after a long flight, book two nights accommodation, as the temperature change, new sights and sounds tire one out more than one might expect. It is so much more relaxing to lie in.

Allow yourself days off from traveling, it is easy to burn out.

If you always carry a small gift, a jar of honey, or packet of coffee, you can offer something, if offered an unexpected meal or place to stay.

Hair clippers are a good way to avoid "interesting" haircuts, and can be used to obtain pocket money. The ability to smarten ones appearance in a new place is very important to maintain morale.

A dentists pick, helps keep plaque at bay in areas where every drink comes sugared.

Teabags, decent coffee, marmite and anchovy paste are some comforts from home I often carry to share.

Led head torches are invaluable, by a good one like a petzl you can depend upon and tape spare batteries to the strap so they are easy to replace in the dark, and practice doing so. Carrying two allows you to lend one out, or leave at your campsite to find the way back in the dark. A red filter helps preserve night vision. Though keeping one eye closed when the light is on also works.

A decent knife and sharpening stone is really useful, if staying at a hostel, the ones provided are often useless, even slicing a tomato can be dangerous with a blunt knife. Being able to sharpen the knives and tools of your host will win brownie
points. An easily sharpened knife, I like the Opinel number 7in high carbon steel is small enough to cary at all times, and the lock prevents the blade closing on you, especially if cutting hard vegetables. In the UK, a lock knife may be considered an offensive weapon, so look out.

Field dressings should be carried when carrying a larger knife or axe, possibly taped to the sheath. Do not lend your blade to a numpty, they may stick it in the ground, or stick themselves. Never lend one to a member of the territorial army.

Disposable lighters, four taped together means you are almost guaranteed one will work. Airlines sometimes only allow two to be carried, be prepared to separate or sacrifice them. Bicycle inner tube is a great fire starter in the rain, I cut a 3 inch section, and stuff other sections in it.

Zip lock bags are useful for organizing kit, and stopping shampoo spreading everywhere. Freezer bags are cheap, but the heavy duty ones also prevent crumpling.

Dry bags are useful for larger items, I like different coloured ones to easily find kit. The corners of books will quickly wear holes in them if carried outside of another bag for any length of time.

A dark coloured bivvy bag, I use the 58 pattern gortex bag allows discrete camping, if you arrive late. Attach to the side of a backpack to get at it without attracting attention, or getting wet.

Thermarests make impromptu camping or a long wait in an airport more comfortable. I find a 3/4 length perfectly adequate in most climates, check the ground for thorns.

If bedding down in bushes, take a good look around for syringes. Be aware that in some areas, you may be sleeping near someone's stash of heroin. Not easy to do while being discreet, this is where your red filtered headtorch is useful.

Photocopy and take photographs of important documents and email them to yourself. Qualifications, degree certificates etc may be useful to secure work. I keep a duplicate on a usb pendrive.

USB pendrives are useful to swap info, mp3s etc with others. They are cheap and light enough to carry two. Mine has a portable linux distro on it. Very useful if the computer does not speak English, or if I want to boot on a machine a machine with a flaky install.

Netbook computers allow you to type offline, and steal wireless access. They can be a royal pain in the arse when they do not work. Carry copies of the install disks, backup frequently and keep a dry bag just for them. My linux on pendrive trick allowed me in when the disk got corrupted. Make sure they are properly switched off. Mine came back to life in its neoprene case, the sceen went tartan, and has never been quite the same since.

Never make a big purchase on the first day in a new country, if you are going to get screwed over, it is most likely when you have just arrived. Take time to learn the scams and realistic prices.

New currencies can be confusing, the size of notes or coins may bear no relation to their face value, so learn what older and newer issue notes look like. You may be palmed off with out of circulation bills. Being confident in handling the currency makes you less of a mark.

Bank cards may be rejected or eaten unexpectedly, especially from Lloyds TSB! travel with several, and keep a spare wad for emergencies. US Dollars can often be exchanged more readily than other currencies.

A wallet with a few small bills and expired cash cards allows you to give one over to a mugger, leaving time to administer your own form of justice.

Black market currency exchange can often save a great deal on bank rate, but do not part with your cash until you have inspected the bills. Buying currency is like buying anything else. Don't let yourself be rushed, or tricked with a call of "Police!"

Corkscrews or can openers, possibly on a penknife make things easer, though you can push the cork in with the aid of a stick and a small coin, but be prepared to get splashed.

Hydrocortisone cream effectively reduces the itchiness of things that will inevitably bite you in the night.

Bottles may not always contain what the label reads. In parts of Asia, petrol is often sold in soda bottles, so sniff first. I carry activated charcoal tablets in my med kit in case.

Leeches are very common in the jungle, especially after rain. They suck before they bite, so if you are quick you may they may be gently pulled off before they get stuck in. If they do lock on VERY gently pull them off, or put salt on them, the cigarette or flame on the back method can cause them to vomit up in you! They inject an anesthetic and anticoagulant, so you may not notice them.

Paracord is useful for rigging up washing lines, replacing rucksack buckles, and a million other uses. The genuine stuff is hard to come by, so buy all you can when available.

A tap key allows you to get water from faucets in parks and in the most unlikely places - and maybe bought at from the plumbing section at most hardware stores. Useful if you want enough to wash in!