Dom and Alex's Excellent Adventure

ride share

australiapithecus — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 11:42:18 +0000

the more you travel, the more you realize that what really counts is the people you travel with, meet along the way, and recount stories with. yesterday, this truth revealed itself once again as I sat in the back of frank’s old pick-up, with his two dogs happily bouncing around beside me with every sharp turn.
“careful now,” frank warns, pointing at the sweet-looking one with the stubby neck sitting closest to me, “she’s a man-eating short-necked giraffe and she just might tear you to pieces.”
frank’s satisfaction with his clever and well-practiced quip shows from behind his worn smile. naturally, he wants to get to know the two people he just picked up hitching.
“canadian? i used to live out there, years ago!” he recalled, “used to fish salmon upstream along the border of upstate new nork. i could see niagara falls from the camp. you know where i’m talking about out?”
“of course,” Alex and I agree, as we try to decipher his accent that sounds more american than australian. our talk of travels kindles more memories in frank. he tells us brief facts about his life like cut-outs in an album, much in the way older people tend to sum up highlights of their lives by condensing years into small glimpses or impressions.
“i used to travel all over the world, back when I was an engineer for mack trucks.” he shifts the gear and points to a seemingly large propane tank in the distance, nestled at the bottom of the hill.
“see that factory?” he asks, “that’s my company. we sell gas all over the area.”
he continues on and tells us about his time in the air force, pointing to the un-opened military pension envelopes held by an elastic on the sun visor. i start to wonder what frank has not done in his lifetime as we careen along a green blur in the full, lush, summer humidity blowing its warm air into the cab.
it’s not the first time we meet people with lives and stories worth telling out here, and i think about those we’ve encountered that stick out.
there’s junior, a south african boer and ex-pro rugby player, who speaks five languages (including zulu) and travels the middle-east as a professional diver to support his project of building his (almost complete) house in the middle of the rainforest with his wife and child.
there’s martin, the portrait-artist and father of three who transformed his home on top of a hill (overlooking the magnificent valley) into a studio and shrine for meditation and relaxation. martin’s reputation for painting the likeness of an ex-prime minister of australia is among his personal successes, which vary from managing a business during expo ‘67 in montreal, learning aviation as a hobby, travelling the world for love and adventure, and teaching his kids to sail and fish.
there’s karen who decided to go back to school after raising her daughter, became a life-counsellor/kundalini therapist, and travels with the wind on her motorcycle and in her caravan.
there’s tiny (whose physique belies his name) who has helped raise his children and crop projects from the ground-up, from australia to africa, so that he is now sought for advice in the development of the largest permaculture project ever made, based in abu dhabi.
there’s loey, our host, who has built (with her partner) a successful hostel and is raising two beautiful children while learning how to reinvent herself through acting, playing piano, and personal training.

in the truck, with the dogs gulping the sultry air, frank utters something that hits me: “i used to have a friend lived out here in nimbin – a few actually. we were a good gang for years. just lost another one though.” he swallowed his pause and absent-mindedly did a customary check in the side-mirror. “yep. the good ones are all gone; pretty soon, there’ll be none of us left.”
as we approached the town, frank gave us his unique magnet card with his scribbled phone number, “should we ever need anything,” fished from a loose pile of cards he may well have carried in his breast pocket for years. although stopped and clearly at our destination, frank continued speaking about his background: his french, portuguese and native american roots, his lady friend, his handicapped sister in florida, his dog flash… the engine idled and so did the conversation.
“well,” he hesitated with his weathered hands firmly held at 10 and 2 on the wheel, “i guess that’s it.”
the unease of separation instilled itself into the awkward silence. the customary goodbyes of acquaintances have the subtle power to make things final, but today they wouldn’t. it occurred to me that although i know very little about this man, a loneliness and desire for friendship and companionship swelled in his heart. as alex and i made our necessary exit and the truck wove into traffic, i wondered whether or not we’d ever meet frank again. we probably won’t, as with many people you meet when travelling; but, while you never forget them, you also learn that the experiences, although personal, are much more valuable when shared.

naughty nimbin

australiapithecus — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 12:11:58 +0000

a cacophony of feeding beasts wails in the descending darkness: frogs, crickets, birds, bats, and unknown nocturnal creatures make themselves heard as the day recedes and they assume their territories. i am walking up the short path from my studio bedroom to the main house, hair wet, cool in the fresh air, skin scrubbed clean from a glorious post-work shower. today was the dirtiest yet.

we are in nimbin, pot capital of australia, where the grass is green, my friends, and the hippies abound. what began as an age of aquarius festival in 1973 continued as a settlement and remains today a full-fledged community; some are drawn here by the alternative lifestyle, while others simply never left the good-time party. so we are here, not for the special “nimbin cookies” (which i hear are seriously good), but to take a good long break from the mainstream commercial bullshit of the tourist traps. we are wwoofing for a family with two kids, the youngest being a little bean of 3 who floats around proclaiming herself to be cinderellatinkerbell and tacking ‘naughty’ onto the end of her sentences, as in: “i want a glass of milk naughty” and “where’s my undies naughty”–the kids run around half-naked, come on, it’s hot here and they’re hippies-in-training. the house lies 5 minutes out of town (“town” being the main street with its cornerstone Emporium health foods, Hemp Cafe, and Bringabong, to name a few), surrounded by lush mountains and tropical trees, with a brand new lap pool we are helping to make nice-nice. it’s a gorgeous place, and in full process of being made gorgeouser (with the help of our willing hands, thank you). it’s been 2 weeks so far and we’re thinkin’, let’s stretch this till christmas shall we?

the heat has been turned up a few notches so what was a passably warm morning to work through last week has become a swelterfest by 10 am and we’re just not up to it. so today we just hung our hats and waited for the heat to burn off by reading in the hammocks and dozing. by 5 pm we had our work gloves back on and shovels at the ready. picture this scene: i am standing ankle-deep and barefoot in a huge pile of sun-warmed soil, heaving shovelful after shovelful into the reverse “wheelbarrow-of-plenty”–dom is so fast running them up the hill, as soon as i fill one up, he’s back with an empty one. so i focus on bending my knees, and the sweat is trickling down my back, and i’m humming some beatles tune when suddenly my thoughts drift to the accounting office i worked at in montreal, and i wonder if it’s business as usual over there under those cold fluorescent lights. probably. and nobody is covered in dirt breaking their back trying to lift another heavy load and bend your knees dammit oh god this is getting tiring–but then the sun is setting and something is keeping dom up there so i take a break and turn around to face that tell-tale sunset glow on the cliffs and green slopes, and i breathe deeply in, and out–yep. just another day at the office.

the promise of food is making my stomach growl in anticipation, and what do you know, “one more shovel” actually becomes “ok last one!” and that’s it, wipe the sweat from my brow, plant the shovel deep in the mud-mound, and hightail it to the house where a delicious shower and meal await. we’ve joked about staying for our whole year, but we both know we’ll tire of manual labour and want something else–the beaches, mostly–but for now we’ve got muscle to offer and it’s a fair trade…so we don’t think about the campervan, and we don’t make too many plans–we’ll just sit tight in our little pocket of paradise and hang on until the winds change and, like mary poppins, sail away to other adventures in the clouds.

ps. i know “gorgeouser” is not a real word, but i’m instituting it now, dammit.

sydney suckerpunch

australiapithecus — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 09:59:57 +0000

the idea was to embark on an adventure without a plan, and let the winds guide us along. brilliant. how courageous we are, how carefree! well, i’ve spent the last two and a half weeks in a state of quasi-panic with my stomach in knots, dreading the not knowing. brilliant, indeed. the number one stress-inducer is the question, “where are we sleeping tonight?” we spent our first few nights in a backpacker’s hostel in bondi beach, which was great for its proximity to the sea but a black hole for our budget: a week’s rent could afford a month’s travel in india. there was also the inconvenience of being woken up every morning by the sounds of excruciatingly loud, brain-jarring jack-hammering and even louder workmen shouting at each other in russian. we were fortunate enough to find a couchsurfing host who has graciously accommodated us since, plying us with french cheese, strong coffee, and a wonderfully sarcastic humour. he has kindly offered sound advice on our campervan project, which has been the second-most stress-inducer consuming us since our arrival. despite dom’s comedic spin on the whole affair (read his blog!), our avid hunt has been quite un-hilarious. we made the mistake of becoming emotionally involved with the vans, and when the deals fell through, it felt like we were losing the promise of an idyllic life on the road. we’ve recuperated, however, and realized (with the help of our wise host) that there are hundreds of campervans with high traveler turn-over rates, so it’s just a matter of time before we find the right one and hit the road with our house-on-wheels. so…we bought a tent instead! (you see? i’m getting better at this whole door-closing/window-opening thing). the third biggest stress-inducer has been the obnoxiously loud, aggravatingly bustling, exceedingly unfriendly, ridiculously expensive, consumption-obsessed metropolis (i’ll say it loud and clear, and i don’t care who hears: sydney sucks*!). the nicest people we’ve met were from elsewhere, and every single person we’ve asked for directions seems to have their head up their ass and has no clue where anything is in their own friggin’ city, especially if it’s how to get there by foot (we’ve preferred walking, and have gravely offended people who’ve thought us preposterous and inexcusable for not taking the bus). though we’ve spent a few glorious days at the beaches here, the weather has been iffy at best and our sleep has had to compete with the endless traffic and all-morning demolition racket (a construction crew is tearing down the neighboring building, starting at 7am sharp, just our luck)…so we are planning our joyous escape with a rideshare up to byron bay (on the coast just before brisbane), where we can plant our new tent for a while and enjoy some warmer waters. despite our intended m.o., i am a shameless sucker for planning (i can’t help it dammit!), and have been in touch with quite a few couchsurfing hosts in various towns on the coast, which at the very least will give us some structure along the way.

so, to recap the trip so far: bloody long bumpy plane ride, buy-a-van attempt #1, stress, stress, turn-brain-off day at the beach, buy-a-van attempt #2, stress, self-medicate with calm walk in the park, day at the beach, check out some more vans, stress, visit the aquarium (stress about sharks and crocs and jellyfish), wake up and say “screw this noise!”, buy a tent, get out of town.

sound like we’re having a good time? well, we are, in doses that balance out the crap we have to deal with. everyone promises us that the beginning is always the roughest (i mean, who wants to bother with bank accounts and tax file numbers and learning the ins and outs of every state’s car registration/insurance policies? this is supposed to be fun!); so, we have solemnly paid our dues to the gods of western civilization and are gearing up to break free of our sydney shackles and tackle the wilder side of this immense and forbidding land. let the real adventure begin!

*disclaimer: this opinion is not shared by my more easy-going companion

mr. miyagi says: "Lesson not just karate only. Lesson for whole life. Whole life have a balance. Everything be better. Understand?"

driving matters (right?)

australiapithecus — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 12:25:20 +0000

Have you ever considered buying a used campervan in a foreign country? ok, let me clarify: aside from all those still recovering from their acid-tripped ’68 adventures through the moroccan essouara, chasing hendrix’s infamous castles made of sand?

well regardless, i’m sure i’m not the only one to dream about living in a campervan at some point in life. ever since my grandparents introduced me to their decked-out and pimped-up 84 ocean-blue chevy, i’ve always had a distant itch to scratch that campervan kind of living.

to be honest though, buying a car is hard work. ok, so it’s not like developing a successful NGO or saving children from carpet factory work, but it takes a lot of determination and savvy skills. after a couple of weeks of hunting down the right van (and still searching), i’d like to share here a few of these skill sets and knowledge that you must have when embarking on this journey:

1. knowing that 1 human year is like 7 car years. according to world statistics, there are an increasing amount of elderly cars being driven as the world demographic of automobile manufacturing changes. faced with this reality, the young generation of drivers must be conscious of the fact that there are way too many shitty rust buckets out there. (comment not meant to offend the real elderly in any way)

2. understanding that unlike an authentic antiques store, when you shop for an antique car, you’ll probably be sold something that’s closer to an antique than you even anticipated. for the 90′s children out there, consider this a bonus, since you’ll learn what it means to roll down a window using your arm and that power steering is what keeps you safe and your parents’ premiums low.

3. remember that the only thing cooler than buying a campervan is driving one with a surfboard on the roof rack. make no mistake, surfing is still the coolest thing a white person can do. make sure that everybody knows that you’re a part of this club, instead of just an average campervan enthusiast with a high tendency to celebrate fossil fuels on long road trips. unload the rack and hit up those barrels.

4. don’t sweat the small stuff: certain things are minor details. find a healthy balance instead. some people don’t know how to find this balance; we call these people “detail-oriented” and will ultimately have a stressful experience in the end. for instance, things like the condition of the motor, oil, suspension, transmission, radiator, tire treads (and spares), brake pads, spark plugs, and fuel gauge etc etc etc…are what you would consider “cosmetic” and should be a consideration once you know that your camper van is well set-up to express your individuality.

more important things to look out for should include a check list with questions along the lines of: “does this van have a good vibe?” and “could i potentially paint over this rusted body into a dukes of hazzard red-orange if i wanted to?” these are meant as preliminary questions. further investigation should include checking the stereo set-up for i-pod configuration, making sure that your bouncing honolulu ukulele player fits on the dashboard, and whether or not it comes equipped with a top ten beer song compilation CD in the glove compartment. with these kinds of priorities taken care of, you can be sure that most autobody shops or mechanics in the middle of nowhere, australia, will be glad to charge you less for changing your radiator (because they’ll know you are just that cool).

with those major tips in mind, i’d like to share this last one which, in all honesty, is one that can be very difficult to remember. like most of the world, people drive on the left side in australia. this rule is basically constant out here (unlike samoa who changed their traffic direction overnight last week from the right to the left). make no mistake, this rule applies even when you test drive your potential vehicle. so, with this knowledge, i had the privilege of performing my first campervan test drive.

and so, we get in the car. check list: seat belts, check your mirrors, adjust the seat, start it up, find D, put down the parking brake, and off we go. before long, i’m riding and listening to all of the things that you’re apparently supposed to really listen to (brakes being quiet and responsive, motor making healthy noises…) until matthew (the owner) broke my train of thought. with a relaxed tone – the kind you use to point out an un-tied shoe lace – he tells me “you’re on the wrong side mate”. dead stop on a road with three lanes of oncoming traffic with faces staring at a ridiculous tourist who is frozen beyond belief. so, i did what any logical person would do, i asked him “what should i do?!” matthew, still cool as a cucumber, briefly advises me to wait until oncoming cars swerve around my petrified vehicle to make u-turn. once back in the proper direction, i spent the rest of the drive trying to convince matthew that he should be a driving instructor. meanwhile, i think he just wanted me to shut up and focus on the road (perhaps supporting my instructor theory). all in all, i patted myself on the back. why, you ask? because most people make the mistake of driving on the wrong side at some point or another; i just had the brilliance of making the biggest mistake on the first turn.

see you at the next turn.

the beginning

australiapithecus — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 07:18:37 +0000

welcome to our blog! we would like to share our adventures with you, so feel free to keep tabs on our wanderings.

the layout is simple: all of our posts will show up on the main page, but if you’d rather browse by author, they’ll be sorted in the “categories” section. click a title under the “pages” section for various items we’ll throw your way, along our way. if you want to return to the main post page, click on “alex and dom’s excellent adventure” at the top.

that’s it! easy as pie. hope it’s as tasty.

a & d