Location: Northbridge (Perth suburb), West Australia

I woke up this morning and walked to an ATM in my pajamas.  $150 dollars, back to the hostel, payed for another night.  Showered, ate Nutella and bread, and started my glorious day.

Northbridge is, ironically and mysteriously, North of the downtown Perth area.  It contains more restaurants than people, it seems, half of those being Asian, Indian, Indonesian.  My plan was to skip past these places of food and go to the most obvious travel destination around: the Library.  Free, Air-Conditioned, Centrally Located, With Books, the Library is a nice place.

Along the way, however, the Nutella-bread began to wore off.  Wandering into a very nice, small grocery store, I bought a quarter of watermelon for $1.37.  In a shady, breezy spot next to the Western Australia Museum, I sat on grass and spit the seeds at pigeons and schoolchildren.  The schoolchildren were 50 meters away, so the pigeons took more interest in me.

Eating a watermelon without a knife, napkin, or spitoon is delicate, to put it delicately.  I had never before realized how the seeds made up veins in the flesh of the fruit, how you really can suck from left to right, harmonica-style, and machine-gun 20 seeds out of your mouth.  After a certain point the curvature of the watermelons “event horizon”, so to speak, becomes too close to your cheeks, and you must either cut, or smash.  I smashed.  Ate. Smashed. Snapped. Nibbled.  Done.

Now, it was time to appease the gulls.  There were 5 in my vicinity, but being frequently routed by a supremely evil gull I dubbed “Gul Dukat.”  The poor fellow was confident enough to stake out his territory, but his power-crazed disposition and his ruffled and dirty feathers made me question his sanity.  I tossed him a hunk of rind.  Gul Dukat was very interested at first, but soon became angry at the watermelon rind.  His beak couldn’t do anything with it.  I had picked off the soft flesh, and his beak would get stuck in the rind anytime he tried to grab a bite.  So, he went insane, in keeping with his assigned Star Trek name.  First trying to attack my other bits of watermelon husk, the other seagulls, then my foot, which kicked him.

To sum up, some guys from the Australian Wilderness Society also observed that the bird was insane, I went to the Library, read about other countries, tried to eat potato chips discreetly, and left.  End of story.  End of day.

Location:  Shitty Hostel, Perth, West Australia

Enough said.  Going to rent a car with this girl and drive around, see dolphins and rocks and things.

From Wednesday afternoon to Saturday morning, I was on a train, moving west from Sydney to Perth.  Trying to sleep was a nightmare, but the experience itself was worth doing, and I’d do it again.  From Sydney, I sat alone, kept my earplugs in and talked to no one.  We arrived in Adelaide on Thursday afternoon, and stayed for 4 hours.  I ran to the store, mailed a postcard, made a phone call, and ate dinner.  Didn’t get to see all that much of Adelaide, which I suppose is unfortunate.

I hopped back on the train, which was now moving in the opposite direction, as Adelaide is the terminus of a spur line from the main east-west rail track.  Our seats were rotated 180 degrees, and I was now in the very front of the train, not that it mattered.  I was also sitting next to a very interesting frenchman, who had many amazing travel stories.  To sum up, the next few days were very long.  Sleep was pretty much impossible sitting in a seat, even though they reclined more than an airplane seat would.  There was a nice lounge car, however, and I spent most of the days in that.  On Friday, after the train had begin its trek across the 500km Nullarbor Plain, on the longest unbending section of track in the world, I met a Dutch girl and a Korean girl, both backpackers, as I overheard the Korean girl, Jin-ya, talking about how stupid she though most US Soldiers in South Korea were.  That started a nice “You’re an American” conversation.

Jin-ya and I talked for most of the day, as well as with a very nice elderly Indian woman, a Turkish woman, and a young Japanese woman, Kazue, who was in Australia to study English.  After another 20 hours, we arrived in Perth, which was a nice 37 degrees Celsius, which is 98 degrees Fahrenheit, or something.

Train travel may be long and inefficient, but it affords you a level of relaxation and opportunity that you never get with air travel.

I’m in Sydney right now, have been here since Saturday Noon.  I made a good decision on accomodations: I am staying in a small budget backpacker place close enough to the main scuzbucket traveller’s center, and close to downtown and most of the sites, but far enough away from both of those (mainly the scuz area) to feel relaxed and happy.  It’s only a 30 bed place, and is just an old house run by this guy, Sam.  It reminds me of some old house in Omaha, in the Field Club area.  Also, the dorms I am staying in are only 3-bed dorms, as opposed to the 8-bed dorms I stayed in in Auckland.  Good deal.  About $22 AUD ($16 USD) per night, and I’m paid up through Tuesday night, since I leave for Perth on the train on Wednesday afternoon.

Since Saturday, I have just been wandering, seeing the sights: the Botanical Gardens, the Opera House, the harbor areas, the shopping areas, the harbor bridge, blah blah blah.  In a minute here, I am off for a walk to Bondi Beach, which is supposed to be real famous or something.

Things are moving slowly for a change, which is relaxing.  I spent 30 bucks on food at the grocery store on saturday, and that’s been enough since then, except for a $14 burger and a beer I bought last night near the harbor bridge.  There was one place serving kangaroo and crocodile for $18, which I thought was too expensive.  Probably a silly thing to think, but I can always go back.  Well, I’m off for a walk.

I leave New Zealand tomorrow.  My trip here was really sort of a sampler for the place.  Lots of backpackers and the similarity to Alaska sort of turned me off to it though. Other than that, I really have enjoyed my time here. I actually like Auckland very much.  It’s a clean city, cheap, modern, just generally nice and easy.  I’ve even come to appreciate the convenience of the Giant Hostel that I am staying in.

Anyway, since Tuesday, when I arrived, I have actually managed to do quite a bit.  Very much the opposite of Tahiti concerning level of activity.  Also more spending here.  I definitely went over budget, but it was obvious where that happened, and wont be hard to rectify in future countries.

New Zealand’s appeal lies in several areas for tourists, I suppose.  The natural beauty, the adventure sports, and I’m not sure what else.  English-speaking, hostel/backpacker-ridden, small, easy, cheap country?  Probably all of those, I suppose.  But I’m not so anxious to come back here, because I already live somewhere with amazing natural beauty, I don’t care about adventure crap, skydiving, jumping off things, blah blah etc, as they cost too much and seem gimmicky. And this place that I live is huge, inexpensive for me as a local, and without 50 thousand retard backpackers tramping about.  My next trip when I get back from this one will be to Alaska.

During my stay here, quickly, I went north to the Bay of Islands on Wednesday, took a fast boat out to the “Hole in the Rock” which I’m sure we have somewhere in Alaska.  Probably about 70 of them.  I thought the boat ride itself was what was worth it.  The thing went about 70 miles an hour, it seemed.  That was just a day trip, and I stayed in Auckland that night.  The next day, I got up, checked out of the hostel, ran errands: getting cash, stamps, postcards, sending emails, etc.  Then I caught a ferry over to Waiheke island, about 40 km away from Auckland.  I stayed at a Youth Hostel there, and had an uneventful time.  I walked down the 300-step walkway to the beach at around 10 PM for an amazing view of the Southern Sky.  The stars were ridiculously brilliant. I think I can remember cold winter nights in Alaska that might have been close, but I really was impressed.  I wonder if it has anything to do with the thin ozone layer here.  I could see the Southern Cross, which was neat, and of course, I was looking at lots of other Southern-hemisphere constellations, although I had no idea what they were.  Saw some shooting stars too.

So, I came back today on the ferry, after writing out about 10 postcards in a little cove on the bay.  I got the last bed in the hostel here in Auckland, and then went for a walk to the grocery store.  I had 37 New Zealand Dollars last night after paying for the hostel, which had to last me until tomorrow morning, when I fly out.  3.30 for a bus, 22 for another night here in Auckland, left me with about 12 dollars.  I got 2 bananas, some cookies, pound cake, smoked tuna, and 1.5L of off-brand soda at the New World supermarket for only $6.07, leaving me with 3 dollars for an hour and a half of internet here, and 3 dollars in my pocket for anything last minute in the morning.  There is also a $25 dollar New Zealand departure tax, but I am hoping that was included in my ticket.  If not, I have a credit card.   Off to Australia then.

There is lots that I did not have time to write about Tahiti while I was there, since internet access was nearly 10 dollars an hour.

Where to begin.

The morning I arrived in Pape’ete, I really did have a good dose of what-the-hell-am-I-doing shock. I didn’t really explore anything, sat around the very touristy Vaiame Center, and on a whim caught one of the last ferries to Moorea, the neighboring island, and ended up finding a fantastic place to stay and some great people, which ended up turning my virtual travel-frown upside down. I met a British Couple named Chris and Cate Byrne, in their early thirties, who were on their 8th month of a round-the-world trip. The guesthouse we were staying at was small, and very relaxed, and as the only English speakers, it didn’t take me long to find them/us each other. I tagged along behind them that night, and we bought food from the tiny shop down the island road, to make pasta with ham bits, canned corn and tomato sauce. Mmm.

The next day, Monday, we hopped over the the expensive Sheraton resort, and used their beach, which is a legal right in French Polynesia. Nice for us. The beach was neat, and the view was beautiful, and I got some sun. That night, we went to eat out. The place that we had planned on eating was closed, so we went next door. The “Plat du Jour” was either Shark or the Boeuf (beef) something. The waiter (also the proprietor) didn’t know how to say the name of the dish in English. So he approximated. Le boeuf… euuh… Pancakes! Beef Pancakes! Sounded interesting. Also sounded basic. Shark and beef seemed like it would make a good combination, so Chris and I ordered both together, so we could share each. The Shark came, and looked good, and then the Beef Pancackes came, and looked like clam chowder. I didn’t know what to think, and, being curious and willing, I took a bite. Tasted like clams. Mussels, something chewy. Definitely not Beef Pancakes, whatever those may be. So, Chris asked what they were, in broken French, and thanks to the help of our guesthouse host, Hervé, (who accompanied us to dinner) we found out that it indeed was beef, technically. It was actually tripe. A lovely French dish, consisting of intestines, and stomachs, sphincters, internal organs, other “things”.  But I had already tasted it, so reverting to any prejudice I had wasn’t as easy as if I had known beforehand.  It’s still disgusting though.

On Tuesday, it rained.  We walked down the shore a few kilometers to Cook’s Bay, one of the seemingly infinite places in the South Pacific that man visited.  We waited for the store to open from its lunch break, and bought some baguettes and food for dinner that night.  On the way back it was pouring.  Like a 55 gallon drum of water being poured on you.  So, that day was an inside day from then on.  We wrote in our journals, and deciphered an article in French that was about our host, Hervé and the time that he lived alone on an island in the Tuamotus, the ridge of atolls lying several hundred miles north of Tahiti.  It took us about 45 minutes for the 700-word article.  Fun though.

Wednesday, we left Moorea for Tahiti, since Chris and Cate were leaving for Easter Island that night, and I was going to try and come along with them.  We stood in the rain waiting for the mystery bus, which may or may not have come, because we hitched a ride to the Ferry Quay.  A small four-door Nissan pickup pulled over, filled with 5 polynesians, the girls dressed up, flowers behind their ears.  We figured they were going to a wedding.  We sat in the back of the pickup and were pelted by rain as we wound around the curvy coastal road.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the easter island thing to work, as I said in a previous post.  So, I headed for the Pension (a relaxed family-run guesthouse) which Chris and Cate had stayed at previously.  Pension Te Miti on the west coast of Tahiti, in Paea.  You can actually visit its website here: http://tahiti.pensiontemiti.com/index.htm  And the website for the place I stayed at on Moorea, which I would recommend highly if you ever go there. http://www.fareoaoa.com  Anyway, I took le truck to Paea, and slogged through the rain for 2 kilometers after missing the stop I was supposed to get off at.  Then I basically did nothing for 4 days.

I got burned on the beach on Thursday, avoided the sun on Friday, I went snorkeling on Saturday, which was very cool, and then again on Sunday, which was just amazing.  When I first arrived there was this very chatty British couple who I sort of defaulted to, but they weren’t very interesting.  They left on Saturday morning, so on Saturday and Sunday, I was the only English speaker in a guesthouse full of French speakers.  So, I tried my hand at my bad French.  I ended up having quite a good time, and made a short-time friend in a 40 year old French metalworker from Grenoble, in the Alps.  He spoke as much English as I did French, and we fought our way through the language barrier for several hours on Saturday night, talking about all sorts of things, but quite a bit about America and France.

My snorkeling trip on Sunday was sort of a personal challenge, albeit not a huge one.  Thierry, my frenchman friend, had swam all the way to the surf break the day before, and I wanted to do that.  So, I did.  With goggles, snorkel, and flippers, I navigated my way through the coral and made it to the reef, the surf break, which was actually really scary.  The waves were still strong out there, and I was really afraid of being smashed into a big outcropping of coral.  I didn’t stay long.  I navigated my way back to the beach, with appeared to be about 3 miles away from out there.  I saw a big school of cleaner fish of some type on my way back, and followed them for 10 or 15 minutes.  They were yellow with black stripes, and there had to have been 200 of them.

The only other thing in Tahiti at that point to achieve was to have a Maitai, which is really not all that great.  I went to the bar on the beach, got horrible service, watched the waitress (the bartender was nowhere to be found) pour some whiskey, rum, fruit juice, red coloring, and ice into a glass, garnish it with a palm leaf, and call it a Maitai.  1100 francs, or 11 bucks.  Then I went and bought a cheeseburger and fries for about seven dollars, walked back to the pension, and drank a “Tahiti Drink” that I had purchased the night before (10% alcohol) which I realized tasted pretty much like my 11 dollar maitai. It cost about $1.50

Then I paid the the 2500 francs to get to the airport, and finished off the last of my goddamn Pacific Francs.

That was Tahiti. Not sure if I’d recommend it.