twenty nine years later...

1981

Everybody, meet my parents. Everybody, meet me. As a 3 month old baby. This was my first ever social engagement, at the wedding of my 2nd cousin Ruth, and Malcolm. Ruth and Malcolm then moved to Australia, settling in Perth. Twenty nine years later, their daughter Laura got married. Timing and circumstance meant I was still in Australia, and having cancelled my plan to visit Japan, I rearranged my flights to be back in Perth for that wedding, completing the most amazing circle. I can now say that I was at both the wedding of Ruth and Malcolm in 1981, and at the wedding of their daughter Laura, to Shahar, in 2011. This time round I could feed myself. And I could drink alcohol.

I first met their family at my brother's Bar Mitzvah 13 years ago, but I'll be honest, I don't really remember meeting them. Then a couple of years ago I met Ruth and Malcolm as they were visiting London, but those are the only occasions I'd met them. When I first came to Perth 4 weeks ago I arranged to visit them, and ended up staying for a couple of days, and felt very much at home with them. I very quickly found that I wasn't just accepting them as relatives who I didn't really know, but I also very much enjoyed their company, and were great fun to be around. Having departed Perth to visit Melbourne, Hobart and Sydney, on Thursday I returned to Perth. By sheer coincidence, I also have other contacts in Perth. From my birth and through much of my early childhood, my family were very close to our next door neighbors (not just geographically). A typical Indian family with many generations living there, there was always someone to babysit me and my brother, and we ended up installing a gate in our garden fence allowing all the children to run around from one house to the next. As a child growing up, you don’t really think about these things, you just accept it for what it is. But now that I think about it, it was a great thing to have as a child and opened my eyes to other people and other cultures. A number of the now married siblings have moved out to Perth where they are bringing up their families, and so it was that I arranged to stay with Dinesh & Asha. The last time I saw their son, Naynesh, he was about 7, running amok in our garden. Now he’s 22, giving me lifts in his car. How things can change. Anyway, I digress. Having spent a great few days with Dinesh & family, the wedding took place on Sunday. There was some concern that rain was due (a much needed first rainfall in 6 months for Perth but a poorly timed forecast for the wedding), but luckily the rain held off until later in the evening when the reception was well under way. The ceremony took place in the wonderful setting of a civic centre garden, not far from the beach. This was followed by a few photos, and then a reception and dinner at a nearby yacht club. Needless to say I had a few glasses of wine. And champagne. And ended up dancing the night away, waking up Monday morning with a bit of a headache. But that’s what you do at someone else’s wedding. Right?

2011

Going the distance...

Monday 28th March 2011

I've never run a marathon, though I have once cycled the equivalent distance. It is common knowledge that when running a marathon, or similar long distances, you often reach a certain point where you hit a brick wall, believing you can continue no longer, but once you persevere through that barrier, you find yourself on the other side, and able to make it to the finishing line. That pretty much describes my last 10 days. Arriving in Perth, I had no energy, and almost no will to continue my travels. Admittedly, I did have time to rest up thanks to my great couchsurf host Selby, who didn't really mind me just chilling out in her flat, as if it was my own. Now I find myself in Melbourne, and it's fast turning into one of my favourite cities. My four days in Belgrave, up in the Dandenong Ranges, were brilliant, both for the surroundings I was staying in, and my two amazing couchsurf hosts, Rhys & Penny, who from the moment I entered their home felt like lifelong friends that I just hadn't seen in a long time. Nearly six months of couchsurfing, and it continues to amaze me with its array of amazing and fascinating people. From there, I travelled further into Melbourne to Glenferrie, where my next host would be. Within an hour of arriving at Rachel's house I was at a local community event designed as a chance for local neighbours to meet up, where they were cooking up jacket potatoes in a brazier (I didn't know either, it's like a little BBQ/basket for holding hot coals, not a woman's undergarment). I also met Rachel's parents and various neighbours and by 10pm was having the most in depth conversation with her dad about my family, its routes, my life, and it didn't seem quite real that I'd only arrived a few hours earlier that evening. On Saturday I had arranged to meet Colin, an old school friend who now lives in Melbourne. I've seen him twice in the past 10 years or so, one for a burger and pint in Hammersmith, and then again in 2007 when we bumped into each other at Glastonbury. Other than that I haven't really seen him since school, when we used to spend a lot of time together and he was one of my closest friends at the time. We spent the whole of Saturday drinking in downtown Melbourne, met his girlfriend, grabbed some dinner in China town and generally continued like it was 1998 in Hendon. Only it was 2011 in Melbourne. When Colin told me he lived about 200 metres from Albert Park and would be going to the Grand Prix I couldn't turn down the opportunity to join him. I booked my ticket online and was all set for a Sunday afternoon in the park. In the morning I went round for a late breakfast at Colin's flat and then set off the park. The F1 race wasn't set to start until 5pm but there was plenty going on before hand with other races, and it was pretty much set out like a music festival with bars and music and lots and lots and lots of cars dotted around the course, ranging from old classics to modern racers. Strangely, the most memorable part of the day came when we went into a bar that had a range of live snakes on show, for anyone to touch or hold. They were all pythons, and at first I held just a smaller one, but on sight of the huge monster snake, I had to pick him up! He was big, and weighed a ton, but it was pretty cool having him wrapped around me, just being all snaky, and slithery, and, well, not slimy at all. Anyway, snakes aside, the Grand Prix was quite an experience. The volume of the F1 cars was phenomenal, and required the wearing of earplugs whilst the race was one. It's one thing watching it on the telly, but when you're track side and you actually see the cars passing at ridiculous speeds, and the air has a strange smell of oil and fuel, it's quite something. Once the race is over you can actually walk up and down the track (which takes place on the roads that are within the park anyway), and walking past the pit lane we could see the BBC team doing their post race analysis that I've watched so many times on telly. Basically, Jake Humphrey looks about 12. David Coulthard has the most chiseled chin of all time. And Eddie Jordan is tiny. By the end of the day, despite not doing much other than walking around and drinking a beer (or two) and watching fast cars, I was knackered, so made my way back to Glenferrie. Today I have been finalising my travel plans for the next 2 weeks, and enjoying the relaxed coffee shop culture of Melbourne (by sitting in coffee shops). On Thursday I go to Tasmania for a few days in search of the Tasmanian Devil, and next week I will visit Sydney before returning to Perth for the weekend of April 10th. "Returning to Perth?" I hear you ask. Yes, I'm returning to Perth. All will become clear...

"This time tomorrow, where will we be..."

Wednesday 23rd March 2011

I'm pretty sick of travelling. I don't mean the concept, just the literal act of travelling. Sick of planes. Sick of coaches. Sick of cars. But one method of transport that I have greatly underused is the train. I had planned to travel some of the US west coast by train, but that didn't materialise. I had planned to travel the Tranz Alpine in New Zealand, but the earthquake prevented that. And I'm sure had I gone to Japan, I would have travelled a Bullet Train at some point. So this morning I decided to relax upon the Puffing Billy, a restored steam train line that travels through the Dandenong Ranges. Getting the 11:10 train, it was like stepping back in time. As I walked along the platform the engine was preparing to go, steam billowing from its funnel, so I got into one of the very old style carriages with it's open plan seating and open windows. I assume they're called windows, though there was no glass, just a piece of tarpaulin to pull down if it rained or got windy. At 11:10 the train pulled away with a chug, chug, chug and a huge release of steam and a deafening whistle. It was bliss. We ventured off through the Dandenong Ranges, passing houses set back in the forest, crossing wooden bridges and stopping at a couple of little stations along the way. I had a ticket to the end of the line, Genbrook, which would take 2 hours, and then there was a 2 hour stop there before returning home. It was turning into a perfect day, the sun was out, the wind rushing at my face as I sat on the edge of the carriage with my feet dangling out. We arrived at Genbrook where I walked to local Bushland Forest where I had my lunch and walked amongst the undergrowth and huge trees. Before getting the 2:45 train back I stopped for a coffee and cheesecake and then boarded the train back. We stopped at Lakeside, where I got off to wait the hour for the final train back, found a great little amphitheatre just a few metres from the lake, and sat to read my book. At 4:15 I got the final train of the day, stuck on my Ipod and the soundtrack to The Darjeeling Limited, took off my shoes and socks, and just sat on the edge of the carriage until we returned to Belgrave an hour later. Well and truly one of the most satisfying days of my journey so far. In a day and age when everything is so rushed, everyone must get from A to B in the quickest time possible, it was great to just let Puffing Billy take his time as we passed through the Dandenong Ranges and watched the world go by. And as the Kinks come on my Ipod, I sat there listening to their words; "This time tomorrow, where will I be, on a spaceship somewhere, sailing across an empty sea"...

127 Minutes...

Tuesday 22nd March 2011

For those who have seen 127 Hours (or perhaps read the book Between a Rock and a Hard Place, I haven't, yet) you will understand the spring in my step when I left this morning to venture off into the Dandenong Ranges National Park. Granted, I wasn't venturing very far from civilisation, wasn't likely to encounter falling rocks, and someone did know where I was going, but you (possibly) get the point. After my relatively relaxing week in Perth meeting old friends and new relatives (I'll explain that in another blog), I felt ready to wander/wonder again. So I packed my bag with some water, some fruit, some nuts and some bird seed (I was heading towards Grants Picnic Ground where I had been told you could hand feed parrots), and off I went, headphones in, Ipod on and camera in hand. The rain was coming down, but it was thin and only really a drizzle, and the temperature was a lot more bearable than Perth (though still very warm and slightly humid). About 40 minutes in I came to Grants Picnic Ground where there were just dozens of parrots waiting to be fed. A little unsure as to what would happen, I placed a load of bird seed in my left hand and knelt down towards the ground. Immediately one big white parrot (a cockatoo I believe) came over and started eating out of my hand. I then tried to ready my camera in my left hand, which meant I inadvertently moved my right hand away from the parrot. So he bit my hand. I screamed, like a girl. It hurt. I took a few minutes to compose myself, but pretty quickly got back into it, this time no kneeling down, but standing so the bird would fly onto my arm and eat out of my hand. At one point another different type of parrot just randomly flew onto my shoulder, even though I had no food in my hand. I just managed to snap a photo before he flew away again. Eventually I decided to venture off further into the bush on a designated trek that was about 2 hours long. Checking the time (it was 14:58) I set off, and despite the quite atrocious signage I somehow managed to not get completely lost, and even managed to spot four lyrebirds (apparently rare to spot so I was pretty lucky) and a wallaby. The walk was stunning, with the rain causing a very atmospheric mist, and the constant sound of birds and parrots was awesome. It was pretty hot and sticky by now, and at various points I didn't really know where I was going because the signage was so bad (well, bad equals non-existent, even when paths forked off), but following my nose, and using a bit of common sense knowing which directions I should be going, I eventually ended up back at Grants Picnic Ground. And do you know what time I got back to Grants Picnic Grounds? 17:05. You work out how many minutes later that was. I followed the trail back towards Belgrave and stopped in at the Micawber Tavern for a well earned pint, before heading back to where I am staying (via a fish 'n' chip shop). Tomorrow, I'm gonna let Puffing Billy do all the work...

setting sun...

Perth, WA:

a fight to the end...

So I find my self in a strange psychological black hole right now. On my two shoulders are two competing thoughts, theories and mindsets. In the blue corner, I have a tired and jaded mind, one that is ready to come home and enjoy the wonder that is my home town, London, and see my family and friends for the first time in 6 months, and sleep in a familiar bed. However, in the red corner, is the travelling mind, the one that has absolutely loved every minute of the past 5 months, one that has continually met new people, new places, stood in awe at the many sights of the amazing countries I've been through. The red corner is throwing punches that say "I never want this to end". An upper cut that describes the many people and places I am yet to see, that I will probably never see, that I could go and see. The blue corner retaliates with an image of a quaint little pub in London's Soho, a fresh pint on a summers evening with some of my closest friends, of seeing my parents and brother and other family based in London, or walking along the south bank and watching the Thames go by. The red corner ducks and dives, remembering the sights of America, New Zealand, Fiji and currently Australia. The blue corner defends, showing visions of cycling through Kilburn on the way to the West End, or a train journey to Manchester to see old friends. Yet this is no boxing fight, because the blue corner and red corner are friends. In under a month the blue corner will walk away apparently victorious, as I return to London to fall back in love with the town I was born in. And yet, it will simply give the red corner a chance to think, to rest itself, and find a new plan. A new angle to attack. A new punch to throw. A new adventure to find. And the blue corner won't fight back. He'll just gladly step to one side and let the red through...

doctor doctor...

If the truth be told, I am absolutely exhausted. There are a number of contributing factors, mainly the 5 months of constant travel finally taking its toll on me, plus a long journey from Fiji to the west coast of Australia. My week in Fiji was wonderful, not just for the sun, sea and, er, sand, but for the cultural experience of life on an island. The earthquake in New Zealand didn't logistically affect me, and as shocked and saddened as I was by the events, I was still able to get on with my travels. In Fiji, however, the news of the earthquake in Japan had much more of a direct impact on me, firstly because a Tsunami warning was issued whilst I was there, and secondly because Japan was part of my itinerary before returning home to London. As already mentioned, my final night in Fiji was somewhat frightening as I didn't really know what was happening, other than a tsunami warning was in place, some people had been told to go to higher ground, and I was in a village right by the ocean but we weren't going to higher ground. In the end nothing happened, but I got at most an hour and a half's sleep before beginning my 16 hour journey to Perth. I also arrived in Perth suffering from a blocked ear, which had happened whilst swimming in Fiji. Similar to what I experienced 2 years ago, swimming had caused my ear to block up and I was effectively deaf in one ear, and once in Perth knew I would have to deal with it. So on Monday I went into downtown Perth, visited the Visitor Centre, and they told me to go to the Medical Centre. Within an hour I had an appointment with a doctor, and he syringed my ears bringing my hearing back up to scratch. All for $85.

Now I'm struggling with the heat. I really wasn't expecting to struggle with it as bad as I have, but the past 2 days have been around 30° plus, and I haven't coped very well. Luckily by mid-afternoon, with any luck, the sea breeze comes in from the West and cools everything down a bit. This breeze is known as the Freemantle Doctor as it tends to come in from Freemantle, a town on the coast just a few miles from Perth. The second doctor in two days to bring great relief. I've also been concerned about my trip to Japan, and how I should deal with. I gave it a couple of days to take in the continuously developing news and decide, and today I finally decided it would be for the best if I skip the Japan leg of my journey. Although Tokyo (and to the West) has been mostly unaffected, I've decided that just a few weeks after the disaster is a little too soon. Partly because of the possible aftershocks, partly because of the current nuclear power predicament, but mostly because I just feel it would be inappropriate to be there as a tourist whilst the entire country is having to pull together amidst possible power cuts and extreme stresses on the countries resources in general. I am aware of the argument that the Japanese economy needs people like me to still go and spend money, and in a month or two I would probably agree. But just a few weeks I feel is too soon. I will definitely one day make it to Japan as they will no doubt recover from this terrible tragedy. So I have now rearranged my flight to go through Bangkok, where I will spend a few nights before returning home to London. And the rest of my life. Whatever that may hold...