Week 5
It was love at first sight, if you believe such a thing exists. I knew from the very first moments that my life would revolve around her in some way shape or form. Australia. She was, and remains, beautiful. She had me hooked from the start. And I have been in love ever since.
This was in 1994, when I arrived, wet behind the ears, a complete novice in this backpacking lark. Me and my old mate Steve, arriving with nothing but a backpack, a guide book, and the first few nights accommodation booked at the youth hostel in Glebe. Little did we know how the adventure would take shape. That we would be there for 12 months. And in that time we would see large tracts of this beautiful country, and make lots of friends on the way. Friends who I am still in contact with some 22 years later.
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I looked out of the plane window as we started to descend. Nobody, or nothing can prepare you for the long haul flight between the UK and Australia. Nothing. It just has to be endured. Stopping over en route definitely helped and the time we spent in Bangkok, and Bali before our final flight helped with adjusting to the fact that we were now 11 hours ahead of our families. Half a day ahead. Something that takes some getting used to. Am I in the future? Could I tell my family back at home the football results, before the game was played in the UK, some 11 hours later? I soon worked out the answer to that one.
For university graduates, a gap year is a rite of passage. But I had missed university, and so was a few years older than most of the people we met up with on our travels. And my eyes were opened into the people who do choose to travel. They weren’t all fresh out of university, with their media degrees. There were a great number of people, of all ages, travelling for their own reasons. Little did I understand at the time, but I do now. Our lives take different trajectories. And are very seldom linear. A number of life events are triggers for people to re-assess what they are doing with their lives. And some travel because they love travel. Some travel as a way of stepping off the hamster wheel of life. Time to stop, regroup, reflect, and work out their next steps.
This opened my eyes to a life that I didn’t know existed. We are conditioned to think that life follows a number of steps, in a certain order. Education. Work. Marriage. Children. Middle age. Retirement. Die. I was glad to learn that there are other paths. Paths we can chart ourselves. And if we don’t like where we are, we just change paths. And keep going. This knowledge has held me in good stead through the years. We build the life we want. Life will throw you a few curve balls. Some more serious than others. But this is life. And we have to keep going. We all end up in the same place eventually, what does it matter how we get there as long as it is of our choosing. Your job, your car, your TV, your house won’t mean much when you reach the end of your journey. The hours you spend at work can’t be redeemed at the end, and added on to your life. When your number gets called, you have to go in. Whether you are ready or not. And most of us won’t be.
My 25th year was spent exploring Australia. And how we explored. From the bright lights of Sydney and Melbourne, to the no lights, underground hostels of Coober Pedy. Yes, not only were we staying underground, to avoid most of the heat, but at night we lost power, and also had no lights. That was certainly an interesting night, where new friends were made. If only we shared surnames when we travel. It would be very interesting to look these people up and see where life took them. With a gap of over twenty years, some of them may even be ready to hear from me again.
Only working when we really had to, we only stayed in a few places for any length of time. Sydney. Obviously. And Brisbane, less obviously. If I gave you 10 guesses on what I did to earn money in Brisbane, I would wager a meat pie, and throw in a bowl of chips, that you would struggle. In order to prolong my stay, eking out my final month, I took on the role of chambermaid (or man) for the hostel I was staying in. This in return for free accommodation. It was with great sadness that I hung up my pinny, and had to return to England as my 12 month work/backpacking visa was due to expire. On the bus to the airport, I vowed I would be back, and for more than just a holiday.
I discovered, in the fullness of time, that getting back wouldn’t be quite as easy as it was to get my working holiday visa. But, some 15 years later, and after numerous holidays back, it was time to do something a little more permanent. This turned out to be very time consuming. And expensive. Many times through the process I did wonder whether the authorities put as many road blocks as possible in your way to test how much you actually wanted it. How serious you were about going through with your permanent resident application. Having thought about this for nothing short of 15 years, since my original backpacking trip, I really wanted this. And had decided to do whatever it takes, for me to be assessed as a potential resident of that distant, sun drenched land. I even set myself a goal. By the time I had reached the age of 40, I would know whether my future involved summers at xmas, drinking white wine in the sun, or continued cold, wet rainy Saturday afternoons sat in the stands at Old Trafford. More on Old Trafford later. My heart still aches with longing.
A week out from turning 38, on a cold, frosty morning in Halifax, I finally posted off my completed residency application, with the reams of supporting documentation that was needed. A week later, that was put to the back of my mind, as I landed at Ezeiza airport, in Buenos Aires, at the start of a solo trip around South America.
Dublin may have been the genesis of this trip, and now, with my new found freedom, and some funds from the reluctant sale of the home we had shared, I decided I needed to do something for me. Work was as it always had been. At the same bank. Doing the same things. Where was it all heading? Where was I going? In this mini existential crisis, alone in my apartment after a day not unlike many that had preceded it, I decided I needed some adventure in my life. Cue, me opening up laptop.
I had always dreamed of visiting South America. From the beaches of Rio, the girls from Ipanema, to the tango of Argentina, and the thrill of the danger associated with Colombia (spoiler alert: it is very safe, and very beautiful), and the famed Machu Picchu in Peru, I knew I would go one day. And that night, with a few clicks, and a credit card, I had made that a reality, with a date of departure. All that remained was the boring administration of life. Resign from my job. Yeah, this being a spur of the moment thing, my work had no idea of my new plans. I also had to give notice on the apartment. Put the little I owned into storage. Oh, and buy a guide book. I ended an eventful night with a ticket to Buenos Aires, where I would be for New Year, and nothing but a wish list of places i wanted to visit in the large continent of South America. For now, dreams of BBQs on the beach at xmas would have to wait. I would get to that, all in good time.
