Chapter 14 "The Barossa Valley - Wine, Wine, Wine and Port"

Who would have known that a simple airplane blanket could be such a lifesaver. The hostel I’m staying in provides free linen, but no quilt or blanket. But instead of renting one for 2$, I decided to sleep in long pants, socks, long sleeves and my little airplane blanket given to me in Melbourne. And I had wonderfully warm and toasty night…


Another early start this morning. Don’t know how often I woke up in the middle of the night and the early morning hours and panicking because I thought I may have overslept – turns out the bright halogen lights in front of my window make any time of night seem like day inside my room. Free breakfast consisted of toast, jam and milky tea, though I could have made myself an omelet, was just too lazy.

The tour started with the usual picking up of guests at the different hostels in town. This time, I travelled with two couples from Leeds, one of which had moved to Adelaide and a bunch of girls from Canada, Ireland and France. Shocked and relieved to find no Germans this time around – and nobody believed me that I actually am German. Our tour guide, a lively Adelaidian by the name of Fleur, gave us a short history of the city – Adelaide as a colony decided to become a more exclusive than the rest of the country and not let in any convicts. So here’s where the rich people moved and the money they brought along with them made the city into what it is today, reflected mostly in the architecture – a bit more lavish and luxurious suburban styles. It also made the state more advance in many ways, becoming the first state where women’s rights were acknowledged.

Our first tourist attraction was a toy factory, which built the world’s largest rocking horse right in front of their store and café. I think the stop was more of a chance to buy an overpriced coffee than to admire the rocking horse, but in the end, it was a fun sight to wake up to.

The next stop, which I believe was built into the tour so people wouldn’t be drunk at 10am (only at 10:30am), was a dam, built in 1902 – the Barossa Reservoir. It is also called the Whispering Wall, because it’s curved shapes enables sound-waves to travel from one end of the canyon across to the other, loud and clear.

Heading into the Barossa Valley, a 50km by 50km area in which over 700 grape producers and 73 cellar doors (wineries) can be found, we passed green rolling hills covered in grape vines. Though you had to use your imagination a bit, since the vine were brown and naked, it was a beautiful sight under the clear blue skies and sun. A few fact learned about wine production. Rose hedges used to be planted by the vines, used as natural alarm systems, because they showed signs of pests, disease, mildew and temperature change faster, giving the owner time to save his crops. Also, because of its history (or lack of), the Barossa Valley is a melting pot of all different kinds of wines. Not bound by tradition such as France or Italy, they feel free(r) to try new things, which is why some interesting blends come from this region. The micro climate in the valley allows for all kinds of grapes to be harvested – quite popular at the moment are Riesling and Shiraz, though Cabernet, Sauvignon, Chardonnay and Merlot are also found. Because it is naturally quarantined, some of the world’s oldest vines can be found here, some over 150 years old. Tradition holds that the names of the wineries usually date back to the founder…And what goes well with good wine? Good food, of course. Though we didn’t explore it, the gourmet side to the valley apparently has a lot to offer as well.

The first winery we hit was Jacob’s Creek, a very popular wine for the masses, exported into many different countries. A very modern and eco-friendly visitors’ centre stand close by the Creek after which the winery is named. We learned about the bouquet (the smell) and the palette (taste) and the many different notes that can be detected. Here, at 10:30am, we tried 7 different wines. My favorites being a very fruity and fresh Moscato that tasted like pears and peaches and a lemony, apple-y Riesling… After the very big winery, we visited a very small one, called Winery Simpatico – very simpatico indeed! From the 6 wines we tasted here, I grew to love a sweet and soft Shiraz and an amazing white port called Golden Lightning, which I could just imagine being heaven on Tahitian Vanilla ice cream… Just next to this winery we set up lunch and Fleur grilled up a storm – chicken, beef, pork sausages and kangaroo steak – and served the goods with a whole bunch of delicious salads, grilled potatoes and onions and bread. What a meal! The three girls and I decided that a bottle of that soft and sweet Shiraz would go well with the chilling on the lawn, enjoying the sunlight and a bit of conversation… After lunch, which really did good for our stomachs full of before-noon wine, we went on to the Richmond Grove winery, where we toured the behind the scenes of wine production. Here too we tasted no less than 5 wines, of which I drank every last drop. Again, the Shiraz was my favorite, along with another very fresh light Riesling. Although my tolerance for alcohol really isn’t very high, I was surprised to find I was one of the last sober people in that third winery. How was that possible after more wine than I’ve had all year? SO I figured I might as well make use of the tasting and stop pouring away the last sip in my glass. In Seppltsfield, our last stop of the day that had hedges surrounding it which reminded me of Alice in Wonderland, we tasted 3 wines and 3 fortified wines, meaning muscats and ports. Sweet and strong, those last few sips caught me up to the others (and may have taken me beyond them as well). I must have been as pink as the last glass served to us, which (I forgot exactly what it was) was something with raspberry that looked like Pink Panther Kool Aid. Kind of drunk and craving chocolate, a few of us (including me) passed out on the drive back. And although I thought I might have a hangover by the time we get back into Adelaide, my head is quite thankful for the high quality of my beverages of the day.

Chapter 13 "The Grampians"

After our deluxe picnic lunch, we drove inland, straight up to the Grampians. When this mountainous landscape was “discovered” by major Mitchell, a Scott, he decided that they resembles the region in his home country and named it after them. The indigenous Aborigine,s however, had lived and harmonized with the land for tens of thousands of years before that and fought in court to have its original name reinstated. They won and today, although still known as “The Grampians”, it is legally called the Gariwerd Grampians National Park.


Our first stop in this beautiful green region was the Brambuk National Park, an Aboriginal cultural centre and park. We watched two short films about the park and Aboriginal dreamtime – the stories about the creation of land, plants and animals. After the first few meters into the park, I saw my very first wild Wallaby and only a few steps further (and then all along the walk) my first Kangaroo. Such cute animals and clearly not very shy. I could approach them till almost a meter away, before they slowly hopped a few meters away. Quite a few had little joeys in their pouches, that stuck their heads (or feet) out every once in a while. Above us, flocks of Cacadu flew by and landed in the trees or just squawked off into the mountains. Even a few Emu were running around amongst the Kangaroos.

From there, w drove deeper into the green and took a little hike, including 290 stone steps, to the McKinzey Falls. These impressive waterfalls thunder down into a pool, which branches off into smaller falls, leading the water down into the valley. This was just one of those sights that is too beautiful to put into words, too sublime to try to describe. The walk back up was lung-burning, jacket-removing strenuous – but definitely worth it.

We stayed at Ned’s Beds, a hostel in Halls Gap, a quiet little town in the valley which – according to the Aborigines - was created by an angry giant emu chasing a crow which had eaten its egg and kicking the crack in the mountain in which the crow was hiding. We had a wooden cabin with two rooms and two bathrooms, a kitchen and a living room. Quaint and, once the heater was going full blast, even cozy. Hot showers were a blessing and so were the thick fluffy comforters on the beds. For dinner Whales made us an extremely delicious Kangaroo Lasagna – yes, with Kangaroo meat. I couldn’t really taste much of a difference, but I guess in lasagna it’s not that detectable. Garlic bread, giant salads and chocolate cake for desert rounded up the meal perfectly…. A clear night sky, stars twinkling above and not a sound to be heard – falling asleep in the middle of nowhere.

29.08.2010

Just like the morning before, the grass outside was sparkling with morning dew, but this time there were Kangaroos eating the grass – right outside our doorstep. The sun was rising over the mountains to the right, turning them orange, and illuminating the tree tops to the left. After breakfast and sandwich making, we drove to the Northern Grampians to hike the Hollow Mountains. The sign at the entrance read 1,2km – almost disappointed that it would be so short, we started across the sandy path. I realized I had never hiked a mountain walking on fine sand. The reason of course is the fact that the area used to be a desert, the mountains are all sandstone and their erosion makes the path a little winding beach. The vegetation is so different from anything I’ve hiked through – yellow eucalyptus, fine pines, morning dew flowers and spikey looking things. The sand turned into rocks and the climb became a bit harder – that’s more like it! When we got to a point where Whales told us to leave our jackets (I had already taken one off anyways) and any excess baggage because “here starts the fun part”, I got excited. And yes, it got fun! Hiking turned into rock climbing, among, along, over and through cliffs – no path, just little yellow arrows leading up to the very top of the mountain. What a feeling… The adrenaline rising with every boulder conquered, my smile growing at the sight of the “rock ladder” (a short vertical climb that felt like an artificial rock climbing wall, only natural) and pure bliss after climbing out of a hole in the cliff and onto the top of the world. I would say we were above the clouds, but there weren’t any to speak of…. Clear blue skies and beautiful beautiful sunlight, both reflecting off the surfaces of the little ponds in the rocky landscapes. Mountains surrounding us, trees below us and wide open spaces, fields, lining the horizon. We spent a while climbing around on the boulders, soaking up the sunlight, staring off into the distance. A definite highlight of the whole trip so far. I didn’t want to come down off that serene rocky paradise.

After slowly finding our way back down, me being the last because I just can’t stop taking pictures, we took another short hike to a cave with Aboriginal painting on the walls. Although not much is known about the place, it is speculated that it was a place where children learned the art of cave painting, drawing emu and kangaroo tracks and making handprints. Even through the wire fence protecting the paintings, it was quite amazing to be standing in front of such ancient art.

12:55noon, no make that 12:25noon… just crossing the border between Victoria and South Australia. Things that change: the time (half an hour), the speed limit (100km/h to 110km/h) and the ability to own 2 weed plants without being prosecuted.

6:30pm… Sitting in the Canon Street Backpackers in Adelaide. The rest of our journey took us through lots of farmland and a truck stop along the highway, where cattle and sheep were dancing polka in their cramped limousines. We did get to stretch our legs next to a wildlife park with white kangaroos and before heading into the city, we drove up a mountain to get a view of the Adelaide hills and the city, all the way to the coast. Spent most of the ride occupied with music – I have found that the Garden State soundtrack, the 500 Girls of Summer soundtrack and the Blow soundtrack make for really good background music while driving through the countryside – and episodes of “Die Drei Fragezeichen”. My first impression of the city is: small. And yes, I know it is Sunday, but driving into it and walking through the streets a few moments ago really felt like being in a ghost town. The hostel seems close to deserted, compared to the hustle and bustle in Melbourne, and is so quiet that you can hear the echo of your own talking in the halls. Will head down to the bar for free apple pie and cream at 8pm and see if that won’t attract the other life forms in here.

Chapter 12 "The Great Ocean Road"

27.08.2010

After packing my bag in the dark, half asleep and going over this in my mind a few times, making sure I didn’t forget anything on, under or about my bed, I had a quick breakfast and stood out on the corner of Spencer and Flinders at 7am this morning. Also waiting there for the Groovy Grapes Tour Bus to come pick us up on our adventure was a German couple and around the corner another, surprise surprise, fellow German traveler. Whales, our tour guide for the next 3 days, helped us load our bags into the portable luggage room being dragged behind our bus and we were off to St. Kilda to pick up the rest of the group - two girls from, wherelse, Germany and a French couple.

The first hour or so of the tour was spent on the freeway and asleep, till, at around 9am, we reached Torquay – the home of Quiksilver and Rip Curl. This little town, dubbed “surf city”, was lined with factory outlets and warehouses, which we spent walking around through as the indecisive weather changed from rain to shine every 10minutes. I cannot deny that the warehouse selling those usually so unaffordable surfer brands for very reasonable prices weren’t tempting. But thinking back on the physical strength needed to close up that suitcase of mine this morning and the long and expensive way ahead of me here in Australia helped hold me back. I could not however leave behind this black hoodie for 5$... I mean, 5$!

From Torquay we drove onwards and stopped at Bells Beach, most famous for being a venue for international professional surfing tournaments. This beach also marked the beginning of the Great Ocean Road. In 1919 Australian soldiers were put to work building what was meant to be a service road for the whaling industry. The roundabout 3000 men took 20 years to complete the task and today, the Great Ocean Road is the world’s longest war memorial drive and the most scenic route along the coasts of Australia. It is divided into four sections, the first of which is called the “Surf Section”. High cliffs and massive waves down on the beach line the stretch of road, which presented itself to us in rain, shine, blues and gray skies. Sometimes it felt as if the rain just waited for us to get out of the comfort of our warm and dry bus. At others we were greeted and presented with the most beautiful photo ops imaginable. The towns of Lorne and Apollo Bay, both former towns built for the whaling industry and today a popular holiday getaway for people coming from Melbourne, are also part of the surf section.

We stopped for lunch at a roadside café called the Koala Cove Café. Our guide told us to head down a little street and sure enough, we found two little koalas up in the eucalyptus trees, one snoozing and one eating – so basically we got to see them doing what they do most of the time. Very cute little furry animals, I must say. Next, we were given a handful of birdseed and suddenly found ourselves surrounded by colorful birds, landing on our arms, shoulders and heads. The food at the café was surprisingly good and I ate my first veggie pattie burger with delight. We left the café right after seeing three Kookaburras being fed with strips of steak. Beautiful birds, but the loud clicking of their beaks and their rapid smacking of the meat against the signs was kind of intimidating. These carnivorous birds catch small rodents, reptiles and amphibians and whack them against the ground to kill and tenderize their meal.

The next section of the GOR is called the “Rainforest Section” and although it has receded over the course of time and the development of towns along the road (and our guide said it’s not a real (tropical) rainforest to begin with), we got to take a walk through a beautiful stretch of forest. Mait Rainforest Walk is lined with juicy green ferns, a small stream which you hear all along the way and a mixture of gigantic old eucalyptus trees and thinner trees (whose names I don’t know). The eucalyptus is quite the smart tree, as is sheds it’s bark, it creates fuel for forest fires around itself. One would think that trees usually try to avoid fires, but the eucalyptus needs the hear for its seed pods to open and drop the seeds (which are then eaten by forest creatures and geographically redistributed by means of their digestive tract).

We headed into the third section, the “Sand Section” and stopped by the Gibson Steps, named after Hugh Gibson, who lived by the cliff theses steps were carved into. Today there’s a wooden staircase leading down to a beautiful sandy beach, on which the waves just don’t stop crashing in. From the top, the coastline is white with the breaking waves and the beach is contoured by a line of white foam, thick and fluffy.
Here is also where the sandstakes start. Huge formations lining the coast, like towering islands or pieces of the cliff that have broken off and drifted a few meters out to sea. In reality, they are formed with the movement of the sea, the sand and lots of time. Loch Ard Gorge, our next stop, was named after a tragic ship wreck which happened in 1878. Our guide called it the Titanic of Australia. Coming too close to the shore, the mast of a large passenger ship hit a cliff by the gorge, broke off, pierced the hull and sank the ship. Everyone onboard died, except for a young deckhand named Tom Pierce (17) who later then saved the daughter of a wealthy family Eva Carmichael (18) from the water (really does sound like the Titanic story). The story became famous through the media, that started pressuring the two survivors to get married. She declined and moved back to Ireland. He continued to work on ships and eventually got shipwrecked again and drowned. In the end, he had only asked her to marry him because he had seen through her wet night gown as he rescued her and it would have been the honorable thing to do, at the time. Their graves were right on top of the cliffs by the gorge… We walked down onto the beach where he washed up and afterwards pulled her out of the water.

Our final photo op and scenic stop for the day were the 12 Apostles, the third most visited sight in Australia. The 12 Apostles are actually more than 12 (sandstakes), of which only 9 can be seen from the viewing platform. Also, when they were discovered by a Frenchman, he had named them the Pigglets, which was later deemed inappropriate in the 1950s when the area started becoming a popular family holiday destination. The tallest one is about 47m high. Just our luck, the wooden walkway along the edge of the cliff was closed off, because something had broken off a while back. Still, at three different angles, the formations surrounded by the wild ocean and backlit by the setting sun and the doomsday clouds, the 12 Apostles were truly a spectacular sight. They reminded me a bit of the Cliffs of Mohair in Ireland, but less windy and more waves. The light was beautiful, the sight was amazing and in that moment, I was a bit sad not to be sharing it with someone.

We backtracked a bit to our hostel, the 13th Apostle, for the night in the “town” of Princetown (more like Prince-a-couple-of-houses-next-to-each-other), a cute little house we had all to ourselves. We were divided into groups, of which one was to help out with cooking and the other with washing the dishes. And I must give it to Whales the tour guide, he served us a damn good dinner.

28.08.2010

Couldn’t have had a better breakfast – yummy cereals, yoghurt, hot milky tea, toast and all the stuff you could wish for on top of it. The only thing I would have loved to change was the fact that by 7:15am, the breakfast table was to be empty and everything stored away. Before leaving the hostel, we received the most beautiful morning greeting – a full intense rainbow, getting stronger by the minute, with its end close enough to run to, just down the field. It even had a pale little brother right behind it. That, the great empty plains and the morning dew, made for a beautiful way to wake up in the middle of nowhere. Another early day for us Groovy Grapes. We left at 7:30 and paid another short visit to the 12 Apostles, to see them bathed in morning sunlight.

Our trip took us further along the Sand Section of the Great Ocean Road. We visited the London Bridge, another sandstone formation, named after the original in London because of its two arches. In 1990 however, one of these arches collapsed, so today it is an island a few meters off the coast with one arch. Whales told us the story about the collapse, saying that a couple had just crossed the first arch, when it collapsed into the sea, stranding them on the rest of it. Of course, the media rushed to the scene and broadcasted it nationwide. The only problem, aside from rescue helicopters taking their time due to the fact that it wasn’t a life threatening situation, was that the married couple was not married to each other, but had told their partner that they were on business trips in Melbourne. Lesson: Don’t wander onto sandstone formations when having an affair.

In the Bay of Martyrs and the Bay of islands, we looked at a few more of the majestic pillars emerging along the coastline. Seagulls nesting on the greener ones sometimes flew in noisy flocks above our heads. The towering islands were formed thanks to thousands of year of erosion, and as the sea levels continues to rise, they will continue to collapse and disappear into the ocean. The only reason why some are still standing is because of the granite rock in their foundation… Those last stops in the sand section were much appreciated, used for last impressions, last cliff photos and, for me, my last cigarette from Manila. I have now switched back to rolling my own smokes and will attempt to cut down up to the point of possibly even quitting. Being in the most expensive country for smokers will do that to you.

The fourth and final section, the “Farm Section”, of the Great Ocean Road had, as the name suggests, farm landscapes to offer. We drove through miles and miles of cows, fields and swampy areas. Not very exciting, but relaxing and perfect for a much needed nap. A short stop at Logan’s Beach, with the hopes of seeing whales which breed in that area around this time of year, was cut short because of rain – the light drizzly kind that soaks you without you noticing it. We did see a single body boarder amongst the massive waves, before heading back to the bus though.

In Warrnmbool we stopped at a Safeway so Whales could shop for lunch and dinner and we could stretch our legs and buy whatever alcoholic beverages or snacks we might require. I have developed a slight addiction to Tim Tams, trying hard not to OD on those chocolatey pieces of heaven… Our lunch was prepared on an electric BBQ in a little park – sausages, onions, bread rolls, salad, cheese and all the sauces you could want. I must say, the Aussie BBQ hotdog is quite delicious and after two, you are stuffed and ready for the next nap.

Chapter 11 "A day in the life of a hostel"

(I will now attempt to put myself into the mindset of a hostel and tell you about my day)

A hostel, in other words I, never sleeps. And even if I wanted to, I don’t believe it would be possible. If it weren’t for the never ending noise from the trams rolling and screeching by or the ticking of the pedestrian stop light all day (audible all the way into my tv-lounge) outside my doorstep, it would be because of my count- and restless guests.

My reception is open 24/7, meaning my door opens and falls shut at all hours of the day. If the rooms aren’t ready yet, I accommodate you, the waiting travelers, in the common room/kitchen, where you can sit around, get used to the sights, sounds and smells (!) of these four walls or catch some shut eye while waiting for former occupants to check out or the busy housekeepers to fix up the room. Once you’ve lugged your backpacks, suitcases, hand carries, camera and laptop bags, sleeping bags and tents, your roll of linen and yourself up the one, two or three flights of stairs and have located your humble abode along the hallways (and have a working key card, not always a given), you will find simple bunk beds, mattresses covered in slippery plastic, a blanket and a pillow. What more could you ask for? If you’re lucky, you might even find up to 6 of those bunks (meaning 12 beds) in that room. And if you’re really lucky, you’ll dive straight into an inhabited world of half empty backpacks, fully plugged sockets, dirty laundry piles, cups and glasses hidden under the bunks, wet towels draped over the only bunk left, bottles and junk food wrappers floating around not belonging to anyone and you will be greeted by a very “lived-in” scent, wafting towards you in welcome. You might be the one to live in a 4 bed dorm, shared a few nights with plastic-bag rustling Japanese girls or drunk, fried chicken munching Aussie party people. Or the only lucky lady in a 10 bed dorm filled with guys or a Dutch guy falling out of the bunk above you in his underwear at an ungodly hour in the morning. I’m just like a surprise goody bag; you pay for it and never know what you might end up getting.

During the day, if the weather is somewhat agreeable, it can get quite quiet in my hallways, because most of you want to make the most of your stay here in this city and are out tripping around. Breakfast takes place anytime between 6am and 3pm, and you manage to keep a steady flow of Wheetbix, toast and jam, tea or noodle soups going during these hours. But come evening and your skinny wallet has once again left you with no choice but my free pasta and the cheapest ready-made pasta sauce from Cole’s, you all come flocking into my heart – the kitchen. It is definitely the most alive, with people, with produce and with things I wish weren’t alive in there. You struggle to find a plate, a bowl, a pan, a pot – anything to boil some water in, anything to eat from and anything to scoop food into your mouth with. Forks are an endangered species in the depths of my sinks, so are cups with handles. Pots and pans that aren’t blackened and encrusted have sadly become extinct. But you can eat pasta (or steak) with a spoon, right? Of course. And do you really mind washing your tea cup with an oily pot-brush? Didn’t think so. In the end, it is actually all up to you anyways. Some of you, the more courteous lot, have read the signs my caring managers have put up about washing your own dishes and leaving behind a clean kitchen. I shun you others, yes you, you know I’m looking down at you right now, while you once again only dump your plate into the sink you have already clogged with pasta.

My evenings have me singing lullabies to you who work all day and go to bed by 7pm, keeping the more relaxed entertained in the TV room, the more thirsty happy with tetra pack wine in the common room and the more neon-diseased out of my rooms and on the city streets. By the time the latter decide to sway their way home and have found the right room and the right bed, the first alarm starts ringing (more often than not a couple of times before you start to budge) and the first cups of coffee are made.

You’ll be happy to hear that I have a few bathrooms on each floor. And I’m happy about the fact that they are never all functioning and open at the same time, because if I gave you all the chance to shower at the same time, my hot and cold water wouldn’t be able to handle the strain and I’d be freezing half an boiling the other half of you (then again, this already happens when two cabins next to each other are occupied). Ladies, on the first floor, there are some excellent modern shower stalls, where you can actually hang your towel and put down your clothes on a ledge and can avoid getting them wet. But as I can see, quite a few of you enjoy walking out of the shower only to bump into the half naked and towel clad barefoot guys brushing their teeth (or not). I’ve realized that on weekends, my bathrooms turn into the favorite place for quite a few of you – those who use it only to empty your bladder, consistently being filled by a slow (or not so slow) and steady stream of alcohol, those who empty their stomach contents thanks to the already mentioned stream, those who use it to roll up controlled substances, leaving crumbs all over the toilet seat (I must say, I find that quite unhygienic), and those who think that bathrooms are more private that dorm rooms and use it for a romantic getaway. Ah yes, weekends are definitely the most entertaining for me to watch over.

I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression about my daily life, because, in the end, it is probably the most colorful and un-boring life one can lead. I meet more people in one week than hotel-travelers do in a month, I hear more exciting stories than a travel book publisher, I am more multicultural than anyone could ever be and I am more alive than you could ever imagine. I see beautiful smiles, connect random people and touch lives in appropriate and inappropriate places – how much better can it get?

Chapter 10 "Don't like the weather....? Wait 5mins."

So far, my great Australian adventure has taken place in one (little) city – Melbourne. One remarkable feature of this area is the weather, which, thank god, has been improving in the last days. I arrived and was greeted by a gray 8degrees, which have climbed to a pleasant 14degrees in the past 2 weeks, but in general, the weather forecasts here are quite amusing to follow, because you usually have sun, clouds, wind and rain predicted for pretty much every day and it’s always a gamble when stepping outside, never really knowing what to expect. Leaving the hostel in sunshine can mean coming back an hour later with wet feet (because I do not always run around in the most waterproof shoes when not needed). Wrapping up nice and warm to take a walk on a gray blustery day can mean suddenly sweating and wishing you had brought your sunglasses just a few steps out the door. The latter example has proven to be the more enjoyable one, of course. I’ve optimistically bought picnic goods (Turkish piede bread, 3 dips and some olives) on a sunny day strolling through the market, only to have to rush into a covered brick gazebo after the first few bites. I’ve lugged around an extra jacket on a looong walk along the beach, because the wind I had previously experienced there had decided to stay away.

The in-betweens, the moments in which the weather decides to flip, can however be quite beautiful. Watching clouds brighten and take flight within fifteen minutes, revealing a bright blue sky and letting the colors around you come to life, like turning up the saturation when tweaking pictures… And while the sun still bounces off the high rises and reflects off the green of the trees and grassy patches, the gray clouds in the background get darker and darker, you get an end-of-the-world kind of atmosphere – beauty and danger, darkness and light. The Yarra River seems to be used to its fluctuating surroundings, it stays a constant murky light brown, the only stable element in the ever-changing portrait of Melbourne. Only at night, when the city lights illuminate the surface and wind creates patches of ripples upon it, it appears to be dancing to the weathers strange tune.

Note: When in Melbourne (in winter), be prepared for any and every weather condition.

Chapter 9 "Do you want to go to the Seaside?"

17.08.2010

Opening my eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the cracks of the window shades is always a wonderful way to wake up. Especially after days of gray skies and rain. After getting keys cut and slipping the postcards into a box, I was visited on this side of town by Sebastian. After only a bit over the week, it feels like I know the streets of the city centre quite well already. The grid is quite easy to remember and even stores and restaurants seem to be burned into my memory. St. Kilda however was still unchartered territory. We walked down Carlisle Street, with its many funky stores, cute cafes, deliciously tempting bakeries and kosher butchers. The residential streets are lined with cute houses, red brick or dark green painted wood (my two favorites), Victorian styles with the grand décor carved into the wood… Quite a nice contrast to the high rises in the city centre – everything is small and quaint and cozy looking. At the end of the street, we hit the beach – or more like the beach hit us, with its beauty, its smell of kelp and salt, its sounds of light waves and seagulls. After having seen the sandy coastline during a gray and windy evening, the bright blue sky and calm dark blue waters stopped me dead in my tracks. After enjoying the sunny sight for a few minutes, we walked to the left, away from the city skyline, away from the pier we had been to already to visit the penguins and towards nowhere specific. Being out in the sun lifts my spirits every time, but being able to run around in sunglasses after days of rain and lack of light was like shooting up to the stars. The vegetation along the beach is so different from what I’ve seen, pale green salt bushes, bright green grass, wind-blown trees growing low to the ground and leaning over like they’ve had too much wine…We walked. And walked. And walked.

And walked. Passed the marina with its sail and speed boats and yachts on which I wished I could just hop on and speed off, continuing my journey by boat. Passed little rocky piers and sandy beaches and many locals walking their dogs. We stopped every once in a while, had a cigarette and a rest to soak in the sights more deeply. Once lying on the rocks next to people fishing, once in the cold sand surrounded by kelp and washed up jellyfish…The houses got larger and more impressive to our left and the ocean stayed big and beautiful to our right. At some point we turned around, knowing that we’d have to walk the whole way back as well. We gathered out strength in a Fish&Chips restaurant and then made our way back, the sun in our faces.

The one day where I dress up nice and warm and even bring an extra jacket and it’s the one day where I can even take my jacket off for a short period. Sitting on a hilltop, apparently an old aboriginal campsite, the view that stretched out in front of me was…Melbourne. The ocean at our side, the beach glowing in the late afternoon sun ahead, green grass of a park rolling down the hill and spreading out beneath it, the city’s skyscraper skyline, not too tall, not too wide, not too cluttered or too gapped, along the horizon and a path that winds through it all…

After walking for six and a half hours, my feet throbbing accordingly, I’m back at the apartment and can’t wait to feel my head sink into the pillow, to drift off into deep sleep and dream of hilltops, warm rocks, cold sand and sunlight.

Notes: Seaside - The Kooks

Chapter 8 "Blurry Blustery Weekend"

14.-16.08.2010

Not being as disciplined at writing everyday has caused the last few days to blur together into streets and restaurants and walks and rain and sitting in the hostel common room…Friday night left me cravin for a good night’s sleep, which I was deprived of, because my Japanese roommates checked out at 5:30am, turned on the lights and finished their packing (by the sounds of it every single item was in a plastic bag). After tossing and turning, listening to a few chapters of my audiobook and then giving up on the deep sleep part, I spent Saturday morning/noonish at Federation Square with its free internet and pesky seagulls.

After pasta and tea in the hostel, the afternoon was spent walking through the city and along the Yarra river. Despite the gray weather, it stayed dry most of the time…

Looking forward to my empty room and a bit of rest before the Saturday night hostel noises, I got in just to find out that all three beds were taken by a group of Australian girls in town for a night of partying. The floor was already covered in clothes and make-up, bottles of lots of different colored liquids and an iPod station blasting something too girly for my taste. So instead, I rested watching Star Wars (Episode 5) and then heading back to the common room to join one of the post-dinner, pre-going out tables. Half a beer later I realized that 1.when I have a cold I can’t even hack a single beer and 2.alternating between beer and fizzy berocca (vitamin OD) tablets is actually quite enjoyable. The table consisted of a guy from Fiji who got up to shave his head after a while, a German and English guy who were latching on to two American girls, a Dutch guy who had travelled the Philippines and loved it (which already shone quite positive light on him), an Italian philosophy student becoming and Italian teacher here, a Kiwi starting his third set of studies and Sebastian, the German I’ve been tripping around Melbourne with the last week. Not really in the mood for drink, party or a long night out, Star Wars (Episode 6) became my Saturday night activity. Back in my room, it smelled like cigarettes and in the wee hours of the morning I was offered fried chicken from a bucket standing in the middle of the room.

On Sunday, after a warm and comfortable night, I had to get up relatively early (no time will be stated at this point as not to reveal my perception of early on a Sunday) to check out. With my luggage in the luggage room, I had breakfast and headed out with Sebastian to the Queen Victoria Markets. This time around was more thorough than the last and we didn’t leave out a single aisle. No purchases this time, but a delicious Turkish pastry called borek, filled with spinach, cheese and parsley, piping hot and just hitting the spot, was devoured shortly before leaving the market… It was strange leaving the hostel, because although it was old and falling apart, the showers had temperature issues at times, the snoring and waking up early of roommates does get on your nerves and the kitchen has just a few (dozen) little faults, I had grown to like its dingy charm and the people who walk amongst it.

I took a train to Balaclava, was picked up at the station and moved into a room with an own double bed that is so comfortable I probably wouldn’t have left it on Monday morning if I didn’t have a few errands waiting for me in the city. After a visit to my bank to let them know my Tax File Number (wow, makes me feel so Aussie), I bought the few things already missing in my toiletries bag and sat down in a Krispy Kremes to have some coffee and doughnuts, a craving which just had to be satisfied. I wrote some postcards, my first on this journey and just enjoyed sitting by the window watching busy businessmen and women walk by, checking their watches, dragging on their cigarettes or talking while walking.

Aside from the free city circle tram, there’s a free city tour bus, which drives around Melbourne in an hour and a half, telling you about places to go, sights to see and historical landmarks of importance. The last one left at 3:45pm and I just about made it. The tour itself took you around a lot of places which I had already seen or heard about, but did drive around the Docklands and other outside-the-city areas a bit more. The stop before the last was the Shrine of Remembrance, a war memorial which looks like a mixture of a Greek, Aztec, Roman and Egyptian Temple.

The gardens around it were quite nice and you had a great view down the street all the way to Federation Square, passed which I walked looking for a bite to eat. Seeing and suddenly craving Vietnamese, the Mekong served a mean bowl of Pho Bo and some pretty good fresh spring rolls. After getting home, I found out that Bill Clinton had had a bowl of soup here as well. I must have missed the sign by the door.

Notes: Must write more regularly. Star Wars is truly great. Krispy Kremes kravings must be satisfied.

Chapter 7 "Melbourne Museum"

13.08.2010

If you are superstitious, you could want to hide under your covers on Friday the 13th, but since I’m not one of those people, I started my day (relatively) early to get my laundry done (something safe to test my luck ;P). On the agenda for the day was the Melbourne Museum, a quite modern and architecturally impressive structure amidst the Carlton Gardens just outside the city centre. And while you pay (and not little) for most of the activities here in Melbourne, the Melbourne Museum has this great policy of letting students wander around in there for free. So student travelers out here, if you don’t want to spend a dime on a rainy Sunday afternoon (but not too late because this too, of course, closes at 5pm), this museum is highly recommended. You are greeted by an immense skeleton of a Blue Whale before taking a walk through the Earth’s history beginning with dinosaurs and ancient rocks. Everything is colorful, digital and interactive (which always makes ancient rocks more interesting).

In a large white room, animals (real, dead and stuffed) line the walls all the way up to the ceiling. Aside from being an impressive collection, one can read up on every single one by pointing a digital touch screen on the animal of your choice. These screens are located all over the room and swivel and turn for your browsing pleasure. The next section is all about the creepy crawlies – find out what scents bugs like (including animal dung and lavender), what you would look like through a fly’s eye, what spiders not to let bite you, hear amplified sounds of bumblebees and hissing cockroaches and take a look at many living examples of huge spiders, lots of ants, gigantic stick insects etc… Aside from the occasional shiver down the spine, I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun with bugs.

In the middle of the museum, there is the Forest Gallery – an actual forest inside the museum, including a stream, birds and a comprehensive display of how forest fires affect the lives of Australians.

The next gallery is about Aboriginal history, art and their battle for rights.

On the top floor one can walk through the different historical eras of Melbourne, stand in front of its most famous race horse and a model of a 64kg gold nugget found during the gold rush. The Mind and Body gallery takes you on a journey through your insides – both physical and mental. Experiments on sleeping and dreaming, perception and emotions make the trip into your mind more educational than just reading about how your brain works.
All in all, the museum is a must-see in this city, if you enjoy natural history, art and pushing buttons, touching screens, turning dials and emerging yourself in the learning experience 

After lunch in a Chinese dumpling restaurant, the walk back to the hostel and resting up while watching Star Wars (Episode 4), I spent Friday night in the U-Bar downstairs in our hostel… Buy one take one coupons for Pints and a VERY colorful mix of people made it a fun(ny) night out that lasted just long enough for me not to feel like a zombie today.

Note: No matter how much I learn about spiders, I still don’t like them. The Albatross has a wingspan of up to 3.5m.

Chapter 6 "Rain rain go away..."

10.-12.08.2010
It was going to be a day spent at St. Kilda beach, just a short tram ride south of the city. But as I awoke to the drip drip drip of rain INSIDE as well as outside my room, I figured that plan would have to take a rain check. After putting a bucket under the leak and tossing and turning till I felt like it was time to get up, I had a granola and strawberries breakfast (though I have been craving Wheatabix lately). The German working here in the hostel, with whom I was supposed to go beach tripping that day, suggested a free city tour with free internet at the state library afterwards. So we boarded the free city circle tram, an old cable car that goes around the inner city and talks about the buildings, not completely advertising free. After one and a half loops, we got off at the library and spent a good two and a half hours in the net. It had finally stopped raining, but was still a bit too cold to be outside for too long. Funny enough, Melbourne doesn’t seem to be equipped for cold and rainy late afternoon, since all museums close at 5pm and even the free city bus tour which we found departing in front of the National Gallery of Victoria, does its last trip at 3:45pm. So although we explored the city and its indoor possibilities, none of them could actually be done…A fun afternoon nonetheless

After getting home, I felt like s***. Head pounding with every step I took, heavy eyelids, shivering and sweating and a sore throat. Just great. And no better, more like worse, the next morning, when I had to get up and out of bed to check out and check into another room. A morning trip to Cole’s supermarket to buy lemon, ginger, honey and some nutritional essentials and to the pharmacy for lozenges, a gargle and more Kleenex, seemed like the only trip I’d be able to take that day. However, after a throat-burning cup of ginger and lemon tea and a few hour nap, I felt a bit better and decided fresh air would probably not be a bad thing. Too bad the rain didn’t seem to agree with these plans…

Though the weather pretended to be nice in the morning, Thursday turned out to be yet another unpredictable day when it came to occasional showers and gray clouds darkening or lightening (never disappearing though). In Germany I guess you could call it typical “Aprilwetter”. It was then when I had to admit to myself that I should have listened to my mom and packed one of those wind and waterproof shells (no matter ho ugly). Instead, I spent the afternoon shopping for a jacket that will keep me warm and dry and not end my trip early because it drained my funds. My short trip into the North Face shop left me leaving dizzy and perplexed about how a jacket can be worth more than the entire contents of my suitcase. But after checking out the “cheaper” brands and making a fun game out if the search for a reasonable priced jacket - guessing before my tingling fingertips picked the price tag out of the jacket pocket - I had to come to the conclusion that, in general, it is cheaper to just stay indoors or spend time in warmer climates. In the end, I managed to find one on sale in Macpac that set me back only about a week and a half worth of accommodation.

Late afternoon, my fellow German and I decided that it was dry and bright enough to head down to St. Kilda Beach, just about 15mins outside the city by tram. A girl in my hostel told me that she had spent a few weeks in Melbourne in summer and visited the Beach almost daily. In winter, it is empty and windy, the sea is gray and rough. But with dark clouds not quite touching the horizon and the sun fighting back after the days of oppression, the light was quite magical. The ocean smells different here, reminding me more of trips in the north of Germany than of beaches in the Philippines, but nonetheless, it smelled like somewhere I wanted to be. The sand, the water the sounds of the waves crashing release in me that feeling of being liberated, of being able to jump up and not having to come back down, like I can inhale and exhale time… After a walk down the empty boardwalk, joined only by the occasional jogger (tough Aussies in shorts and tshirt!) and wandering tourist, watching the colors of the sky and ocean change, we walked down a long wood pier which ended in a rocky pier. To one side the waves, sporadically chilling us with ocean spray, to the other the calmer waters tinted pink by the setting sun, anchored sailboats and the lit up skyline of Melbourne. The rocks are home to an Australian water rat (which we could not spot) and the Little Penguins, which show themselves around dusk. We saw a few and heard a lot. I never knew penguins could be so noisy – especially such small ones! It is quite an experience seeing them in the wild… And whilst starting to shiver on the windy walk home, I had a large smile on my face.

Note: Museums close early here. Being sick is no fun, no matter where you are. Penguins make funny noises.

Chapter 5 “A Trippy Tour into Tim Burton’s Weird World”

09.08.2010
After the morning spent in Federation Square, making use of the free wireless internet to upload pictures and write, and getting haircut in one of the many salons lining the upper part of Elizabeth Street, I decided to visit the Tim Burton Exhibition in the Australian Centre for the Moving Image back at Federation Square. The exhibition is part of the Melbourne Winter Masterpieces and was originally organized by the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Despite only having been opened in August (I believe), the collection of his drawings, cartoons, paintings, sculptures, movie props and costumes has already attracted more than 100,000 spectators and spooks, making it the most successful exhibition in Melbourne so far.

Though the price is a bit steep (19$) and no discount is given to non-Aussie students (which I find kind of unfair), it was worth it – every last cent! Upon descending into his world, a little signs warns you to let your eyes adjust to the dark before going all the way down. A big red and white striped sign “Tim Burton The Exhibition” lets you know that you are now entering his foyer of fantasies. You are greeted by props from Edward Scissorhands, a large hedge in shape of a deer as well as Edward’s glove and suit. On a big screen right above them, excerpts from the movie are shown. In general the exhibition is organized chronologically – Surviving Burbank, Beautifying Burbank and Beyond Burbank. In the first part, Old school papers, cartoons he drew as a young boy, films he shot with an 8mm and even a children’s book he wrote and animated are on display. Moving on, there’s a large collection of his cartoon drawings, which he mostly did while studying at the California Institute of the Arts. While being very dark and morbid, the Tim Burton as we know and love him, the images all have something quite childlike about them. For example, he takes the collocations “He’s giving his eyes a rest” or “They’re enjoying each other” and draws a guy whose eyes are drooping out of his sockets and lying on a sun chair or a couple gnawing on each other’s limbs with a crazed expression on their faces. His art makes you laugh, despite being downright disturbing at times. This section, which also includes the unfinished projects he developed during his 4 year internship with Walt Disney Studios, ends with the “Burtonarium”, a chasm lit by blacklight with little holes on the sides through which you can see glowing pictures of clowns and flowers or models of the Oogieboogieman or the dog from Nightmare before Christmas on display. All the while, circus music (by Danny Elfman, of course) is played and you feel like a little child having a strange almost-nightmare. The centerpiece of the Burtonarium is a sculpture of a carousel with strange cartoon figurines dancing round and round… Finally, we enter his filmmaking days and stand only inches from the original Batman’s mask and Catwoman suit, Alice’s dress and the Madhatter’s hat, Sweeny Todd’s razors and the Corpse Bride herself. My personal favorite, which actually sent shivers down my spine, was standing in front of the “cast” of Nightmare Before Christmas, including an original Jack Skellington and his many heads. I spent the rest of the day singing his woeful song…

After ascending from his wacky world and walking by the Batmobile on the way out, you cannot help but admire this man with the whacked out fantasy for just being himself and inviting the world into his endearing morbid mind.

Note: I heart Jack Skellington. Sweeny Todd’s razors really do look quite sharp.

Chapter 4 "Market, Melbourne and Man, I haven't slept yet"

Friday night in Melbourne. It’s close to midnight and I’m the only person in my 10bed dorm, the only person who dares go to bed already. This, however, is a harder task than it might sound like. In the end, I may as well have gone out and partied the night away (but as already mentioned, my feet were on strike), like everyone else, since our not-so-state-of-the-art-windows let in every sound of the night from at least a block away. I fell asleep to hi-hat beats, base bums and the sound of glasses clinking and people laughing.

At around 10am I opened my eyes, refreshed and ready for a new day. Nobody else in my dorm was. I did feel bad about creating a bustle, getting dressed and packing my bag for the day, surely waking up at least one or two of the sleeping party animals. Karma got me back though. While washing my face and brushing my teeth in the shower room down the hall and leaving the door slightly ajar, someone must have gone to the bathroom and closed it behind them. Of course, it had slipped my mind to bring my key card, as that is not the first thing one thinks about after waking up in the morning. So there I was, locked out of my room with nothing but my face wash and toothbrush. I knocked quietly, but didn’t dare to bang on the door after nobody came to open it. To pass some time, I just brushed my teeth again and waited till the next person had to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, the only other Asian roommate was also arising and getting ready and I caught the door just in time. With very clean teeth.

The agenda for the day was a trip up to the Queen Victoria Market, about 15 minutes from my hostel. As I walked up the empty streets, the sun was slowly but very surely warming up the day and it reminded me strongly of watching spring chase away summer in Berlin or even autumn afternoons in Munich. The market was immense – endless halls filled with endless stalls. It’s open every day of the week from around 6am to 2pm or 3pm, except for Friday when it turns into a night market. Tourists and Melbourners alike come from all over the city to shop for fruits and vegetables, meat and seafood, wines and delicacies and even clothes. The most colorful stand were meant to catch the visitors’ eyes, as they sold souvenirs like boomerangs, didgeridoos, t-shirts, magnets, stuffed kangaroos and koalas and aboriginal art. Some stalls looked familiar, being very similar to some you might find in markets all over the world – the incense and crystals stand, the wooden Chinese massage apparatus stand or the fake soccer jersey stand. Others were definitely more Australia-bound, like the Ugg boots stand or the Australian Fire Opals stand. My feet would probably thank me for the warmth and comfort Uggs would provide at the moment and I’m also sure I would fall in love with them if I just started wearing them, but I just can’t get myself to buy a pair. One, they are big and bulky to lug around the country and two, I get the feeling my feel look like elephant-feet when I wear them, although this is not the case for all the others I see walking around in them here (and everywhere). Between the produce and the clothes and accessories, on a little square, a four-man band called La Rhumba played all morning. A husky voice, a melodious harmony accompanied by Spanish guitar. There never ceased to be a large crowd gathered around them, listening. And at some point, two little children starting dancing in the middle, much to the amusement of the band and the entertainment of the audience. Because I still haven’t really gotten the hang of the prices here, still finding everything way too expensive, my purchases were limited to a new belly ring (because I realized that I’m travelling without a spare), strawberries (250g for 2,50$/1,75Euro) and a bar of choco-mint fudge which just looked too darn good to leave sitting on that beautiful display of at least 30 different kinds of fudge.

Walking back home, I took a long way, looking to pass through the patches of green on my trusty tourist map. The parks are clean and well maintained, usually with a piece of artwork rising up in some corner near the playground or at the entrance. On my walk through one, a most delicious smell came whafting towards me and around the bend I witnessed the first Aussie Barbie (BBQ) of my trip. And they really know what they’re doing – the table loaded with a cooler of cold drinks, all the condiments you can imagine, the meat marinated to perfection, the smell alone made my mouth water and my stomach grumble.

One of my last important things to do (aside from looking for a job and making some travel plans) was to buy a travel guide. I found a travel book shop and now own a copy of the Lonely Planet’s guide to East Coast Australia. And I can’t wait to start reading and planning. My preliminary plan, which actually includes more travelling than working, is to make my way down to Adelaide, up to Alice Springs (because it would just be silly to travel Australia and not see Ayers Rock and the Outback), all the way up to Darwin and then find my way back down to Sydney via the coast. This plan does however require some time and finance management and depends on these to be put into action. Good thing the travel shop in my and every other hostel here in the city offer tours that pretty much cover that route – Melbourne to Adelaide via the Ocean Road, Adelaide to Alice Springs via the Outback…etc.

I decided to pass by the river boardwalk again before finally heading back to the hostel. It was noon, the sun was out and the seagulls were begging noisily for food from the many people enjoying lunch by the murky brown water. I even got offered some sushi by the girl sharing my bench. I was also offered some lessons in Latin dancing by a guy whom I almost laughed out loud at for asking “Haven’t we met before, you know, a few weeks ago…?” Haha, I guess the classics are international and never get old. At least he was the first to guess that I was a mix of something European.

After only 3 days in Melbourne, the city is starting to grow on me. My sense of orientation is also improving, having looked at a map only twice to get back to the hostel. The city centre is made up of a relatively simple grid of crisscrossing streets and alleys. The city is welcoming while still giving off an aura of closed community, it dances to its own beat, proud of its individuality. Melbourne’s personality is vibrant but relaxed, modern yet traditional. On every street you will find people from all walks of life and various different cultures and even more so than in Berlin or any other multicultural city, integration seems a given.

While sitting by the water, taking notes, my trusty silver pen a very good friend in Berlin gave me finally gave up. Always sad to have to retire a special pen that has accompanied me on a journey. Then I realized that the next trusty pen I whipped out of my bag was also given to me by my fellow Pinay soul in Berlin, so either way, she is with me in every word I write. Thanks, Natty.

Back at the hostel, I started my first Skype session sitting in the travel shop by the reception. Despite big earphones and finding a computer all the way in a corner, it is strange having a conversation with anywhere between 2 and 12 people in the same room. Plus, you never know who might understand you, there are quite a few Germans in this town. For example the one who stopped me on the stairs, asked about the internet and then invited to a night out on the town. Glad to not be the first back in bed on a Saturday night, I accepted and got ready. This hot shower was not quite as enjoyable, because the whole hostel seemed to be taking a shower at the same time. I either had freezing water or scalding hot, no in-betweens…

Before hitting the streets, we had dinner in another hostel, where friends of his were staying. I guess for a bit more money one can really get a bit more – a larger kitchen, free wi-fi, more security, carpeted hallways, a bigger common room with more sofas, a pool table… But oh well, I guess I shouldn’t start my trip with big spending. My first “home”-cooked meal consisted of a huge pot of pasta – definitely better than microwavable soups or instant Mac ‘n Cheese. Dishwashing and a few beers later, three guys and I took off and walked around aimlessly for a bit before settling in an open air bar with heaters, spray painted walls and a cable car as bar. From there we headed to a restaurant-turned-bar in a mall, which was comfortably full and played everything from mainstream pop to old school-ish hip hop. While going out for a smoke, I was once again confronted with how small this world truly is. While I’m torturing people with my slowly disintegrating French, one of the guys I was with finds out, by way of talking-to-random-strangers-on-escalators, that one of the guys is German as well. He turn to introduce me and I find myself standing in front of someone who used to go to the German School Manila with me, way back when. Both our eyes popped out of their sockets and we stood there kind of perplexed, like it was all just a strange dream. How random… The night ended at sunrise, with me not able to sleep because by the time I was under my covers, my roommates decided it was time to get up. One after the other in a steady concession they got or (literally) fell out of bed (the guy in the bunk above me landed with a crash) and made enough noise to hinder deep sleep.

Lest I have to say that my Sunday consisted of a truly lazy afternoon and early night. The boardwalk seems to have a magnetic pull on me, because that’s where my daily walk took me once again on that sunny afternoon – passed the bizarre Winterfest including an ice skating rink on which it snows, an Octoberfest tent flying the Bavarian flag and a stand selling “original” Currywurt and Bratwurst with Sauerkraut, street shows by the youngest sword swallowing, fire juggling contortionist, break-dancers, clowns and a large group of youngsters training Parcour.

Notes: Always carry your key card on you, but if you don’t, you will have the cleanest teeth in town. La Rumba. Uggs. Must join an Aussie BBQ. Beer won’t give you a hangover when consumed responsibly. I heart Melbourne.

Chapter 3 "Upset feet"

You know that you have spent too much time in Manila, when walking upsets you feet much more than usual. My feet are quite upset at the moment.

I went to bed quite early last night, the first one in my room. This did mean I work up a few times – every time a roommate decided to go to bed. I believe I live in one of the few rooms in this country with a door that cannot, under no circumstances, be closed quietly. Good thing I was tired enough to open an eye, shut it and drift off again. After much needed sleep, I woke up quite early to make a phone call. And it was so cold, I decided to go back to bed right afterwards. I did however have to get up at some point, because I had an appointment at Westpac Bank. I don’t think I have even been in a bank in which all employees looked between my age and max. 5 years older. A very friendly and accommodating bank. The guy who helped me open my account then told me a wonderful story about how he stayed at my youth hostel once and got all his stuff stolen. Just great.

After getting one of my formalities of the day out of the way, I walked. And walked. And walked. I had no idea where I was going and had no goal other than to see the city. Getting lost in a new place is actually one of my favorite things to do when travelling. And my superb sense of direction lead me once around the city, and the few times I did look at a map, I was always in quite opposite places of where I thought I was. The sun was out, the sky was blue and the clouds stayed far away, fluffy shapes on the horizon. I walked along a river and was even able to take my scarf off at some point; but I did feel kind of silly with thin stockings under my jeans, while girls I passed were wearing short skirts and guys were in t-shirts.

I have heard about the quaintness of Australian cities, when compared to cities like Berlin or Manila. And today I got to experience exactly what was meant with that. There is a free rickety tram that drives around in circles around the city, but in the end, everything is walking distance. I ended up in places that looked far on the map and were really just around the corner. And suddenly I was back at the hostel (and my feet were very glad about that). I walked for 4h and can hardly tell you about where exactly I was, because I was too busy sticking my nose into the sun and following the path that looked the nicest. I did however took a mental note of the Tim Burton Exhibition that I must (!) go see and the Melbourne Aquarium. I crossed a bridge lined with big funny metal sculptures that glinted in the sunlight and made me almost walk into people because I was looking up at them. Along one side of the bridge, there were glass panels which displayed a whole array of different countries and list waves of immigration, places where they came from, reasons for coming and numbers of Australian citizens with that heritage. Beautiful.

On my way home I set foot into an Australian supermarket for the first time. An important part of travelling is exploring the colorful aisles filled with unknown brand names and getting a feel for nutritional habits of the country and how they may collide or coincide with your personal taste. Not really wanting to cook for myself and not having eaten a warm meal yet since getting here, I took home a microwavable pasta dish – bland and boring, but warm and filling. Can’t live on apples, pears and granola bars all day. I’ll probably end up in subway tonight, hoping it’s not so much more expensive than the, in my opinion, expensive pre-made sandwiches in 7Eleven. In general, prices for food and drinks in Berlin and Manila have spoiled me and I will probably think everything is expensive travelling the western world.

After my feet decided to go on strike – I could hear them screaming “no more walking today!” and threatening to run amok if I do – I spent the late afternoon getting the rest of my formalities of the day done. I have now officially applied for my Australian Tax File Number and, slowly but surely, have gained an overview over my funds for this trip. Major downside: After being away from home (meaning Berlin) for so long, I have forgotten my pin numbers for my ATM cards and now have to go out in the dark later to make a call to my bank and see if they can give it to me. Cross my fingers.

Note: Melbourne is smaller than I thought. MUST see Tim Burton Exhibition. I am hungry. I’m an idiot for forgetting pin numbers.

Chapter 2 "Aussie Aussie Aussie"

Wait, what time is it? What day is it? Where am I? It is dark outside, the buildings outside the window are beautifully lit and my watch is telling me that it is 6:30pm. My body, which according to the time change, should be thinking that it’s 4:30pm, feels more like 10:30pm. I guess that’s what 18h of travel (with a budget airline) will do to you. The plane to Melbourne was quite large and quite empty. I was all the more grateful as the Malaysian lady and her son (nothing against little children, I do love them, just not on airplanes) who were supposed to sit next to me got up to sit with grandma and grandpa a few rows behind. For some reason, I had failed to check the duration of the flight when I booked it and expected something shorter. As the pilot announced 7h 50mins, I nearly slipped out of my three chair bed. It was too bad that Air Asia no longer had stock of their Comfort Kit (a blanket, an inflatable neck pillow and that thing that covers your eyes). At least I got to sleep for a few hours, slowly drifting off as the mother in the row behind me read a very cute children’s book to her daughter, only to wake up because of a severe case of the sniffles, belt-buckle-pressing-into-my-back syndrome and the sun rising over the clouds. The latter being quite beautiful.

Upon landing and successfully getting through immigration, I got onto a bus going into the city…and fell asleep. Sorry suburbian Melbourne, but I missed you. I tried so hard to stay awake, which probably made it look even sillier to the other bus riders, but my tiredness overpowered me. I awoke because the lady next to me “accidentally” bumped into me while getting off at the main station in the city Southern Cross. I lugged my bags out of the bus and followed the instructions given to me by the hostel’s website. Just as I was asking myself how in the hell my youth hostel could be amongst these grand buildings and expensive looking facades, my mom called and asked if I had found the hostel yet. In that moment, I turned my head and noticed the only old and charmingly shabby looking building on the corner and the colorful sign inviting backpackers to the Nomads All Nations. I had arrived. Of course, the question immediately came up “Where are you from?” and when I made him guess, I got a “Will you shoot me if I say American?” and because I nodded he decided I was Canadian.

My room has five bunk beds, therefore sleeping ten people. Two were still in there when I entered around 11am. I think I have five roommates, but I can’t really be sure till I go to bed. Having already written a To-Do-Upon-Arrival list, I grabbed a map at the reception and went on my first walk in Melbourne – right smack through the city centre and the CBD. It reminded me a bit of the area around Friedrichstrasse in Berlin, mixed with some areas in London. The modern and the old, both equally impressive. Slight elevations, old and new trams, the grandeur of the Strand mixed with the hustle and bustle of Piccadilly Circus and the colorful faces of downtown Berlin. I found the post office, I found a SIM card, I found a pharmacy (seeking aid in killing this cold asap), I made an appointment to open a bank account, I found a yummy roast beef roll and cheap coffee. But still, disoriented and tired, not really here or there, home or away. I think it’ll take me another day or two to arrive. Before heading back home I sat down in Southern Cross station to enjoy the free Wifi and immediately felt like I did when I first got to Berlin, sitting in the Sony Center in Potsdamer Platz, freezing my fingers off just so I could check my mail. Maybe I should take it as a good sign, since, in the end, it all fell into place and worked out just fine over there as well.

Getting on a plane in 30degrees and tropical humidity and getting off in 8degrees and gray wind does kind of affect your body – your toes, for example, they get cold. Duh. The fresh air is heavenly, the wind-chill is not. When I got back from my couple of hours out and about, the only thing I could think of was a warm, no make that a hot shower. And boy did I get it. Every once in a while in your life, a hot shower is one of the most satisfying things once can experience. Today was such a day. And I didn’t even mind blow-drying my hair with the automatic hand dryer in the bathroom. As Woody Allan would say:”Whatever works”. When I got back to my room, a Korean roommate offered me an orange.
Sadly, I have noticed that my German cell phone, which is on some kind of travelers thing, is not receiving any text messages. And my Aussie number also has something against me reading texts from someone I really want to receive them from, because they are not arriving. Damn it.

Note: I like hot showers and oranges. I do not like cell phone providers keeping my text messages from me.

Chapter 1 "Up up and away - Journey through Kuala Lumpur"

Sitting on yet another cold floor of an airport, I had hoped for the best and expected the worst. Kuala Lumpur International Airport, the “other” terminal is the middle man between the two.

Leaving Manila via Clarke Airbase this morning was bittersweet. My stomach in knots, my heart beatin irrythmically from coffee and my eyes puffy from too little sleep, I said bye to mom and Hannah with a feeling of anticipation and insecurity. Almost a year since the idea formed in my head, suddenly D-day had arrived and I wasn’t and still am not 100% sure if I’m sufficiently prepared in heart, body and mind to embark on this adventure. But the closer I get to setting foot on Aussie soil, the more I am getting back into my DIY-mindset. Don’t get me wrong, I love my home in the Philippines and the time I spend there is and will always be cherished, but there is just something about being back home that jostles my independence and makes me want to lean back and enjoy (more than jump up and go go gadget go). On the other hand, after 4 years of vacations that feel too short and scheduling skype-dates, it was relaxing and comforting to be surrounded by family again.

Before being able to board the bright red airplane, I was asked to pay a travel tax nobody could really explain to me, but apparently it is not always an advantage to have dual citizenship (or to be honest about this and show the passport-checking airport employee both the red and the green). Air Asia flight AK663 departed on-filipino-time, meaning just a tad bit late. This gave a small group of Malasian gentlemen the chance to interrogate me on my heritage, my travel plans, my places of residence and my red blotches on my hand (which are still very itchy remnants of a collision with a soft coral diving in Puerto Galera a few weeks back). I guess the preassumption of meeting lots of people during my journey decided to come true early on in the game.

The flight itself was uneventful. For the first time in my history of travelling, I did not insist on having an aisle seat – a tick I developed after too many flights caged in, prohibited from peeing, by very deeply sleeping fellow travellers. This time, I was quite thankful for the window, a place to rest my head and catch up on the missed hours of sleep the night before, which I rather spent talking to home, a place and person starting to seem further and further away by the minute. Waking up a bit disoriented, I tried to estimate how long we had already been in the air and if it made sense to try to go back to sleep again. And although, after short contemplation, I decided that more shut eye really couldn’t hurt, I was not granted this wish, thanks to a surround sound chorus of snoring. Instead, as hinted by that familiar in my ear, I watched as we descended onto Malasian ground. The coast lined with brown murky water, as if it had just rained. The fields below us looking like giant thumbprints and microchips. I followed the winding roads into mountainous territories and watched them snake towards the sea. The lower we went, the wider the patches of rich dark green became and by the time the wheels of the plane were released, we were flying above hectars and hectars of palm tree plantations (bananas possibly?). Shortly after landing, the usual ground temperature, local time and “Thank you for flying Air Asia”s were announced, followed by an important announcement:”Bringing dangerous drugs into Malaysia is prohibited and will be followed with mandatory death sentence”. Silence. “You may now disembark the aircraft.”

Outside my window stood rows upon rows of bright red airplanes and I must admitt, I was impressed by the size of this budget airline’s fleet. Flights from all corners of Asia and the Pacific were landing and disembarking and the sea of people became more and more colorful as I walked along the terminal building trying to find the entrance and get out of the heat. I was less impressed by the immigration hall of the “other” terminal, over crowded, hot and sticky. All of a sudden, the colorful crowd turned into a blurr of faces, families and patterns. And of course, I should have known that Lady Luck would lead me to the one immigration counter that was the equivalent to good ol’ fashioned mail in this high bit email-world – efficiant but very demaning of your patience. I couldn’t decide if the immigrations officer, a beautiful young woman, was new on the job or couldn’t get off her high horse and felt the need to interrogate every poor traveller standing in front of her aquarium. Of course it didn’t help that a family with shaved heads and orange robes very serenely cut the line (or that Miss Immigration Officer decided to take an extra long look at their passports), that the indian group of travellers in front of me kept recruiting more and more members as we waited or that the line next to us just seemed to be rolling on steadliy, like the steam engine you just missed and have to watch as it leaves you behind. Following me in line, a large and loud French family made me curse the fact that I understand this language of romance, as I had to listen to them lovingly complain about the flight, the airport, the immigration hall, Miss Immigration Officer, the backpackers next to them, the heat, the country, Asia in general and finally about each other. And just when I thought it was finally over, they started an argument about their many vacations, which , in my opinion, they couldn’t have been on together, because none of them could seem to agree on what year they did the bike tour and how many years ago they had spent that week in Bali (during which more issues to complain about arose). In short, I wanted to fall on my knees and thank Miss Immigration Officer after she stamped my passport and waved me onwards with a half-hearted smile. My luggage was already lying next to the belt, as I seemed to be the only one held up after dismbarking and the belt was much needed for the constant stream of bright red airplanes landing between the palm trees. After being greeted by Barney’s big purple face (Toy Land) and the oh-so-familiar green symbol indicating that the all time favorite icy cold sweet coffee drinks can be purchased during my 7h (after immigration reduced to 6h) layover, I have found a spot on yet another cold airport floor and have finally started writing again.
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All in all, my layover in KL consisted mainly of walking about outside, back and forth, through the little arcade of stores and cafes and back on the outside, having a cigarette, checking if my check-in counter is finally open and calculating if I really want to spend my 5Euro bill on a sandwich – the choices being between a soggy Starbucks sandwich, a soggy Coffeebean&Tealeaf sandwich, a soggy Deli France sandwich and McDonalds. I saved the 5Euro bill.

After finally getting rid of my big fat bag and going through immigration and security, I am pleasantly surprized about the airport. It is bigger than I thought it could be and colder too.

I’ve decided to play a little game on this trip called “Just guess”. Although I have only been on the road for just about 9h, I have already been asked three times where I’m from. And I’m pretty sure this question just might come up every once in a while during my journey. So instead of spilling the beans on my colorful heritage right away, I ask where they think I am from. Yes, I have gotten strange looks after giving this answer –looks of puzzlement and confusion, one that likes the idea of a challenge and one that says “I’m really not in the mood for games”. But so far, I have registered the following guesses – Malaysian, Fil-Am (but only because I was on a flight from Manila) and “uh, something Asian and something else”. So no real winner so far (the latter not being counted because of vagueness).

Note: There are times when dual citizenship is expensive. If no personal entertainment system is available, sleeping is your best bet on a plane. Don’t bring dangerous drugs into Malaysia. Don’t get in line behind a travel group from India or in front of a large French family.

Prologue "Packing the Backpack"

In preparation of my adventure, there were a few rather necessary things that had to be done. So here’s my personal checklist for “packing the backpack”:

1.Since I was planning on stopping by home and doing my little internship and first vacation with my certain someone, I needed to find my way to the Philippine Islands first. So, back in January, latest February, I booked a one way ticket to Manila.

2.At times, I can be quite clumsy and though nothing really bad has ever happened to me, never broken a bone *knock on wood*, it is better to be safe than rely on that “luck”. So I acquired one year’s worth of travel insurance. By the way, I can only recommend STA Travel, as they are especially helpful and understand young travelers on a budget.

3.The little research I did before leaving Germany included reading up on the climate (and realizing I had to pack winter, spring, summer and autumn kind of clothes), locating cities and towns on a map (to get a general idea about the geography) and finding out what else I have to add my To-Do-BEFORE-I-Get-To-Oz list.

4.In Manila, I had about 10 days before I had to go “back to school” and decided to get some of the icky formalities out of the way. Though I have to say, applying for the Working Holiday Visa was much easier than I had imagined it would be. The online application form takes a while and they ask interesting questions about your criminal record or if you have ever spent some time in the loony bin, but all in all it’s quite hassle-less.

5.Part of the application process is a visit to a medical center, because the Aussies want to know what kind of lungs they are letting into the country. Sitting in the waiting room, I was quite surprised about how full it was – all Visa applicants to Australia (though the Canadian side was even fuller).

6.Soon after arriving in Manila, I booked a one way flight to Melbourne. I’m just so damn lucky to have a dad who is an expert traveler and knows exactly how to find the cheapest possible deals on flights.

7.…A day before I left, I bought and packed my backpack.

Note: Good luggage is important. Packing it is as well.

Chapter 0 "Have Love Will Travel"

No matter how well (or not-so-well) I had planned my gap year between my Bachelors and uh further studies; there are just some things in life one cannot control. Like falling out of love and having to change those plans slightly…or falling in love unexpectedly vey soon afterwards. My rollercoaster took me for a wild ride in the beginning of the year, but then again, who doesn’t enjoy the occasional looping or free fall. During one of the coldest winters I have ever experienced, I had to write my Bachelors Thesis, find a new tenant for my apartment, pack up my life into (many!) boxes, renovate little bumps and bruises my dear apartment had suffered over the three years I lived in it and wrap up all the various contracts, accounts and paper trails one accumulates in this modern day society. All the while getting to know and falling more and more for a certain somebody, without whom I probably wouldn’t have survived those months without completely loosing it. He protected me when my To-Do lists threatened to cut off my limbs, he herded my moving boxes and belongings into his apartment when they threatened to run amok and he warmed me in the evenings after my Bachelors Thesis had sucked all the life out of me during the days spent chained to my desk, drowning in books. I cannot say that the timing was right for Mr. Right, but ignoring it would have been all kinds of wrong. And although my plans did not change, new ones were formed and a ticket for an island vacation was booked.

In April I left home to come back home and cried tears of sadness and happiness. Raise your hand if you know what it feels like to be homesick while you’re home… I know there are some out there who understand me. Manila hasn’t changed, aside from the buildings that shoot up like beanstalks. And being back felt like being in a time warp, like being 17 again, only with less connections, less friends left. The three month internship at my former school was fun and gave me a bit more insight into the daily life as an educator. And it did help steer my thoughts on becoming one into a more definite direction. I’m not saying I am definitely not becoming a teacher; I am now just more open to discovering possible alternatives; ready to check out what else might be out there for me.

After two week family reunion, of which five days were spent on the paradise island Siquijor, my significant other landed in Manila, I opened the door and ushered him into a whole new world – my other world. The three weeks he spent here allowed me to see the Philippines through his eyes, bathed in a whole new light. Despite the occasional culture shock that shook our vacation, I got to rediscover the beauty of the country and learn once more to be in awe of a paradise I had come to regard as usual. We spent a week on Sangat, out personal King Kong island, part of the Calamian Islands, which seemed like big boulders strewn into the deep turquoise waters of Coron Bay, topped off with lush dark green. I (finally!) got over my fear of the deep blue and we got certified together in Puerto Galera, experiencing the ocean like I never really had before… After falling in love in three hectic months in Berlin, we got to fall in love all over again in three blissful weeks in the Philippines. Who knows what lies ahead, but I hear three’s a charm…

Note: Have Love, Will Travel together…Will travel alone, but have love nonetheless.