Hitchhike Attempt #1

So I'm walking Downtown, and the sun is threatening to set. I started late and I'm worried no one is going to pick me up after dark. But as I pass by the University of New South Wales, I can't resist the urge to check out the campus. I don't even consult the die this time. I'm rewarded with an amazing view of the city at sunset from the 10th floor of the library.

By the time I leave, it's dark of course. I hunt around for the on-ramp to the highway for hours. It turns out to be hitchhike proof. I don't even know where to begin to stand. I walk around Kings Cross alternately scoping out cheap hostels (the cheapest costs $3 more than I've got), thinking of ways to come up with a few extra bucks, scavaging for food scraps, and getting propositioned by the same prostitute on 3 separate occasions. The best I can come up with is half a bottle of beer someone sets down on a curb when they jump in a cab. Beer is so expensive here (2 or 3 times what I'm used to paying) that I don't think twice about pouncing on it. Around 3 AM, it's so cold and windy that I can't walk around indecisively any longer. I go to the 24 hour McDonalds on the main drag and spend $6 on a burger and coffee. I plan on staying till daybreak and resuming hitchhiking attempts under more favorable conditions. As I search around for an available seat, a girl gets my attention and directs me to the one next to her and her friend. Zoe and Cal proceed to ask me what I'm up to. They are friendly and kind and I immediatley feel like something amazing is about to happen. They tell me to come with them. I can stay at a friend's house. We catch a cab. The friend is not as welcoming as we'd hoped. Cal stays behind, and Zoe calls another friend. This friend is more welcoming. Another cab ride, some running and hiding, and a few blocks of walking in the freezing cold and we're finally there. It's about 4 AM at this point, I'm totally delerious from lack of sleep and walking several miles with all my belongings strapped to my back. I'm greeted by the big, friendly grin of Eddie, in a huge house with graffiti and young unprofessionals passed out on couches generously sprinkled throughout. Eddie puts me up in his room and I sleep like a baby. In the morning, Zoe is gone. Eddie sets me up with a shower and a washing machine for all my filthy laundry. It's the first time I've washed my clothes in over a week. I soon learn that many of the people I saw on arrival live in the house. About 10 in all. We clean up the back yard. James takes me to the markets in Chinatown, where all the fruit and veg is half price. We get supplies for Abe's birthday BBQ on Sunday.

At the BBQ, I stand around awkwardly until I realize that no one is manning the bar. I take charge and soon I'm mixing "Abe Specials" for the B-day boy and whoever is on the VIP list. At some point I pass out on the couch with a beer in my hand. In the morning I make a big pancake breakfast. No one knows what to do with the potatoes o'brien. I scavage around for sign supplies and find a big peice of cardboard, some tape and a marker. Either James or Eddie has mention Coffs Harbour as a good destination. I scrawl it on my sign in huge letters, thank everyone for the hospitality, and hit the road once more.

And Then and Then and Then...

Got lost walking to Maroubra. Ended up at Clovelly Beach. Absolutely gorgeous view.

I paid for the detour, as I didn't make it to Maroubra Junction in time to use a library computer for directions to my couch for the night. Very low on cash at this point so, I bought some cheap avocados and lebanese bread at the grocery store. Avocados were rock hard, but I managed to peel one of them tiny bits at a time with my teeth. Supplemented with a half-eaten burger left on a picnic table in the park. Walked down to Maroubra Beach and found a playground structure shaped like a boat. Hunkered down in the hull for a long, cold night.

In the morning I went back to the library and did some sudoku and took photos of birds while I waited for it open. Got myself a library card. Made contact with Benny, of the shop of a thousand couchsurfers. Wandered about Maroubra some more. Showed up at Benny's around 4:30. Benny gives me a big hug and a tour of the place, which is located in a run down strip mall. Looks like a vacant shop from the outside. Inside it looks like a cross between a used sporting goods store, the fight club house, and an orphanage/hostel/commercial kitchen/auto garage. There are currently 4 other couchsurfers in residence, 3 French guys and an American girl, all traveling together. I take a shower and do some dishes, which were threatening to spill out of the sink when I got there.

Over the next 3 days, I make myself useful by cooking a few meals, trying to keep up with the dishes, and photographing hand-painted wood souvenirs Benny wants to sell on ebay. Another Frenchie named Maele shows up and spends most of the time cleaning up her van and printing up flyers to sell it. Xin, from Germany, rounds out the group and we make dinner with Max and Maele. We watch Pet Detective 2 and drink a bottle of Penfolds.

I leave on Friday, July 8th. Once again, I have no idea where I'm going next. My only goal is North, away from the clutches of the big city. I come to a crossroads and decide to a roll a die. 1 or 2, I walk to a Hungry Jacks (the Aussie version Burger King) a half a block away, drink coffee and hope to run into someone who will give me a ride out of Sydney. 3 or 4, I head towards the suburb of Newtown, where I hung out at a pub the previous night, and attempt to find lodging with strangers at same pub. 5 or 6 and I hoof it straight downtown and try to hitch hike till someone picks me up. I roll a 5. It's go time.

H.M.U. Part Two

Manuele had gone out for croissants in the morning and offered me a few to munch on while he told about another couch surf event going on that evening. Organic dinner at Elanor's house over by Queens Park. I spent a little time checking out potential couches to surf before we left. Still no luck. I couldn't stay at Manuele's another night, since a new renter was moving into the spare room the next day. I hopped on the bus to Queens Park and crossed my fingers.

Dinner was great. Met lots of lovely people, most of them travelers or transplants. France, England, Austria, and Spain were all represented. The eggplant was delicious. An elaborately staged photography session happened. Near the end of the night, someone asked where I was staying and I shrugged. Probably should have spoken up sooner, eh? In the end, I slept on Elanor's futon and had a breakfast of Vegemite on toast and "Born in to Brothels" the next morning.

More internetting with only a potential couch to show for it. The Spanish physics guy (He's seen the LHC! Up close and in person!), Gael, had told me about this sort of shop/house in Maroubra where he had stayed for a few days with 7 other couchsurfers. I was able to track down the place and email the guy who owned it, but it started getting late and I hadn't heard back from him with an address. Since I had given my last $8 to Elanor, the suggested donation for the dinner, I had no bus money. I started walking the 3 1/2 miles to Maroubra with no confirmed lodging and less than 2 hours of daylight left.

Things were about to get interesting, one way or another.

Heaps Massive Update

I've been going about this all wrong. I've been trying to compose these structured, all-encompassing daily updates in my head or on paper and I never end up getting them to the computer. I should really just spend the time typing something in this box every day and so what if it isn't Walt friggin Whitman.

So I met up with Adam at the train station. He's a mellow 30-something teacher/student by day and a rock n' roll rugby head the rest. He took me out to brekky, showed me around all the cool neighborhoods, fed me Vegemite, and introduced me to Australian cinema, among other things. I was so disoriented and awkward the whole time, I think I weirded him out a little. Part of it had to do with the shock of realizing how very expensive it is to do anything in Sydney and part of it was the anxiety of not knowing where my next couch was coming from. He was a good sport right to the end and I'm very grateful to have had such a gracious host for my first couchsurf.

When my time to leave came, and I still hadn't found a place to go next, I put all my eggs in one basket and hoped for the best. There's a big couchsurfing.org sponsored meetup in Sydney once a month with about 40 or 50 people who usually attend, both travelers and potential hosts. It just happened to fall on July 1st this month, which was the first night I was without accomidation. I met a very nice Brazilian lady within a half hour. She enthusiastically agreed to host both me and a Spanish physics wizard named Gael. Gael and I continued to chat, drink beer and snag free dinner from a huge plate of complimentary fries, when we noticed that our host had left without us. It was past midnight and we had both just become homeless. We looked out the window grimly and noticed a steady drizzle, which promted us both into emergency mode. We joined a group of 4 or 5 folks and gave them the puppy dog eyes. By the end of the night, we were both going home with an Italian guy named Manuele who lived with a family with four small children in suburb of Randwick.

It was so late, he wasn't able to get approval on a multi-stranger sleepover. So we all tip-toed inside with the idea that he would wake up first and do a bit of 'splaining and then and only then would I make an appearance. Gael left super early for some appointment, so it was just me doing this little jack-in-the-box routine. I waited and waited, thinking Manuele would knock on my door at some point and tell me the coast was clear. I was so afraid someone was going to hear me or worse, open the door and see me, before Manuele waa able to warn them, that I just remained quiet and stationary as possible all day long. I had no watch or clock and I was so jet-lagged, I couldn't really feel what time it was at all. When the sun started making long shadows on the wall, I finally got the nerve to pop my head out. There was a sign on the floor in front of the door. "Jered- Knock on my door when you get up."

Day One: Crash Landing

I made it. I'm here. Australia is my address for the next 3 months, Steve Erwin willing.

The plane ride was brutal, of course. I've flown half as far before and wanted to chop my lower limbs off and eat them raw. It would've been better than what they served for breakfast and solved my leg room issue at the same time.

I land in Sydney around 6 in the morning on Wednesday. Total confusion. I feel gross and nervous and excited at the same time. Going through customs is almost more than I can handle. I decide to walk downtown. It's 4 or 5 miles, but I've got plenty of time till I have to meet my couch surfing host, Adam, and I'd like to get a feel for the local geography. The taxi attendant laughs when I ask him directions on foot. The path leading away from SYD turns out to be pedestrian paradise and I have no trouble finding the way. I get my first taste of backwards traffic; everybody on the wrong side of the car and street. My brain is functioning like fart vomit; I can't imagine what it would've been like to get a rental car and drive myself to the city. Guaranteed smash.

On my trek downtown, I make the following observations: I packed too much. Shoulders are not happy. This traffic is dangerous even if I'm not driving. I keep looking the wrong direction when I step out into the crosswalk. Where are all the homeless people? Perfectly good park benches and underpasses are empty of inhabitants. The streets don't make a lick of sense. I'm used to grid and this is triple helix in the 4th dimension. I'm 8000 miles from home. Everyone and everything I know. 8000 miles across the sea.