WELL that’s a wrap folks. FearInEnglish is no more, for the time being anyway. A travel blog kinda ceases to exist if you’re not traveling. To say the past nine and a half months have been epic is an understatement, and I’ve tried to channel some of this stoke through this little blog. If my posts have inspired you a tiny bit to drop everything and go on a trip somewhere or even if they’ve simply given you five minutes respite at your desk at work in between filing papers and sifting through interoffice memos, then I’m happy. I’ll keep it brief because I’m a little ball of excitement right now. I’m home on my bed (still the comfiest I’ve encountered in the whole world) my dog is playing with her ball in the other room and I’ve just written a giant list of all the shit I wanna get done this week (first up is getting a phone and number, as well as a car). The keys on my trusty travel laptop have all but given up (I’m having to copy and paste the letter p, zero, the right bracket key, and the apostrophe) so now seems as good a time as any to bow out of the blog game. But never fear my humble fans (all four of you) – I’m going to keep writing, I’m just not sure what yet (maybe a South Oz-themed bodyboarding blog?). If you subscribe to this site on the right of the page you’ll receive an email when or if I get around to doing something new. Until next time…
P.S. I’d like to thank Jetstar for leaving my bag in Melbourne and leaving me without my possessions today. I travel the world (much of it the third world) for a couple of years with no troubles, but the talented individuals at Jetstar can’t manage to get a bag on a plane to a destination an hour away. Good job fellas.
One of the seven photos I took in London. Bloody good day for it.
Aaah London. The old empire, home of grey skies, enticer of young hopefuls. With my time in London completed I thought I’d reflect on why the fuck so many young Australians pack up their lives back home to move there for years on end – trading blue skies and the world’s best beaches for rain and hectic crowds. I was going to tear strips off the place, giving you a breakdown of exactly why the city sucks balls, but now that I’m safely out of the city my icy heart has warmed with my arrival in the tropics (this post coming at ya from Changi Airport, Singapore), and I now I don’t reckon it’s that bad. I actually had a good time in London. The babe and I stayed with friends from back home and each day I managed to catch up with other mates who currently call the city home. I visited bookshops, tamed some beers, ate some good greaseball food and…well that’s about it. I gave the tourist hotspots a miss (apart from a stroll along the South Bank where I saw the London Eye, Big Ben and Parliament House) because to be honest with you I’ve more than done my share of that shit in the past nine months. If I was forced to stroll through another museum or art gallery I probably would’ve shot up the place. But after a week London started to wear me down to the max. The sun made an appearance once or twice but mostly the sky was a dull grey, which seemed to render everything else it touched a similar tone. Buildings, trees and even people looked washed out, as if they were straight out of a scene from Se7en or a Pink Floyd film clip. The tube and its stations seemed overcrowded death-traps where finding a seat or walking in a straight line without bumping into someone were near-impossible. It got me thinking – why do my countrymen flock here en masse and why do they end up staying so long? Continue reading
The old Berlin Wall and a pair of Reebok kicks.
I’M sitting in a kitchen in an apartment Berlin with nothing to write about. Well there’s a bunch to write about but I’m short on time – my girlfriend and another mate will be back with rations for dinner and some beers in the next 10 minutes so I gotta be quick. We’ve been here for a few days now and haven’t done a lot. We’ve had plenty of sleep because technically our bed is in an attic of sorts. You can’t stand up in the room and I’m hesitant to even call our mattress a single. But its super dark so you can’t tell what time it is, which results in wake-up times of about 11am on average (apologies if you’re reading this and are currently employed). We visited the East Side Gallery (a stretch of remains of the Berlin Wall that have been painted over), the memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe, a museum-y kinda place regarding the Nazis and their dirty deeds (which is appropriately situated on the former site of the Reich Security Main Office of the SS – the organisational centre of most of the Nazi regime’s heinous crimes and terror), and the Reichstag, among other touristy places. Other than that I’ve just been taming mega coffees to beat the cold, drinking longnecks here and there, and eating a bunch of sushi, which I’ve been lusting after for the past few months (Portugal, Spain, Morocco, South America etc. are lacking in the Japanese goodness). Continue reading
Want one? Your classic house with a white picket fence.
A LOT of people my age are buying their first houses or saving like mad to do so. I used to think about this a lot more before I started travelling. I was working pretty hard and living with the folks so I was watching my bank account swell considerably. I could easily have scrapped together more for a house deposit but instead I went and spent it all on a year of traveling. I’m currently mid-way through my second cycle of this – I’ll go home pretty close to being broke in December, thus squandering another hefty chunk of money I could’ve put towards a quality domicile. Coupled with the fact I’m probably going to be studying for my second degree and renting next year, I don’t really think too much about the whole saving for a house thing much these days. It’s just not feasible. But I’ve mellowed – learnt not to care. The scraps of money I am able to save if I stick out the study for another three years, I’ll still be putting towards an annual overseas trip = no housey for Jakey for a long time. Continue reading
HERE’S another video of some grom absolutely ripping on a skateboard. If you haven’t been reading the blog lately (let’s face it that’d be most of you), I recently put up a link of a video of another grom – 13-year-old Whistler local Braedon Wheeler – doing things on a skateboard I’ll never dream of doing. He also blows up on skis and the snowboard. And look at the blonde locks on this Curren kid (in the above video). With his mad skills and boyish charms in a few years he’s gonna be beating away hordes of young girls with a stick. Meanwhile I’m here being scared of 5ft waves and simply beating away at something else. Continue reading
- Me thinking ‘what the fuck do I do with my life, somebody please?’. Bariloche, Argentina. Pic: Dave Phillips.
Making decisions that affect the rest of your life is the worst kind of decision-making. Personally, I hate it. I mean, what happens if you change your mind within the next year? Where do you go from there? How is somebody supposed to know what they want to do for the rest of their life when they are only eighteen years old and ready to go to college? I know what you’re thinking: making those important decisions is part of being an adult, get used to it, kiddo!
But the truth is, I’ve found what I want to do with myself, at least for a while…
Not my words, but those of Nate in his latest post over at his blog my.travel.map. The opening paragraph echoes my sentiments and the theme of my blog exactly. I think I’m still light years away from knowing what I want to do with myself, but his post gives me hope that through this traveling caper I might happen across something that I REALLY WANT TO DO as a career. Something that is truly ME. If you’re too lazy to go and check out his post (shame on you), basically after a trip to Patagonia he realised he really wants to make a living as an outdoor adventure guide of sorts. He’s now saving to enrol in a course in which he’ll live in the mountains for 50 days and learn a bunch of stuff including rock-climbing and whitewater caneoing, in order to realise his dream (thus turning his back you could say, on a university degree and a potential military career). And I think that’s fucking cool. Continue reading
- Chamonix, the French Alps – the place the man currently calls home.
HERE’S part two of a little Q & A thing I did with my mate Sammy who’s been travelling and working overseas for the better part of the past three or four years. I know many people read people’s stories like his and often think to themselves ‘fuck, I wish I could do something like that’ but think that it’s out of their reach. He’s a good example of someone who has simply put his head down, worked hard, saved big and bought a ticket (often the hardest part). And he doesn’t stop there. It takes a bit of research, visas and hard work but working abroad and saving the pennies there to get to your next destination can be a viable option for long-term travel if you really want it. Continue reading