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.
SO I arrived back on Australian shores a few days ago after 281 days overseas. I’m still not home however, I’ve been kicking it in Melbourne with a mate of mine from school who’s living here at the moment (I get home Monday night for all you Adelaideans). It’s been pretty darn rad so far. I got to my mate’s place mid-morning after picking up the keys from his swanky high-rise office, and turned on the TV to find day one of the first test between the Aussies and Kiwis being broadcast. I don’t really froth on my cricket like I used to when I was a grom but it was still sick to put my feet up and watch it while trying to relax away my next-level jetlag. Then I went to get some groceries from the supermarket but only made it as far as the sushi shop where I bought four of those big fuck-off hand rolls, which I couldn’t seem to find anywhere else on my travels. We sat next to a chick at the store who was on her phone telling her friend about how another bird they both knew had been acting like a ‘fucking bitch ay’. Oh Australia! I wanted to jump up and kiss her right there. Continue reading
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
ONE more sleep ’til I head off for the bright lights of Buenos Aires. I’ve been a little slack this week and haven’t posted anything on here but as you’d expect I’ve been a bit flat out. Booking ferries to Uruguay and making sense of street names and suburbs to find my way to my Spanish tutor’s office have been among my myriad of annoying errands so I’ve had little time for anything else. So I thought I’d just post a friendly reminder that I’m still here, still blogging like it aint no thang, and to remind you that it will get much better I promise.
But it hasn’t been all lame organisational tasks and mental battles about whether to bring four pairs of jocks away with me or six. I’ve also managed to cram in quite a bit in my last couple weeks in A-Town. I made it to the Phoenix and Friendly Fires concerts, the opening night of the Garden of Unearthly Delights and a Sam Simmons show where he asked me on stage, sprayed soda water all over me, sang a song about how much I sucked, then called me a fuckwit in front of everyone. And of course there was the odd beer and a surf or two near beautiful Victor Harbor interspersed for good measure.
What I’m getting at is Adelaide is still a pretty rad place to live. There’s half-decent consistent surf not far away and world-class waves (a bit of a drive, I know) further west, we get decent bands playing on a regular basis and we don’t have the hectic-ness and congestion of say a Melbourne or Sydney. Plus, with all the shit going on right now in the city there’s no better time to be stuck here I reckon. One of my pet hates is hearing people that live here bag our fair city out and say they’d rather be living elsewhere. If you hate it so much, save up, buy a ticket somewhere and fuck off. Pretty simple.
But, if you’re still a bit off the fact you’re going to be in Adelaide for the foreseeable future or you’re simply interested in Latin America and general travel stories – keep checking back here, where you can live vicariously through me. Next blog post: reporting from Buenos Aires.