I can't find a toilet bowl that swirls!

     I've been in Australia for over a month now. My flip-flops have given me callused lines between my toes and a cool, beachy flip-flop tan line. I'm just getting used to looking the correct way when crossing the street. And my favorite pair of zip-off pants have decided that they would be happier as cut-off shorts.

     After a long full flight that used every inch of runway getting off the ground in LA (an hour late), I was grateful to see the faces of my two American friends Renee and Alyssa (who I met in Riomaggiore, Italy) waiting for me at the airport in Brisbane. In the midst of their own 6-month trip, they were gracious enough to tread water for a few days in Brisbane waiting for me so that I wouldn't have to worry too much about making my own decisions while under the influence of trans-hemisphere jetlag. And after being in the bubble of the working-man lifestyle for two years, I knew I would need a gentle easing-in to the world of the traveller before I was ready to swim on my own again. I mentioned it was a gracious gesture, but that's not saying enough. They actually changed their plans and threw off their own itinerary to meet me at the airport. And they did it all for a bag of peanut butter M&M's, and a package of AAA batteries. And for that, I am grateful.

     But before I could get to my friends, I had to get past immigration. And, since this is me we're talking about, it wasn't smooth. I had apparently left my middle name off of my online visa application, and suddenly my passport was walking away from me in the hands of a uniformed officer as I was told to go find my bags and follow him. By the time I found my luggage (which had come down to the wrong turnstile) and tracked down the officer who had taken my passport, I was mentally prepared to spend the day in a holding cell being grilled with all sorts of questions about my travel history and desire to work overseas. Instead, he handed my passport back to me with a smile and turned away to find something more important to do. The whole business had been handled before I had even found my bags.

     Yet, there was another hurdle between me and Down-Under-Freedom. Customs and Agriculture. A man actually said "G'Day" to me as he picked up my bag and fed it into the x-ray machine. That gave me a little smile...which soon vanished.

"Got any food?" he asked

"No" I said.

"No sweets? Lollies? Candies?"

"No. No. No."

"What's this then?" he asked, pointing at the x-ray monitor that only he could see.

"I don't know", I said, looking at him because I couldn't see what he was pointing at.

"You don't know?" His trust in me was fading as he pulled my bag through and pointed to the bottom of the main compartment. "Right here, in the center. What's this?"

"Oh! The M&M's! Yeah, they're M&M's." Damn those girls and their M&M's.

"Alright, go ahead. If you couldn't tell me what they were, I'd have to search your luggage." And so I was through.

     Since Renee and Alyssa had been in Brisbane for nearly a week, they were ready to move on. So we booked ourselves onto the Oz Experience bus heading north the very next day. The "Oz Bus," as it's called, is one of the more popular methods of travel for backpackers doing the circuit in Australia. It's a full-sized Coach bus driven by a young, smart-mouthed tourguide that allows you to hop off the bus at any point along the way and stay for as long as you like before hopping back on again. And since everyone on it is a backpacker, it's a great way to meet people with similar interests.

     One of our first stops the first day was at the Australian Zoo. Home of Steve Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter" (Crikey! G'Day and welcome to Australia, Mate!). Unfortunately, Steve wasn't there that day, but I did make use of the opportunity to feed and pet the Kangaroos (one who had a baby, or "Joey" in her pouch), and Koalas (who spend all day sitting in the sun eating Eucalyptus leaves, which makes them drunk, or stoned, or something). Not bad for my second day in the country.

     Our first overnight stop was in the beachtown of Mooloolaba. And I only take the time to mention that because it's called Mooloolaba. Say it with me...Moo-loo-la-ba.

     The next morning, we were up early and passing through towns with more fun to say names. Maroochydore, Noosa, and Gympie (pronounced GIMpee, with a hard G sound). And all the while, I thought to myself that the landscape, with it's miles and miles of Eucalyptus trees gave me the feeling of driving around and around the LA zoo. At least the part I drove through that day in Southern Queensland.

     By the end of that second day on the bus, it bacame clear that the girls were moving at a pace that was much too fast for me. Ironically, the reason they were moving so fast to begin with was because they sat in Brisbane waiting for me to arrive due to a...misinterpretation of some misguided email sarcasm. In other words, it was all my fault. And they had to race up the coast to meet another friend.

     So, after spending a night in Hervey Bay, I said goodbye to their pretty, sleeping faces at 6:30 AM (and that turned out to be my next mistake, as I forgot that I was supposed to wake them up when I left) and found my way down to the hostel lounge for a briefing of my next adventure. But that's the next update...

     But until I get that next letter written, just imagine that I'm heading north along the eastern coast of Queensland trying to find a toilet bowl that actually makes that swirly motion when it is flushed so that I can see if it does in fact go down the other way. So far, they've all gone straight down the center in a great splashy mess of chaotic non-direction. But I will find one. And I will photograph it. And I will share it with you all!

     And along the way, I'm getting re-acquainted with the lifestyle of a backpacker. The good parts and the bad. But for each, there is the other. For every bed bug that bites me in the night, there is a new person to meet. For every quarter mile walked with a 23 kilo pack on my back, there is an air-conditioned dorm and a swimming pool to cool off in. For every day that finds me missing someone back home more and more, there is the knowledge that the feeling is directly proportional to how great it will be to wrap my arms around her when I come home again. For every meal I eat out of a can by myself to save a few bucks, there's an equally inexpensive group meal cooked with love and pride, and usually plenty of pasta, and enjoyed around a table with new friends. And for every time I feel lonely, there's a time when I can look around the table and realize, like a firefly to the back of the head, that I'm sitting in Australia with an English guy I met early on in this trip, a guy from New Zeland who I met three years ago in Finland, a guy and a girl from Holland who I met seperately in the past few weeks, and who only met each other a few days later, and myself, whom I've known for quite some time now, but who I am still trying to really get to know. And it's these times that I sit back and smile. Beacuse for me, that's as good a reason to travel as any.

"The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are."
--Samuel Johnson

Props to My Peeps, and Peace on the Mothership.
Chris

thedwanimal@hotmail.com