North America Trip Parts 10, 11 & 12: It's Got So Many People But It's Got No Soul

I awoke on Friday morning trying to piece my previous day together. It had been an interesting day and evening to say the least, I still had two more nights of Vegas craziness to look forward to. Em and I traded stories of our previous night, she had been to see a ventriloquist comedian, I got propositioned by a drug peddling hooker, so we had both had very Vegas experiences. Tonight was going to be the night I tried out my mediocre Texas Hold Em skills on the tables, Em was going to watch a girl who used to sleep with leathery old Hugh Heffner strip in a show called 'Holly Madison's Peepshow.' once again, we were both planning very different yet very quintessential Vegas experiences. One persons night turned out they way the had planned, the others didn't so much...
We started the day later than usual and headed to Madame Tussuads at The Venetion Hotel & Casino. It's fair to say that Madame Tussuads was my favourite Las Vegas experience, first of all it was not very busy, so we had plenty of time to wander the exhibits. The wax figures are almost creepy in their life likeness, all made to scale of the actual people they were portraying (some of the sculptures were so lifelike that a person who saw the picture of myself and Sarah Michelle Gellar asked who the pretty blond girl was and if she was my girlfriend. She was quite embarrassed when I explained that it was a wax model of Buffy the Vampire Slayer). Madame Tussuads is Designed for people to have fun, with plenty of interactive displays (such as shooting hoops with Shaquille O'neal, sinking a putt with Tiger Woods, hitting the dance floor with Beyoncé, joint the Rat Pack on stage and many more) and loads of room to allow people to take photos. My favourite sculptures? Sitting at the presidents desk in the Oval Office with President Obama was quite cool, Halle Berry, Daniel Craig and Criss Angel had very lifelike sculptures and the Spiderman one was quite cool as well. I completely geeked out for the Scarecrow from Batman Begins however.
From The Venetian we headed down to Stratusphere at the top of the north end of the strip. The north end is much older and less glamorous than the south end of the strip. In fact from Circus Circus down to Stratusphere is kind of ghetto. Upon my return back to Australia people who had been to Vegas were shocked that we walked up and down that particular part of the strip. But walk we did, stopping in souvenir shops playing Mexican hip hop with security guards sitting up on high chairs like a tennis umpire, keeping a very close eye on anyone who wandered into the shop. We made into Stratusphere unscathed and headed to the viewing area on the 108th floor. The vista view of the Las Vegas area was spectacular, showing just what a desolate, yet beautiful area the Mojave desert is, it looked like a roadrunner cartoon come to life and the contrast between the glitzy man made showiness of Las Vegas and the rugged untouched nature of the desert was striking. If I'm in Nevada again, I'm heading out of the city and exploring the countryside. For people who are more of a thrill seeker than I, you can bungee off the top of Stratusphere in addition to a couple of rides called Big Shot, X Treme and Insanity.
Friday night and while Em headed off to watch Holly Madison, I went to the MGM to watch the Minnesota Timberwolves visit LA to take on the Clippers on one of the movie sized screens that were in the sports area of the casino. Of course, as I wrote earlier, my original plan was to play a few hands of Hold Em at the Flamingo, but that was thwarted when they refused to accept my Australian drivers license as a valid form of ID and insisted that it was my passport or nothing. Was I disappointed that I didn't get to play? Sure, but I was more flattered that they asked me for ID as I've been well over the legal gambling age of 21 for years. That certainly boosted my self esteem a bit!
I wandered around the strip some more after the game, chatting to one of the rappers who was up for a chat every time his new Australian friend went past. And on this night, I went two for two in being offered cocaine again. I'm anti drug, but I will say this about the pushers, they asked and if you said no thank you, they politely said no problem and looked for their next mark, no hassling you to buy and if they heard you were straight edge they were actually pretty respectful about the whole thing. After that however, I decided I'd call it a night, my feet were killing me after all the walking around the strip and I was about Vegas'd out for the day. I headed to bed that night wondering what Saturday on the strip would be like.
Saturday in Vegas was unlike anything I'd seen the previous two nights, it was like the population doubled overnight. It was wall to wall bucks parties, hens nights, birthdays, you name it. I was once again a real novelty to the groups on the hens nights, I had a few approach me as part of their bucket list of items and it usually ended with me answer multiple questions about Australia and hearing about my cute accent. I ended up in a few photos and even had one bride to be sign her name on the heart that is tattooed on my right arm (And Staci, if you read this, I hope you had a great wedding day). I also chatted to a girl from Belgium who was holidaying in Las Vegas with her Dad, who was probably the only 25 year old there with one of her parents. The Australian accent is a magnet to Americans who hear it and aren't from parts of America that Australians often visit. Between my accent and tattoo's I had plenty of people want to chat with me. Oh and what's a night in Vegas without being offered cocaine? Yep, three nights, three offers. That's Las Vegas.
We were leaving Vegas the next morning, on our way to Los Angeles and I was thinking about my impression of the city. I had been really keen to experience Las Vegas, but after a day or two, I wanted to leave and head back to Cleveland or New York. Las Vegas is a place that is mostly show and little substance. It's like seeing a girl at three in the morning at a club, all made up, then waking up in the morning and seeing what they really look like. It's a pretty charmless, sleazy city, but a place you still have to see to believe.

North America Trip Parts 10, 11 & 12: And Out Come The Wolves.

"Gareth, I'll be severely disappointed if you go to America and don't spend more than two days in Vegas". These were the words of my friend and previous Vegas visitor Kasey when I was running over a draft itinerary of the planned sojourn through the USA. Kasey had fond memories of Vegas, she married her husband and one of my oldest friends Nifty while in Las Vegas for the International Tattoo Convention there a few years ago, she met celebrities she admired, partied on the strip and just generally had a ball. Most people do, it's Sin City, America's playground where anything goes and what happens there usually stays there. It's a place of bright lights, loud noises and even louder personalities, where it's nothing to be walking the strip early in the morning and finding people with giant margaritas in their hands, still kicking on from the night before. It's a brash in your face type of city. But was it my type of city?
We arrived in Las Vegas early Wednesday night following a flight from Cleveland that was overbooked. Entering the terminal slot machines and ads for machine gun firing ranges greeted us. Vegas is built on slots, they are everywhere. They are in the casinos in great numbers of course, but also throughout the airport, in service stations, supermarkets, you name it. I wouldnt have been surprised if there had've been one in the toilet (not sure I'd want to win that 'jackpot' though). It's a city built on gambling and for the purpose of gambling. As a local girl named Arielle (one of the few naturally pretty girls I met in Vegas) said to me as she noted my astonishment "We survive off them, if we don't have the slots, we don't have jobs." Arielle's job was selling custom poker chips inside the Planet Hollywood hotel/casino and it was a rarity to actually meet a Vegas local. She gave me some clarity on the proliferation of the machines because let's face it, without them, Las Vegas would just be a big city placed randomly in the middle of the desert.
Em and I checked into our hotel, the Flamingo hotel/casino, the casino partly built by gangster Bugsy Seigal and named the Flamingo after his nickname for his girlfriend ( he called her flamingo because of her long legs apparently). It's one of the oldest resorts on the strip, houses a wildlife habitat in the courtyard featuring actual flamingos and numerous shops and bars. Even on the gaudy Las Vegas strip, the Flamingo stands out for its outrageous gaudiness. It's decorated in a neon pink from top to bottom and apparently the exterior is meant to be a homage to Miami and South Beach. Think Miami Vice style 80's and you get a good idea of the Flamingo. Em and I were also shocked to find that smoking was freely allowed inside buildings in Las Vegas, unlike Australia and our other stops in the US & Canada. Em was still feeling the tail end of her illness, so she went straight to bed while I strolled the casino and found a little bar where I could watch the Dall

as Mavericks take on the LA Clippers.
Neither Em nor myself rose that early the next day, it's Vegas you can get up and go to bed when ever you want and everything will still be running the exact same way. We decided to head out and explore the strip, starting of course at the Flamingo and heading south. We looked through most of the hotel/casinos on the way, Paris, the MGM Grand, Planet Hollywood, Excalibur, New York New York etc. and had our first taste of the infamous Vegas flickers. The flickers are a group who normally assemble on the corner of most blocks on the strip and try and give passers by promo cards for strip joints or prostitutes. They gain your attention by flicking the cards in their fingers to make a clicking sound and put their hands in as close to your personal space as they can. And they didn't care that I was walking around with Em, who for all they knew may have been my partner, they just were trying to make a living and most guys and a few girls had these touts harassing them on every street corner. It remained a constant annoyance but it was something you do knd of get used to.
We continued our journey back up the north end of the strip, stopping at Ceasers Palace and The Venetion. Em also booked in some shows to see at various Casinos, including a ventriloquist named Terru Fator (Em assured me he was amazing and i missed a great show) the Cirque De Solei Beatles tribute Show 'Love' and Holly Madison's Peep Show (I'd never heard of Holly Madison btw, I told Kim that Em was seeing 'some stripper named Holly Madison or something' Kim immediately replied with 'Oh I love her!' When I quizzed some more on who she was I found out she was famous for being engaged to Hugh Heffner or something. Really? That's all it takes to be famous? I really need to write about the cult of celebrity and how stupid it all is...). I preferred to just wander the strip, stop in at sports bars and catch whatever NBA or NHL game was screening.
It was on this first night that I encountered my first real taste of the seediness that underpins Las Vegas. I was heading back to the hotel room that night when I was stopped by a beautiful Asian girl with a pretty cute Midwestern US accent. She was quite chatty and as I went to leave she followed me to the elevator. It was then she told me what she did for a living, yep, I got hit on by a hooker (cue Steel Panther singing 'Asian Hooker'). I explained that sorry, I don't do that kind of stuff and anyway my friend was upstairs asleep, she shrugged and said 'there's always the bathroom' followed by 'we can just hang out if you'd feel better, I have party starters' Once again my small town neivity shone through, 'what's a party starter?' I asked. She looked at me like she wasn't sure if I was serious. 'You know, some coke...' Even nieve little old me knew that she wasn't talking soft drink. 'Look' I said, 'I apologise but I'm not really comfortable with this whole situation and I'm not interested thanks.' It was an awkward situation to say the least, because as those who know me know I am very anti drug and also not the type of person who'd do anything with a prostitute. She looked disappointed and probably wondered how she honed in on the one guy in Vegas NOT looking for a drug fueled night with a prostitute, but im sure if she had've looked in my wallet she would really have gotten depressed. I wonder what three Canadian dollars would've gotten me?
After I safely made it back to the hotel room (on my own I might add) I thought more about this girl. She could've done anything with her life, she was attractive sand well spoken, why did she become a person who trades sex for cash? What were here life's goals, hopes and dreams? What did she think she'd become when she was a child and if she could go back and meet her schoolyard self, what would she say? I didn't run into her again, but finding out why her life led her to this would've been an interesting story. I drifted off to sleep thinking about just how crazy my first full Las Vegas day had been and wondering what madness Friday and Saturday nights would offer...



TO BE CONTINUED...

But first, a rant...

Dear Google Adsense, why have you disabled my Adsense account because of 'invalid clicks' when THERE WEREN'T EVEN ANY ADS IN PLACE YET TO CLICK ON?!?!?!?!?!?! What a joke. Lift your game.

Not Drowning, Waving.

Summer. Most Australians love it. It means long balmy evenings, late evening BBQ's and jovially boisterous drinks with family and friends, the sound of leather and willow colliding on cricket fields around the country. It's Christmas and New Years, holidays and relaxing, heading to the coast, lakes or local swimming pools to cool down after 30°-40°c days. It's part of what most Australians would say is one of the defining pieces of our national psyche. We love the water, we Aussies. We laud our Olympic swimming stars, we preach to kids the importance of water safety from a young age and start learning to swim from an even younger age. The water, be it the beach or the local swimming pool is one of our most treasured cultural icons for a relatively young country that is still finding it's culture and true identity. Yet this summer in my hometown of Ararat, something has been missing. Our outdoor swimming pool has been shut for the summer and is in danger of being lost for good.
Friday the 3rd of February was a typical late January/early February evening in Ararat, the weather had been in the mid to high 20°c range during the day, meaning that the evening was ripe to be enjoyed. There was the usual plethora of walkers, families enjoying picnic dinners at Alexandra Gardens by the lake, kids on their bikes making the most of the extended daylight hours. A few of the Ararat Eagles footballers were having a casual preseason kick around on Alexandra oval, where they were soon to be joined by around 1500 other people, located around the grand old Olver stand. These 1500, myself included, weren't there to watch the lads get into their preseason football routine however. We were there for one reason: to save our outdoor pool, to show a council who had let this Olympic sized swimming facility fall into decay that yes, we cared. To show community pride and spirit, a welcome sight in a town that is sometimes bogged down in the negativity of some of the residents.
As I walked around the oval with my friends Jon & Hanna, I ran into one of my oldest friends, Phil, and his young son Blade. We had the usual obligatory chit chat, how's work, were your holidays good, that sort of thing. I then said to Phil how great it was that he came down to support the cause. What he said next struck a cord in my mind. "How could I not? That pool was a part of our childhood, it helped make us who we are. I don't want my kids to miss out on some of the great experiences I had there."
I thought about Phil's words as we sat in the grandstand listening to the rally organizer speak. I had never thought like that before, the pool had always just been there and to be honest I hadn't swam there for years. My initial outrage was more based on the fact that the pool was a true community achievement, built in the 1950's by a big group of local volunteers (including my grandparents). It truly was a structure for the people by the people and upon completion was handed over and entrusted to the Ararat City Council, under the assurance that they would maintain the pool in good condition. It was something that the community should've been truly proud of. Did we, the citizens of Ararat, take it for granted? Perhaps. But we never thought we'd see a summer where the pool would be empty of water and closed indefinitely. I'm sure the original builders would never have imagined that would've happened either. Now however my mind was wandering not to my grandparents and the other people who got the pool built, but what it meant to me and my childhood/adolescence.
The more I thought about Phil's words, the more the memories came flooding back to me. My grandmother taking me to the pool when I was only very young, keeping a watchful eye on me as I splashed around the shallow end, not letting me back in the pool for half an hour after I'd eaten a icy pole on my break from the water. My cousins from Melbourne and I walking down on a hot summers day, change jingling in our pockets ready to cool down on a typically scorching January afternoon. It was swimming lessons every term one and term four right through school until about year ten. I was not/am not/will never be a strong swimmer, but being left out of the 'advanced' swimming group always stung me. As I grew older, it was heading to the pool with my friends during those awkward years between the ages of 12-14. We would swim sure, or perhaps try and get into the usually long line for the diving board, but more often than not it was our premium spot to sit under the trees on the grassy hills and chat about music, movies, school, tv and of course girls. It was where we would oh so awkwardly approach the girl we liked to ask out, or not go through with it because the public rejection in front of our peers and more importantly in front of the object of our affections and her friends would be like a form of social suicide. That didn't stop us from checking out the girls walking past though, stirring our adolescent hormones, especially when a woman who'd probably now be called a MILF would swim laps in her white bikini,it was like a late Christmas gift to a group of 15 year old boys! It was the site of my favorite high school day, our swimming sports in year 12. I didn't even enter the water,it was the carnival type atmosphere, we being in our final school year were allowed to have our stereos blasting out our music (a curious mix of punk, ska, metal, grunge, hip hop and electro. You could go from Propaghandi to The Prodigy to Reel Big Fish to Xzhibit in four songs) and to cook ourselves up a BBQ and dress as crazily as we liked. It summed up what the pool meant. It wasn't just a place to learn to swim or splash around on a hot summers day. It was our village green. It was our meeting place, where we could socialise out of our school uniforms and free from the constraints of bells, classes and teachers. It was part of what molded us into the people we became, good or bad. Many an important decision was made there over a can of coke and a bag of BBQ chips.
It was another summertime status quo that when daylight savings came, you could hear the excited chatter of the next batch of kids experiencing what we did, listening to the music blasting through the crackly old sound system that was in place, only interrupted by an occasional foreboding voice booming over the PA saying "you in the black shorts, out of the pool!" or something similar. But the pool is silent. Closed due not just the councils neglect, but also due to us taking it for granted. But we need the outdoor pool. We need it so that our kids can swim, flirt, socialise and grow just as we did. We need it so that the efforts of all those good men and woman of a bygone era's work for future generations wasn't in vain. We need it because all good communities need a place to socialise, excercise and watch the world go by. If we lose the pool, we'll be losing part of ourselves, part of the town spirit, part of the town history.
The pool must stay.

North America Trip, Parts 8 & 9: Because My Heart Is In Ohio.

"Where you from? Australia! What are you doing in Cleveland?!?!" That was the phrase I heard the most during my time in the largest city in the state of Ohio. Cleveland has had it rough lately. Once a booming and prosperous industrial city Cleveland fell on hard times when the American manufacturing sector started to crumble. Cleveland is the butt of alot of jokes (Chicago Bulls big man Joakim Noah at a press conference during a Bulls/Cavaliers playoff series once famously remarked: "Cleveland sucks. When have you ever heard anyone say I'm going on a vacation to Cleveland?"), it's known as the most tortured sports city in America and even people back in Australia were somewhat bemused by my decision to visit Cleveland. As my Cleveland born and bred friend Kim put it "Cleveland people are surprised when somebody from Florida comes here, let alone Australia". Well let me state this here for the world to see:

I loved Cleveland.

That's right, I said it! And I say it without irony or sarcasm, I loved Cleveland. Cleveland to me is what America is all about. Friendly, polite, helpful people. The type of America you hear about but don't necessarily see in the bigger cities or the tourist hot spots. The people of Cleveland were extremely warm and welcoming, proud to tell visitors to the area about the city and give advice on places to see and things to do and always up for a chat. The city itself isn't all broken down industrial sites, indeed the downtown area is undergoing somewhat of a renaissance and when the Cavs are playing at the Quicken Loans Arena or the Cleveland Indians are at home at the next door Progressive Field (Still called Jacobs Field by the locals), downtown is a thriving hub of activity. The Rock n Roll Hall Of Fame is located in Cleveland, while the NFL Hall Of Fame is found in nearby Canton. During football season the cities beloved Cleveland Browns play at the Browns Stadium which sits on Lake Erie. If sports aren't your thing, check out the West Side Market, University Circle, the Old Arcade or the USS Cod Memorial.
My time in Cleveland however was for the most part spent around the southern suburbs. One of the main reasons for my visit to Cleveland was to see my long distance friend Kimberly Price. Kim had previously informed me that due to car issues she couldn't pick us up from the airport, but to get a good nights sleep and be ready for tomorrow. I took her advice and kicked back to watch the LA Lakers host the NBA champion Dallas Mavericks on tv. It wasn't a pretty game to watch and I was hopeful that reason number two for visiting Cleveland, my first live NBA game, would be a better spectacle.
I was very excited to finally see Kim in the flesh. We'd spoken plenty over facebook and had skype'd a few times, but seeing someone in person is always a little different. Kim seemed equally as excited as I was to finally have a face to face and when the diminutive redhead with the piercing green eyes finally appeared at the door I was overjoyed. Kim seemed a little amused and bemused at some of our Australian idiosyncrasies, things that were the everyday to her were new and exciting to us. We stopped to see one of Kim's friends and grab a burger at Wendy's. I think we stopped production there all together. The staff appeared amazed and excited that some Australians were in the store and were delighted when they heard our accents. They were also shocked to hear that Wendy's in Australia is an ice cream chain, as opposed to a burger joint.
Our next stop was a place that is an absolute must for any sweet tooth heading to the States, a gigantic warehouse called B.A. Sweeties which featured the largest collection of lollies/sweets/candy in the USA. I struck gold when I came across the Dr. Pepper flavoured jelly beans. The staff at Sweeties were equally as excited/curious about the Australians in their store, so we answered their questions and gave them info on our home country. For the record, Cleveland is where I had the strangest question I received during the whole trip "Do you guys have movies in Australia?" I replied that yes in fact we do and we sometimes even get them before they screen in the US. The people in Ohio were all generally interested in Australia and all said that they wanted to come for a holiday (when they could afford it). That night, Em and I headed downtown to catch the NBA live at the Q (for my recap of the game, click here). I had played basketball since I was a kid and the chance to see a live NBA game was something I had dreamed of since I began following basketball at the age of six.
Day two was a shorter day, we had a plane to catch to Las Vegas that evening, but I was glad to spend more time with Kim, chilling at Caribou Coffee, eating a massive Chipotle burrito and just generally have a nice chill day ahead of the madness we thought may be awaiting us in Nevada. It was also the day that some beautiful snow blanketed the city. We must have looked crazy to the locals, standing around in the snow with big grins on our faces, but this was a real novelty for us. It was one of the biggest things we wanted to experience while in North America and it happened in Cleveland.
I was sad to say goodbye to Kim later that day and also kind of sad to be leaving Ohio.

North America Trip Parts Cinq, Six et Sept: What's Cooler Than Being Cool? Ice Cold.

Em and I had an early start to our final morning in New York, no time to savor one last look around the city, we had a train to catch and that meant being at Penn Station by no later than 7.45am. We were facing an eleven hour train trip through upstate New York over the Canadian border into the francophone province of Quebec and it's largest city, Montreal. So it was goodbye hot dogs, the stars and stripes and the Rangers and bonjour to poutine, le fleur de le (and the maple leaf) and le Canadiens.
The trip through upstate New York was gentle and rollicking, if not somewhat boisterous due to the bucks party group who were on their way to Montreal for a weekend of debauchery and hockey. The scenery was beautiful as we went throu places such as Ploughskeepie and the capital of New York State Albany Snaking alongside the Hudson river. It was around Albany where we got our first glimpse of what was to be something we would see a lot of, but never really become accustomed to, in Montreal: snow. The further north we went, the heavier the snow got until it was at full on snow storm level by the time we got to the Canadian border. Around the lakes of upstate New York there were groups of people ice fishing on the frozen surfaces, trees with limbs bowing due to the heaviness of the snow on their limbs and rustic little houses that looked like something out of Fargo.
The crossing into Canada was interesting to say the least. Em and I had no issues, we are after all nice Australians with the cool accents, however others on our carriage weren't so lucky. All in around half a dozen people were taken off the train at the border and driven back to the United States to be put on a bus home. This held up the train for what seemed like an eternity and everyone left on board was very happy to finally get moving again. Upon arrival in Montreal there was another delay as the doors of the train had to be de-iced.
Arriving in Quebec was an eye opening experience, it's part of Canada yes, but could easily be a stand alone country. Bienvenue Montreal is the first greeting you get, which is a uniquely French Canadian way of saying welcome to Montreal. The first person who asked where we were from immediately corrected my English pronunciation of 'Australia' to the French pronunciation of 'Australie'. Most people speak French first whoever the majority are also fluent in English. Hearing their voice change from the oh so European sound of their regular speech to the regular Canadian accent when they switch to English was also a bit of a shock. Everything is signed in French first, usually (but not always) with English available as well.
The next morning I headed out towards Viuex Montreal (Old Montreal) while Em stayed back at the hotel. She had bravely battled illness throughout our time in New York, but the sub freezing conditions in Montreal finally got the better of her. So while I was sipping coffee at the Old Montreal Port, Em was visiting the doctors. I went to Old Montreal on foot and the bitterness of the cold hit me like a sharp icy punch to the gut as soon as I walked out the hotel door. The high temperature for Montreal that day was to be a balmy -17°c. Still, braving the cold was well worth it. The Americans call Montreal 'Paris without the jet lag' and wandering the streets it's apparent why. Le rue's of Montreal are spectacular in their beauty, especially when they have a layer of snow on their roves and window sills, it was like walking through a city from a Dickens novel, especially in Old Montreal with it's narrow cobblestone streets . After a few stops at local squares and of course at Basillique de Notre Dame to take in the breathtaking beauty, it was down to the port area for a café laite (served in a bowl!) and a chat to the staff. Apparently we had arrived in Montreal during their first real snow storm of the season, hence the transformation into the winter wonderland city it appeared. Montreals cafe scene was very reminiscent of the Melbourne cafe scene, very casual yet with a classy, serious take on the coffee they serve. Also while in Old Montreal I was encouraged to try the Quebec local dish poutine, which is chips, gravy and cheese curds. Poutine verdict? C'est magnifique!
We had a quiet evening watching the NFL playoffs which sadly door Em saw the Denver Broncos get a lesson in playoff football by the New England Patriots. After a good nights sleep (much needed for both of us) and a breakfast of croissants, we headed to the Olympic precinct, where the 1976 summer games were held. Le Stade Olympique used to be home to Major League Baseballs Montreal Expos before their shift to Washington DC. We however were there to go to the Biodome, the former Olympic velodrome turned into a sort of indoor zoo. It featured four different environments, from a south American rainforest featuring sloths, macaws and alligators through to a Canadian maple forest with otters, beavers and a lynx, to costal and arctic environments with puffins, penguins and sturgeon. We headed back to Old Montreal for lunch and more sightseeing before calling it a day and heading to the hotel.
I am writing this now in the departure lounge of the Montreal airport awaiting our flight to Cleveland. I have found Montreal an interesting place and seeing massive amounts of snow around the streets was an experience I'll never forget. I even think my French improved a little! So au revoiur Montreal, and Canada, with your loonies and toonies, Tim Hortons and hockey obsession. This has been a place I shall never forget.

North America Trip Parts 3&4: Uptown, Downtown, Turn The Beat Around Town.

Frank Sinatra once famously sang about wanting to wake up in the city that never sleeps. Well Frank, guess what? That's exactly what I did on the 11th of January. I imagine you're wondering what we did on our first night in the big apple, where there is something happening 24/7. Let me put your curious minds at ease, after our first day in NYC, both Em and I were asleep by 8 o'clock, completely drained from the long haul from Melbourne to New York via China and LA. Not so much jet lagged, more just overwhelmed by the tyranny of distance. But this was Wednesday, a new day with new things to see and do. I awoke around 10:00 am to find Em already up, showered, dressed and ready to go. Today would be another day pounding the pavement of Manhatten, our first stop, Penn Station and Madison Square Garden to pick up our train tickets for our next stop in Montreal. Just seeing the outside of the Garden was a huge thrill for me, being a lifelong NBA fan as well as a hockey and WWE fan I knew the history of MSG quite well. I was even more excited about the following nights hockey game that we were attending.
Two of Em's bucket list items whilst we were in NY were to go to Greys Papaya so I could get a hot dog there (Em being vegetarian couldn't eat one herself) and a trip and a drink at Slattery's Pub. We wandered the back blocks of Manhatten searching for where Greys Papaya should be but it was to no avail. We later discovered that the original store closed down and they had moved to a second location. To make up for it, we went for another New York staple, a slice of pizza. There are a slew of pizza joints around New York, all teeming with customers and at $1-$1.50 per slice why not? The slices were about the sizable of one of our large pizzas in Australia and I happily smashed into my two slices of pepperoni chased with a Dr. Pepper all for only $4. We had better luck locating Slatterys Pub however, a little Irish pub on East 36th street. It was fairly quiet on this day, we both had a drink (Coke for me and yes US Coke and Pepsi do taste differently to what we have in Australia) and a chat to the Irish lady from Limerick behind the bar and flicked through the New York Post which was NFL heavy in it's coverage of sports, with the Giants being in the playoffs. We took in some more of Central Park, 6th Avenue and the UN building on our way back to our hotel. We went back early to get ready to go to a show at The Comedy Strip comedy club that night. The Comedy Strip is very well known in NY, it was where the opening credits of Seinfeld were filmed and many big name comedians had perfomed there including Jerry Seinfeld himself, Eddie Murphy, Adam Sandler, Ray Romano, Dave Chapelle, Paul Reiser and Chris Rock. Chris Rock apparently used to bus the tables for free when he was starting out there in exchange for more stage time to help him get noticed. The entrance is covered in signed pictures of many of the people who have performed there, most of them looking extremely young! For everyone in Australia we had been told that Carl Barron and Dave Hughes had also performed there as well. It was a very small crowd, but a full house for most of the night. We were sat right in front of the stage and were got to interact with the performers all night. All in all we saw around 20 comedians for the evening. The first half of the show was tremendous, the comedians went over well and the show moved at a cracking pace. After the halftime break however people slowly started filing out of the building, making it tough for the remaining performers to build momentum. By the end of the night, there were four of us left in the audience. I had a chat to one of the MC's, young comedian Jordan Rock, afterwards whilst watching some of the LA Clippers vs Miami NBA game. I asked him about performing in front of that few a number. He was ambivalent about it, "Hey man, it happens" he said with a shrug "It's a late night, people gotta go to work tomorrow, you don't take it personal." When I mentioned Flight Of The Conchords once performing for one person who left halfway through (yes this was featured on their tv show, but it was apparently a true story) and how they went on to have their own HBO series, Jordan nodded and said "I've performed in front of two, three people. You just go out and do your thing and if they like it, cool."
Thursday was our last day in New York and there was still a number of things to be checked off the to do list. We made our way that morning up to the 59th street subway station and caught the train downtown to the Whitehall ferry terminal and Battery Park. The weather was not great, extra cold coupled with that misty sort of rain that isn't really good for anything. We walked through Battery park towards the Statten Island ferry and were pleased to see squirrels scurrying between the trees. The squirrels are very conditioned to humans and would let you hand feed them. Very cool experience.
We boarded the ferry (which is free for anyone who maybe going to NY soon)and set off to view the statue of liberty. The misty rain made viewing from land difficult, but the ferry scooted past Alice Island and we got a great view of the grand lady. The statue wasn't as big as I expected, but it still draws your attention, it's one of the most famous landmarks in the world after all. Lady Liberty is portrayed all over New York, but the actual statue has a quiet dignity about it, contrasting some of the more boisterous New York attractions like Times Square or Broadway.
After a stroll up Wall Street and a bite to eat, I continued on alone. Em had been gamely battling illness since our arrival in New York and it had finally gotten the better of her. She headed back to the hotel and we arranged to meet at the NHL Store before the hockey that night, then I went to the 9/11 memorial site. Entrance is free but a donation is appreciated. Security around the site was extremely tight, similar to going through the airport and security staff and police were everywhere. The wound that America, in particular New York, suffered that horrible day in 2001 is still very much sore and will most likely never go away. Where the twin towers once stood now sits to pools with the names of the victims of the tragedy inscribed around the edge. It's both moving and humbling to read the names, hear the stories and see some of the twisted debris and battered FDNY helmets of those brave souls first on the scene. The memorial itself is classily unsderstated, a place for reflection with a community square feel. There's no flag waving or chest beating on the site, more a sense of wonder at how such a heinous act could be committed by one group of humans onto another. September eleven is a defining moment for my generation and being on the ground where it all happened was surreal. I'll never forget.
Our last night in New York was a hockey game between the NY Rangers and Ottawa (read about it on the sister blog to this one http://shotdownsports.blogspot.com) followed by a cab trip back to the hotel. Tomorrow we would be off to Montreal, Quebec, Canada, our New York adventure over. For now anyway. New York, you haven't seen the last of me...

North America Trip Days 1&2: Empire State Of Mind

32 hours. Four timezones. Four cities. Three continents. One day. That has been the beginning of this odyssey to the good old US of A (and Canada of course). It all started of course back in Australia, leaving Melbourne and flying for 9 or so hours to the southern Chinese city of Gaungzhou for a stop over before continuing another 14 hours to Los Angeles from which we waited for our connecting flight to the big apple itself New York City.
We arrived at New York's John F Kennedy airport at around 8 am local time, current temperature, 1° Celsius! Welcome to the northern winter! We were both incredibly tired but this is New York City, the city that never sleeps, and our time here is only short so we decided that after checking into our hotel on the upper east side of Manhattan and taking the opportunity to freshen up, we'd put feet to pavement and explore the city with our final destination being Times Square.
I'd wager that on foot it's nearly impossible to get lost in New York, the streets are numbered so it's very easy to navigate. We started off by strolling the upper east side, wandering Lexington Avenue, Madison Avenue and 5th Avenue, home of companies such as Tiffany & Co. It is also where the famous toy store F.A.O. Swartz can be found. What makes it so well known? It's where the floor piano from the movie Big with Tom Hanks can be found. If you were wondering yes we did have a go on it and yes it was as much fun as it looks! It's the kind of store where if you had the means you could easily drop a couple of k there and still want to go back and buy more. From there it was on to my versions of crazy toy stores, the NBA & NHL stores. If you have little kids and are into basketball then the NBA uniform onesy's are very cool, ditto the mini hockey jerseys. We got chatting to one of the staff at the NHL store, a guy named Otto who had been to Australia and spent time in Sydney and Melbourne. One of the things that has really struck me about NYC is how friendly and helpful the people are. Yes there's the hustle and bustle of a city this size, but the average New Yorker takes great pride in their city and is more than happy to offer some good tips and advice to a couple of Aussie tourists of cool little spots that maybe off the tourist map.
Times Square really has to be seen in person to be believed. It's a symphony of lights and sound, constant colorful video images assaulting your eyes and colorful characters around the heart of the square. Our first stop was of course the Hersheys store and the M&M's store. As soon as you open the door the delightful aroma of chocolate hits you and is intoxicating. The range of products at the m&m's store in particular was immense. Pretty much anything you want can be found there branded with the logo or characters of the company. If you're a people watcher, Times Square would be your nirvana. The constant swell of people throws up some of the most bizarre people you'll see. We saw people dressed as spiderman & Mario, taking photos with tourists for tips. Elmo wasn't there this day.
Tipping is something quite bizarre and foreign to us as Australians, as is the sales tax situation here. If an item's shelf price is $24.00, you should expect to actually pay around the $27 mark. As for tipping, fair to say that that confused the hell out of us! Thank god we don't do it back home!
We finished our day with a stroll past well known landmarks as the Rockefeller Centre, Radio City Music Hall and the NBC Rainbow Room as we headed back to our hotel. It had been a long and crazy day, but so enjoyable. Let's see what you have to give us tomorrow New York.

2011. My Year In Review.

As regular readers of this blog (both of you) already know, I haven't posted a new entry for months. There has been many factors as to why there has been so little activity, lack of internet/computer over a long period of time for starters, writers block in my NT series - I still have plenty to write about, but I want to keep it chronological and I am really stuck trying to get the next piece even started, work has kept me busy and sometimes to be honest I simply could not be bothered. I was sorely lacking in motivation to write. But as I was outside my house, bathed in beautiful summer sunshine I had one of those rare moments, an epiphany if you will. This year mores that other years has been a roller coaster for me, full of a few dizzying highs and some very deep lows. What better way to get some catharsis than to write about it, publish it on the internet and let the whole world (theoretically) see it. I mean everyone is interested in the menial tasks of one middle class country boy Australians life right?
New Years rolled around for me to a soundtrack of Dashboard Confessionals excellent Alter The Ending album. I was fortunate enough to have the deluxe edition which featured both the regular album and an all acoustic version. I had spent most of New Years Eve on my own, Bec at the time was working at the Royal Mail Hotel in Dunkeld and didn't finish work until five minutes to midnight. 2011 started with a whimper for me. I had high hopes for this year after the almost surreal 2010 which began with Mikey & I living in the crapshack in Darwin and ended with Bec, Pup & I living in the spare room at Bec mothers house. 2011 was going to be our year, I was sure of it. We were back home in Ararat, both kept busy with work and had some big plans for the coming year.
January was very busy for me. I was kept busy with work, at one stage working around 60 hours a week, often sleep over shifts and weekends, which was handy as that was helping me keep a steady income despite working on a casual basis. In fact January seemed to be over in the blink of an eye as days and nights seemed to merge into one with all the hours I was clocking up with my job. I also was working casually at the day program service run by McGregor Community Services, with one permanent day a week there as well as my casual work. It was tiring certainly working so many hours, but I had regained my passion for the disability field after it had been slowly eroding to the point of near oblivion by the time over the past 2-3 years. I didn't see Bec or Mikey as much as I would have liked with both of us working long and strange hours, but I was back in my hometown, able to go to the Grampians or the farm whenever I wanted. It was a very unusual summer however. The decade long drought that had gripped the south east of this continent finally broke, and when the rains came, they didn't seem to stop. Tropical type thunderstorms brought with them massive downpours which are rarely seen in the south of Australia. This in turn led to flooding and landslides throughout the Wimmera/Grampians region, causing major damage to homes, bridges, roads and property. The Western Highway, the main road between Victoria and South Australia, was cut off in different areas between Ballarat and Horsham. At one stage every road into Ararat was cut off due to flood water. The landslips caused massive amounts of damage at Halls Gap, the tourist centre of the Grampians and carnage throughout the national park as the rain and floods dislodged large boulders, which crashed through the trees and undergrowth leaving a trail of broken and felled trees behind them.
January wasn't all doom and gloom however. On the 29th I got the phone call I had been waiting for. I was an uncle for the first time as my brother Adam and his wife Katie welcomed a gorgeous little girl named Evie Sienna into the world. I had never really understood peoples obsession with babies until I went to visit her for the first time and she opened up her little blue eyes and grasped my pinky finger in her tiny hand. I had tried to play it cool and be almost indifferent to the whole new baby thing, but that moment instantly put a stop to the charade. Now I knew why people made such a big deal about newborns.
February, March and April were quite uneventful months. I continued on the same way that the year had started, working long hours and often working nights and weekends. I purchased my ute during this time, which Mikey enjoyed greatly, especially if it meant trips to one of the lakes or the farm to swim in the dam. Easter came and went, I seemed oblivious to it however. Everyday still seemed to be interchangeable with others, except for Mondays which were usually the days I had off. I tried to get out and do as much as I could. Our house wouldn't be available to us until the middle of the year, so we were still at Bec's mother house. This became increasingly more uncomfortable for me. It was an environment that I didn't feel comfortable in and as such I tried my best to keep to myself as often as I could. I was looking quite forward to getting our house back.
The previous three seemingly innocuous months were soon to be shattered by the events of May. I had been sensing a distance between Bec and I for quite a while. It all came to a head in this month. At the end of May, not long after our four year anniversary, we decided to call it quits. No animosity, no anger, just a sense of belief that we had run our course together as the differences in us as both people and in our goals and desires in life became more and more obvious and overshadowed the things we had in common to the point where it could no long be ignored. Still, a sense of hurt lingered long and hard over the situation. After all, after spending four years of your life with one person, making massive decisions together and achieving milestones in life together, having once in a lifetime experiences with them, it would be impossible not to feel some sense of hurt and rejection. It also meant Mikey and I had to find another place to live for a few weeks until the tenants were out of our house. I was able to stay with local tattoo artist and one of my oldest friends Nifty Davis and his lovely wife Kasey, while Mikey went and stayed out at Moyston on the property of another couple of old friends Doug & Kelly McKinnon and their two labradors Jemma and Suzie (Mikeys girlfriend!) The support I received through this tough period from my friends and family is something that I greatly appreciated and cherished. It was also good to know that even though we were no longer together, Bec still checked up on me as she knew better than anyone the struggles I have had with depression over the years. At her urging I went back to the doctors and began the long and winding road back to some sense of mental stability if nothing else. Bec still keeps an eye out for me and is constantly checking up to make sure that i'm ok. I appreciate that.
In June, Mikey and I finally returned to our home. We were both relieved that our nomadic existence was at an end and we could finally find some stability. It seemed strange coming back here however without Bec. However it also felt good to finally come back to our home, where we made the rules and had the freedom to do whatever we wanted without fear of upsetting any overblown egos. We felt free again. Although I was very thankful that Bec's mum gave us a place to stay when we returned from the NT, I was relieved to leave there. The situation had become increasingly uncomfortable for me and also I imagine for Becs family too. I didn't want to burden Nifty and Kasey with my presence for too long, nor Doug & Kelly with Mikeys, so to get the keys back to the house was a relief in many ways.
As much as I enjoyed the freedom of being back at the newly dubbed Palace Of Wisdom, I found myself sinking back into my old ruts and bad habits. The (still) ongoing saga of refinancing the house weighed heavily on my mind, my dietary habits slipped and I soon found myself back in that same old cycle again. My weekends were once again free, as I had began working full-time at the Viewpoint street day programs, however I lacked desire to even get out of bed. It all came to a head one night in August, after finishing work late (I had taken a group of lads to Melbourne for a footy trip), all the pent up emotions from the previous two years finally overcame me. I felt lost, hopeless and despondent. It was a rut I stayed in for most of July and August, with brighter spots in September and October,including my appearance on national tv on October the 13th. I was a contestant on Millionaire Hotseat, had a chance to win $100k but got a question I had no clue about. I still walked away with $1,000 and a once in a lifetime experience. In November however, my fragile mental piece was soon to be shattered again.
Ironically I was participating in the Movember cause with my friend Tom to try and raise money for Beyond Blue and prostate cancer research. However due to a number of factors I felt lower than low in November, and the moustache certainly didn't help things. I know it sounds ridiculous to blame a moustache for my deteriorating mental state, however I was to the point where I couldn't even stand to look at myself in the mirror. In addition to the mental angst I was feeling, I also felt extremely bad about myself physically, the moustache made me feel like a physically ugly person, the paranoia started to creep back into my mind because even though thousands of others around the world participated in it, I felt extremely foolish and ugly with it. I rarely ventured out in public and went back to being a recluse. I seriously contemplated selling the house and going bush, just leaving society as a whole behind. December 1st and my facial liberation couldn't come quick enough.
As I write this now, on the 23rd of December sitting at my kitchen table, Mikey laying at my feet, the dying roses from my garden on the kitchen table still mustering enough life to give the occasional burst of wonderful fragrance, the summer sun shining down upon the back deck, I can only wonder what 2012 will bring. There'll be lows, granted, but there will be highs as well. All I can do is strive to be a good person and make the world around me a better place. If I can achieve that in 2012, then the year shall be a success. So au revoir 2011. Don't let the door hit you in the are on the way out.

Section 7: Alone This Holiday

I have always found early December to be a hectic time of the year, work or school gets busy from the crush to finish of projects, the shops and streets get crazy with the Christmas time rush, the days of summer are upon us and people are starting to feel the heat and for me personally, I have a few birthdays to deal with, namely my Mums and later in the month my own. For most people however, the Christmas to New Year period is a time to wind down and relax. It used to be this way for me too. Not this year though...

I made my first trip home around the 17th of December. I had only been in Darwin a month and already I was looking to escape the heat and humidity. I was extremely slowly finding my feet in my new job. It was an entirely new proposition for me to have the everyday needs and welfare of five total strangers being my responsibility and the whole whirlwind of the previous month had been wearing me down. Bec's cousin was getting married, so I hopped on a plane back to Victoria for the first of a few 4 or so hour trips back home.
The plane was packed with younger people just like myself heading back 'down south' to visit family and friends for Christmas. I was the odd one out for having only my backpack with me and not being hidden behind mountains of presents. Mikey had been taken care of, my fellow coordinator, mentor, confidant, chauffeur, partner in crime and of course friend Julie had agreed to look after him. At the time Julie lived on a nice chunk of land at a little spit on the map called Virginia, about 30 minutes out of Darwin past Palmerston. Mikey had plenty of room to run, play and socialise with Julies dog Sally, so he was more than happy after being stuck in the little courtyard of the crap shack. Julie had also kindly agreed to drop me off at the airport, which I happily accepted because as anyone who works in Disability Services knows, we sure as hell don't do what we do for the massive salary, so any chance to save a taxi fare was much appreciated.

I arrived back to something I had missed greatly since I had left Victoria. Cold weather! Oh and my Mum and Dad were there too to pick me up. I had never seen Mum beam so much. It was as if I had been away for years, not weeks. It had been extremely hard for my Mum having me move to the opposite end of the country. My Mum and I are similar in that we both wear our hearts on our sleeves and are not ones for much stoicism. We let our emotions show and Mum was more than happy to let the world know that yeah, it had only been a month, but she missed her son a whole lot. Even Dad, who is usually the opposite of Mum and I when it comes to showing his feelings let his guard down and it made me just that little bit happier to be home. Of course, I couldn't wait to get back to Ararat and see Bec and some of my friends, but for the moment it was about my Mum, Dad and their eldest son.

It was with great excitement and anticipation that I waited to get back to Ararat to see Bec. The hour and a half trip from Bacchus Marsh seemed to take forever. I was elated to actually properly see Bec, not over some grainy Skype web cam, not via an MMS picture, but in the flesh. I just wanted to give her the biggest hug of my life, just so she could tangibly feel how much I had missed her. After a month of either being on my own or with just Mikey (who I love to death but let's face it, he is not a great conversationalist) it was great just being around the person who understood me better than anyone else ever has. We chatted about nothing for God knows how long. Just random, stupid stuff that we could laugh about, until we fell asleep, with Bec in my arms where she belonged.

The wedding was fun, held at a beautiful old church on top of what seemed the biggest and steepest hill in Daylesford and a great time was had by all. The day after the wedding Bec and I headed back to Bacchus Marsh to spend a bit more time with my parents and enjoy a smoothie and breakfast. I also happened to be flying back to Darwin on my birthday and it was one of my birthday presents that would be part of just about everything I experienced while we lived in the Northern Territory, a brand new pair of black Chucks. The became my Territory shoes and when I left, they stayed, no longer black and a crisp white, but almost grey and stained with everything from the monsoonal rain waters to the red dirt of Arnhem Land. I also got for my birthday, thanks to the wet season conditions over the top end, some turbulence on the flight back to Darwin. I'd had a great time being back home, seeing Bec, Mum, Dad and my friends, but it was now back to reality.

Christmas in the Territory! I never thought I'd ever experience it! And on Christmas day I...worked. Yep, I worked on Christmas Day. At Somerville, coordinators and support staff didn't get public holidays off, nor did we get paid public holiday rates. So that was my Christmas. On the plus side, Mikey was able to come to work with me for the day and run around the yard like a lunatic, plus when we got back to the crap shack we were able to watch Animation Domination ALL DAY LONG! As soon as we got back to the crap shack, non stop Simpsons, Family Guy, American Dad and Futurama (only broken by the WWE and when we changed the channel to avoid King Of The Hill). Of course I did the ring around, my parents, the family out at Auntie Tina's farm etc. But it was incomplete without Bec, who was not having the best day either. (Also, I missed out on the croquembouche that Bec had made. If you don't know what that is, then remember, Google is your friend). We both wanted nothing more than to be together that Christmas day, but the tyranny of distance was our enemy. As for New Years, well let me put it this way. I was in bed asleep by 10.30 Central Time (I chose 10,30 as it would have been 12 back home). 2009 was done, a year of massive change and upheaval for us, now we had to see what 2010 had in store for us.



Title Song: Alone This Holiday by The Used from the album 'Maybe Memories'

Section 6: My Sweet Dog

The old saying goes that dog's are a man's best friend. After a few weeks of being on my own, nearly 4000 kms away from my family and friends, with little to no furniture, I was definitely in need of a friend. So to say that I was excited that Mikey, our big playful golden Labrador was on his way up, was a massive understatement. Mikey had a fairly gruelling flight up from Melbourne airport, instead of the usual 4 hour flight Mikey had an 8 hour trip with a stop over in Alice Springs. Already our almost one and a half year old lab had more done more travelling than some of my human friends.
Poor Mikey had had some difficulties with his first travelling experience, heading down to Melbourne he was blissfully unaware of what was ahead of him, all he cared about was that he was going for a big drive in the car. For a puppy born in the wheat belt area of Longrenong and raised in Ararat, Melbourne airport must have been something else. A veritable sensory overload, so many new people to meet and smell! For a social creature like Mikey that would have been nirvana. Unfortunately for Mikey, the person working for Australian Express that day wasn't in such a sociable mood.
As anyone who owns/has owned a Labrador knows, they are a breed of dog that despite being full grown display their puppish behaviours for the first few years of their lives, Mikey was (and still is) no different, his friendliness sometimes spilling over into unbridled puppy excitement. The Australian Express employee was either having a bad day/not a dog person/a complete douche (I personally think it was the last one) and didn't appear to appreciate Mikey's friendliness and unwillingness to get cramped into a travelling cage that was too small for him. Captain Australian Express decided that the best way to get Mikey into the travelling box was to yell at not just our poor confused dog, but also at Bec and her friend Alyce, who had gone for some moral support. Thankfully a more level headed person from a pet minding service was there to help. It was an emotional day for Bec as she watched Mikey board the plane, looking at her with the 'why are you doing this to me?' expression on his face normally reserved for when we go inside after playing tug of war with him, and tears were shed. Bec would not be that emotional again until a few weeks later when Mikey skyped her.
Up in the top end, my emotions were the opposite of Bec's. I was at the airport 45 minutes early, I was so excited to see my mate and take him for a stroll along the foreshore. When he got off the plane into Darwin, he seemed both relieved and a bit overwhelmed by the combination of the flight and the heat. But he had a wading pool of water, some new toys and a bed waiting for him at the crap shack. Hell, at that stage he had more possessions in Darwin than I did!
Darwin is, despite the mammalian unfriendly climate, very much a dog friendly place. It seems everyone has a dog, the most common being what we came to call simply 'Darwin Dogs' usually staffy crossed with god knows how many other breeds, usually behind 6-8 foot high fences that would come tearing down towards the footpath with a look of malice and intent in their eyes if you dared walk past with your dog. The beaches around Darwin are also leash free beaches, which we thought was a wonderful thing until we learned that the reason for leashes being optional is that if there happens to be a saltwater crocodile lurking in the water (and yes, there are crocodiles in the coastal waters of Darwin, last year over 300 were pulled out of Darwin harbour and a 2.5 metre croc had also been spotted lurking near the popular tourist spot Mindil Beach mere metres from a swimmer) then the crocs would be more likely to attack the dogs first, given the humans time to beat a hasty retreat. Suffice to say, we kept Mikey on a VERY close lead while down at the beach.
Crocodile worries aside, the beach was one of Mikey's favorite places. he had never been in the ocean before, so when the first small waves lapped at his legs he didn't know what was happening, there certainly weren't any waves in the dams he had been swimming in out on the farm, but he soon got used to that. he loved splashing in the shallows, misjudging the depth of rock pools and falling head first into them and chasing birds up the beach. He also loved the mangrove mud from the beaches near Cullen Bay and came back half golden, half dirty black mud colour. Fair to say that as much as he loved the mud, it did little to improve his personal odour. Mikey also loved going to the Jingli water Gardens and splashing around in the fountains there with the other dogs.
As was the case with Bec and I, the climate gave Mikey some issues. In his second week in the NT he was off to the vet after I had noticed blood behind his big floppy ears. the humidity had made the skin around his ears so soft that when he scratched his ears it broke the skin. And then there were the scourge of canines in the top end, the ticks. One of the worst things we had to do was pull ticks off Mikey, literally dozens at a time. This also meant monthly trips to the vet for tick prevention injections.
Mikey was an occasional visitor to my work place, where the household residents seemed to get a kick out of him being there, however that was infrequent due to a staff members phobia of dogs. Mikey also gave obedience training a second crack, a little more successfully than his previous attempt when he was a drop out. And if it wasn't for Mikey, i would have spent Christmas Day and New Years Eve alone. I appreciated having my big pup there with me on those days especially.
So many of our experiences involved Mikey, whether it was cleaning up after him after he had left a 'present' on his Auntie Madie's bed while she was out, watching movies in the air conditioning with Mikey asleep at our feet or Mikey freaking out the staff in the McDonald's drive through by sticking his big gold head out the window as soon as he saw his beloved soft serve ice cream being handed to us (he LOVES McDonald's soft serves and still gets excited when he goes anywhere near a McDonald's). Having Mikey with us made the whole Darwin experience that bit more tolerable and I sometimes wonder if he misses the place at all. Except for the ticks of course.



TITLE SONG: My Sweet Dog by Hi-Standard, from the album Angry Fist.

Section 5: The Artist In The Ambulance

I met a number of different people from different backgrounds during the year that I spent in the Northern Territory, some good, some not so good. Some immanently forgettable but some that I shall remember for the rest of my life. The person I am going to write about here is one of those people who I shall never forget. He gave me a different perspective on life and opened my eyes to a number of things I would never have seen. For confidentiality reasons, I won't be using this mans real name or even his skin name* I shall refer to this person as 'The Artist'.
I first came upon some of the artists legacy quite unknowingly. I was sitting in the foyer area of the Somerville Community Services administration building when I spotted a painting by an Aboriginal artist on the wall. This didn't surprise me much, after all, the NT is well known for the Indigenous art that is produced there, so I didn't pay it much heed at the time. That would change over the next twelve months.
It was on my tour of the facilities that I would be working in that I first met The Artist. Of course at the time I didn't know that the skinny man with the grey hair sitting in his wheelchair watching TV was an artist. At that stage he was one of the new residents of the house I would have to get to know, just like the other five people living there at the time. It wasn't until my third day on the job that I found out who he was prior to coming to Somerville.
It was the official opening day of the sparkling new facilities that the Somerville admin staff were enjoying and I was told that The Artist was to attend. I was happy with this, after all we were a disability service, why shouldn't he attend? It was on the way there that I was told the reason he was to go. The painting I had been admiring was actually one of his paintings. Someone from Somerville had found it in one of the local indigenous art galleries and decided to buy it upon hearing who the artist was. The painting would have been a metre high, on bark, and depicted Ngalyod the rainbow serpent and some Mimi Spirits, which are mentioned often in the Dreamtime stories of Arnhem Land. The detail was painstakingly intricate, done in the traditional line style of Western Arnhem Land that must have taken months to produce. Each individual line seemed to tell it's own story, about the subject, about the artist, about his and his people's history and culture. After the formalities (including a meet and greet and photo with NT chief minister Paul Henderson) were done, I decided that I had to learn more about this man, his art and his culture.
The Artist, unlike the majority of residents in Somerville's houses, wasn't born with a disability. Once upon a time he had been a respected member of the community of Oenpelli (also known as Gunbalanya). Oenpelli is a permit only  community, about 300 kms east of Darwin in Western Arnhem Land. Oenpelli is known for it's spectacular scenery (being just outside Kakadu National Park) and it's artwork and artists. It holds the largest single collection of rock art in the world in the region surrounding it. It is also home to the Injalak art's centre. The main population of Oenpelli are the Kunwinjku people (pronounced Gun-win-gu for more). Kunwinjku is also the main language spoken in this area (click here for more info). The artist was prominent in his community, learning his trade at the feet of his uncle, also a renown artist. In addition to his art, The Artist was apparently a pretty good footballer back in his day and also used to coach the local kids in the finer points of Australian Football. Due to his people's custom, he never married as he had never been promised a wife and as such had no children. All this got me to thinking about how such a talented, respected, intelligent man end up here and not touring galleries in Europe with his work?
After such a long time in the disability field, not much shocks or saddens me. I have learned not to feel sad or sorry for disabled people. They are not objects of pity, they're human beings who when given the right opportunities have as much chance of making a success of themselves as anyone. But I couldn't help but feel somewhat sad for The Artist, even though I know he wouldn't want my pity. Here was a man with a wonderful gift that had been struck down by a plague on society but a particular curse on Aboriginal society, alcohol. The Artist had had an alcohol induced stroke so severe it left him permanently brain damaged and wheelchair bound. Gone were the fine motor skills that allowed him to produce such beautiful pieces of art such as the one displayed in the Somerville foyer, gone also was the capacity to verbally communicate his thoughts, hopes, desires and dreams to people. But probably worst of all for this proud Kunwinjku man, gone was his independence. He was now totally reliant on others to do the things in life most of us take for granted such as feeding himself, washing himself, dressing himself. Gone was the option to go wherever he liked whenever he liked, replaced by a reliance on others to take him places that they thought he might like to go. Also gone was his attachment to his community, no longer living at Oenpelli with his people and his traditional culture and ways of living, but into the stagnant world of twenty four hour group home care. An intensely private man now not just living with strangers, but having strangers have to complete the most basic of tasks for him.
It took a little while for me to get to know The Artist. He was a naturally wary and reserved person around strangers especially balanda (whitefellas) from down south. We shared a common interest however, football, and at first that was our major discussion point. The Artist was still able to indicate yes or no by nodding or shaking his head, had a very expressive face and a wicked sense of humor. So at first we talked footy, I found out he was an Essendon supporter (but I didn't hold that against him!) and we spoke about the Bombers, my team the Swans and about some of the past and present champions of the AFL, in particular Aboriginal players such as Michael Long and Adam Goodes. The Artist also loved to read books, especially ones that were on familiar topics such as Aboriginal art and the top end, his beloved Oenpelli and bush tucker (we would sometimes compare notes on the different bush tucker we had eaten). He also loved the Footrot Flats comics, just like I did when I used to read them on my auntie and uncles farm growing up. Plus we were both country people (albeit, Ararat and Oenpelli are VASTLY different!) so we could talk about the bush, about goanna's chasing us around camping sites and going swimming in dams and waterholes (no chance of kinga (crocodiles) eating me in Victoria though!
The Artist loved nothing more than getting out and about, seeing people he knew from the past and observing those he didn't know. He enjoyed going to the footy, seeing the NT Thunder and the AFL games, going to the pub for a quiet beer and going to cafes for a delicious mango smoothie. The more I was around him, the more I came to appreciate this man and what he could and did teach me. The Artist also found my attempts to speak Kunwinjku somewhat amusing, but nodded knowingly when i finally managed to get the words correct. He had to deal with disappointments during my time there, such as seeing his trips back to Oenpelli cancelled for varying reasons out of everyones control, but he took it in his stride. After a while, I saw The Artist less as a tragic figure and more as an individual who could teach me so much about his culture and life.
By the end of my time in Darwin, I was proud to call the Artist my mate. Even he said I wasn't too bad for a balanda. When the time came for me to resign, he was the first person I told. He seemed sad that I was going, but he understood. Just as he liked to be with his mob at his home, so did I. Saying bobo (see you again) to The Artist was the hardest of all, but he gave me a smile and a nod as if to say thanks. He's a person who shows all to clearly the dangers of excess alcohol consumption, yet despite everything else remains a rightly proud and dignified person. The Artist is one person I'll never forget and I look forward to seeing him again someday and saying kamak (hello) to him one more time.


*For an explination of skin names in Western Arnhem culture


Title Song:  The Artist In The Ambulance by Thrice, from the album The Artist In The Ambulance.

Section 4: I Never Told You What I Do For A Living.

I had been in Darwin for just over a week when two major events happened, I finally got to see where I was going to be working while I was in the NT and I experienced my first monsoonal storm. The fact that these events were both on the same day gave me pause to reflect on just how much different my life would be.
I had arranged with one of the managers to have a tor of the facility that I would be working in. My official job title would be 'Disability Services Coordinator' which I believed would have me coordinating a section of a day program/work program similar to what is in place in Victoria, especially when I had been asked what programs I had run in my previous experience during my interview. I had worked in day programs before and quite enjoyed it, so I was looking forward to starting up and trying to think of ideas for new programs that could be implemented. After a short stop at Casuarina Square I headed down to Wagaman to the Somerville administration offices. My appointment time was at 2.30, but I wanted to be early to A. make a good impression and B. try and cool down a little out of the stifling heat. The administration offices were impressive, extremely new with a modern sophisticated look. They even had a brand new swimming pool for the staff to use and a huge fleet of vehicles marked with the 'Somerville, the courage to be' logo down the side. After coming from working in a school of portable classrooms, this place looked luxurious.
So I mustered up my confidence and walked to the front counter. 'Hi, my name is Gareth Olver and I'm here to see the Disability Services manager please.' 'What? Who did you say you were?' OK, I thought as I looked back somewhat stunned at the sharpness of the response I got to my greeting, 'My name is Gareth Olver, I have a scheduled meeting at 2.30 with one of the Disability Service managers' 'Oh right, well I'll see if they're in...yes got a Gary Oliver here' 'No, it's Gareth Olver, O-L-V-E-R, no I' (Over the years I have become somewhat accustomed to having to repeat and spell out my name for people) 'Ok, well there's a Gareth Olver here. Just sit down they'll be here soon.' another abrupt response, my first impression of the facilities had been shattered by the rudeness of the person o the front desk.
I was met by the same New Zealander manager who interviewed me about 5 minutes later. After the obligatory introduction and comments regarding my tattoos we set off to tour the Somerville Disability Service facilities. First stop was what we call in Victoria a CRU or Community Residential Unit (for those unfamiliar with such jargon, it's one of the houses that people with a disability live in). Interesting, I thought to myself, they must do in home care as well as day programs. Next stop, another CRU. OK, I thought, something is up here, surely they'd only show me one CRU and then get straight into the programs centre. On the way to the third stop, I decided to ask if they ran day programs at all. I wasn't enthused by the response, a politicians pause followed by an answer so vague that there could have been multiple ways to take, 'Ahh...yes we do something like that yes.' (the correct answer would have been 'no, we do nothing at all like that'. I was disappointed to say the least. I had never had the slightest bit of interest in working in a CRU and it certainly wasn't what I thought I'd signed up for.
As we pulled into the driveway, I wondered what the staff and residents would be like. The house itself was a five bedroom house on a massive corner block with an outdoors spa. There were six people living there at the time, one of whom was a resident of another house that was undergoing renovations. Four of the five permanent residents were wheelchair bound and three of the five were indigenous. All five permanent residents were men. One of the best parts of my time in Darwin was getting to know these guys and seeing each of their individual personalities shine through. I also met some of the people who would become 'my' staff and some of my best friends during my time in Darwin. Somerville had a very multicultural staff and during my time there I worked with people from Fiji, Nepal, New Zealand, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Zimbabwe, the Philippines, Germany, China, India, East Timor and England, some were Buddhists, some Muslim, some Hindu, some Mormons. It was an eye opener for me, being from Ararat, a small town in Western Victoria to learn about these people, there cultures and beliefs and of course eat the delicious food they would cook up.
The staff were all very friendly and welcoming and for the most part around the same age as me. The staff working that day, Lisa, a very friendly, good natured and bubbly person who was the only other Australian born person working there and Rosy, a stunning Fijian with a heart of gold, were both enthusiastic to have a chat ad give me the general rundown of the place. I left feeling somewhat better about what lay ahead. It appeared that I had been blessed with a good staff and a great group of household residents. What the hell, I thought, I'll give this a go and see what happens.
I had not long stepped through the front door of the crap shack when thunder that had been rumbling in the distance seemed to roll straight over the top of the house, bringing with it my first experience of monsoonal rain. I had seen heavy rain before sure, but nothing like this. It looked like a months worth of rain back home coming down withing the space of half an hour. I stepped outside into it, after the stifling humidity the rain was like manna from heaven. It was cooling without being cold and so refreshing. The best part was that for a blissful fifteen minutes or so following the rains, everything cooled down and provided an oh so brief  but welcome respite from the constant humidity. One thing was for certain, this whole time in the Territory would be something completely different from my life thus far.

TITLE SONG: I Never Told You What I Do For A Living by My Chemical Romance. From the album 'Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge'.

Section 3: Kick, Push

Going somewhere new and different is always a bit daunting, especially if it just happens to be nearly 4,000 km's away at the other end of the continent, so it was with a little trepidation that I alighted the taxi in the Darwin suburb of Rapid Creek which I would live in for the next twelve months or so. I knew nothing of Darwin's suburbs despite having been there on holidays in 2008. I knew Cullen Bay, Parap thanks to having a friend living there at the time and whatever suburb Casuarina Square shopping centre was in but that was it. I have to admit that I found the Rapid Creek/Nightcliff (we were right on the border of the two suburbs) area where we lived to be a pretty nice spot. We lived in a quiet little Cull-De-Sac that was less than two minutes walk to the Casuarina beach, Nightcliff foreshore and the Rapid Creek river mouth that had a very nice walking/cycling path that snaked it's way through parkland containing various BBQ areas, rotundas, playgrounds and gym equipment. Also along this route was the Nightcliff swimming pool, a veritable oasis for us in the early days that was seemingly underutilised by the locals (understandable though as everyone has a swimming pool up there, so why bother to pay for a swim at a public pool). Nightcliff pool was perched on a piece of land that looked out across the ocean and was the sort of place where you could just while away the day staring out to sea without much hassle or with a minimum of squealing kids. Further along was the Nightcliff jetty, which is a very popular spot to watch the sunset year round. Sometimes there might be a coffee cart or kebab stand there to try and tempt people into enjoying some sustenance while they watch the sun go down and I'll admit it, the kebab stand did get me a few times. If you were really lucky you may spot a dolphin or dugong while sitting down there watching the world go by (my total: 1 dolphin, 0 dugongs, heaps of fish). It was a nice little spot most of the time.
My exploration of the foreshore happened within my first few days in Darwin. I had been preliminarily getting my bearings in the area via Google Maps and discovered that there was a fish and chip shop in the area. Fantastic, I thought, a fish and chip shop down at the jetty! What a perfect spot! In the first few weeks in Darwin, I had no car (or for that matter, no furniture. For two weeks I made do with an inflatable mattress, a camping chair and bar fridge I brought when I got there and a netbook computer and modem. Also, no curtains in the unit that would become known as the 'crap shack' so my towels became curtains and bed sheets.) But I did have my skateboard. What better on a nice sunny NT afternoon than a skate around the foreshore to the quaint fish and chip shop on the jetty?
So off I set around the foreshore in search of said fish and chip shop. Having reached Nightcliff pool I was a little surprised that there was no shops or commercial establishments at all except for the Beachfront Hotel (more on that place another time) and the adjoining Chinese restaurant. Undeterred I pushed on, sweat dripping from my brow. Actually the sweat was dripping from everywhere and by the time I reached the jetty I was more than ready for a piece of fish and some chips washed down with a refreshing beverage or two. I pulled up at the jetty and scanned my surroundings. Nothing. Strange, I thought, as I consulted trusty old Google maps on my phone. There was supposed to be a place called Aralia street nearby, where the holy grail fish and chip shop was, but i couldn't see it, so once again I set off around the track.
It was probably and hour of fruitless searching before I gave up and decided to head back to the Crap Shack. By this stage I was drenched in sweat and cursing myself for not grabbing a bottle of water from the Beachfront Hotel as I was beyond thirsty from being out in the afternoon sun (despite the ample shade). It was probably another 45 minutes before I reached the Beachfront and was able to purchase a bottle of water. Down it went, all 2 litres, in one hit. Even someone with no medical knowledge like myself knows that's not good and by the time I was back to the Crap Shack I had the headache to end all headaches and was vomiting back up anything I may have eaten in the past week. This went for 2 days and I later found out that I had the classic symptoms of dehydration. Less than a week in Darwin and it had been so far so bad.

SIDE NOTE: Bec and I ended up finding the mythical fish & chip shop one day while driving around the area. Suffice to say, I was disappointed.

TITLE SONG: KICK, PUSH by LUPE FIASCO, from the album FOOD & LIQUOR.

Section 2: Leaving On A Jet Plane.

Melbourne Airport is a bustling hive of activity. People and planes coming and going at all hours of the day and night, numerous shops and eateries and 56 gates from which to arrive or depart. So you can imagine how different it was landing in Darwin International airport which has 5 a few people, a shop and two eateries from which the travellers can chose from before departing from one of the 5 gates. Darwin airport sits on the RAAF Base and as such can only be used for commercial flights at certain times. Luckily for me, I managed to get a flight that landed at a reasonable time, unluckily for me my plane was 30-45 minutes late landing causing me to miss meeting the real estate agent and not getting the keys to our new place.
Walking through the terminal you are greeted by a big sign that says 'Welcome to Larrakia Country'. The Larrakia (Saltwater) people were the indigenous people who lived in the area that would become Darwin. Estimates say Aboriginal people had been in the top end for over 40,000 years, which probably explains how on my first few days I saw some of the local aboriginal people wearing jumpers jeans and beanies on 35 degree days where the humidity was hovering around the 100% mark. I of course am not from a Larrakia background and walking out of the air-conditioned comfort was like walking into a wall of heat. Once the automatic doors opened and I stepped outside, the sweat started and didn't stop for almost the entire time I was there.
So I had arrived in Darwin. The only question was, where was I going to stay? I had missed the Real Estate agents thanks to Jetstars delayed flight, so going into our rental property was out of the question. Only one way to solve the problem. Call Bec and see what hotel rooms were available in the city that night. One search of wotif.com and a a small dent in the credit card later, Bec informed me that she had booked me a room at a place called the 'Asti' for the evening. The Asti sounded to me like one of those old style hotels from the 1920's that you see on movies set in that period.. Boy was I wrong.
Instead of a classic style 1920's hotel, I was confronted by an aqua monstrosity that was set very close (diagonally across from actually) to the park that the Brenden Abbott aka the Postcard Bandit was captured (If you haven't heard of him, this should tell you more). One of the later functions of the Asti was to function as accommodation for illegal immigrants and asylum seekers. But all I wanted was air-conditioning and even that wasn't working properly.
To put it bluntly, my first few hours in Darwin had been miserable. I had our modem and my little netbook computer with me and went straight to the airline websites. I was getting out of this place come hell or high water (both of which it would seem I would experience within the next 12 months), hang the cost! I was racked with regret and self doubt, why, I asked myself repeatedly, had I chosen to do this? I was going to ring Somerville the next day from Victoria and tell them sorry, I couldn't do it. I was 4,000 kms from home and I just wanted to leave.
I rang Bec and told her that I was coming home as soon as possible, that it was stupid to come here, that I must have been out of my mind when I applied for this job. Bec showed a much cooler head than I and managed to calm me down enough that I agreed to give it a month. Also, thank god for facebook chat and thanks to those people who I was chatting to that night, who listened to my emotional rants and helped me feel a little better. I finally drifted off to sleep around 11, exhausted, emotional and unsure about what I was going to do next.



Title Song- Leaving On A Jet Plane by Me First & The Gimme Gimmes, from the album  Have A Ball! (Plus Bowling Tips From The Gutter Punks)

Section 1: The Northern.

November 11th 2009, 9 pm Central Australian Time. I'm sitting on a bed in the alleged air conditioned comfort of the Asti Hotel in Darwin. Yep my first night in Darwin was spent in a cheap motel, checking for flights straight back home while Bec is on the phone with me trying to calm me down. Great start to my NT adventures. Actually, that wasn't necessarily the start...

It was the September school holidays, I was kicking around our house in Ararat randomly looking things up on the Internet when I decided to enter 'disability jobs Darwin' into a search engine. Bec and I had been to Darwin the previous year on holidays and enjoyed our time there, however i had seen or heard nothing about the Disability Service system in the top end. Darwin is a mid sized city by Australian standards, 120,000 people in Darwin and 30,000 people in nearby satellite city of Palmerston making the Darwin/Palmerston region slightly smaller than Geelong. They had to have disability services there right? 

My Googling ended up bringing up a website for a company called Somerville Community Services, a disability support service and family service organisation. The website looked very professional and lo and behold, they had an opening in their disability services section, a coordinators position. Just what I wanted to do! I'd worked for the past seven or so years at Skene Street School in Stawell which is a school for children with multiple disabilities. I'd had an interesting period of time working there, some really good times, some not so great but over the past 6-12 months i had been growing a bit stale. I needed a change of scenery and a new challenge. What better than to go to the other end of the continent and work with adults again?

So, I applied. my application must have been OK because a few days after my application I was offered an interview. Cool, I thought, a trip to Darwin for a couple of days for an interview! Not quite... I was interviewed at my kitchen table in Ararat via the magic of Skype. It was an interesting experience to say the least, me sitting in front of the heater with the blinds drawn to stop Mikey from sticking his big golden head against the window, while my interviewers were looking hot and a little flustered in their office in Darwin. To be perfectly honest, I thought that my interview went terribly. I stammered and stumbled on my words, I had to be led to answers, plus the Skypeing made it difficult for us to hear each other. I told Bec afterwards how much I sucked in the interview and thought nothing more of it. A week and a half or so later, I told my friend Tom that I mustn't have gotten the job. I hadn't heard anything so I figured they'd found someone else to fill the position. Two days later, my phone rang. I got the job and Bec, Mikey and my world was about to be turned upside down. It's amazing just how much your life can be changed by boredom and Google.

TITLE SONG: THE NORTHERN by ALEXISONFIRE. From the album OLD CROWS/YOUNG CARDINALS. 

Coming soon to a screen near you...

Hi guys, long time no post. As some people may know, I've spent the past 12 months living and working in the Northern Territory, or to be more precise, Darwin. Hopefully starting some time this weekend or next week I'm going to start writing on here about my time in the top end, some of the people, places and sights that I've encountered. Hopefully it'll be a reasonable read and you get some semblance of enjoyment from it. So keep an eye on here and hopefully I'll have some writings up soon.


Gareth.

Riding The Soundwave Through The Showgrounds.

It was finally here. The day I had been anticipating since the first few band announcements had started trickling out in mid-09. The day I had been waiting for since the major announcement of artists had me cheering and punching the air in our loungeroom at the sheer brilliance of the line-up. The day I had been counting down to since our tickets arrived in the mail. Friday, February 26th 2010, Soundwave Melbourne day and was I ever feeling...tired. Yes, even the excitment at the big day finally arriving couldn't defeat the fact that I had hardly slept the night before, on a somewhat cramped and turbulent 4 hour flight that left Darwin at 12.15 a.m. NT time and arrived in Melbourne around 6.15 a.m. Eastern Daylight Savings Time. As we stepped off the plane into the beautiful coolness that was the Melbourne morning, i'm sure that Bec and I both thought the same thing, 'we're not going to make it through the whole day'. But I had to. HIM were closing stage 3 and I was going to see them, come hell or highwater.

After a few blissfull hours of sleep at my parents place, we made the trek into the city via the train. Let me point out that after the last few years of us driving to the Showgrounds, battling the traffic in the city and attempting to find a parking spot, the train was bliss. It rolled it's way from Bacchus Marsh into Southern Cross Station in a relaxing, albeit prompt manner. Note to self: next year take the train again. Southern Cross was no busier than any other Friday, except the tourists and the suits had been replaced by black t shirts. Out with Armani, in with Trivium.

The trip to the Showgrounds was surprisingly short, and soon enough we found ourselves walking through the gates with the rest of the black clad and tattooed masses. The fatigue factor had dropped by this stage and the second wind had kicked into gear. I looked around at the crowd, I have found that by looking at the t shirts, you get a good idea of who will draw the biggest crowds. A Day To Remember seemed to be the popular pick for this year, a few people were, like myself, sporting HIM t shirts and although the heartagram seemed to be prevelant, there seemed to be very few Bam Margera fan boys. (Don't get me wrong, I liked Viva La Bam, Jackass, the cKy videos etc, I just got sick of Bam fans sporting the heartagram having never heard HIM in their lives). Faith No More of course had their fair share of support in the t shirt stakes as well. One of the things I love about Soundwave, the people (for the most part) are there for the music. It's the antithesis of the Big Day Out, who could put anyone on stage and people will go just to say they've been to the BDO.

After a quick water stop, it was off to start doing what we came here for, the music. We caught the very tail of Gallows set. From the breif period that I saw them they seemed intense, especially considering their early timeslot. I think these guys could play at any time of the day and still pull off a helacious set and leave everything on stage. Next up after Gallows were Surrey* pop-punkers You Me At Six. Very much a female crowd, who knew every song that these guys played. And they were good, especially considering they were battling playing in a shed stage (the same stage that sadly killed Emery's performance the year before). You Me At Six really appeared to be enjoying themselves on stage and this rubbed off on the crowd.

Over to the mainstage we pressed, to catch some of the legendary Sunny Day Real Estates slot. Although their was a small dedicated contingent pressed up to the front of the stage, most of the people in the general vicinity sadly treated SDRE with apathy. Perhaps they were to old for the kids to know any of their stuff, or perhaps they didn't realise that bands like Sunny Day Real Estate paved the way for bands like Jimmy Eat World, who in turn paved the way for the likes of Fall Out Boy, whose success helped bands such as All Time Low. I don't know. Maybe Sunny Day Real Estate would have been better off on a smaller stage later in the day, with someone like Enter Shikari or A Day To Remember getting a main stage spot. The worst part was that SDRE really put alot of themselves into the songs they played, and the emotion of the lyrics was etched in singer Jeremy Enigk's face, but aside from the bands hardcore fans, it didn't register with alot of the audience.

Taking Back Sunday was our next stop, and the one Bec had most been looking forward too. The opened the set with the wonderful Cute Without The E (Cut From The Team) and lots of rockstar poses and microphone swinging from Adam Lazzara. A good set from TBS, but was it memorable? Not really. The sound was ok, but perhaps I was expecting to much after how good their New Again album was. A lot of people new and sung along to Cute Without The E, but after that didn't seem to know many more songs. Sometimes the guys on stage seemed to be really into the performance, other times they just seemed to be going through the motions.

Kudos to the Soundwave organisers for having one of the merch stands inside, and for thinking to split the merch stands this year as well. Shorter lines and shorter times waiting to be served this year was appreciated (last year I missed almost all of Underoaths set due to being in the middle of the merchandise stand mosh pit). The prices were very reasonable too. Nothing worse than being gouged close to $60 for a t shirt.

One of the bands that I was most excited to see was up next, Canadians Alexisonfire. They blew me away in 2008 when they put on a tour de force at Soundwave then, and I was eager to see how much of my favourite album of last year, Old Crows/Young Cardinals, would be included into the set. I wasn't dissapointed to find the setlist drew heavily from not just Old Crows/Young Cardinals, but also from the previous Crisis album as well. The Northern, Young Cardinals, Born And Raised and Support Crime all sounded as good live as they did on the album, whilst Crisis songs such as Boiled Frogs, Mailbox Arson, This Could Be Anywhere In The World and even older favorite Accidents of the Watch Out! album still sounded as good as they did in 2008. While Dallas appeared kind of pissed off and Wade and Steele did their things up there, George commands the attention of the audience, standing on the front speakers in his Ramones shorts, glaring out at the crowd before launching into the gutteral screaming. Perhaps Alexisonfire were a little better in 08, but they were still damn good here.

Went to have a look at Paramore, but the crowd was just to massive to get anywhere near a good vantage point. From where we were all we could see was a red headed spot in leopard print running around the stage. We did see an unfortunate young lady convulsing on the ground being treated by the first aid staff. I later found out that a girl suffered a broken neck and went into shock, whilst another had a broken shoulder from the Paramore mosh. I hope they've both recovered well, but it got me to thinking. With all the hardcore and metal bands on the bill, the worst injuries occured at Paramores set?

Time for a break, so over to the seats at stage 3 to catch a glimpse of ska legends Reel Big Fish put on a fun, light-hearted set. If Reel Big Fish ever released their disco version of S.R. then i'm sure it would be a massive hit with the masses (after the musical geniuses of Calvin Harris and Dizzee Rascal remixed it of course...). Following the Fish were another legendary band, The Get Up Kids. These guys still have it, started out a great performance with Holiday and sounded the way the did when they first recorded the song back in the 90's. I would have loved the Get Up Kids/ Jimmy Eat World sidewave too.

Back to the mainstage we trudged, this time to see AFI. And boy were we not dissapointed! Davy Havok, resplendant in his gold jacket, ran around the stage manically reminiscent of an 80's game show host. This man has charisma in spades, with or without said gold jacket. The set was very, very heavily influenced by Crash Love and December Underground, with a token cameo appearance or two of songs such as The Leaving Song Part II from previous albums (love that song by the way, probably my favorite AFI song). Despite this even fans of the bands earlier, much punkish sound would have had to have gone away satisfied with AFI's performance. Everything sounded great, the band played tightly and Davy was in control of the stage in a way not seen at Soundwave since Little Jimmy Urine and Mindless Self Indulgence tore the place up in 2008. I'll be there for sure next time A Fire Inside grace our shores on the heels of this performance.

One lamb kebab and a brief stop at Anti-Flag later, we were back at the mainstages awaiting the arrival of one of the bands we were both excited to see, the one and only Jimmy Eat World. I must admit, I had been keen to see My Chemical Romance and was disappointed when they pulled out, but I was just as excited to finally see Jimmy Eat World. Once Janes Addiction finally stopped playing (sorry, didn't impress me much) the large crowd caught their first glimpse of JEW on a Melbourne stage in 5 years. And JEW didn't disappoint. Playing a set that included a plethora of songs of their modern classic album Bleed American mixed in with other favorites such as 23, Lucky Denver Mint and Futures, JEW made sure the huge crowds interest didn't wain. Highlights, surprisingly, weren't massive hits The Middle and Bleed American but the brilliant Hear You Me, which is as great live as it is on cd and Always Be, featuring Haley Williams on guest vocals. Please Jimmy Eat World, don't leave it another five years before you come back again.

Closing act time seemed to come all too quickly, and as much as I would have loved to have seen A Day To Remember and Faith No More, for me no matter who else was I on the bill I was going to see HIM. I had missed them on their previous Australian tours and I wasn't going to miss them again. So, after the long wait, would they be as good as I hoped? The answer was yes absolutely. Their setlist selected songs from across their entire career, highlights being Right Here In My Arms, Rip Out The Wings Of A Butterfly, Join Me and new song Like St. Valentine. Ville Valo is one of those people who just seems to draw your attention simply by being in the general vacinity. Soberness seems to suit Ville as he and the rest of the band appeared to be having a blast on stage. Despite some early issues with the sound, Ville's voice hits the high falsetto live with the same ease that he does on the albums. The only downside for me was no Funeral Of Hearts (my favorite HIM song, I was even wearing the shirt) and I thought that When Love And Death Embrace was a strange choice of closer, however with that said, HIM were just as good as I hoped they would be.

The flight back to good old Victoria was long and cramped, we ended the day a little sunburnt and beyond tired, but still we had an absolute blast. The only regret is that I didn't have a ticket to Adelaide Soundwave so I could see some of the bands I missed such as A Day To Remember, Faith No More, Four Year Strong, Enter Shikari and All Time Low. Will I be back there next year, you bet your life I will be! Thanks to the organisers, see you all there next year.

TOP 3 ACTS: AFI, HIM and Alexisonfire. Honourable mention to Jimmy Eat World.
COULD DO WITHOUT: Sorry to anyone who's a fan, but Eagles Of Death Metal annoyed the hell out of me. Can you dig it?
WHO I'D LIKE FOR NEXT YEAR: NoFx, Thursday, Story Of the Year and Mindless Self Indulgence would be a good start. Can they top this year? Can't wait to find out!

*not Welsh as I intially stated.