WHAT THE SUN LOOKS LIKE FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD

Less than two weeks ago we were kissing cheeks and shaking hands in farewell. I don’t think I can remember what the passage of time should feel like. Sure, about a week of this was spent regaining a mental foothold after the jetlag and overnight flight into Lima but without routine who are we? Apes in trees? Amoeba patiently awaiting subdivision? No, I’ll tell you who we are, incredibly euphoric and contented, safe and secure in the knowledge that we will not have to panic towards a daily deadline that our previous restaurant-owning lives mandated. But I digress.

 The last post was scratched out in Mexico City Airport. As far as airports go then it ticks a few of my boxes. Vast array of time consuming crap in the souvenir store, check! Tempting displays of single malt whiskeys just out of my budget, check! Numerous over perfumed humans talking too loudly on mobile phones to make fun of, check! Bars that take a vast assortment of currency in order to confuse you so you don’t realise how much you are being ripped off, check! But most importantly a quiet, dark corner near your gate that you can just fall asleep in before your flight is called, yes, check! We have travelled through Mexico before and will be through again on this trip so I will save any observations about the Mexicans until we return.

Next stop was Lima, Peru. There are good times to arrive in a new destination, bad times to arrive and real shitty times to arrive anywhere. We landed in Lima at 6am, a bad time. The shitty time would have been the 2am flight. Our hosts and accommodation in LA had been great so we hit the streets of our very first South American city in relatively high spirits. Our room in the hostel wasn’t ready and wouldn’t be for another 4 hours so it was time to work out what meal we should be up to and eat. Turns out it was breakfast followed by a wander through the streets. Before long we found ourselves back at the hostel and the room was ready. Now here I have a great opportunity to make up some really cool story about what happened next, but …. I don’t really recall. I know I slept for around 12 hours and that the shower was hot. Well, I don’t really know about the shower but I’m certain that if it wasn’t then I would have remembered that!

Next day the flight wasn’t until 6pm so we had the day to spend exploring a brand new culture and a brand new city. First up was zumba in the busiest street in Lima. No, not me, but around 100-odd Peruvians shakin’ their thing in response to two blokes up on a portable stage set up in downtown Lima. This activity originated here in South America and damn if they don’t make it look good! Everyone, and I mean everyone, had rhythm. The two fellows up front were fit creatures, unlike many of their audience, and could have just got up on stage after a night of salsa in the local clubs. Next up was a spot of ancient culture and a trip to the local archaeological ruins smack bang in the guts of high-rise buildings, residential apartments and city streets. One of which just happened to tear right through the middle of this site, can’t stop progress I suppose. Our guide for the hour was a middle aged Peruvian lady who had clearly led this tour a few too many times before. The highlight for me was the guinea pigs, yes they are cute and yes I will eat one!

Speaking of eating it was time to head back to the hostel, grab a bite to eat and shoot for the airport, oops, bad turn of phrase.

Tonight we selected a place popular with the locals and tourists alike and went for the cheapest option, a set menu of the day. The next gruelling 35 minutes produced a pasta of distinction, distinct not because of its careful balance of flavours or clearly apparent love in its serving but because I have never before left any pasta on any plate in my entire 37 years of life. The red wine was a thoughtful blend of balsamic vinegar and maple syrup while the pizza would have benefitted by, say, another hour, in the oven. There was garlic bread on the list also, I don’t think we got it, we must have received by mistake someone else’s rock cake smeared with the contents of a yellow highlighter pen.

But we made our flight on time, unfortunately the plane didn’t and if you have ever entertained the idea of writing a book on the highlights of Lima then save yourself the time researching the airport. However 90 minutes later we landed in Arequipa, our home for the next 6 weeks, and were cheerfully disgorged into the happy throng of awaiting Arequipans. One of whom would be our host and language school organiser, or so we thought.

Then we hoped.

Then we made a phone call.

She had forgotten us…..

LA Arrival

The story so far……..

In another world live a species of human unlike those that walk the same pavement as I. They have shares in wind farms, domestic help and travel in business class. I poked my shaved head into this world on the flight to the US and while welcomed by the amazing staff and pampered with great wine, comfort and around 150 channels of music, movies and electronic distractions, was increasingly glad of the noise reducing earphones. For these gems of modern technology filtered out the complete bullshit and whining the emanated from these otherworldly creatures. 

But the experience was amazing. Monica, our host, would not let us perform even the simplest of tasks, for a moment I thought she would follow me into the toilet. The supplied pyjamas were source of amusement for me as I stared with mirthful wonder at ladies beholden with their own image and comfiture then don these outfits only to then appear to be inmates of a well fed jail. The menu had items like duck, lamb, and seafood in combinations that excited while the wine flowed freely from bottles of Pinot Gris and Pinot Noir. Then our beds were made. Made for us of course and it was time to lay back, catch a couple of movies and sleep before breakfast. For my part, I didn’t have to wait a single time for the toilet, bugger any other comfort; this was almost worth paying the exorbitant price for!

Exit the airport in LA and start shivering! In a freak roll of the dice by the weather gods our 6am arrival was greeted by 5C register on the thermometer. We live in the tropics and have done for 7 years so back into the terminal to unpack undergarments and more t-shirts before once again attempting extraction into this supposedly temperate climate. By 7:30am we roll up at our accom for the next two days, the welcoming apartment of Chris and Kelly, fantastically cheerful, hospitable and great fellow couchsurfers turned hosts, in the heart of ULCA country next door to Beverley Hills. But it wasn’t long before we were counting sheep garbed in complimentary pyjamas.

The next couple of days were spent wandering the streets of West LA, a very interesting place to indulge in a spot of voyeurism. The bus ride to Hollywood proved to be a snapshot of culture. Here we were sitting on the bus behind a homeless man, wrapped in rags, carrying rags looking ragged. In the background a movie set-like scene of manicured gardens, curved drives sporting numerous and various luxury cars all gleaming new and clean in the crisp Beverley Hills morning air. As a traveller I try not to judge, things are as they are. My observations come from my own social norms framed within my home culture. Travel for me is about the observation of similarities and differences not the poncing, moralistic judgements of commentators. All things aside, this was one hell of a juxtaposition.

Hollywood proved to be in the grips of Oscar Fever as the red carpet was being laid down in preparation of the big night 3 day hence. A virtual forest if media satellite dishes had sprung up around the strip, the grandstand along the carpet read like a who’s who of the celebrity reporting media outlets as young security guards nonchalantly strolled within the fenced perimeter. But the locals were clearly unfazed by this, their own individual style guide strangely being an unspoken uniform. Ripped jeans, jingling chains and oversized earrings being the norm at 3pm on a Thursday afternoon.

Enter Spiderman. An elderly fellow wrapped in a bodysuit displaying bulging shoulders, biceps and abs that may have been authentic forty years ago. The original superhero on the strip he quietly bemoaned the incursion onto his patch by the new breed of underpants wearing buskers. With 35 years of personal history in the role you could see the strip regulars afford him the status he deserved, referring to him as ‘OG’ or ‘original guy’.

But its time to go, our quick stop over in LA only a delay in getting to the real adventure. So after working through the jetlag now we have an overnight flight to Lima via Mexico City before another layover until we get to our final destination of Arequipa, tired but hopefully excited to be in Spanish land, hasta la vista people!

A SLIGHT CHALLENGE – NO MOTORBIKE!

So the title of this entry might come as somewhat of a surprise to you as it did to me. The boat due to carry my metal mule to the new world sailed yesterday, however its precious cargo was left standing forlornly dockside, the unfortunate result of an administrative catastrophe. But upon reflection maybe I am not so surprised, but that story starts around a week earlier…….

I had booked the bike in to be crated up on the 11^thof Feb down on the Gold Coast, a tourist hub, not the industrial shipping mecca that might have sprung to mind for such a task. My shipping agent, let’s call him Peter to preserve anonymity, had arranged his man to perform the job. Now I am no stranger around power tools and woodworking, but for this first and most important of shipping endeavours that I am going to do in the next three years I though it prudent to trust it to a professional. And after talking to him the night before I use this term very loosely. Lets just say that the grossly overfed, ill-mannered filthy creature who greeted us the next day fit perfectly into my preconceived image of the man. To add insult to injury his ‘home’ put the phrase ramshackled to shame. Broken cars, rusted hoists and fallen trees greeted our arrival. But all hope was not lost as the innards of his sprawling shed revealed numerous vintage and collectable motorbikes, some in good condition, others clearly still on the ‘project’ self. One vehicle in particular a ’52 Ducati Scooter Cruiser caught my eye and momentarily distracted my thoughts of foreboding for my own machine.

In the end it simply was too late to change the situation and I left ‘zora’ with the fellow, hoping to once again be reunited with it on the other side of the Pacific. 

Skip forward past several reassuring emails and phone calls to ‘Peter’ to the date of departure for the ship which was to convey the bike firstly to Bussan, Korea and then onward to Callao, Peru. Just as Carlie was serving up our second last Aussie home-cooked meal, a delicious lamb roast with all the trimmings, our red wine indulgence was interrupted by Peter. “The bad news, mate, is that it didnt get onto the boat”, I was left waiting for the good news. I am still waiting for the good news. Of course it wasn’t Peters’ fault, it was the shipping agents. And here I was naively thinking that HE was my shipping agent. No all was lost, as of two hours ago and with only 22 hours before I myself board an outward-bound craft for the New World, I received a call. The bike will now go via Sydney, Singapore, Bussan and arrive in Peru only two weeks later than promised gaining no frequent flyer miles while I sit in exotic places fearing the next phone call from Peter.

Yea, it’s a challenge alright but there’s not much to do about it now but sit back enjoy the last Aussie beers for a while and get excited about flying business class. Now there’s fodder for the next blog entry…….

From the Australia Beer Garden,,

Mark

The Count-Down Is Go Houston!

For the last 6 months I have been saying the phrase “I’m gonna ride my bike around the world”! Now I realize that this is not a sentence that usually makes into a dinner party conversation, but it has mine. I have said it so many times to our old tapas bar customers that somewhere along the way it lost currency. As the words formed in my mouth they somehow separated from meaning, kind of like ‘how are you’. We don’t really care how they are doing and if we get a long-winded monologue on Aunty Sally’s cats fungal infection we rarely think to ourselves ‘well, I did ask’. And so it is for me here now.

But something changed for me yesterday, a switch was flicked and I’m almost certain the people sitting around me in the café thought my medication was failing. Surrounded by the hordes of mediocrity and consumerism that is the smell of a sterile Australian shopping centre, there I sat and wrote those exact words in my freshly purchased journal. Then it occurred to me, in 2 weeks I am going to head east and then, should the gods smile upon me, in three years’ time I will return from the west. I have no worldly reason nor desire to purchase anything from the home-maker centre. Nor the clothes shop, the phone shop or the electronics department. In fact if I can't put it in my fuel tank or mouth, I don’t want it. A reduction of needs to Maslows lowest level (food and shelter) while having a foot firmly planted in the highest (self actualization). I’m skipping the crap in the middle that inflates credit cards, suppresses with mortgages and puts ‘image’ on the essential rack. This is freedom, and finally it has dawned upon me. 

So here I am, sitting in an airport lounge using the free wi-fi and making my one cup of over-priced, weak coffee last two hours. We are on our way to Adelaide to say a few goodbyes then back to Brisbane for the final pack and crate the bike for shipping. The countdown is really on now and we couldn’t feel more ready for the adventure!

From the Road…..

DAY ONE, or maybe day half!

What’s the saying, the best laid plans of mice and men…. ? The plan was to show the birds how to catch worms and even a self-induced ‘one wine only’ night was had the day before. However the law is anal. It is fastidious and frustrating and when selling a business and a house it is also necessary to get right when you are about to head around the world.

But a quick backtrack to the early morning spent packing. It should have been a rapid fire, throw it all in the panniers and start the motor gig. But I have lived in this house longer than I have live anywhere apart from my childhood home. I have sweated, bled and swore at its renovations. I have seen a dream come to life to morph a run-down piece of shit into a stunning home that sold within 2 days of being on the market. So when the time came I suppose I took my time knowing that everything I did here would have a level of finality that I hadn’t quite prepared myself for. So it took longer than it should have.

A quick trip to the bank was in order to sort out the mortgage. No I don’t mean a withdrawal at gun-point but the never-ending documents that needed to be signed. Then a chance phone call came in and my plans to depart evaporated like the morning dew that heralded the very hot day ahead. Back to the solicitors office, sign here, triplicate there, email this, call that. Then, suddenly, I was on the road. Wow. To say that the cares and worries melted away like the new rubber from my wheels would be nothing short of romantic. Phone calls kept coming in needing to be addressed. At least I was away!

Skip forward to now, sitting here in some non-descript pub somewhere south from where I started. A day of 38 degrees C and 450kms behind me and I feel great. It’s not the beer talking, a strict limit of two a night currently enforced (getting out of the sleeping bag to pee is simply not worth it, a clear sign I am getting older/wiser/like my dad!). The bike has performed faultlessly. Sitting on around 105-110km/h with plenty in reserve for passing, sounding a beautiful note that only bikers can appreciate and rock solid over the bumps and through the corners even loaded like a fat pig. But the days of trials for the bike are ahead. The corrugated roads, muds pistes, murderous topes, the list goes on. But we are bonding and tonight my shelter is strapped to the handlebars, slowly we are becoming rider and bike, the journey has only just begun.

Until next time…. Mark

Now it's Personal!

Sure, we tell family, we boast to friends and wax lyrical to our old customers. But, well ...... now we are on TV! Now it's REAL! Sure, once you spend $10,000 on a motorbike, another $4000 on the necessary equipment you would be thinking to yourself, "hey, I'm gonna do this". But somewhere deep down there's another voice saying "yea, right, YOU, ride around the world, keep dreamin".

It's the same voice that stops us from uncovering our true dreams and following them.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm as cynical as the next fellow. Don't believe what you read. Propaganda and all that. But now WE are on the idiot box (please don't make any assumptions here) so it MUST be real. While it was playing on the nightly news we had the real estate photographer here doing her thing. And I think she was quite impressed, maybe I heard her call me 'sir' after that but I'm sure Carlie would have a different recollection of things. In the cold light of morning, and once again watching the video, we now call each other 'adventurers', I'm "A1" and Carlie is "A2" - hey, I'm the one doing all the steering.

Thanks Matt from WINTV for doing such a great job. He and Namok have become friends just as we are leaving, it's always the way. I'm sure they will be out there before long on their own adventure.

Until next time ........

SOLD!!

AAhhh, finally....  we have a contract on the business. That was the trigger to set us free. After a few false starts and tyre-kickers, hundreds of $$ in advertising and the never-ending questions from customers we had our final night in the restaurant on the 26th Dec 2012. Hey, it was a Christmas present I suppose.

Tears? I hear you asks. No way! The business was great, made friends, money and found that we had put down roots in the community but Carlie had made 4512 serves of salt and pepper calamari and I had smiled a few too many smiles that came from the wallet rather than the heart.

So jump online and get those remaining overseas purchases happening so they get here in time and now we start to think about things like dates. But the list of 'to-do's' is long enough to justify using some till roll. We have the house now to sell, not such a big deal as it is a good time for doing so but all those maintainence jobs have now jumped from the back-burner and into purchases from the hardware store.

It's all on now and the timer has been set, the 14th of Jan 2013! Now, where's that hammer.....?