Saturday, 27 November 2010

Notes From The Roads Of Yesteryear. I

The first of a collection of essays and emails, that I had since forgotten I ever wrote, from my time travelling the world a few years back. Completely un-edited, only the names have been censored to protect the guilty.


Last night, I was in a car, on the way home from a nightclub, and I almost ran over some drunk in the middle of the road. Clipped him with the driver's side wing mirror.

Two nights ago I was at a crazy house party in Manchester, when the alcohol ran dry. Me and my cousin fixed the problem by raiding the hosts parents' wine collection.

Last weekend I was on my way to an illegal rave in London when a girl, whom my friend had introduced me to earlier in the day, grabbed my hand and said "forget this party, I want you to come home and fuck me". I did.

One week ago my pants were around my ankles as I did the walk of shame after being "pants-downed" by some Victorian junior pool champ at the Generator Hostel in London.

Two weeks ago my pants were around my ankles as I did the walk of shame after being "pants-downed" by some random girl playing pool at the Generator Hostel in Berlin. That morning a few of us were smoking pot and doing lines off the breakfast tables while the hostel staff cooked breakfast.

Two nights before that ***** shagged a Kiwi girl while ******* "tried to sleep" on the bunk above. The next night I shagged the Kiwi bird's German friend on *****'s bed.

Before we left London for Berlin, I almost talked my way into the pants of a drunk Easyjet hostess in a hotel bar, not so easy after all. The night before that my wallet was stolen from a hostel. Two weeks before that some street urchins tried to mug me and my mate in London. They got fuck all.

Five days before that I was walking around the Colosseum, in Rome. The day before that I was standing inside Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Two days before that I was on top of a volcano in Naples. The day after that I was touring the ancient city that that volcano destroyed.

The country before that I stayed at a hostel called the Pink Palace. I have never seen so many drunk women, willing to get naked, in all my life.

The country before that I was working as a barman inside a bar that was inside a cave.

Two weeks before that I took the war medals of a long dead ancestor to the British and Commonwealth war memorial that bears his name at Cape Helles, Turkey. The day after that I attended the ANZAC Dawn Service at ANZAC Cove Gallipoli.

The country before that a crazy bitch who worked in a sandwich shop lost the plot because ***** and I ordered in English not Greek. Fucking mole !

The country before that a Chinese waitress was kind enough to teach me how to by a train ticket because I was drunk, alone and couldn't read the Chinese language instructions in the Hong Kong subway. There may or may not have been English instructions, I'll never know.

Twenty-four hours before that I was saying goodbye to friends and family in Australia.

A week or so before that I bought my ticket for this world trip.

Before that I was seriously considering taking out a loan and buying a house.

In an hour or so I will be on a train heading into Manchester to meet *****, ******* and *** when they arrive from London.

Next week my cousin and I are flying to Ireland where I will go and visit an old high school friend of mine.

In a few months I will be flying into Beirut, Lebanon. From there I will somehow make my way to Cairo via Syria, Jordan and Israel.

Before that, I will travel through Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, the top of France and hopefully some Eastern Bloc countries. I will also, most likely, throw up on myself or somebody else while drinking at the Oktoberfest in Munich.

In a year, maybe two, I will be flying into Sydney. I could be, at the oldest, 27 years old. I left Australia aged 24.

Good Times.

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