It's good to be free again. My brother and parents have made their trecks back home after their successive two week visits. And was it ever an amazing time. This isn't to say I'm happy to be 'rid' of my family. Not at all, but my time here has really started to come full circle. It felt good saying so long to my parents as they hopped in the cab watching me walk away not having a clue as to where exactly I was going. I felt comfortable this time though. I wasn't nervous, or unsure of myself the way I was my first night in New Zealand... an entirely different anticipation and excitement for what's to come. So yes, it's good to be free again. Free of my apartment, free of classes, free to explore on my own accord. Interesting thing is we're always free of that stuff, we just make excuses so they get in our way.
Patrick's week here flew by. We did the bar thing here and there, met some locals, laughed, and just enjoyed each others company. Though I should have expected this, it was strange how natural it was for him to be off exploring the otherside of the world with me. We picked up right where we left off, as brothers naturally would, but before he got here I was expecting some overwhelming sense of "Hot damn I can't believe you're here!" And that sense was there, but it was more calm cool and collected, more, "Yeah, this is pretty cool, this is good, this works." Same thing happened with my parents.
So over the past few weeks we drove a couple thousand Kilometers in a gigantor 20 foot wide RV Winnebago. I distinctly remember calling my parents warning them that alot of those camper vans are manual transmissions. They didn't seem too concerned about it. So when my dad and brother weren't back at 3:00 in the afternoon with the mamoth van, I called the rental company and learned it was picked up at 11:30 that afternoon. After a few other phone calls to the police and to their cell phones, I arrived back at my apartment to see my dad chuckling and grinning from ear to ear, my mom laughing at the hell we were surely about to unleash on the roads of Australia, and Patrick cowering upstairs, clutching a bible, refusing to speak about the afternoons events until the end of his time here. It was gonna be a great time (ahem, the RV was a manual transmission, with a crappy first gear).
We all took our chances in trying to learn to drive a manual - something that I've never been privey to before, but let Dad do most of the driving the first day. It took us two hours to get out of Sydney because I sent us in the wrong direction, and then the helpful homeless people started making enlightening comments like, "Learn the f*cking rules of the road asshole!" while walking through the cross walk which we were half way blocking due to multiple stalls and missed green lights. That time the people behind us didn't seem to honk all that much, which was a nice reprive from the normal symphony of horns we heard. I thought Sydney-siders used their horns alot when I was just walking down the side walk. Try being on the road during rush hour when no one has a damn clue what the rules are, let alone how to safely drive the vehicle. Dad relayed a few more stories about how he wasn't the only guy that wanted to "Beat my American ass"
You know that song, "I'm your venus, I'm your fire, your desire..." or whatever it is? They use it for a ladies razor I believe? We went on a little day cruise out to some islands to see the sights and do some snorkeling (which was absolute paradise), and low and behold the owner of the boat was the drummer for the band that wrote that song. Can't remember what they're called. But I just like those stories. What I like even better is that he sold his business, but his entire life savings and then some into his dream to build the very boat that we were riding on. He lives on it with his wife (at least I think that's what she was) and comes and goes as he pleases. Travels the world. He was caught in a Hurrican with that ship before. He is one sweet dude, so was the misses... that whole day was amazing.
So we drove some 20 plus hours north to some warm weather. Made some great stops along the way, and saw amazing scenery as well. A few nights we just parked along side of the road to recooperate from the wonderfully exciting day. If it was up to Patrick we would have driven straight through, the man's a machine, and by the end an expert driver. I let everyone else do most of the driving at first because I wanted them to get as much practice in as possible. I'm just considerate like that, but then my hand was forced and I got to tackle Sydney on our way home. By the end I was declaring my self a master driver and king of the world. I dominated the road... I'm guessing I only took out about two or three side view mirrors.
My dad, I see him as a sort of social genius. I'm not really too sure how he does it, but the man can just start talking to people and make friends. We met some blokes in Coffs Harbour one night when we innocently poked our heads into this irish bar looking for some dinner; two glasses of Jamison later, dad came back from his aimless wanderings and invited my mom and I over to their table and the drinks started flowing. It was an amazingly fun night. We made plans to go fishing the next morning and everything, but couldn't because the RV was due back in Sydney the next day (some 10 hrs away).
Dad bought me a fishing pole. Luckily enough because he dropped his into the Ocean one night when he was fishing off of the rocks. I just finished reading Cannery Row by... wow my memory fails me... John Steinbeck. One of the characters in it was a warm hearted, minding your own business but trouble seems to find him kinda guy named Mac. Dad met another guy while fishing named Mac who I envisioned as much like the character in the book. The real Mac did carney work for a living. He had a bad accident with a circular saw, mucking up a bunch of tendons in his wrist, so he didn't have good functioning in his hand, makes finding alot of work challenging. He claimed to be out there fishing every night until two in the morning, and were it not for the crazy weather the following nights I'm sure he would have been. He was a marine hobbyist, used to have like a 100 gallon fish tank, which was great for me because that meant we could actually talk about something. He told me about all of the crazy fish he used to have, he new a supplier that hooked him up with all of his stuff. It was nothing I needed to know, or particularly wanted to know, but it was a great time nonetheless. I didn't catch any fish that night. All in all, the time with my parents was freakin sweet. One for the record books. So many small little stories.
Now, I'm on my own again. I'm out on my own, with no one to answer to but myself, no homebase save the one on the other side of the world, and no worries in general. I've got a job lined up for the next two weeks, and then I head home to visit some quality people, and I transition from this phase of my adventures to the next with another glorious week of Eagle U.
Life is grand.
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