Travel Diaries: The End (of the Beginning)
Days: 107
Countries: 7
Flights: 9
Buses: 17
Boats: 16
Trains: 2
Destinations: 36
I’ve been playing around with different ideas on how to end this series. To be honest, I’ve been playing around with the idea of even actually ending it at all. This little diary has acted as a space to praise, vent, reflect, learn, slag off and spout absolute nonsense, and I’m proud of myself for keeping up to it for so long. It’s going to be a little bit strange living life without it, and without making notes about every encounter. The thought of something funny and untimely happening to me now and it going unread by my loyal fans pains me, but let me be frank - it’s over. Done. Finito. This is the end.
It’s given me great pleasure to create a body of work to look back on over the last four months, and I’ve got all the motivation now to pursue something else. The last fifteen weeks have been turbulent, I’ve experienced every emotion possible at one point or another, and I’m definitely landing in Australia as a different person.
At the time of writing this, we’ve been in Brisbane for just over a week. So far, so good. The house is lovely, the landlord is sound, Brisbane City is like a home away from home, and we’ve got Dylan and James just a ten minute bus ride away for company. I haven’t felt this close to home since we set off on the 29th December 2024. The only difference is, I just have to keep my wits about me more here, and scan the room for anything that might kill me whenever I enter it. I just have to hold my breath and hope there’s no spiders or snakes or monkeys or kangaroos in the cupboard whenever I want to make a cup of tea (they sell Yorkshire Tea bags here - get in!). So far there’s been no smoking, plenty of exercise, but, as it stands, no work - which may come as a surprise to some people…
I’m an ambitious individual, I’ll be the first to admit it. A few readers have pulled me up on the fact that, in every other diary, I have a new dream job. Well what’s wrong with dreaming, I ask? At least I have options now that I’m here and unemployed, and if I can’t find anything suitable, I’ve heard there’s a job going at the Vatican.
The point is, I don’t really know what I want to do, nor what I’m going to do. I’m still figuring it all out, and for once, the uncertainty isn’t daunting. One thing I am certain about, though, is that I’m not finished writing, and I’m definitely not finished travelling.
I’m all Asia’d out for now, but I’m sure there will come a time I’ll return. We have unfinished business in Malaysia and Indonesia, and un-started business in the likes of the Philippines, Singapore, Japan and China. I’d love to do a safari at some point, perhaps climb Mount Kilimanjaro, or jog around the perimeter of Lesotho. I’d love to visit the Falklands, sail over to Argentina and maybe even call in to Uruguay (why does everyone always skip Uruguay?). I want to be freezing somewhere, perhaps in the former Soviet Union, as East as possible, unable to make sense of the street signs in the Cyrillic alphabet. I want to do a tour of the former Yugoslavia in search of a country that no longer exists. I’d love to complete a trip around the state of California in a camper van, before venturing towards Albuquerque, New Mexico, and ultimately, Mexico. I want to see countries in the Middle East - the more war-torn the better - in my desire to meet people from all different walks of life.
With people in mind, now is probably a good time to thank all the cast members (in order of appearance):
Max
Hugo
Anass
Veer
Toni
Ze Headvobbler
Caleb
Parnav
Vikram
Laurie
Budaji
Amit
Vannah
Harvey
Bill
Hans
Shane
Alex
Max
Stelios
Helena
Tanya
Jannik
Jonas
Rhonda
Marcus
Brad
Michael
Marcus
Marta
Theo
Deck it Daryl
Connor
Josh (Sam Smith)
Ella
Eva
Jade
Niall
Kyra
Heroin Michael Jackson (HMJ)
Lan
Bey
Alik
Cam
Jeffrey
Jean-Pierre
Binh’h
Zun
Chloe
Phuc
Toi
Kai
Josh
Paul
Josh Gal
Dylan
James
Hue
Hung Tom
Chris
Matteo
Julia
Steve
Robert
Mr. Miyagi
Selina
Matt
Ben
Jetra
Dr. Heng
Michael
Cathal
Ste
Eric
Jean
Rob (Robin Hood)
Max
John
Callum
Harry
Chris
Bao
Alexandre
Beans (Macauley)
Steve
Trae
Fred
Rosie
Seb
Johnny
John
Angie
Dave
Gary
It’s been emotional. I’ve laughed and cried, drunk many a beer and smoked many a cigarette. I feel very privileged to have seen what I’ve seen, and experienced what I’ve experienced, with my two best friends by my side, and it’s with that, that the biggest thanks of all goes to Mia and Eden.
I hope this series of codswallop has brought some joy to you, the reader, I hope I’ve made you laugh (with me, not at me) and I hope I’ve come across as humble.
Many thanks if you’ve got this far, and I’ll end with one last little anecdote…
I left our house the other evening just before sunset and started to walk towards the local Kookaburra Park for a run. Whilst waiting at the crossing to get over one of the many anti-pedestrian roads in the Coopers Plains area, I made eye contact with an elderly gentleman who was also waiting to cross. He was wearing a trucker hat and an unbuttoned shirt exposing his rather large beer belly.
“How ya goin’ mate?” He said with a nod.
“Hello there, sir,” I replied, cementing commonwealth relations. “How are you doing?”
“I’m Robbie,” he said, extending his arm.
“My name’s Kai, nice to meet you, Robbie.” I replied, shaking his hand.
Now this is the part where it gets a little bit confusing.
“So where are you from, Robbie?” Asked Robbie.
At this point, I’m unsure as to whether he’s got my name wrong and is actually calling me by his own name, by mistake, or whether he’s insinuating that I should ask him where he’s from… surely if he thought I was called Robbie, he’d have touched on the fact that we were both called Robbie.
“Erm… I’m from England.” I stutter. “I just moved here.”
The green man finally burst into my peripheral view, and I literally ran away from Robbie. Not because I was scared of him or creeped out, God no, but because I’d started my run.
I jogged precariously through my new suburb’s streets and eventually onto the park. I was near collapse when I was overtaken by a chap in a running shirt with the St. George’s flag on the back. So, you can imagine my despair, as the reality of the metaphor slapped me in the face like a wet fish. I struggled to keep up to the chap in front, and watched as he, and the flag of England, grew smaller and smaller and eventually disappeared over the horizon, leaving me all alone in a new, unfamiliar place.
The End