Having been in Newcastle under a week, with only three weeks left before my plane ride back to the motherland, I messaged several hosts along the coast. I was thinking about staying with a friend of Pieter's (first guy I stayed with near Sydney) but I had a host come through in Evan's Head so I swooped up that opportunity. This would be the biggest jump yet for me. I found a ticket so cheap it seemed like a scam almost. $40 total for a ten hour train ride north and an additional two hour bus ride. For how expensive Straya' is I was stoked on that.
Packed everything up, including some goodies for the road. Small bag of mixed nuts, one avocado, one tomato, and two oranges. Five minutes before we left to the train station, it started pouring down an insane amount of water. The weather here is so bloody unpredictable. Just walking out to the car right in front of the home, putting all my stuff in the back, I was half drenched. I said my quick goodbyes, got dropped off at the Newcastle station about fifteen minutes away, and walking up the hallway to where I'd be boarding the train, I stopped next to a darker man with glasses. The first thing he said was, "well you pack light." Indeed I do. We sparked some serious heartfelt conversation. He hadn't had a home for a while, sleeping at friends places, and outside in his tent. He said, "I ran a very lucrative business." And was telling me about how he'd given money to help out friends, and one of them used that money to start his own drug empire. Another friend who he grew up with from a very young age took the money and flew to Japan and has never returned. Craziness. He was headed back up to the Gold Coast where he had some legal issues he needed to take care of with his landlord. The man had heart, even though in his own words he said, "I could have become a very cynical man."
From all the experiences I've had I know I have a gift with people, but I don't know if I'd even label it as that, it's just who I am. I genuinely care about people, and I don't judge. Some people may say they are loving and accepting people, yet the only people they love and accept are their family and friends. To me, in my heart, that is a very limited form of love. That's easy. It's easy to love family and friends. It takes so much more character to genuinely love a complete stranger, a bum smoking a cigarette on the street, someone who's beliefs are starkly different than your own, someone who comes from an entirely different background than you, and so on. That's why I don't hold such limiting beliefs as cigarettes are bad, alcohol is bad, drugs are bad, it's bad to be gay or lesbian or trans, swearing is bad (since when is a combination of sounds coming out of my mouth bad? who makes up this shit?), tattoos are bad, etc. Because what does that do when you see someone who's covered in tats? Or smoking a cigarette? Or a gay couple walking together? Automatically, unconsciously, it essentially separates you from that person or couple because you hold a belief that it's bad or a sin to do such things, and then it's unlikely you will interact with that person or couple, much less become friends. Ummmm yeah, I'd rather not separate myself from millions and millions of awesome people. Never.
I boarded the train, after the man I was talking to boarded a different section, and I knew I'd never see him again. The next ten hours was spent riding over countless rivers, bridges, in the countryside, near the ocean, past banana farms and other wild looking plants, on a train ride that felt like it was on its way to some mysterious unknown land called Hogwarts it was so unbelievable, all the while sitting next to a kiwi named Barbara. She grew up living the quiet life, but once given the chance, headed straight to Straya' because she never liked the quiet life. She wanted to hit up the pubs and city life. On traveling days like this I usually just go hungry because I travel cheap. Barbara bought a sausage roll, and after declining it at first, she insisted and I very much enjoyed it. Fruit could never fill me up. I had an epiphany on the train and realized my video camera takes pictures! That made me so happy.
Had a short break in Grafton, and now was on a two hour bus ride up to Evans Head, a small non touristy beach town. I whipped out the bag of mixed nuts I brought and put in some tunes. Soon after we drove past an awesome looking carnival going on with heaps of lights, rides, and stands on the outskirts of a local school's soccer field. The nuts tasted funky, and it wasn't until about an hour later, I turned the light on above me to take a further look and I noticed blue and white mold. Yuck. But I had nothing to get the taste out of my mouth. I guess that's an example of how tolerant I am. Just sitting there eating moldy nuts for an hour, but not stopping because it's all the food I had.
Finally arrived at Evans Head and walking outside the driver was handing my bags to some randy joe, after being confused for a moment, he said in his Swedish accent, "you must be Andrew." He looks younger than me, distinctly different, his name is Malcom. He's from Sweden. We made it to the home a few minutes away, and it's right next a body of water, looks like a river. I met another workaway-er named Laurence who is from London. I was super tired and super hungry at that point, so I washed the taste of moldy nuts out of my mouth with stale corn flakes and milk, then went straight to bed in a room that had six other bunk beds, but I had it to myself.
Packed everything up, including some goodies for the road. Small bag of mixed nuts, one avocado, one tomato, and two oranges. Five minutes before we left to the train station, it started pouring down an insane amount of water. The weather here is so bloody unpredictable. Just walking out to the car right in front of the home, putting all my stuff in the back, I was half drenched. I said my quick goodbyes, got dropped off at the Newcastle station about fifteen minutes away, and walking up the hallway to where I'd be boarding the train, I stopped next to a darker man with glasses. The first thing he said was, "well you pack light." Indeed I do. We sparked some serious heartfelt conversation. He hadn't had a home for a while, sleeping at friends places, and outside in his tent. He said, "I ran a very lucrative business." And was telling me about how he'd given money to help out friends, and one of them used that money to start his own drug empire. Another friend who he grew up with from a very young age took the money and flew to Japan and has never returned. Craziness. He was headed back up to the Gold Coast where he had some legal issues he needed to take care of with his landlord. The man had heart, even though in his own words he said, "I could have become a very cynical man."
From all the experiences I've had I know I have a gift with people, but I don't know if I'd even label it as that, it's just who I am. I genuinely care about people, and I don't judge. Some people may say they are loving and accepting people, yet the only people they love and accept are their family and friends. To me, in my heart, that is a very limited form of love. That's easy. It's easy to love family and friends. It takes so much more character to genuinely love a complete stranger, a bum smoking a cigarette on the street, someone who's beliefs are starkly different than your own, someone who comes from an entirely different background than you, and so on. That's why I don't hold such limiting beliefs as cigarettes are bad, alcohol is bad, drugs are bad, it's bad to be gay or lesbian or trans, swearing is bad (since when is a combination of sounds coming out of my mouth bad? who makes up this shit?), tattoos are bad, etc. Because what does that do when you see someone who's covered in tats? Or smoking a cigarette? Or a gay couple walking together? Automatically, unconsciously, it essentially separates you from that person or couple because you hold a belief that it's bad or a sin to do such things, and then it's unlikely you will interact with that person or couple, much less become friends. Ummmm yeah, I'd rather not separate myself from millions and millions of awesome people. Never.
I boarded the train, after the man I was talking to boarded a different section, and I knew I'd never see him again. The next ten hours was spent riding over countless rivers, bridges, in the countryside, near the ocean, past banana farms and other wild looking plants, on a train ride that felt like it was on its way to some mysterious unknown land called Hogwarts it was so unbelievable, all the while sitting next to a kiwi named Barbara. She grew up living the quiet life, but once given the chance, headed straight to Straya' because she never liked the quiet life. She wanted to hit up the pubs and city life. On traveling days like this I usually just go hungry because I travel cheap. Barbara bought a sausage roll, and after declining it at first, she insisted and I very much enjoyed it. Fruit could never fill me up. I had an epiphany on the train and realized my video camera takes pictures! That made me so happy.
Had a short break in Grafton, and now was on a two hour bus ride up to Evans Head, a small non touristy beach town. I whipped out the bag of mixed nuts I brought and put in some tunes. Soon after we drove past an awesome looking carnival going on with heaps of lights, rides, and stands on the outskirts of a local school's soccer field. The nuts tasted funky, and it wasn't until about an hour later, I turned the light on above me to take a further look and I noticed blue and white mold. Yuck. But I had nothing to get the taste out of my mouth. I guess that's an example of how tolerant I am. Just sitting there eating moldy nuts for an hour, but not stopping because it's all the food I had.
Finally arrived at Evans Head and walking outside the driver was handing my bags to some randy joe, after being confused for a moment, he said in his Swedish accent, "you must be Andrew." He looks younger than me, distinctly different, his name is Malcom. He's from Sweden. We made it to the home a few minutes away, and it's right next a body of water, looks like a river. I met another workaway-er named Laurence who is from London. I was super tired and super hungry at that point, so I washed the taste of moldy nuts out of my mouth with stale corn flakes and milk, then went straight to bed in a room that had six other bunk beds, but I had it to myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment