Knowing that I only had a month left, I planned to travel around as much as possible, so I lined up another host in the city of Newcastle a few hours north, near the coast of course. I said my goodbyes to the family, who were wonderful hosts, and got dropped off at the Ourimbah train station.
When I arrived at the Newcastle station all I had was the address, but I had no idea where their house was. I asked someone that was working and he stopped what he was doing, looked up on google maps, and showed me the map and explained everything. Man the people here are awesome.
With my green back pack on, camelbak in my left hand, and my skateboard with my camera covered in a crimson red beanie in my right hand, I took a shortcut through a huge park and across a bridge. I put my skateboard down the first moment I was on some smooth pavement, then continued riding across the bridge. A little more than halfway across the bridge, I saw a crack coming up ahead, and it was teetering on the edge of being too big for my skateboard wheels to be able to cross it, but I took the chance. Not a good idea. I lifted up my front trucks easily clearing it with the front part of my board, but my back wheels got caught, and from the weight of my pack, I got hurled straight down into the pavement with surprising velocity, scraping into the small pebbles that made up the top layer of the bridge, dropping my camera, and hearing it tumble and crack across the pavement inching its way closer and closer to the ledge, as I screamed in terror, "NOOOOOOOO." And then looking behind me and seeing my skateboarding rolling along right toward the edge. "NOOOOOO." My camera was inches away from falling down into the river, forever destroyed, and my skateboard luckily was stopped from the railing. I didn't move for a moment, in a bit of shock, the weight of my backpack pressing me against the pavement, looking over at my camera with the flash that popped up from the drop. Goodness. That was bone headed.
I got up and collected pieces of cords and electronics that had fallen out of my pack. My lens cap. Nooooo. Where's my lens cap? Shoot. I looked all over. It must have fallen, but I didn't see it anywhere. O well. An older lady walked past me and I said, "mehh could've been worse." I continued on, blood oozing down my elbow and knee. I could have been mad. Very mad and upset. But five minutes later I was laughing about it thinking that well, it's a good story. I asked a few people, showing them the address, where this place was, and finally made it.
55 Henry St. Tighes Hill, NSW, 2297.
I knew no one was gonna be home, but Heather left the door open for me and told me in a message what room I'd be using. It's a fairly small whitish-blue home with a white fence in front. I walked in and entering my new room was a colorful twin bed in the corner, a sign that said Tasman's Room, another sign that had scribbly handwriting, Tasman is awesome. Surrounding the room, containers of legos and toys, trains and stuffed animals. A room that could only be inhabited by the pure innocence of a child. I put my bags down, cleaned up my wounds, laughing some more, then in the corner of my eye saw something move. "Hello?" I walked over to the door by the kitchen and it was a bunny hanging out with a cat and her baby. I picked up the baby kitten and checked out their back yard that had a patio area with two couches, plants and herbs growing behind it, two sheds (one still in progress), and a little gated off area with a few chickens. I was lying on their mini trampoline with the kitten on my stomach with the bunny right below us, when I heard something in the home.
I kind of startled Heather when I walked back in the kitchen door, but she knew it was me. I met the dude himself. Tasman. He was carrying a little loaf of bread he had just made at school and implored me to try it. It was slightly raw, but I picked off a pea sized piece and put it in my mouth. "Mmmmmm." Heather began cutting up some cheese, different meats, pickles, tomatoes, and avocado. An afternoon snack with crackers and mayo. That's when a little spiderwoman came running in through the front door. It was the neighbor across the street, with probably the cutest accent on this planet. I said, "look you gotta put your fingers like this then you can shoot out spider web, see? Schooo. Schoooo."
I learned that Heather had traveled all over the world for five years back in her earlier days. She was originally planning on majoring in mechanical engineering, but because of her travels, she discovered her passion for nature, and so now through her company she talks to cities and different organizations on everything about climate change and how to be more sustainable, etc. At this point she has literally hosted over a hundred people in her home. Wow. That very well could be me in the future. In my experience it seems that people who've had time to really travel (and I don't mean flying to an exotic location and staying at a nice hotel for a week) tend to have a clear sense of what they want to do, and are generally more open minded.
I met another dude who lives here named Siren. Originally from the eastern part of the north island of New Zealand. His dreads are so on point it makes him look like a more sophisticated hippie. He's chill, of course. How could someone with such classy dreads not be chill? He's an artist for a local magazine company. And Michael who is Heather's current partner. Aaaand little Kaitlin.
Everyone except Siren were headed to a local mall and they asked me to come so I did. Australia is really like America in so many ways, yet as far as the nature aspect and the language quirks, it's a totally different world. That night after seeing how good I was with Tasman, who is autistic, Heather said, "you'd be great working with kids."
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