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Is Peter Pan practising what he preaches?

AUSTRALIA | Sunday, 20 December 2009 | Views [959] | Comments [1]

I wander Salamanca place and into the waiting embrace of the cops.

I wander Salamanca place and into the waiting embrace of the cops.

Returning to Melbourne is always a scary prospect for me. Cougars don't stalk me in the front yard and the wardrobe is boogey man free the last time I checked. Grey skies that look like they've been finger painted by an obsessive compulsive elephant are hardly cause for much concern either. Revisiting the sedate, and frequently depressive life I left eight years ago, makes me jump at shadows as I walk in the footsteps of my own ghost. The vast difference between then and now convinces me of the power of positive change.

The more confident I felt about going to Tasmania though, the less I felt like I was going to stay. The happier I was under taking a new adventure, the more I felt inclined to have a three month holiday at taxpayers expense instead. I would never advocate rorting the welfare system, but getting free money every fortnight is a tempting offer to perfect the humbleness of receiving charity. People may disagree with the liberties I take when decisions about my next career move are not implemented at the next possible moment. I see it as an invaluable opportunity to ensure my next vocation / vacation further contributes to my personal growth. I repay the community back by smiling at old people in the street. But seriously, I love life so much that I actively encourage positivity in everyone I associate with. So much so that I'm thinking about studying to become a life coach!

Well, making my lunch after writing that probably allowed enough time for the laughter to die down, but I am quite serious. Some people, and nearly every relative I have, would say that my life is either a pathetic Peter Pan like trip devoid of any parallels with reality, or an ongoing regression into immaturity as I actively avoid all forms of responsibility and commitment. Hardly the position to guide people to make the most of their life. I think everyone could stand to gain from being more open to everything that life has to offer. I accept that some people can't do much under certain circumstances, but isn't being more optimistic about things much better than the alternative?

Anyway, five hours after arriving in a freezing cold Hobart being buffeted by sheets of rain I had pretty much decided that I was not going to give Tasmania any more than a week. A one hour flight from Melbourne could not be considered a protagonist even if it had of fulfilled its ominous potential. Laura had taken over the role of worrying needlessly over my welfare when I hadn't shown up for the flight four hours before departure. Arriving at the gate five minutes before boarding I was greeted by two zombies. Paul hadn't shaved for at least 60 hours and his hairy heritage had given him a full and luscious beard in that time. Had he strapped a baby to his chest, he would have been a dead ringer for the 'roofie' moron from 'The hangover' movie. His extreme fragility on all things locomotive meant he'd thrown up everything he'd eaten in the last week and should have strapped a spew bucket to his chest instead. Laura had slept as much as me on the long trip from Broome and only the magnitude of Paul's illness over shadowed her own delicate stomach.

Unfortunately for some other poor sucker, I sat at the other end of the plane to the regurgitators. Unfortunately for me, I ended up next to two little brats using the enclosed space as the boundary of their wrestling ring. That test of patience quickly escalated to DEFCON 1 when they swapped seats with proud new parents. They were sporting a tiny toddler they may have stolen off Paul if he actually was the dude from the movie. I envisaged the short flight ending with me in police custody if the baby put on an extended vocal solo. Defying the odds, and costing me the small wager I had made with my conscience, the little cherub didn't utter a sound. I never looked closely, so it could have just been a doll. Or drugged up.

Twenty minutes later, drugs featured again in this tale. One lone joint had made the trip in my bag. Less than I normally travel with under the guise of alleviating the 'crippling pain in my foot' that stops me from properly playing the piano. Not that anyone needs to know that I have never even tried to play the piano. Some overly enthusiastic puppy was running along the baggage carousel hunting contraband like the junkie it had been trained to become. Some kindly traveler distracted Snoopy the smack addict with a large haul of lamingtons, probably taken as a parting gift from an overly generous Grandmother. I scuttled off with my medication, watching as the dog returned to duty somewhat disappointed his jackpot was replaced with a single little dog biscuit.

Rain pummeled the city prompting our taxi driver to point out that Hobart hadn't had consecutive sunny days since March. Awesome! The perfect place for such a sun lover like me to come to. We checked into the same hostel we stayed at in February, largely because it was the only one that still had vacancies at this time of year. Our eight bedroom dorm hardly had enough space for beds, let alone backpacks, and I was instantly reminded of the benefits I enjoyed having only Alex to share my room with in Broome. An offer to stay in Melbourne over Christmas and house sit Simon's play mansion suddenly got upgraded from improbable to highly likely.

Then I caught up with Trevor. It was his wedding in January that had prompted me to travel to Tasmania in the first place. Having an unequalled passion for his job, and the amber fluids he gets paid to dispense, I was inspired to aim higher than three months as a leech suckling the welfare nipple dry. The improvement in my attitude was aided by a night of stories that painted Hobart in a better light than the one I was viewing it in at the time.

Is anyone else aware of how this very story contradicts the seriousness of my earlier claim to want to be a life coach? Mr. 'Give life a hug' finds another chance to have an amazing time like Brisbane, Bowen and Broome have all proven to be, and starts off thinking about sitting on his lazy ass and only working hard on his beer belly. Perhaps I need to learn consistency before I try and teach spontaneity!



Tags: friends, on the road



Hey homeless_harry,

We love following your adventures and have decided to feature your blog on our Adventures homepage this week so that others can enjoy it too.

Happy travels!
World Nomads

  World Nomads Dec 22, 2009 6:12 AM

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