Tour Report: Gloomy Tuesday

It's getting chill outside, kinda windy too, think it's going to rain soon/ read on the newspaper about the terrorists and some boy got incaricated and now have serious phycological disorder/ the living room in her flat's got a distinct colour and a different feeling/ don't know when can I come back and see her again/ need to ride to the bus station, but the legs are kinda tired, not from riding excessively/ haven't felt like this for a long time ever since I left Spain and the last time was because I was deeply in love with her, the girl called España/ it's getting dark now.

Tour Report: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

I'm leaving for Melbourne tomorrow night, but honestly, I don't feel the least yearning to go there, I have a feeling that it's going to be a hole, nevertheless, I'm still going there. Why? I'm travelling, I'm supposed to be free and go anywhere my heart damn pleases instead of the other way around, but why can't you just stay here in her place until the flight back home as you want it to be?

Like ants.

Performing some necessary function unknown to yourself, even while you're away from work, even when you think you're free.

Tour Report: Eternal Sojourn

The 7th day in Sydney, to be honest, if I didn't know anyone here I wouldn't even bother to come. Here I've done lots of things which didn't even cross my mind before, we cooked lamb with vegges and did Pavlova; went to a play which took place in a cemetery about the Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca; a walk in the Blue Mountains with Jacqui and the birthday dinner of her sister; to Yum Cha; and to the "church" with Hannah.

I have to say, I've really enjoyed Sydney so far. However, the thing within haunts me still, amongst the good atmosphere and the friendly lot.

I realized, or rather being reconfirmed, once more that I was unable to start an easy conversation because I simply didn't know what to say, because I was too damn absorbed into (or accustomed to) the so called serious issues that I was thinking literally nothing else but them, and apparently someone like that is, in one word, boring. Yes, I'm boring, I'm not pop, I'm not cool. And someone like that is destined to reside in a long lone fight.

Is this the "disappointment" like the guy said during the sermon that night in the "church"? Or is it simply the cruel recognition and acceptance of what one is?

Even though I'm having a great time here and the fact that I like it so much (because of Jacqui and Hannah, not because of the place) that I would really love to stay and become part of it, the sense of not belonging came out of its lair and shrouded me in its full embrace. You don't belong here, you don't belong to anywhere, you are to keep going and never stop, that's your design, your task, your destiny.

It was high spirit the night in the "church" (no wonder why people like to go to concerts so much), tears almost found their way into my eyes and onto the cheeks, "I trust in you" what simple words and yet what a solace it would be, all the sorrow and bitterness would be gone. But I just can't commit myself into it because what they said of their experiences and believes I don't see and I don't feel myself. I want to believe, to feel, to be troubled no more. What a bliss it would be to know that you're not alone, that you're being loved.

I want to, but I can't. I can't say or do something that I don't feel.

Is it really Fate or just My Fate? Guess you can call me the man without great conviction and the tragical/ironical insistence on the road to self-destruction.

Tour Report: Tropical Coldness

I'm exactly tired. The tide of tiredness took hold of me when I got into the city and the youth hostel. It was full of the likes of the "well-educated". It's bloody cold here, nobody smiles or says hi to you anymore. It's strewn with bitches and assholes.

On the corridor a girl past through me, with fancy dress and the cold look that labelled her a plain bitch. Saw her and her friend again later and judging from their clothings and the content of the conversation, they were going to some disco or something. To shake your ass and fast love with some muscular prick with a big sunny smile huh?

It's bloody freezing here, well, of course, it's winter now, stupid me.

Tour Report: Darwin

After 50 days on the road I finally got here.

Even though I have tons of things to do (reconfirm the flight to Sydney, get a bike box, do my dirty laundry, write postcards, cash my traveller's cheque, etc.), I don't really feel like leaving the bed that bears the weight of my body and the wall that my back and the back of head is leaning against.

Tour Report: Corroboree

The penultimate day of the end of the cycling part, the last day till arriving in Darwin. They left this morning without saying hi or goodbye, when I rolled my bike over to the toilet they were already gone.

Had a puncture again today, this time it was the rear wheel. It happened at around 12 o'clock just like the last flat, but this time it only took my 45 minutes to fix it. Didn't really feel bad or frustrated, guess if I was the I couple of years ago I would probably just freak out. After I got the problem solved and 5 minutes on the bike, a car with a caravan pulled over and, lo, they were the old couple (the Great Normads, as they call them here in Australia) that I met in the campsite in Jabiru (in Kakadu National Park)! What a pleasant surprise! They refilled my already emptied water bottles and handed me a life saving can of coke.

After about an hour and a half I got to Bark Hut, the supposed destination for the night, but it was only around 3 o'clock in the afternoon and Corroboree was just 27k away so I decided to keep going, and I felt quite fit anyway, besides with 27k less tomorrow to Darwin would be an supposed easy one, only 89k.

On the last stretch a school of armoured vehicles past through me, lots of tanks, jeez, that was really unexpected. The sound of their fast approaches was like the sound made by the bees, at least extra super gigantic bees. At first I didn't expected them to be tanks, was just wondering what kind of wheels could make such a strange sound, but when the first one whipped past through me, I was totally shocked (not in the sense of being frightened by the sudden burst of sound or appearances of things like some asshole on the road would sneak up behind ya quitely and then without warning speed up and try to give you the fright), a tank! And then another one and another one and... Hurriedly I whipped out my Canon and between waving madly like a little child and holding the camera I finally got some great shots.

Back to the trip. I thought I would see them in Corroboree, but they weren't there (the next day when we met on the road, one of them asked me why I didn't show up in Bark Hut, she said "I thought we already had that discussed". No, sweetheart, we didn't, YOU TWO discussed in German and then RELAY the information to me and expect me to do the same. Sorry mate, I'm not your servant, but of course, you're always right and I'm always the one to blame, so I guess I should knee down and beg for your forgiveness, your mercifulness). The mere sight of them just piss me off, but curiously, now that they're not here, I kinda miss them. Is it because I'm used to having dinner with them or is it because I miss the people I met on the road, Rob the old guy from Coventry, the friendly chicks from UK who gave me the chocolates, John and Pat I met in Pootnoura rest area at the end of the day, Emily and Melissa in Jamestown, Kirs, Warren, Ari, Finn and Errol in Gawler, Paul and Beck in Mawson Lakes, doc Danny in Port Augusta, the owners in Radeka's in Coober Pedy, the Austrian bitch, fellow cyclists Matrin and Nadine I met in Kulgera, Dutch family met in Erldunda, the night beside the bonfire in Mt Ebenezer, German waitress in Curtin Springs, Mark in Aileron, the swiss father and son who were roller-blading and cycling, the nice girl behind the counter in Renner Springs, Sandra and Warren with whom we went on a little 4WD day trip packed with lateral movements, and the many people not mentioned here, or is it because it's almost the end of the ride and that I'm leaving the cold, hot, harsh, rugged, not pretentious, huge, loosely populated yet 53.5 long roadtrains inhibited outback?

Could be all of them. Don't want to go to Darwin, it's hard work cycling here, when under the big red sun and the tropical climate you just can't help sweating and when there's no wind you feel like you are ready to serve in 5 minutes (just remember to pluck the body hairs off, customers don't like the hairs), topped with the omnipresent mozzies, it's plain torture sometimes. But I really like it. It's simple life, but I'm just travelling, can't be travelling all the time. Think maybe I really should start commuting by bike when I get back. I like looking at the road and contemplating over the moving pictures drawn by the sun that resembles me on my fully loaded bike. I like looking up and staring at the starry sky, stars only visible from the southern hemisphere.

Why get upset or angry over trifle things?

But there're important issues in life that poeple should care and worry about.

Let it be, take it easy and all will be fine.

The troublesome organ won't allow me to.

In the pub there're lots of people laughing and drinking, the music is hammering at the wall behind me, the atmosphere is red hot in the cool night. I just hope that they can spare some mood.

Tour Report: Berserker Reprise

It happened again tonight when I was having dinner. The on-going wave of the sense of rush and the feeling that the whole body was like the string held tight and tied to a bow and being pulled by an arm with overwhelming power. Even though you're just holding gently the can of coca-cola or the fork or simply turning the head around, you feel like you were using all the strength accessible and untouchable to crush the tin can and bending the fork and the feeling that you were in extra fast motion while in fact you're ultra slow.

Tour Report: Travel or Dinner Mates

The distinction between the two is that you only see your dinner mates at the end of the day or for a couple of minutes on the road.

Having dinner mates doesn't mean that you're travelling with someone because they don't give a shit about you nor your feelings. Travelling together means watch out for each other and include every single soul in the group, no matter in terms of money or conversation. Travel mates don't pay for just themselves and tell you later that they haven't pay for you while they've already had showers, saying oh we're not sure if you'll come here (of course I'll come here, you fucking idiot, what the fuck you think I was doing behind ya?).

Looking after one another is particularly important in cycle touring because there're the unstable, unexpected elements in it, let it be physical or mechanical breakdown or road accidents, anything could happen. What if one was 10k behind and was dehydrated and that nobody was around to help? While his dinner mates are enjoying their cold drinks comfortably in the shade, damn, he is so slow!

It goes back to the "well-educated kind" issue once more. They piss you off with great frequency and still don't know what's wrong with you (it's always you and they're always the good, of course). The point is, they simply suck and don't worth your time. Some of them will learn and some just never will. And unfortunately, the never-wills are the majority inside the majority.

Tour Report: Table Manners And Politeness

Are not related.

From what I see, table manners are nothing more than mechanical reactions which were installed into your behavioural pattern, you just do it without further thinking, like a reflex, simple as the switch of a button, like a doctor would sit far, safely away from the attack range of your shoe before he strikes your knee with a club, in case you retaliate and kick his balls and send him pale on the floor dying with anguish.

There're the kind that talks and laughes so loud in the early morning, slaps on the table with all the force they could possibly muster without warning, immediately changes the facial expression and raises the voice to argue and tries to force you to change your mind whenever the opportunities present themselves, speaks the language you don't know the whole night while you're all sitting on the same table, like you simply don't exist and pretend that they're oh so sorry only when someone points out that someone is being neglected, while at the same time stresses that having burps and hiccups on the dining table are capital crimes and the sinner should be burnt on the stake (to make an emphasis on their point they would slap heavily on the table and yell, generously distributing salivas to everyone onborad).

This I don't think is what should be called well-educated, this is just full of shit. Sadly, that croak of shit is what people cares about. The new breed of youngster, those who have higher educations (university, not that high actually), think they know everything and all is under calculated control, so full of themselves and think that's how it should be, listen to no advices nor suggestions. See no evil in themselves.

I've seem cyclists threw away toilet paper (full of shit, literally) right there on the highway, they just let them gone with the wind, and wild is the wind. Jeez, I couldn't believe what my eyes just saw, how could anyone, especially cyclists who is supposed to be sensitive with environmental issues commit such an atrocity? Throw away used tissues by the side of the road! On the Stuart Highway one of the thing that makes me really upset is that it's basically filled with litters (for a fine example, check my photo page when I get back in mid September) and it was a great great great shock when I saw cyclist did this.

They're the "well-educated" kind and they're the majority, being cyclists or not, I see them everyday and the mere sight of them just make me pale with sickness (have nothing to do with the doctor) because it is just so revolting.

So, here's a little "How to spot an ignorant and full of carp fuck guide":

1. A lean-cut look and talks like he/she knows everything

2. A "you're nothing but shit" glance while they're just backpacking or suitcasing.

3. Low resistent level (highly efficient professional complainer), physically or psychologically.

4. Well sun-tanned.

5. Fake hippie.

6. Perfumed (optional).

That's, of course, just a little general guide line, the actual situation varies from person to person, you'll pick up the experiences and skills to recognize them along the way and when you're good enough, you'll know them just by looking at their sillouettes, and then, welcome to be one of us, the weird, unpopular lot.

Tour Report: Berserker

A tough day was today, my ass screamed so hard like there were niddles pressing against it whenever it engaged the saddle; my right leg had just no power at all and I can only rely on the left left to pedal.

I was going exceptionally slow, I had a bad feeling about having to flag down some vehicle to get to my destination and after 10k the legs and arms decided that it was time to go on strike (but still, I managed to finish the 111k ride). At around half way to Cooinda, a sudden sense of rush welled out of me and even though I was moving slow I felt that everything was going way to fast, like the typical alien view camera with the scary sound effects or that someone had put the video twice as fast as normal. I was pedalling at 14k/h, I deliberately solw down to 10k/h and yet the horrible sensation insisted to linger on.

Desperately, thinking that my head was going to explode due to the excessive heat I pulled over trying to relax, hoping that staying motionless would disperse that dreadful thing, the unbearable rush. But it didn't, the road and the landscapes were all moving at an incrediblely fast speed and the chilling cry loitered at my ear deafening me. I reached down for my water bottle and with the same slow movement drank out of it, but the senses told me the very opposite. I felt like I was going to plunge head first at breakneck speed over my handlebar and subsequently ran over by my bike and crushed my heaving chest. It was driving me mad.

Tour Report: The Beaten Track

My response to her remark that the most important thing is to have a good time was that it was more urgent to get a better idea of yourself, even if that makes one sad.

She wasn't really agree with that. How can she?

I'm a loyal subscriber to the idea that it's beneficial and necessary to travel along for a certain period of time, say a couple of months, from time to time. Because only when you're totally alone and away from the daily chores can you really touch the inner part because when you're with someone, you're, more or less, knowing or unknowingly, pretending. And with that, you're lost.

They had a lot of fun last night, they laughed a lot (to the degree of being scary) they had a GREAT TIME, but they simply don't realize that it doesn't mean anything. Nothing changes and no lesson is learnt, they just stay the same way they were some 26 years ago. It's the easy way, but well, afterall, who wants to be sad and sullen when all one sees is dark and bleak and the never-ending torture?

Nevertheless, I still stand my position because for me it's an even greater tragedy to stay uninformed. I somehow pity them when they were laughing so hard during the night in the campsite. The next day she told me that you would live 5 days longer everytime you laugh. And I really wonder does it mean anything that you live a hundred or hundreds of years if you don't realize the thing that truly matters, the point.

So is the thing that plagues me really a virus as I put it earlier? Hum... I could be wrong, perhaps instead of a virus it's a trial as I knew it all along, the thing is it's just so hard that I lost my faith sometimes and don't know what is it that it wants. No wonder nobody wants it.

Tour Report: Solution

I always wonder what's the possible solution to my plight, the demon called loneliness that plaques me. As simple as a trusty company or is it something more than just that? Well, finding someone will probably somewhat ease the wound, but I'm not fully convinced that it's the final solution for it only paralyzes the troublesome organ, like a panadol, but doesn't eradicate the virus. I've tried, over the years, to locate and get rid of the source, but like a programmed apparatus my attempts were sent hurtling back, trampled on the ground and it just grows ever larger everytime my troops were annihilated.

Its power is so overwhelming that now even before I can response to its advances I'm caught in its all powerful snare and inmobilized. The solution, as far as I can see, is non-existent.

Tour Report: Heavy Rain

Only 11 days left till the flight to Sydney. I should be making the most out of the time left and try to make it more enjoyable (not that I'm having physical problems), but it's just so hard.

It must be fate that I'm destined to suffer whenever I fall for someone, The burden that I'm hauling behind me is just so great that I simply have no reign over my emotions.

I realized that I'm doomed to stay the rest of my life alone because nobody appreciates what the see after they get to know me a little bit better, the real side of me. It simply scare them off, no more laughs, no more sunshine (like if there were before), only the chilling wind that blows through the spin and sends the whole body trembling.

So I go away from the flame setters and crawl into my private quarter, tugged away snugly, far from my tormentors. I play dead.

Tour Report: Roadhouses

Think I'll miss them very much. The thing I like about Roadhouses is that you don't see busloads of tourists, they all stay in cities and major sights.

Tour Report: Confusion

Lost my temper again this afternoon and now I'm sitting here alone on the bench in front of the Tennant Creek YHA feeling like crap, but I just had no way of holding it back.

At first I tried to convince myself that their decision was probably the best for all of us because they were fast and I was slow, but the more I thought about it the more angry I became. Days before in Barrow Creek when I saw them sitting there waiting and cheering for me like I was the disabled child just finished his first 10 meter marathon as I approached slowly, the unstoppable tide of rage just took hold of me, and this afternoon when I wheeled my bike into the hostel I saw them already had shower and one of them said "oh, you're here already!" I just lost it. What a bitch. I felt like I was being betrayed again. "You're one of the team", she told me that day we left Alice Springs.

On the road I was thinking about telling them to go our own seperate way, to part the party, but I just couldn't do it.

Where are they now?