On the plane we were served a meal at about 330am by a badly dressed and bi-lingual steward, who spoke normally to the Spanish-speakers in Spanish but then to obviously white folk like myself pulled out the most outrageously posh Queen's English accent I've heard in a long time to say, 'Sir, would you care for the beef, or the pasta?'. Bizarre.
Sleep. Wake, Sleep, shit movies, 13 hours across the Pacific, Auckland, up again, cross the Tasman and finally to Sydney. Michelle and I said bye byes; she was heading up to see her family in Brisvegas and I was to stay a night in Sydney before my flight back to Melbourne the following day. I caught the train to Newtown and marvelled at that ultra-clean, ultra-rich and ultra-nice suburb, while trying to avoid being hit by cars on the wrong side of the road and then wondering why they were stopping to let me cross the road at the pedestrian crossings. I made it to my Hospitality Club (like Couchsurfing) connection Jonathan's house inside of which a party was underway to celebrate the annual Newtown Festival and outside of which the Festival itself happened too. I also took a walk down King St, Newtown (otherwise known as The Coolest Place In The World) where I was almost lost without my sunglasses... Man, it's lucky I'm hot and have a wacky hair-cut, otherwise no-one would have taken any notice of me! That evening Jonathan shouted me pizza, we discussed the end of capitalism and I tested out my blog-showing skills - not a bad effort, I think, got through the whole year in about an hour. Thanks for everything, Jon, very generous of you :)
The next morning I set off for the airport and caught the plane back to Melbourne. Everything in that process had gone way too smoothly... surely there shouldve been a breakdown, or a delay, or a roadblock, or a public holiday? But no, everything just (mas o menos) works here... My Mum was waiting for me at the airport! Thanks Mum! x() On the way back to her place in Montmorency I had a chance to reflect on returning to Australia - passing through my mind were thoughts like 'Man I miss chewing coca leaves', 'I'm really going to have to concentrate not to putting my used shit-stained toilet paper into the bathroom waste-paper baskets' and 'Geez, maybe I should become a heroin addict and then I could look kind of gothic/sexy like that girl in the ad'. I was also genuinely scared at our lifestyle and attitude to life. We seem so apathetic towards our consumerism and ourselves, like its the most normal, everyday thing to do what we do and kind of ignore each other at the same time. Kind of sad, really, and quite scary.
So thanks to anyone or everyone who's reading or has read this blog; I know I've rambled somewhat at times but hey, you only go to South America once right? Or maybe twice. Um, anything else to say? .... er... Not really. Bye :)
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