Compton, Long Beach...

After a 6 hour flight with probably the best airline in the world, I landed in Perth, Western Australia. TVs in the backs of every seat, more film choices than Blockbuster, a drinks cabinet that Oliver Reed would've struggled to empty, & the best food in 5 months (excluding the Xmas jolly in England). I would've been happy to stay on that plane all week. It's a pity you can't fly with Singapore Airways everywhere in the world.

Luke had been in Perth for the best part of a month now. After a short stint roughing it with the other backpackers in a hostel, he lucked out and a ticket to better things sat down next to him one day in an internet café. He then moved into a house with a swimming pool attached, that was only a short bus ride from the city centre, and cost less than dormitory accommodation. I was very grateful to rejoice in his fortune, by enjoying a lift from the airport and a sofa for a bed. The only questionable thing about this idyllic sounding house, was it's location in the heart of 'Inglewood'. But this was nothing like it's namesake suburb in South Central Los Angeles. If both suburbs were summised by rap lyrics, then Dr. Dre would represent L.A. with notions of ''blunt, bitches, & big screen TVs'', while Eminem covers the Perth version with ''Vicadin and homosexuals''; the Perth suburb is rumored to be the gay district.

Back at his 'crib', we sank a few tins of Jim Bean & Coke, and talked about what we'd each been up to since parting company on Ko Lanta. With the fat chewed late into the night, I found sleep easily on the sofa, and thought about what my time in Australia would bring.

I spent my first few days wandering around Perth, & being shown the sights (surf shops, not historical). I adjusted to a land of white people, where everyone speaks English, and dysentery isn't an apéritif. After months of being in some weird and wonderful places, Australia felt like not really being away. Too familiar. Too easy. It was the end to one section of my travelling, but the start of one promising to be even more full of experiences than the previous. Maybe not in the aspects of spiritual enlightenment & cultural awareness, but certainly in the area of opportunity for activity and adventure.


On my first Sunday, I went to what can only be described as a communion of the dominant religion in Australia. This annual beer festival took place a 30 min drive away from Perth city centre, in the coastal town of Freemantle, or 'Freo' to those that know. Our ticket for this event gave us 10 tokens for 50ml samples of the various beers available and after that, it was all down to your liver and wallet for much you could drink. In my case, it was down to Luke's wallet as my card was refused. With 38 degree rays beating down on our inebriated heads, the drinks were taking their toll early, and time was moving slower than a slug in a salt-shaker. I tasted more beers than I can remember (literally) but one which stood the test of brain cell endurance was a Tequila flavoured beer from France, called 'Desperado'. The most popular beer of the festival seemed to be the Czech beer, Budejovicky Budvar. It was sold out in the main tent by early afternoon and the tasting tent was also the first to empty. I'm definitely seeing a girl from the right country and it wouldn't be long before we were both in the right country at the right time.
As the sun slipped beneath it's covers for bedtime, the bands of the festival cranked up the volume to 11 on the dial, and everyone danced their intoxicated bodies back to sobriety….or unconsciousness.