So What's it Like to Travel? A Day in a Life

Snapshots of three separate travels days follow so you can get a feel for what my days are like.

Snapshot One: New Zealand. The first thing I did was figure out how I could get from Greymouth to Pancake Rocks without a car and without having to book an expensive tour. With no help from the hostel staff, I realized that I could take a bus from one company out there and a bus from another company back and have a few hours in between.

Then I did much needed laundry, which included hanging up those delicates that will disintegrate if put in the dryer too often. I then set off to the grocery store, stopping at a bakery on the way to get a meat pie, which served as breakfast/lunch. Continuing on my way to the grocery store, I discovered a bulk food place where – among other delights -- I could buy small amounts of various spices, pastas, couscous, nuts. This pleased me greatly so I didn’t have to either lug extra weight or waste food bought in larger quantities than I needed. Once at the grocery store I picked up food for my dinner and the next few days and took all of this back to the hostel in time to meet my bus to Pancake Rocks. I carefully chose a seat on the left, knowing that those seats would have the best view of the rocky coastline.

I walked the trails at Pancake Rocks as best as my sore back would allow (this was post hard-as-concreate-seat-bus-ride), took several pictures and then noticed a pretty beach in the not-too-far distance. I walked down to this fairly deserted beach, and really wanting to get into the water, took off my clean jeans, laid them on a rock, waded in the cold surf, and practiced skipping stones across the water. It was nearing the time when the second bus would take me back to Greymouth, so I put my pants back on, got distracted my some little cave thing across the road, investigated it briefly, and walked up the hill to the bus stop. On the bus I sat next to a young Dutch woman and had a lovely conversation, none of which I remember, as I again admired the coastline. She reminded me of the $3 all-you-can-eat dinner at the Railway Hotel and we agreed to meet there later.

Back in Greymouth I scoped out internet places and found none open. Returning to the hostel, I organized my gear for an early morning pick-up, laying out my clothes so that when I came into my shared room later that night I wouldn’t disturb anyone.

I arrived at the Railway Hotel, found my young Dutch friend who was sitting with an English woman she had met traveling and enjoyed. We were soon joined by a Swedish fella. We feasted on our $3 supper (that’s about $1.30 in American dollars!), some drank beers, and we all had a funny conversation about language. “No, no, you’ve got it backwards, f#!king is considered a much cruder term than screwing.”

Upon returning to the hostel, I took an evening shower to save time in the morning due to a very early bus pick-up to take me to Arthur's Pass (scene of that harrowing hike).

Snapshot Two: Australia. I woke up in a hostel/rustic resort (guess what part I stayed in?) at Cape Tribulation in Australia, a very remote place. The two roommates I had had were checking out. I eyed the single bed one of them was leaving (the other four beds being bunks) and decided to move to it. But I didn't want to have to remake the bed because using flat sheets on the bottom takes extra effort. So I lifted the flimsy mattress off the unmade single bed and leaned it against one of the bunks. I picked up my ready-made bed, moved it to the single bed, and replaced the naked mattress on the bunk on which I had been sleeping.

Pleased with myself, I set out for the day and ran into the delightful Frenchman – working on his doctorate in philosophy – that I had spent time with the day before discussing government, politics, and food (can you imagine me being any happier?!). I was disappointed to learn that he was leaving later that day, because that conversation was the best I had had in weeks (OK, so he was cute, too), but we agreed to meet on the beach for a walk and talk before he left. The second conversation was as stimulating as seeing him in a bathing suit; however during our discussion on oppression and prejudice, he revealed that he was gay. Ah well, we vowed to meet again somewhere in this world and continue our great talks and said our goodbyes.

I went to my room to collect some things for the day’s wanderings and met Rob, a young Englishman who informed me that I would be sharing the room with four guys that night. Contrary to your expectations, my first thought was not “are they cute?” but rather if any of them snored and learned that Rob’s pal Jason was a brutal snorer. (Damn!) I later learned from Rob that when he reported to his travel companions that he had met the woman in their room (which they had determined I was from the oversized toiletry bag hanging by the bed – that and the bra I had uncharacteristically left on the bed in my haste to don a swimsuit!), he described me as being in my early 30s – yes!

Then I wandered up to the office to inquire whether or not they had heard back from the exotic fruit tasting lady who sometimes gave talks; they had not. I decided to continue down the road and stop in there anyway, but first needed to get some food. I had very minimal groceries with me, there was not a store of any consequence nearby, and the restaurant was pricey for breakfast (although I had had a delicious lunch there the day before). The nearest store was quite a hike down the road. I momentarily considered renting a bike, but remembering both the hills and the gravel (and my propensity for accidents!), I let it go. I trolled the parking lot for a ride and managed to hitch one from a couple I had seen around the hostel/resort. They agreed to give me a lift to the store; however, they stopped at a roadside café before getting to the store, so I got out there.

I assessed the menu and the place and following my rule, I ordered not so much what I had a hankering for, but what I thought they could best do – a burger. As I was eating this surprisingly good burger, Liz, a woman a little older than I am, showed up, looked at my burger, ordered one for herself, and sat down with me. Liz is Australian, but was born in Brunei.

Liz had been very helpful to me the night before, showing me how to open a coconut. It had been quite a production since we did not have the necessary tools – the hostel/resort staff kept telling me that what I needed was right there off the dining area, but I couldn’t find of what they spoke. It would not be until the next day when – sitting in a different spot in the hostel dining area – I noticed the multitudes of coconut husks surrounding the iron spike for which I had hunted in vain for two days! Several of the other hostel guests made gentle fun of me while admiring my tenacity, but swallowed their jests along with the delicious meat of the coconut once it was finally opened.

While we ate, Liz and I discovered that we had similar ideas about how to spend the day and decided to hang out together. We walked to the Exotic Fruit Lady’s house. She was not going to do a fruit tasting that day, but we could purchase some if we liked. We thought, why not, and waited while she brought out six different fruits, letting us sample some (sounds like an Exotic Fruit Tasting, doesn’t it?!) and we left with five of the six things for a mere $3.60 AUD, when the fruit tasting would have cost us about $15 each.

Back at the café, we were about to use the toilets across the street when we ran into a Canadian couple we had talked with the night before – the man of which had sworn he disliked coconut, but later ended up eating most of it – and they agreed to give us a lift to the store I had targeted earlier. A quick decision was made to abandon the toilets since I could pee anywhere, but that a walk in that hot sun to the store would be most undesirable.

At the store we bought minimal provisions and designed a dinner we would cook together that night. Then we sauntered down to the swimming hole next to the store and swam briefly in its icy waters (swimming in this area can be problematic, what with the crocodiles and jellyfish). At the swimming hole we met two fellas we recognized as staying at the same hostel, one Swiss and the other English. We then walked over to beautiful Myall Beach, walked along it, gathered another coconut, and made our way to Dubuji Boardwalk for a rainforest and mangrove walk. We ran into young Swiss and English (Chris and James) there and explored together – sort of. It seemed as if they wanted our company, but weren’t quite sure they should be hanging out with their mothers. We didn’t see much wildlife – some birds, fish, and turtles – but I saw a yellow-bellied glider (had to look it up later to figure it out because really all we saw was a bushy tail and the gliding action). Back on the beach, Chris and James decided they, too, wanted a coconut and we prodded them into knocking down a green one from a tree, which they did after several tries. Liz and I walked back along the beach, shadowed by Chris and James.

While Liz went back to her room, I sat awhile on the beach alternatively reading my book and watching the sunset. I showered and met up with Liz in the kitchen and we prepared our tasty meal. After dinner, we sat there and had our own exotic fruit tasting as we sampled our earlier purchases.

Then we decided to wander down to the Bistro and be sociable. We each got a drink and then I spied Rob, my new roommate, so Liz and I joined his table. At his table was Carrie, Garreth, and Stew – all Brits. A fun conversation about love and life ensued, during which I shamelessly flirted with the long-haired Stew, a fellow blues/rock lover, who, unfortunately, reminded me way too much of a favorite past beau. (I had just complained to Liz about the short hair fashion so popular among the twenty-something crowd.) It was not for some time that I realized that Stew and Carrie were a couple! (They weren’t sitting next to each other, how was I to know?!) I said, “Jesus, man, I’ve been flirting outrageously with you,” and apologized to Carrie. “I know,” he admitted, “I’ve been flirting with you, too. It was the music thing, ya know?” Yeah, I know. Gets me every time.

Finally about midnight, Liz and I said goodnight to the Brits and went back to our rooms where I got a good night's sleep because – as it turns out – Jason didn’t snore.

Snapshot Three: Australia. I wake up naturally on my second day in Canberra in the home of a very fun woman, Nikki, who I met through the Servas organization. She gives me a ride to the bus station where I deposit my bag for the bus ride back to Sydney later that afternoon. I am pleased because I have an early start on the day and will be able to take in a lot before catching my 3:25pm bus. I make my way over to the bus information center, determine what city busses will get me where I’m going, and am blessed with a bus schedule that matches my own. Within a few minutes I am at the War Memorial where I discover that it doesn’t open for another 45 minutes (and, of course, it’s not near anything else).

I pause to consider my options and determine that I like art a lot more than war and decide to leave the memorial without seeing the inside. I deliberate about walking versus city bus when I see a taxi dropping someone off and quickly grab it. On the way to the National Art Gallery, I discover that I only have $7.10 in my wallet because I had forgotten to go to the ATM to get cash that morning (if it’s not on a list…). The meter is ticking past the $5 and $6 mark and I tell the driver he’ll have to let me out because I only have $7.10. But he kindly stops the meter and delivers me to the Gallery anyway, and I hand him all the money I have. I thank him profusely for his kindness, get out of the cab and discover that the Gallery doesn’t open for 30 minutes. However, there is a sculpture garden around the back, next to the lake, and I easily while away the time strolling through it. I explore the Gallery for an hour and then report for a free guided tour of the Australian artists – and I’m the only one! So I get a private tour, and with the possibility of only annoying one person, ask all the questions I want!

When the tour is over, I am hungry, but I have no cash, not one Australian cent, and there is no ATM at the Gallery, nor at the High Court Building next to it (which I quickly tour), nor the Treasury Building across the street (which I notice has a very tasty looking sweet potato curry in its cafeteria, and no, they only take cash), nor does the Old Parliament Building (no, we don’t accept American dollars travelers checks). So, I've no choice but to hike up the hill to the new Parliament building where I remember that they do have an ATM. Annoyed with myself for having to retrace my steps and perhaps not see something else, I make my way to the ATM. I have to go through security, again, and have my pocket knife taken, again, but I get the money and head back to the Treasury building where they are putting away lunch! My heart sinks (or was that my stomach?), but all is not lost for they have thoughtfully boxed up some lunches, including the sweet potato curry. And so I dine. After that, I make my way toward the local bus back to the main bus terminal, which is being detoured -- causing a longer walk -- because of some up-coming road race they are preparing for. I note that I am right next to the National Library, and not knowing what I am to see there, pop in for a few minutes, find a free computer on which to check e-mail -- and do -- and then go find my bus. I make it to the terminal in plenty of time, witness a scene with a would-be runaway girl and her father, and off we go back to the Sydney suburbs, where I am staying -- in a real bed, with real sheets, and no one else in the room! -- with the fabulous Marucci family to whom I was introduced by friend Jenny. I enjoy dinner with them and regale them with stories about my viewing of Parliament the day before. Then after planning my next day, I enjoy another good night's sleep -- a delightful, yet unexpected, commodity while traveling!

Stay tuned for the Asian version of A Day in a Life.