Endless Summer Festival / Boot Camp

"Endless Summer Festival: 27 - 29 December". It just sounds odd doesn't it? The festival promised to be great though - live music under the sun in the splendid bayside setting of Gunnamatta Park, so I jumped at the opportunity to work there.

There was no Boxing Day sleep in for me as I was in the park at 7am to help put up fences. Then I returned in the evening to laboriously shift crates of alcohol from the stock room to a cooler about 50m away. The task was brutal on the forearms, but was perhaps tougher mentally than physically due to the smells of a nearby barbeque and my desire to consume the contents of the boxes I was carrying.
The festival opened at 12am on Friday and preparations that morning were hectic, but I found it all rather exciting: signs were being put up, sound checks were being performed, food was being cooked, bar staff were being prepped, and I had the most important job of all - making sure the customers had cold booze by shifting crates and kegs into coolers. Thankfully I now had a two wheel trolley, but what a physical test that morning turned out to be! Pushing and pulling heavy trolley loads was carnage on the legs as some serious momentum and sustained force were required to get the wheels through mud and up steep inclines. Meanwhile, plenty of tough lifting battered my already aching upper body. At 12.30, when things finally slowed down, I reflected on what a mighty non-stop workout the past five hours had been. I loved it of course.

Despite a lengthy evening stretch on the beach and subsequent ice bath of sorts in the sea, my legs felt heavy the next day. Fortunately, the morning was fairly light and by 2pm my work dried up so I left. I spent a relaxing afternoon reading the Alan Partridge book and swimming, then enjoyed a leisurely dinner and planned on cruising over to the festival to catch the last band of the day with one of the  beverages I'd shifted so many of. But then, while I was brushing my teeth to dislodge some stubborn strands of orange, I got a call from the festival saying they needed me urgently. I swapped sandals for trainers and at 6.45 returned to a Gunnamatta Park that barely resembled the one I left earlier. The festival had previously been modestly attended, but now it was packed. Every spot on the main stage was taken and there were people everywhere. Furthermore, this Saturday evening crowd was thirsty and several of the bars were under huge strain. I was thrust straight into the action, delivering crates of alcohol to the bars, strenuously yet carefully weaving the trolley through the crowds. Meanwhile, we were under pressure to get kegs and crates into the coolers so they could chill in time for tomorrow. I shifted heavy trolley load after heavy trolley load, quickly being grateful I had just the one beer with dinner. It was two hours of power and when I dropped off my final five case load of Asahi I wanted to sink to my knees like I had just won a gruelling five set tennis match. Indeed, my arms ached far more than they did after any work out for tennis and I had to call upon all my mental strength to get those final loads across the field. 

DJ Stage at the Endless Summer Festival

The next morning I walked over to the festival with my muscles complaining "I thought Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest" to me. Thankfully, both my morning and evening shifts were light, although I did compete in a tiring Commonwealth v France football match in the afternoon on the majestic Cronulla cricket pitch. The French narrowly prevailed, but the difference could surely be attributed to their six-to-five man advantage. I finally got to enjoy the festival that evening, watching the final band with a couple of triumphantly cold Asahi's.

It wasn't over yet though, on Monday I returned to help clear out the remaining stock. I was exhausted in every way possible and the day was an absolute slog to get through.

Overall it was a great experience, even if the whole thing was more like boot camp than an Endless Summer Festival for me. It was fun to be a part of the event and interesting to see all that is involved   in to putting on such a festival. In particular, the challenge of providing over 10,000 people a day with cold booze.

New Year's Eve tomorrow and more importantly a day off for my body! Happy New Year everybody.

Main Stage

Christmas in Cronulla

It was hard to get into the Christmas spirit here in Australia and that wasn't just because I had been working labour jobs with people stressed by the pre-Christmas rush. I'm not religious, so the original point of Christmas is of course lost on me. However, I've always loved the being-merry-in-the-middle-of-winter-when-there-isn't-much-else-to-look-forward-to and spending quality time with friends and family aspects of Christmas. But here, in the heart of an Australian summer away from my family and friends, what was Christmas? Indeed, on Christmas Eve I wasn't feeling it although the hostel was lively. Perhaps I was missing people, or perhaps I was just tired - I woke up at 6.45am for the dire 0-0 draw between Arsenal and Chelsea and then went on a customarily balls to the wall run and workout. I was in bed long before midnight.

Christmas Day was different. I woke up early and feeling refreshed. Listening to Bowie and Crosby's wonderful 'Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy' in bed filled me with Christmas spirit and then it was off to the beach for a morning swim. The weather was disappointingly overcast but the dip felt great. Next up was the hostel Secret Santa, which over the past few days had presented me with the question 'what do you get a German lad for Christmas who you know nothing about other than the fact that he looks like Gareth from The Office?' I couldn't find any DVDs of the series so I bought him a couple of nice beers which he seemed to enjoy unwrapping. Most of the gifts were small and silly (although one guy mysteriously received a $100 note) and I was the lucky recipient of the small inflatable doll pictured below. The whole thing was a lot of fun and I suppose I now have a travelling companion!

The hostel owner kindly put on a free lunch for everyone and it was magnificent. Shrimp, chicken, some seabed crawling crustacean which tasted a bit like crab and was delicious, oysters (I didn't touch these), and two giant hams. Being more of a binge eater than a binge drinker I rose to the occasion and stuffed myself.  I especially went to to town on the shrimp and looking down at the sizeable mound of dispatched heads and tails on my plate I wondered whether Greenpeace would come calling for me the next morning.

A quick Jethro Tull soundtracked rest unsurprisingly followed, but only until I received news that dessert was out. An irresistible selection of cheesecakes was set out in the kitchen as well as a crate of mangoes, possibly my favourite fruit. A gluttonous five minutes of cake-mango alternation ensued and buoyed by the sugar rush I headed back down to the beach with a large group from the hostel. By this time a typically British drizzle had set in and the temperature was far from warm. It was more Croyde than Cronulla. Nonetheless we bounded into the Pacific Ocean, several guys still wearing Santa outfits.
A Thanksgiving-esque food coma really hit me in the afternoon, so the only thing I could do was watch the movie Elf, which continues to entertain me year after year. The evening was low key and spent chatting with some friendly Swedes and sampling their traditional Christmas treats.

Overall Christmas in Cronulla was great and certainly a different December 25th experience that I will look back on fondly. Christmas seemed to come from nowhere this year and it left even more abruptly. On Boxing Day I was back to work at 7am and I longed for leftover turkey, Christmas cake, and Match Of The Day with a full set of fixtures.

The Differences Between British and German Backpackers

There seem to be more German backpackers in Australia than any other nationality. At the Cronulla Beach YHA hostel there are probably as many Germans as all other nations combined and there were plenty at the hostel in Sydney too. While I haven't been observing them like a twitcher might wading birds, I have noticed several behavioural differences between the Germans and the next most well represented nationality - the British.

1. Cooking. Both the British and Germans are keen to cook in the hostel to save money, but their culinary styles differ. For the Brit, a meal is little more than a necessary refuel to be completed with the minimum possible expenditure of time, effort, and money. The traveller from Blighty relies on pasta, noodles, baked beans, and tins of tuna for an easy protein hit. On the other hand, the Germans are far more elaborate chefs. They will season pieces of meat, make side dishes, and generally look to reach the more distant regions of the palate despite their backpacker status. They also cook for more than one, groups of three or four savouring one German's culinary creation, whereas the Brit always enjoys a solo scoff.

2. Drinking. The Brits habit of drinking with a sense of urgency has certainly been brought overseas with their backpacks. They drink quickly and heavily. The Germans don't necessarily drink less, but do so at a more leisurely rate. While the Brits favour drinking games in the kitchen, the Germans will be out in the courtyard steadily consuming their beers accompanied by cigarettes and awful techo-dubstep remixes or the enjoyable in moderation 'Wake Me Up' by Avicii (video below).

3. Volume. The Germans are not that loud overall and many of them are actually very quiet. However, they have the potential for incredibly noisy outbursts unrivalled by the British. If some shouting is heard down the corridor, bratwurst eaters will undoubtedly be responsible. On one occasion, someone was fooling around with the kitchen light switch  until an angry German bellowed "I AM TRYEN TO COOK DEENER!" at them.

4. Activities and exploration. Where has the Brits appetite for activities and curiosity to explore gone? They seem bereft of ideas. For instance, I have heard a few of the longer term hostel residents complaining of a lack of things to do in Cronulla, yet they had not even walked around the peninsula or ventured out to Bundeena yet. In Sydney, the Brits seemed content to stick around the hostel and have some drinks there before drifting down to the hostel bar, leaving me to rally a small troop to join me and some goon to watch the fireworks in Darling Harbour. The Germans are certainly more active. When I went to Bundeena last weekend it was a group of Germans from the hostel who shared the ferry. My German roommate had only been at the hostel one day before getting stuck in to a debut surf and had a great time, although he did comment "the board, it was a like a sandpaper!" while displaying a red chest.

5. Concern with appearance. It would be wrong to say the British bloke doesn't care about how they look, but once they've showered, got dressed, and done their hair that will be that. In contrast, when the German guys are going out they'll make frequent trips to the bathroom just to check themselves out in the mirror and make minor tweaks if required. During the probably too brief time I spent brushing my teeth the other night two Germans came in, adjusted their hair very slightly, then retreated backwards out the bathroom, fixing their glance on the mirror until the door had swung shut.

6. Hatred of cricket. The reaction of Germans to discovering that cricket is on the common room TV is usually one of these three:
a) Immediate reverse out the door without saying a word.
b) Screwing up of the face and disapproving grunt.
c) Watching one bowl then saying something along the lines of "Cricket. How do you watch this? So boring".
They never even suggest alternative viewing, their disgust of cricket is just so strong that they seem to think we should be sectioned for wanting to watch it. Frustratingly, many of the Cronulla Brits share the German sentiment on cricket, not even being the usual "I don't mind a bit of Twenty20" brigade. Therefore my cricket buddy and I have had to be very resilient and thick skinned to watch cricket in the hostel and I think we would have received less abuse had we we been screening an old version of Top of the Pops edited so that Jimmy Saville was introducing only Lost Prophets songs.

In general, the Aussies, Kiwis, Canadians, Americans, and Irish behave similarly to the Brits, while the French, Italians, and other continental Europeans are much more like the Germans. Despite the differences everyone gets on well at the Cronulla Beach YHA - I don't think anyone has mentioned the war yet - and the hostel is a very friendly place.

This will be the last post before Christmas, so I would like to wish everyone reading a very Happy Christmas. Here is my favourite 2013 Christmas music:

Stolen Cash, a Nasty Crash, and Other Random Notes

On top of the work I described in my last post, there were several other noteworthy happenings this week as I continued my work at the self storage company:

- A trip to recycle a truckload of cardboard revealed such page-turners as "A Guide to the Marks and Symbols on British Silver" and an ancient can of corned beef, which I was not cash-strapped enough yet to claim for my dinner.

- I tried skateboarding for the first time on Wednesday. My American roommate took me out 'boarding and kindly let me use his good quality, newly acquired board, with the one condition that under no circumstances was I to let the board go rolling off towards onrushing traffic. I was quietly impressed at the start I had made, travelling short distances and handling some basic steering. With my confidence rising, I agreed to tackle a slope that was fairly gentle, but rather steep for me considering my skateboarding career was less than 30 minutes old. There was an air of inevitably about what happened next: I got on the board and started moving downhill, my speed quickly increased, I panicked causing me to do something that resulted in my face hurtling towards the ground, my hands instinctively sprung out to prevent an unpleasant mouthful of concrete, the board accelerated off towards the road, I leapt up and sprinted after it in cartoon fashion, a car pulled out from a side street...thankfully it ended well as the car avoided the board, which eventually came to a stop and like myself was unharmed, with the more bipedal of the two being the only one to come away with minor scratches. My fall could have either been taken to mean 'unbalanced twit' or 'you have to take some falls if you want to improve'. I chose the latter.

- On Thursday morning, my boss couldn't find his bag which contained his wallet amongst other things. It soon became clear that it had been stolen the evening before and this was confirmed when he discovered money was being spent on his credit card. The thieves even had some goods delivered to an address, one that was known for drug related problems. There was over 1000 dollars cash in the wallet and he was devastated. It wasn't the money that dispirited him, it was the cruel unfairness of life - he had worked hard for several days for that money and it was snatched in seconds by drug addicts. I really felt for him and didn't really know what to say, or do for that matter - the tasks we had lined up were shunned so he could cancel cards and file police reports.

- I noted that the music in the warehouse was strangely soporific (for example Enrique Iglesias - Hero) for a place where men in hi-vis drive forklifts. Later this was revealed to be the work of Smooth 95.3, and even later it was explained to me that it was chosen with the customers in mind, not the employees.

- On Thursday evening I went for a tremendous run around the peninsula to the south of Cronulla beach. The coast hugging route was a classic that rivalled great world runs such as Boston Charles River and Chicago Lakeside Trail. At the conclusion of the run the sun dipped below the horizon and I dipped into the ocean. Wonderful.

The Most Fun I Will Ever Have While Working

As detailed previously, I struggled in my last job at a glass painters, but I excelled in my latest job with a self storage company.

I have spent the past three days working for a firm involved in storage, removals, rubbish disposal and so forth. Whereas my last job required careful and precise work with glass, this labour relied on strength, tireless energy, and co-operation - all qualities I think I possess. Furthermore, care and precision were set aside in favour of  force and destruction, as much of the furniture and other stuff we picked up was no longer wanted. This was illustrated early on by my boss, whose primary method of destroying furniture was hurling it off the back of the truck, the wood smashing gloriously on the ground.

The business generally consists of two parts. One, collecting items from the customer's house and two, moving or getting rid of the stuff. My boss was especially skilled at the latter, knowing the cheapest ways of recycling various items and racking up an eBay feedback score of 13,000 (100% positive too).
Our first job on Monday was clearing an elderly lady's house of furniture that was now surplus to requirements due to her imminent move. The lifting was heavy at times but it wasn't too hard. Then, after a calorific refuel at Hungry Jack's (Burger King's Australian name), the fun started. In order to maximise the amount of waste that could be fitted in the truck we had to bust up the furniture we picked up earlier as well as some previously collected items. I whacked closets with a crowbar, smashed tables on the ground, and kicked shelves till they fell off, then tossed the liberated pieces of wood into a truck. It was the most fun I will ever have while working.
My boss was a pretty funny man. After we eventually dunked a cumbersome sofa bed into the van he remarked "piece of shit" with comedic timing. While peering down the back of a sofa he exclaimed "it's a fifty dollar note!", but not fooling the pensioner who instantly replied with "I wish". Although in this case there were only a handful of 50 cent coins hidden, my employer told me stories of how he has found wads upon wads of notes stashed away inside furniture by elderly people with a distrust of the financial system. This customer then retorted to me "You're a pom! We're beating you" in reference to the cricket. The Aussies are unbearable in defeat, right down to the last one of them. It wasn't just my boss' Cleese-esque timing and amusing habit of insulting inanimate objects that made him funny. There was something about his facial expressions while destroying furniture and general cunning that had me stifling schoolboy style giggles for the majority of my first day. The two of us got on well and we enjoyed good, often cricket related chat in the van while moving between jobs.

The next day was strenuous as after disposing of Monday's trash at a landfill site we tackled a full house move. A German lad from the hostel joined me for eight hours and four trucks worth of removals. Unsurprisingly I was aching on Wednesday, but it was a comparatively light day although one job was rather annoying due to the necessity of using a lift to get to the customer's apartment and garage.

It was easily the most enjoyable job so far and I'll be back for more work with this employer.

It seems that even industrial landfill sites are not immune from juvenile sign adjustment banter.

Exploring Cronulla and Bundeena

Cronulla simply has to be one of the most desirable places to live in the world. Wonderful climate, a brilliant beach, a nice pedestrianised high street, and less than an hour away from the fantastic city of Sydney.

It wasn't until I walked around the peninsula to the south of the town centre that I realised how awesome Cronulla is. The esplanade I strolled along was blessed with a extraordinary succession of benches, perfect places for a good sit, with views of the lengthy beach, Bundeena, and of course the deep blue ocean. After walking past signs on consecutive posts advertising missing parakeets and flamingos respectively, I reached a park where   outdoor barbeques were available. Here, I saw fins in the water. Sharks? Nope - dolphins! A small group swam right in front of me, gracefully sliding in and out of the water. As I moved around to the other side of the peninsula I was greeted by the evening sun, which was illuminating the most appealing part of Cronulla. The main Cronulla beach faces East and is all crashing waves. But over here, the houses faced West and therefore basked in the glorious evening sun, as did the charming Darook Bay where the water lapped peacefully against a tiny beach. The (very expensive) houses on this side of the peninsula were large and designed to make the most of the location with roof terraces playing host to views of the harbour and setting sun. Cronulla is a place where shirts are optional and coolness is unavoidable. If I make millions...

If nature is what you're after, then Cronulla ticks that box too, as the small town of Bundeena and The Royal National Park is a pleasant twenty minute ferry ride away. On Sunday, myself and my American roommate took this ferry. We had no plans for our day in Bundeena, but as so often this was to be an advantage, as after alighting we glanced at a map and quickly plotted a three hour circular walk that turned out to be absolutely brilliant. After walking through the laid back town of Bundeena, we took a left into the National Park onto a trail heading into the jungle, which was alive with bird and insect sounds. A steady ascent was soon rewarded, as over the trees we could see the Sydney skyline perched magnificently on the horizon. The best was yet to come though. At our half way point, Marley Head, it felt like we were at the end of world - to the right were isolated beaches and endless jungle, to the left were spectacular cliffs, and in front, nothing but the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Then shortly after an astonishingly white rock was atop the cliff, contrasting beautifully with the blue of the sea. This rock had been weathered to a perfect smoothness and shaped like fingers in one place. It was the kind of natural feature that some places would have centered their tourism campaign around, yet we had just stumbled upon it. Soon after, an Asian man showed us a picture of the white rock on his phone and asked how close he was to it, but a later Google search revealed nothing. It was a great day and I vowed to return to the National Park to explore its charms further.


Looking towards Darook Bay from the Cronulla to Bundeena ferry.

The Right Man for the Job?

"Never let one piece of glass touch another, because it will explode" was one of the first sentences I heard in my new job at a glass painters. Gulp. This was going to be stressful. "And each piece is worth 400 dollars". Another gulp.

The glass painters was the business of just one man (he had to do away with his one employer earlier this year) and this was the busiest time of his year. This week, he had been starting work at 5.30am and not finishing until after 7pm. And this was tough work, on his feet all day, working carefully and thoroughly with glass. Then on Thursday, with work already piling up, someone rang needing some glass painted for Monday. How on earth was he going to get it done?

The answer wore ridiculous sunglasses and had a big forehand but no skill at using his hands. Stepping into the factory, I felt like the youth team goalkeeper, only on the bench because the regular reserve keeper is injured, being thrust into the action as the first choice has been sent off and having to immediately save a penalty. The work was not complicated - mostly cleaning and moving big sheets of glass - but it was very challenging for me. I am not experienced or good at this kind of thing and I had to be very careful not to break or scratch the glass. Furthermore, the jobs had to be done exactly like my employer did and to a high quality, which was difficult because with no employees he was used to only his own methods and he had 40 years more experience than me. Finally, the jobs had tricky little variations and given the workload I had to work at an adequate speed. It was a lot of pressure and I struggled throughout the day, testing both my will and my employer's patience. However, I wanted this trip to be about much more than soaking up sun and drinking in far off lands, so my Friday night was an early night and I agreed to continue working at 7.30am on Saturday.

It was a new day but I wasn't getting much better. I was not the right man for the job. The glass painter was a nice guy, but he was over worked and at one point got quite frustrated after I made a  mistake. Perseverance is the name of my game though, and by the end of the day's work I'd made some good progress and we were getting on well. 

My two days work at the glass painters were far from enjoyable, but 'no dramas' as they say over here - I will take a nap, then soak up the sun and drink some beers.

Album Review: Air - Moon Safari

Perhaps the most crucial piece of preparation I did for my trip was finding and acquiring a number of travel albums that I would gradually introduce myself to over the course of the adventure. The thinking was that these records would not only give me with some new music to keep my collection fresh, but also provide a soundtrack to the journey, so that when I listen to the songs in the future I am instantly taken back to my Australia days. This blog is going to be punctuated with reviews of my travel albums as I get to grips with them. The first record that I have listened to enough to review is Moon Safari by Air.

Air is a French electronic duo formed in the 1995 and still active today. Moon Safari, their breakthrough release, came out in 1998 and was something of a chart botherer - reaching number six in the UK album charts and also spawning several Top 40 singles. 15 years on, I hope this record hasn't been lost to the sands of time, because it is very, very good.
If I had to pick one word to describe the album it would be relaxing. When I've felt tired on this trip, I've lied flat on my back, closed my eyes and sent Moon Safari through my headphones, and I have always come out the other side feeling refreshed.

The album starts very strongly, beginning with 'La Femme D'argent'. A seven minute instrumental track whose synths and bass take you on a winding journey through a city at night. It's a fantastic way to start the record, as it sets the tone for the album and by the four minute mark you are already lost in the music. Next up is single 'Sexy Boy', one of the dancier cuts on offer here, it is a melodic number that introduces the distorted vocals that play a big part in the record. Without a doubt, track 3, the mellow 'All I Need', is one of the best songs on the album. Written and sung by American Beth Hirsch, her vocals are soothing and this is a gorgeous track that is especially powerful sandwiched between the more upbeat 'Sexy Boy' and 'Kelly Watch the Stars'. The rest of the album is of similar quality and style - there are more atmospheric instrumental efforts, more use of the voice distorter, and Beth Hirsch appears again on the wonderful 'You Make It Easy'.

At 10 tracks and 43 minutes, Moon Safari is just the right length. There are no tracks on here you would want to skip and it doesn't drag on. Furthermore, the record flows nicely and feels like a complete piece of work, in part due to the variety of vocals or lack thereof at times.

The next time you need a rest, I strongly recommend lying flat on your back, closing your eyes, and listening to Moon Safari.

8/10

Timber!

After leaving Hong Kong I spent three days in Sydney. It was a great time but not really anything to write about - yes, I saw the Sydney Harbour Bridge and it was amazing to actually be there and sure, I went to Bondi Beach and it was postcard perfect - but my Sydney experience was very standard backpacker fare. My next destination, the suburb of Cronulla, is in some ways far more interesting.

Cronulla's harsh sounding name paints the picture of an insignificant suburb, a place of tedious commutes and kids returning from university to boredom and nostalgia. The Skokie of Sydney. However, two factors distinguish Cronulla from its forgettable counterparts. Firstly, it has a huge, wonderful beach with fine yellow sands and waves crash landing from the Pacific. Conveniently, my hostel is barely five minutes walk from the beach. Secondly, something notable once happened there. In 2005, a group of Middle Eastern men attacked two teenage lifeguards on Cronulla Beach, which sparked violent racially motivated and alcohol fuelled riots on the streets. For a short time, the Cronulla Riots made the suburb the focus of Australia.

On my first morning in Cronulla I left the hostel at 6.45AM, for reasons of neither beach nor rioting. I was off to a timber yard. Upon my arrival at the hostel I chatted to the owner about finding work, several hours later he gave me the phone number of someone who needed a worker, and five minutes later I had arranged work at the timber yard. The business is a small one with just the owner, one full time employee, and for today a hard working but potentially useless Brit who never worked with wood at school because I skipped technology classes to play tennis. My first few hours were spent moving various pieces of wood around the yard. It was straightforward but fairly hard work and made for a good workout, which was fine with me as I like both hard work and exercise. Then, I was handed a nail gun and shown how to put together wooden lattices before commencing their assembly myself. Less than two hours later (during which the safety earphones proved useful when Call Me Maybe came on the radio), I had completed ten lattices. After nailing the final nail of the tenth lattice, I was rather pleased with myself; I had never felt so constructive! A large order had come in for wooden lattices, and here I was, in Australia, fulfilling the order!

After completing a further seven lattices I was starting to get tired. Luckily, it was 3.30 and time to go. Legs and arms aching, all I wanted to do was lie on the beach - and that is exactly what I did.

Cronulla Beach - the perfect place to unwind after a day at the timber yard.

Goon: Official Review

One of the most exciting prospects of reaching Australia was the chance to sample the infamous 'goon'. Goon is basically a very bad and very cheap wine and it probably goes someway towards explaining the reputation Australians have for getting drunk. This stereotype was certainly enforced by an Aussie guy I met at the hostel in Hong Kong. On his first night in the city, he somehow managed to wake up in the elevator of a building that was not the hostel, without his phone, glasses and curiously, his shoes. On his second night, I also went out and thought that his night had gone smoother as we walked back to the hostel together. However, the next morning the Australian lad walked over to me in socks, inquiring "when I came in last night, was I wearing shoes?" Australians and travellers Down Under alike had told me tales of goon, stories of foul taste and dangerous consequences. On my first two nights in Sydney, I treated my liver to hearty servings of the stuff.

The most important aspect of goon is undoubtedly its price. Boy, it is cheap. We paid just $13 (about 7 pounds) for 4.5 litres of the stuff, making it cheaper than water in many places. Secondly, there is its container. Coming in a box with a squirting nozzle, one may originally find the dispensing of goon fairly innocuous. However, remove the cardboard shell and things really start getting interesting. A giant silver bag (the material and colour of which reminded me of those silver suits medics drape across overexerted marathon runners) flaps around in your hands like a bladder, seemingly moving of its own accord. Trying to drain this bag of the sweet nectar inside then becomes uncomfortably reminiscent of milking a cow. Comically, the outside box contained some drivel about the subtle tastes and heritage of the wine, when all that text could have been erased and simply replaced with "CHEAP".

So, how was the taste? Upon my initial gulp I was unphased - sure, it was clearly not a nice wine - but then here it came...3, 2, 1...AFTERTASTE! Although the aftertaste fell short of the foulness of the legendary Chicago drink Jeppson's Mallort, it was rather unpleasant and frustratingly the only way to get rid of it seemed to be to take another sip, creating a never ending cycle of sourness. Fortunately, goon grew on me over several glasses, and by 'grew on me' I mean I soon found the drink was merely being ingested without any enjoyment of the taste and not bothering me with its cheap aromas. Despite my increased tolerance for the beverage, I was getting no better at serving it, with every extraction from the nozzle ending up with considerable spillage and sticky fingers for all involved. I am sure I will be a master at this important skill over the next five months.

I had received dire warnings about the hangovers goon induced, but thankfully due to a combination of knowing when to stop, bread and water before bed, and lengthy sleeping, I woke up feeling chipper both mornings.

Official Verdict: Not that bad.

A box of goon.

The bag inside holds an almighty amount of fluid.

Hong Kong - Final Thoughts

I only went to Hong Kong because the guy at STA Travel mentioned I could stop over there and I thought "sure, why not?" However, I was so impressed by Hong Kong that I would encourage every traveller to stop over there and even recommend making it the main focus of a trip.

While Hong Kong boasts a huge supply of amazing sights, places to explore, great food and lively bars, I also observed a key difference to other major cities that helped HK win me over. In other world cities I've spent significant time in - Chicago, London, and New York - I've always felt that residents and visitors alike have to battle against the city to enjoy themselves or simply get by. These cities are constantly trying to stress you out with their pace, bankrupt you with their prices, trap you in with their endlessly sprawling suburbs, or freeze you with their winters. On the other hand, Hong Kong seems to be on your side.

There were many factors that led my to develop this thesis. Firstly, Hong Kong's prices are fair rather looking to exploit. This is especially true of the transport - a journey on the tram costs less than 30p and I could have ridden the Star Ferry (an iconic vessel that crosses Victoria Harbour offering spectacular views) 30 times for the price of one trip on the Thames River Bus. HK's citizens have the patience to wait for the green man before crossing roads and the sick wear dust masks to prevent the spread of illness. Its public toilets are abundant, free, clean, and contain working soap dispensers. A cool breeze blows miraculously through the subway carriages, ensuring that I didn't overheat even at rush hour. How this worked was the subject of much investigation as I just couldn't determine where the breeze was coming through. The mystery remains unsolved. Hong Kong allows you to escape the density of the city to any number of quiet and scenic locations. For instance the barely populated and entirely carless Lomma Island is just a 30 minute ferry ride away from the the Central Business District, and here I enjoyed a selection of quiet beaches and stunning hiking trails. Finally, I visited during the winter and it was perfect sunshine every day with the temperature hovering around 20 celsius.
As I stood watching baby monkeys amusingly play fight at the HK Zoological and Biological Gardens (admission: free and nobody trying to get you buy stuff) during the final hour of my stay, I sincerely hoped this wouldn't be my last visit to Hong Kong.

One of the views from the top of Lomma Island.

Next stop: Sydney

A Different Side to Hong Kong

The Tai O fishing village is not what one imagines when they picture Hong Kong.

Most people are aware that Hong Kong is one of the world's most densely populated regions and the streets certainly contain the hustle and bustle expected of the city. However, people may be surprised to learn that Hong Kong features mountains almost 1,000m in height, is comprised of 263 islands, only 25% of which is developed landmass, and it contains what must be one of the world's most idyllic fishing villages.

Today I travelled to the largest of the islands, Lantau, best known for being home to the Tian Tan Buddha Statue, and this was my first stop. The statue was billed as the "World's Largest Outdoor Bronze Seated Buddha Statue", instantly raising suspicions of larger Buddhas elsewhere that are combinations of either indoor, stone, or standing. Regardless, at 34m tall it was huge and an impressive site as it came into view towards the conclusion of the 5.7km cable car ride up to it. At the base of the statue, the throngs of cheesily posing tourists made it difficult to feel any spiritualism. However, that changed as I took the Wisdom Path away from the statue. The path finished amongst a set of tall wooden planks, marked with Cantonese symbols to form the Heart Sutra, an important Buddhist text. After reading about the Heart Sutra and the Buddhist concept of 'emptiness', I scampered up a hill where I sat on a rock all alone and with the statue looking immense above the trees to the right. Here I could get into the spirit of things and until I inevitably got hungry, I felt truly at peace with the world.

My next stop was the Tai O fishing village. On the way there, a cow lay lazily in the middle of the road, not bothering to move as the wheels of our bus came within inches of its head. Before heading into the village, I embarked on a short hike around the coast. It was a brilliant walk - a variety of colourful butterflies danced around me and at one point a large bird I'm yet to identify panicked in a bush before flying across my path. The route led me to a secluded bay where I sat looking out in to the South China Sea. It was hard to believe that I was so close to such a major city.

Tai O is a charming place. Houses built on stilts lined narrow streets, from which a host of stalls vended dried fish. I bravely opted for some dried squid, which was spiced and briefly cooked over coal before being chopped and bagged. The extreme fishyness of the taste took me back at first, but such was my enjoyment of the snack that upon ingesting the final piece I found my index finger scurrying the bottom of the bag for scraps. Tai O is a place that engages all the senses - the markets were colourful and offered tasty food, the distinctive smell of fish filled the air, and the clatter of Mah Jongg tiles being thrust on to a table by foursomes of women sounded from inside the houses. Tai O also featured the kind of slow paced calm you expect from a fishing village. Bicycles (there are no cars in the village) were pedalled at a leisurely pace and a man nonchalantly steered a boat out in to the bay, seemingly oblivious to a part of the opposite hillside going up in flames. By the time I turned away from this view, the fire was still blazing and had spread continuously without signs of abating. I can only hope it was extinguished.

I decided to forfeit my return journey on the cable car, primarily so I could watch the sunset from Tai O, although the decision was probably also influenced by the fact that I had lost my ticket. Although the bus I took instead followed a painstaking longwinded route that I could have anticipated with a quick glance at the map, it was the right call as the classically orange sunset was a fitting end to a wonderful day on Lantau Island.

Pegasus 'til I die!

Like any true football fan, the first piece of planning I did for my trip was finding out whether my stay would coincide with any football matches. I was in luck! Three games in the Hong Kong First Division would be taking place the day after I arrived in Hong Kong, prompting just one question - which game to attend? The afternoon kickoff between Sunray Cave JC Sun Hei and Yokohama FC was simply too far away, being played at the Tsing Yi Sports Ground. The evening fixture that pitted Hong Kong juggernauts South China against BC Rangers at the 40,000 seater Hong Kong Stadium was tempting. South China, who Nicky Butt turned out for in 2011, have won the First Division more times than all the other teams combined and are so famed that when they finished in the relegation spots in 2006 they were allowed to stay in the First Division as it was considered to be too humiliating for them to play in the Second Division. However, given that the average attendance in the league last season was only 999, I decided that the atmosphere at the giant ground might be a little flat, so instead I would be heading to the 6,500 capacity Mong Kok Stadium for the 2.30pm kickoff between Eastern Salon and Sun Pegasus. It was 3rd vs 4th and according to their Wikipedia page Sun Pegasus had recently acquired a team bus so it promised to be a classic. I wasn't wrong - it was a seven goal thriller!

Incredibly, I managed to persuade five fellow residents of my hostel who I had only just met to spend their Sunday afternoon in Hong Kong with me watching poor quality football. Even more remarkably, three of these five were girls. Attracting this group to the game and successfully taking them there was a fine display of leadership that I will not hesitate to mention in my next interview.

We chose to support Sun Pegasus as they had a more catchy name and sat amongst the "Pegasus Base", their drum lead support, in the magnificent Mong Kok Stadium, a beautifully designed arena scenically backdropped by mountains and city. Our lads got off to a slow start, one player sported gloves despite the weather pushing 20°C and support for giant Bosnian target man Admir Rascic was lacking. It was no surprise that we went into the break 1-0 down after a sloppy half of football.

Everything changed in the second half. An equaliser from Brazilian centre back Paulo Cesar ignited the game and was quickly followed by a brilliant goal from Hong Kong football legend Jaimes McKee. By this point we were singing along with the Pegasus Base and even belting out a few of our own chants imported from Britain.On the hour mark, a penalty won theatrically by Rascic was tucked away by the man himself to make it 3-1 and we seemed home and dry. However, Brazilian playmaker Itaparica, Eastern Salon's standout player, started pulling the strings in attack and played a part in both goals as Salon somehow pulled the scoreline level at 3-3. The Mong Kok was rocking, but it wasn't over yet. Some strong play form McKee down the right culminated in the ball finding its way to Cesar, who blasted into the roof of the net from six yards to win it for Pegasus! We went absolutely nuts, falling over each other in jubilant celebration that would have made onlookers believe we were lifelong fans of the club. There was still time for the dramatic ref to award a late red card to a Salon player for dissent. What a game. "Pegasus 'til I die!"

Sun Pegasus defeated Eastern Salon 4-3 in a classic at the Mong Kok Stadium.

My First Meal in Hong Kong

I was famished by the time I finally arrived in Hong Kong, so after a quick chat with some fellow travelers I headed straight to the noodle restaurant next door to the hostel.

Arriving solo, I was seated alone at a table for six, and after a massive communication breakdown with the waiter I managed to order some food - a bowl of noodles, sausage slices, chicken wings, and foolishly the home made spicy sauce. By the time my meal arrived I had been joined at the table by five Hong Kong residents whose eyes carefully tracked the path of the dish that was placed in front of me. It was at this point I remembered that I had no idea how to use chopsticks. The noodles could be shovelled into my mouth by lowering my head to the level of the bowl, the sausage slices could be crudely stabbed through the middle, and the sauce could be slurped up using the spoon, but how on earth do you eat chicken wings using chopsticks?

Leaving the chicken wings until last, I persevered sloppily and soon realised why ordering the spicy sauce was foolish - the spice was doing a number on my sinuses and with no tissue in sight, fluid was pouring out of my nose and down my face. As my mucus covered face clumsily ingested the noodles I was fully aware of how dreadfully rude I was likely being to those sharing a table with me.

By the time I was down to the wings each spoonful of sauce was being accompanied by some fluid flowing freely from my nostrils. I decided to cut my losses and picked up the wings with my hands, scoffed them down, wiped my greasy fingers on my bill and hastily paid and left, without looking back.

It was, however, a delicious meal and a real bargain at the equivalent of less than 3 pounds.

I sincerely apologise to those who had to share a table with me at this Hong Kong restaurant. I am sorry if I offended you.

Introduction

After being rudely ejected from America I returned to the UK and found a job at the end of a long and strenuous search. Rather awesomely, the job doesn’t start until September 2014, so I decided to continue my continental drift and booked a trip to Australia. I will be Down Under for about five months, travelling around and trying to work for money or accommodation. The plan is not to have too much of a plan, but I hope to really get a feel of what life is like in Australia as well as doing typical tourist/backpacker activities. Given that I will be travelling alone for a long time, and without an itinerary, I was both excited and nervous in the run up to departure day. Would it be an odyssey of non-stop thrills and brilliant companionship? Or will the result be loneliness and a colossal loss of money? Either way it should make for some entertaining blog posts.

The purpose of this blog is threefold:

- To keep a record of the adventure

- To keep those interested informed of what I’m up to

- To improve my writing skills.

I plan on updating the blog whenever I have internet access and something worth writing about.

Before I start putting the Ali in Australia, I will be stopping over in Hong Kong for six days, where I hope to attend a Hong Kong First Division football match and take on the locals at table tennis…

The start of my journey. Well actually it would be a further two hours until my departure and I would leave the driveway in a car rather than on foot.