floody deluge

rain.
not a shower. or a drizzle.
rain. genuine downpour without a single break. day in day out for the last week. banging on the roofs, tents, heads, trees, streets, cars.
in everybody's minds, thoughts, conversations. rain everywhere.
we go to sleep silently hoping that it WILL stop. but it never does.
and today, as if going for a grand finale, after a long crescendo, it all came to a FLOOD
there's no campsite anymore. just water. tents and peoples' belongings floating helplessly around. little dramas of sinking cameras, clothes and no sleep. people laughing, people crying. chaos.
and all that with an ever present accompaniament of the rain banging on the roofs, tenets, heads, trees, streets, cars...

a thought or two from byron bay

travel is not always cloudless days when time flies cause you're having so much fun.it's not always people and events bringing smile on your face.there are times when all that called 'adventure' becomes 'nuisance' and as frustration swells within this less-than-ok day, you suddenly realise that travel can be not an alternative you desire.
so what could go wrong on a day that starts with rain, another boring bowl of porridge and two black cockatoos screeching their ear-piercing greetings as you pass them on the bike? one, two, five punctures, a driver that gives you a lift in a van full of money when your own pockets are nearly empty. another puncture when in a desperate move you decide to get somewhere despite all that. and when you finally give in and take the train it runs late enough to make your miserable wait on a cold deserted station an eternity. so when you finally get there just to see your pick up van's back lights disappearing into darkness you're most probably just one step from madness...
that was Tuesday, the day when my odometer showed the first triple zero in Oz. after a thousand kilometres i felt i deserved a break. the place happened to be Byron Bay - where a hippie meets a yuppie, even dogs are taught to surf and where after a series of yoga, meditation and massage workshops you can dine in a vegan organic cafe among dreadlocked locals or slightly stoned modern version of flower-power generation.
so what would i be doing in a place like that?
first of all, take it easy. then, learn to surf (i'm still worse than the crappest surf-dog), let the cyclist' tan spread up, watch the whales passing on their way north (wonder who will get there first...), indulge in lengthy conversations leading to somewhat alien conclusions, play pictionary on a rainy sunday...
in short, i'm giving myself a chance to get restless again. which will happen soon...

oz pozz to the north - sydney to port macquire

are you mad?!
that's the most frequent comment that i've heard so far. apparently, bikes are not the most efficient way of getting from A to B over australia. no wonder, after five days of restless cycling i've moved a mere two centimeters on the map! frustrating? demoralising? demotivating? and what about the scenery? so far? bush, bush, bush, sea, bush, roadkill, bush...
but i'm somehow still into it. every day i wake up and like it.even though the scenery is utterly boring, the dead kangaroos extremely stinky and the drivers less than tolerant.
every day turns out to be a mental challenge.
a challenge of eating another bowl of porridge for breakfast. a craving for a decent hill (yes, australia IS pretty flat). a nagging thought that NORTH is still pretty far away.
but every now and then there comes a day like today.
a hot shower. a bed. strawberries and oranges. and a fellow cyclist (American-Korean 50kg load!) to share the experience. luxury that will keep me going for another week :-)...not to mention a piece of kangaroo meat that i was offered by the afore-mentioned biker. very chewy. very last time i've tried it. :-)
keep on going - that's my mantra