Stairs, mountains, London, architecture

I resigned from my computer nerd job in August with the intention of traveling soon afterwards. However, due to various circumstances that are far too boring to discuss here, I only left home a few days ago. Between resigning and departing I helped my parents build their new house and made the stairs for them. I've never actually constructed stairs before, but I did it all myself and they look bloody tops, even if I do say so myself (someone else will have to put the walls in though). However, I don't want to build stairs for the rest of my life, and I already knew I didn't want to be a computer geek forever, although I was happy with it for the time being. A few months ago one Saturday morning I was lying in bed contemplating life (having no compelling reason to get out of bed is one of life's little luxuries, so I tend to make the most of it when I can) when I had an epiphany. Although in my head what I actually said was "Wow, I've just had an epiphery!" and then I chuckled, because I've been watching too much of the US version of The Office recently and I like making shit jokes, even if it is just to myself.


I realised that architecture is something that I am passionate about and would love to be involved in (I couldn't give a shit about computers y'see), so I decided that I would do whatever it took to make that reality. To that end I'll probably start studying next year, although things are already in motion as I have gone to the optometrist and ordered my thin-framed square glasses and I've got a fitting next week for a dozen dark turtle-neck sweaters. Once that's done I'll be bringing the outside in, thinking outside the square, connecting the local community with [insert local landmark here] and respecting the historic scale of the neighbourhood. Oh yes, just what the world needs, another pretentious architect wanker. Bring it on!


I had my going-away party on Saturday, and it was an absolute belter. Highlights include a clothed orgy in my room (sadly I wasn't involved), drinking every last drop of alcohol in the apartment and chucking a telly off the third-floor balcony. The sound it made on impact was an incredibly deep, full-bodied woomph that was immensely gratifying for all that heard it. Delightfully layered over the top of this was the gentle tinkling of thousands of cathode ray tube shards striking the bricks and concrete. I can highly recommend it.
http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=itG6hRFQUts
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=56059755024&ref=nf
I eventually got to bed at 8 am, had two hours kip, then got up and started cleaning the place up. What a way to sign-off.

I left Tas a few days later, almost exactly four years to the day after arriving back from Germany. As the plane banked after take-off the Tasmanian landmarks that are so familiar to me from the ground slid into view: the cliffs and beaches at Taroona, South Arm, the Tasman Peninsula, Maria Island, Freycinet. Almost seven years after leaving the first time I was off again, leaving behind a lot of people and places that I cherish, and just like last time I had a lump in my throat the whole way (and I know what some of you are thinking . . . but there was no lump in my pants too you filth-mongers). The plane from Melbourne to Bangkok was only a third full, so there was a party atmosphere on board. We took over first class, drank all the booze, got smashed and successfully chatted up a few of the air hostesses. Nah, that's all bullshit, I actually just claimed three seats as my own, stretched out and fell asleep. Rock'n'roll. To look at me lying there snoring like an old man and drooling like a baby you wouldn't think I'd been involved in chucking a telly off a balcony only a few days prior. Bangkok airport was fine by the way, as you can see from the photo the hordes of tourists were back as if nothing had ever happened.


My destination was Nepal, and I was fortunate to sit on the right side of the plane flying into Kathmandu. About an hour before landing I was gazing out the window at some clouds on the horizon, when only a few minutes later those same clouds crystalised into mountain ranges of staggering proportions. Gigantic walls of rock and ice defined the far-off horizon, the peaks seemingly level with our cruising jet. It was breathtaking and awe-inspiring, and tomorrow I'm taking an early morning mountain flight out to Everest and back. I anticipate it will be an experience I will crap on about for years to come.


I've been in Kathmandu a few days now. It's busy, noisy, dirty and chaotic. There are 45 hours of scheduled power outage per week. Why? The timezone is GMT +5:45. Why?? I didn't even know places existed on a 15-minute offset! A very drunk, very posh English bloke I was having a brief chat with asked me if I played rugby "Well you bloody should with ears and thighs like that!" Ha, hilarious! That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me. He finished with "Jolly hockeysticks old chap, wizard prang!" and then staggered off into the cold Kathmandu night.


The most disappointing thing about Nepal is that it's pronounced Ne-parl and not Ne-pawl, which totally ruins my "oh, that's absolutely nepalling!" joke I was going to whip out when something was unexpectedly shit. I came up with that joke years ago and now that I'm finally able to use it, I can't. Gutted. Anyway, crap jokes aside, I plan on spending two months here doing various treks (a month-long trek around the Annapurna massif and a trip to Everest Base Camp are high on the list of priorities), and then I'm moving to London for a couple of years. So keep your eyes peeled European-based folk, I'm coming your way!


Lastly, I stumbled across this gem from four years ago while scouring some old emails. I wrote it a coupla months after moving back home from Germany, and I pissed myself reading it again so I thought I'd put it up here as well.

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Being back home is still a little bit strange at times – I think I was away just long enough (almost three years), so that when I came back it no longer felt like home – things were familiar, but I still felt as if I was in a foreign place. The Aussie accent took a little getting used to, driving on the left hand side of road felt weird at first (attempting to indicate left, and suddenly seeing the windscreen wipers go crazy instead, can get very annoying very quickly) and quite a few shops have moved 30m across the road or closed down, which is a bit confusing for poor old
me. I've annoyed several people by asking them where the bank or bottle shop has gone, and they look at me like I'm thick, and then point to the big building right behind me.

My Germanness is also hard to shake – I still have to stop myself saying 'Danke' and 'Bitte'. Several times I have started to say 'Danke', realised halfway through that I'm in the wrong country for that and had to adjust, and I've ended up saying 'Dunkyou'. Cue slightly quizzical look from the person I just "dunked". From time to time I walk around to the wrong side of the car, and expect to drive from the passenger's side. I still think that I have to stock up on food on Saturday, because I won't be able to buy any on Sunday. I still get a certain smug satisfaction from arriving somewhere precisely when I said I would, and if I know I will be more than a minute late I still have to fight the urge to feel guilty. I also have to fight the urge to shake people's hands every time I see them or whenever I say goodbye.
Every now and then I still go to knock on the table when I leave, and I end up looking very silly when I put my fist out, motion to knock . . . and then remember that it's a German thing that we don't do in Oz, and have to withdraw. I am yet to figure out a way to accomplish this without looking foolish. It seems the crowning achievement of my time in Germany is looking the fool on my return home.

This stupid website does random stupid things with the photo layouts. Apologies.