America, F*ck Yeah

It took about 4 days after I flew back from Charleston, SC to recover, and even now that’s still debatable. I don’t know if it was jet lag, reverse culture shock, alcohol detox, or butter detox, but I definitely payed the price for my 6-day mini return to America. I’ll get to how it all went down, but first some context and an introduction of the players.

My family has known the Blevins family for 18 years (I just said “holy shit” out loud while typing that on this high speed train), ever since we moved 6 houses up the street from them, and their son Ross marched up to our front door to demand that the new kid who moved in (me) come outside and play. Since then our family has become integrated with theirs to the point where I call his mom Mom 2 (real name is Muriel) and his sisters Mary and Katie are my sisters (reluctantly on their part). We’ve been to more barbecues, neighborhood games of tag, birthdays, school commutes, tennis, soccer, and basketball games together than I can count. So when I got the news that Mary would be getting married in Charleston at the end of March, I saw that was right in the middle of my travels but wouldn’t be missing it no matter where I was. Initially I planned to use it as a launching pad to continue my adventure into South America but we can see how well my planning has panned out.

Eventually I confirmed I would be coming in from Western Europe (still hadn’t bought my ticket yet), and all of the kids (me, Ross and his wife Katie, Katie Blevins and her boyfriend Raj, Peter and his girlfriend Molly, and Conrad) were assigned a dilapidated Airbnb to stay in while we were there. Now that you know all the context, I’ll take you through how my time back in America so thoroughly broke me.

Day 1

Caught my flight from Madrid and spent the 8 hour flight watching as many movies as I could during that time. Incredibles 2 was the highlight.
Landed in JFK where I proceeded to wait in an hour-long line at immigration due to the fact that there were 2 people working while 4 international flights landed at the same time. God Bless America
Moseyed on over to Jamaica, Queens where I got a burrito while waiting for my friends Nic and Tom to meet me at the aforementioned spot during my 7 hour layover that we had pre-arranged a few weeks prior. Yes, you’re reading that correctly: I scammed my friends into meeting me during my layover because I’m a selfish monster.
Went to a Dominican restaurant, had beers and shared stories, took a selfie to document the occasion while in the freezing cold outside a subway stop.
Flew down to Charleston, SC and arrived at 10:30pm, only to be immediately whisked away by Ross who, having just finished his third Manhattan at dinner, declared we had “errands”.
Completed said “errands” and fell asleep to South Park.

Day 2

Got up and finished some last minute life administration given my pending unemployment in 48 hours
Had biscuits for breakfast and bbq for lunch
Doled utter domination on the tennis court during a doubles match with Burke, Ross, and Mary
Went to an oyster restaurant with Ross and Katie and started off with oyster shooters and a cheeky dozen. After a few glasses of rose, we then moved on to the seafood plateau, which is exactly what it sounds like.
Met up with Katie and Raj (and later Mary) at a rooftop bar and continued the shenanigans
Sweet merciful sleep.

Day 3

Drafted my final email to coworkers which contained an “Airplane!” joke and bought a computer using the last of my Apple discounts (sorry leeches, the gravy train has left the station).
Sequalized my on-court domination with another doubles match
Champagne celebration with the Blevins as the sale of their windows company was finalized
Celebrated some more as additional people arrived to drink champagne
Continued to celebrate
Break in the celebration to chow down on a massive gryo
Back to the celebrating
5pm celebration dinner at a steakhouse in town that I was already too tipsy for, but hey, it’s a celebration!
Ordered a 16oz Kansas City dry-aged steak to go along with the vegetables I’d been chowing down on: grits and fried okra and mac n’ cheese and loaded baked mashed potatoes. Yes, in the south, those are vegetables.
Ordered 3 desserts for out table (the other table ordered 1). I may or may not have been a driving force in that decision.
Party continued on at the ClapTrap (what we’d named our Airbnb) as the crew fell away one by one. Meanwhile, I’m the good brother that waited up until 1:30am for Conrad to arrive.
Kicked Ross off the couch to make Conrad’s bed and called it a night.

Day 4

Walked around downtown Charleston with Conrad getting caught up on the last couple months.
Ate some of the best chicken and waffles I’ve ever had
Ran some errands around town, considering I didn’t have a working phone plan for the first time in nearly 7 years.
Got picked up by Mary and Sam (Mary’s now husband) and went over to his family’s place for some bbq and apple moonshine. It was just like a hard apple cider and it went down WAY too easy.
Kayaked out on the bayou that spilled into the river. I’m not really sure it was actually a bayou, it just seems a lot more southern though. No alligator sightings.
Got ready for the rehearsal dinner at an Italian place in town. Again, at 5pm.
Worked hard to commandeer at least 2 out of 3 of the dishes that were provided for our table of 12. Succeed on most of the courses that came out. Even got the rest of the servers to bring over any unfinished dishes from other tables to our table. We referred to ourselves as the “Garbage Disposal” table.
3 hours later Peter and Molly finally arrived to what had now devolved into a slowly unraveling party, both people-wise and sobriety-wise. Most of the crew went on to a bar, but after some family photos, Ross, Katie, and myself took Peter and Molly back to the ClapTrap where they made a dent in the 80lbs (approx.) of leftovers we had in our fridge from the past 3 days.
Met up with the crew at the bar where a certain someone had gotten in through trickery and was making friends with everyone in sight. Reluctantly took one of the 15 tequila shots Katie Blevins had ordered and then moved on to the next destination.
Had buckets of little baby bottles of beer at a bar that was maybe someone’s house (?) and across the backyard from a thumping frat party. Thought about trying to crash it but didn’t want to be turned away for being too old. Again.
Eventually midnight hit and the carriage turned into a pumpkin, which meant Ross and I escorted a certain someone home who had gotten in again through trickery and made even more friends.
Ross and I stayed up to more South Park as the rest of the crew eventually trickled in over the next hour. I took the couch as Conrad was asleep in my bed, where he had been ever since he had gotten back from dinner, said his prayers, read from the Bible, and went to bed at a reasonable hour.

Day 5

Everyone was feeling a little rough from the vigorous activities of the previous day. As the wedding crew started to get ready, Ross, Peter and Molly, Conrad, Raj, and myself all went to brunch.
Had some hearty omelets, biscuits, grits, and a Bloody Mary just for good measure. The combination of all of that somehow combined to have the opposite effect of what I intended. Didn’t see that coming. Everyone went their separate ways after and I retreated back to the ClapTrap for a nap to recover my soul.
Fully refreshed everyone had returned so we sat around and chatted and started to get ready for the wedding that evening. Guess what time it started.
We got the the venue, which was set in a state park and had all of the old world southern charm you could imagine; like something out of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. The horsetail moss hanging from the oak trees was especially enchanting.
Enjoyably sat through the modern Jewish ceremony (my first!) and started up the cocktail hour enjoying a fine spread of Cougar Gold, the finest cheese known to man.
Mingled with friends and family in between speeches, first dances, and the start of the bbq dinner buffet. However once that started, you couldn’t pry me out of my seat with a crowbar. Between brisket, pulled pork, chicken chili, and challah bread (an amazing addition to a bbq meal!), I was a happy boy. And you best believe I went for seconds.
Still had room for the amazing three-layer lemon cake Mom 2 made that could’ve been on the cover of Food & Wine magazine.
Ended the night doing what I do best: dancing alone on the dance floor. I had a couple willing and unwilling partners (both were Mom 2) but mostly it was myself making a fool of…myself.
Reconvened back at the ClapTrap and tried to muster up some semblance of an after party, but the deadly duo of early morning flights and the previous nights festivities didn’t move the needle very far.

Day 6

The boys and Molly were out on early flights, so the rest of us spent the slow morning peeling ourselves out of bed and getting the house ready. Cleaned out most of the leftovers in the fridge for breakfast.
Finalized some errands and tried to wrap my head around the fact that I was flying back to Spain to continue my international travels, but now without a job. Didn’t succeed.
Said my final goodbyes and flew from Charleston to Atlanta then back to Madrid. Highlight of the movies from this flight was The Favourite.
Landed back in Madrid at 8am.

That’s it for my adventures back in America! It was a lot of eating and a lot of drinking, but I just had the best time. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, and it left me emotionally recharged and grounded and ready to finish out the last part of my trip. It’s been tough at times on my travels, but it felt so good to reconnect and remember how many special people there are in my life and how much they mean to me, no matter how ridiculous they are.

More to come from Spain, as well as a tentative itinerary for those who want to stalk me!

Love,

Ben

¡Hola, Olá, Kaixo!

Hello again, dear readers!

Sorry for the delay, I’ve been traveling great distances recently and haven’t had the energy to update my posts. Also, I’m back on my bullshit. After having sworn off carbs in a melodramatic rant that even Lewis Black would’ve been proud of, I’m back to eating carbs. But in my defense it’s because they’re included in all the delicious tapas that I’ve been eating since I got to Spain so it doesn’t feel as overwhelming. But this just goes to show that you should take nothing I say literally. Seriously. Seriously literally. Literally serious. One of those.

Seeing as I’ve been in quite a few places since my last post, I’m going back to an old format to take you through my latest update. This is also to hide the fact that I’ve been a lot lazier and haven’t done as much, so think of it as literary Spanx.

Tarifa, Spain

Where is Tarifa?

It’s just across the Mediterranean from Tanger, Morocco. It’s where I got off the ferry.

Why are you including this in the places you’ve been?

Well, since the ferry was late, I missed one of three buses a day that goes up to Sevilla, so I had four hours to kill. It’s a cute little fishing village, though not much was open on a Sunday afternoon. I ended up going to a cafe and caught up on some life administration.

What did you actually do?

I watched four hours of Netflix.

Sevilla, Spain

What was Sevilla like?

If you ever want to get a perfect encapsulation of what Spain is like, go to Sevilla. It’s got the old town squares with winding, narrow cobblestone streets, churches every few blocks, plazas abundant with outdoor seating, restaurants and cafes along the river, and jamon stores with their hanging jamon hocks. It’s not too big, not too small and helps you ease into the Spanish way of life where nothing is too urgent or too stressful. It’s a delight.

What was your favorite part of Sevilla?

Definitely the flamenco. It’s a gypsy dance that comes from the region, and it is mesmerizing. My last night in Sevilla I went to a showing in an old converted house with a simple stage in the open courtyard and seating on three sides. It first started with a guitarist and a singer who slowly worked into the song, building the beat with stomps and claps to accompany the frenetic melody coming from the guitar. Eventually the dancers came out and the real show began. I’m sure I’ve seen some flamenco performances in my life but not having much idea what to expect (more likely a shoddy memory), I wasn’t prepared for what followed. It was a maelstrom of stomps and twirls and percussive motions, with the woman playing castanets and the man clapping along. But what was most enthralling were their faces, which were in turn playful, defiant, painful and triumphant (with a little dash of look-what-I-can-do thrown in for good measure). I couldn’t look away. And when the woman came out in a traditional flaming red flowing dress for a solo, part of me wished I could disappear into the folds of her dress as it furiously twirled around the stage, just to be in that moment forever.

What else did you do in Sevilla?

Have you ever come across something that you just knew you had to do? Not that it was necessary in the moment, or even something you wanted, but spoke to your soul so clearly you couldn’t deny it? That’s what happened to me when I came across a barbershop in Sevilla called…The Barber of Seville. It was just too fucking perfect. Having played it, at minimum, seven times in my life, I couldn’t not patronize that little shop. I ended up getting my first ever straight razor shave to take off my desert traveler disguise and it was amazing! Then spent the rest of the day trying to get the music out of my head…to no avail.

I also spent a lot of time at tapas places enjoying a few plates and a glass of wine. I haven’t really been drinking much on my travels (most DEFINITELY during my time in Muslim countries) but seeing everyone enjoying themselves so effortlessly to a glass of wine, I just couldn’t resist! I also timed my trip in the throes of the La Liga football season, so that was always a convenient excuse to pop a squat on a patio in front of a big screen and accompany the match with a couple glasses of wine. I’m so European now!

Sounds like you had a great time!

I did! It was short but sweet.

Lagos, Portugal

What was Lagos like?

It’s a cute little beach town with whitewashed buildings adorned with orange-tiled roofs populating the surrounding hills above the water. It was soooooo charming. And the beaches there are a mix of San Diego, Northern California, and Australia. Overall the effect is gorgeous, and I lucked out with the weather in the middle of March.

What did you do when you were there?

I had a little apartment up on a hill with a market, bakery, and cafe all within a three minute walk. Needless to say I spent a lot of time between those three places. I’d wake up, have breakfast, and make my way to one of the beaches where I’d spend the afternoon. Then I’d come back, have some charcuterie and make my way into town for dinner. Or I’d just get some takeaway from the corner market. And thus followed my pattern for the next three days. Didn’t leave Lagos, didn’t not go to the beach, didn’t pass up a meal. Even did some laundry! It was a very relaxing, very pleasant, and very lazy time.

What was the most memorable thing about Lagos?

I’d say it was either the 6-pack of beer that was €0.49, or the Speedo that I bought because I left my swimsuit in my Dubai hotel.

What?! (To both questions)

It’s Europe.

Moving on, anything else interesting happen?

I almost missed the bus back to Sevilla because it was a different color from the one I caught on the way in. After running it down and slapping the side of the bus to get it to stop, the driver got out and yelled at me: “You’re late!” and “Why didn’t you get on the bus!” and “You should’ve seen it!” I yelled back: “I’m sorry!” and “I didn’t see it! and “I’m sorry, I didn’t see it!”. It was very Spanish.

Are you sure there’s not anything else interesting that happened? Anything “professional” in nature?

Oh yeah, I forgot. I resigned from Apple.

WHAT?! That’s REALLY big news!!

Yeah, it was. I was really nervous to do it, and it felt weird to do so not having another job in the pipeline. But these travels are something I need for myself and trust that I’ll be able to figure things out when I get back to America. At this point I know it’s something I can do, and I know I wouldn’t have been able to say that four months ago. I enjoyed my time at Apple, but I also realized it was no longer the place for me and not something I could go back to, given the realizations and epiphanies I’ve had since I’ve been gone. I learned and grew a lot while I was there, and I’m excited to see what happens next. Now just to figure out what exactly that is…

Bilbao, Spain

Why Bilbao? That’s random

I wanted to go somewhere I wouldn’t normally go, and I knew I was going to be in the south of Spain for a while, so I thought I’d try something different. Plus, Anna said it was really cool and I trust her…sometimes.

That’s fair. What’s Bilbao like?

It’s different from the rest of Spain in a lot of ways. One, it’s a lot more mountainous up there and the city sits in a valley surrounded on all sides by them. Two, it’s in the Basque region, which has a different language and culture from the rest of Spain. Three, the architecture is more akin to something you might see in France or Switzerland than you would in Spain. And four, Bilbao is spelled Bilbo in Basque, so I got a kick out of that and didn’t know where else to put that fun fact.

What did you do in Bilbao?

Obviously I had to go to the Guggenheim there, which was incredible. The building itself is a permanent exhibit and is integrated into the existing collection and exhibits more than any other museum I’ve ever been to. There’s some cool pieces there, including a heavy focus on Spanish artists (go figure) but I found myself most of the time enjoying the building and the interesting lines and contours of the Gehry masterpiece. It’s amazing that it’s also fully integrated into the city. It sits on the northern entrance on the water, and you actually drive past it on the main road in from the airport.

Apart from that I spent most of my time walking around the city, which is split between the old-town style I saw in Sevilla, and a newer town center with more malls and glass buildings and office parks. I also dove headfirst into pintxos.

What are pintxos?

Pintxos are the Basque word for tapas. During my time in Bilbao, I figured out why I liked pintxos more than I liked tapas. Pintxos are lined up on the bar in each cafe like you’ve stumbled upon a succession of parties that are just waiting for all of the guests to arrive. It makes it enticing and inviting at the same time; all the delicious foods laid out waiting for you to make your selection and in such numerous quantity as to suggest that there’ll be enough to go around. It’s a fun carnival game to compare the pintxos at the cafe you’re in with the ones you’ve just passed, and while you’re at it you might as well check out the next one just to make sure you’re not missing anything good. For a solo traveler it was comforting to feel included in a constantly revolving party where you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Plus, it made it so much easier to point at what you wanted to eat, rather than Russian Roulette your way through your best guesses of a Spanish menu.

Any other adventures in Bilbao?

I ended up doing a day trip to San Sebastián, which is the last city in Spain before the French border. It’s even more French/Swiss than Bilbao was, like parts of Versailles or Paris had been transported into Spain. It was a bit cold the day I went, but you can see the appeal of the fancy beach town in the summer. I did a bunch of hiking there, as there are two hills (they called them mountains) on either side of the bay that San Sebastián is built on. It made for some great views, and I even got a picture of their mini Christ the Redeemer. It was a great way to end my adventures up in Basque Country.

Madrid, Spain

What’s in Madrid?

I had a very important wedding in Charleston, South Carolina that I had to attend, so a month back I found a round trip flight out of Madrid that didn’t completely decimate my bank account, and that’s where I had to be!

Any good stories from Madrid?

Not really. I was only there for about 18 hours. Walked around. Saw pretty buildings. Slept in a park like a bum. About the usual for me in a new city. I knew I’d be flying back so I didn’t really push it too hard this time.

And that’s it for the updates that I’m sure all three of you have been dying to hear about! I’ll be following this up with updates on my short jaunt to America which, in all honesty, I’m still recovering from. And then it’s back to Europe for more adventures to who knows where! Seriously, who knows? I don’t have a plan so someone please let me know where to go.

Ever your wandering fool,

Ben

Maroc the Kasbah

It’s finally happened. I never thought this day would come, but it’s here and I’m not sure I know myself anymore. An essential part of who I am and my beliefs are being called into question and I am shaken to my core. I don’t know what in my life I could have done differently to avoid this moment but sometimes you can’t change your own fate. My time in Morocco has broken me and it’s finally time I admit it: I’m sick of carbs.

All throughout my travels starting in Japan, on down to Melbourne and through to Egypt I have time and time again expressed my love and admiration for all things baked goods. It has been an integral part of my travels and a highlight from each country I’ve visited. It is my barometer for each place, my litmus test to determine how well they provide the nectar of my travels and win the favor of my opinion and esteem. But here I am, having spent 9 days in Morocco and unwilling to eat another piece of sweet heaven. I appreciate your thoughts and prayers during this time as I struggle to find another idee fixe to replace what I have lost.

Looking back I can see how this horrible fate befell me, as it was a slow betrayal rather than a quick tastessasination. It started at breakfast, where every meal was a combination of bread and jam and butter and cheese. Then it built towards lunch which often included some other form of carb or bread substitute. Then it continued on into dinner, where tajines were served with a healthy portion of potatoes and a basket of bread. Finally it culminated in dessert with an abundance of treacly puffed pastry delicacies filled with peanut or almond spread, fig jam, or doused in honey. Before I knew it this preponderance of daily carbs started piling up and overwhelming my defenses until it was too late. The murder was finished before I realized what was going on, and my tastes never stood a chance. While there were many other highlights to the trip, I can’t help but mourn the loss of my love of bread and everything bread-like as I trudge forward into a brown-less future that will no doubt bring me nothing but a trimmer waistline and feelings of satiation.

As for those other highlights, there were numerous and memorable, Morocco being a vibrant and colorful country. I arrived in Casablanca and took the train down to Marrakech, which in and of itself was a beautiful journey through the dark-red desert countryside. I had booked a riad in the Medina, which is a traditional Moroccan-style house in the middle of the byzantine labyrinth of the ancient walled city. Though tired from my day of travel I was immediately re-energized upon arrival and wandered through the winding corridors at night, taking in all the sights, smells, and sounds the bustling night had to offer.

The next day was an adventure through the city spent just walking around and taking pictures of the beautiful orange, peach, pink, and red colors of the city walls and houses. It’s both alluring and apprehensive to walk around Marrakech because you have no idea where you’re going and which street turns into a souk or a dead end. Throwing caution to the wind and feeling more at ease in Morocco than I did in Egypt, I reveled in the adventure and took myself where the roads pleased, stopping every now and then for a coffee or a bite to eat to reenergize and continue on my way. Eventually that day however my overconfidence got the better of me. I found myself in a situation where I was not supposed to be in and got taken advantage of. Fortunately I had the wherewithal to only have a minimal amount of money on my person, so I only got taken for $5 and retreated back to safety of my hotel in one piece. But the experience left me completely shaken and I spent the rest of my night locked up in my hotel room, afraid to leave. After a reassuring FaceTime (thanks Will!) and several hours of Netflix to reassure myself I wasn’t going to be murdered in my sleep, I eventually calmed myself down and went to sleep. The next day I was a bit timid to leave my riad and go to my next hotel, but I worked up the courage and stepped out back into public. This simple effort started to build, and I eventually I felt confident enough to return back into the unknown of the city. My guard was back up and I had heightened awareness after letting my guard down the day before, and I slowly got back the courage and confidence that was taken from me. It even turned into a good day and I went to bed happy I had been able to recover the safety I had lost within a short period of time. Plus it gave me satisfaction that I didn’t give away any more money than necessary, because once a miser always a miser.

The next morning started early as I was picked up for a tour into the Atlas Mountains and the Sahara Desert. I didn’t even have time for breadfast! This time it wasn’t a solo tour as I was joined by 3 Malaysian women and a French couple. We drove out of Marrakech into the mountains down south, a beautiful and winding drive that afforded fanstastic views. The interplay of the red dirt with the green scraggy trees was a gorgeous contrast, and made me wonder if that provided the inspiration for the national flag. We broke through and made our first stop at Ait Ben Haddou, a UNESCO world heritage site and filming location for such classics as Ben Hur, Gladiator, and Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot. It was an ancient village set on top of a lone mountain, with the mud houses spiraling down from the top which housed the ancient bank for grain and other valuable village goods. It rose up out of the desert and was backdropped by the mountains and I spent a good hour up there just enjoying the incredible view. From there we continued on to our lodging that night at a hotel that was the Moroccan version of The Overlook hotel. I had a great time.

After a hearty breakfast of…bread…we got on our way and toured a small Berber town, which are the native people of the land. After getting taken from sales pitch to sales pitch…I mean cultural site to cultural site, we continued on to some gorges, which were just stunning. Again it looked like something out of Indiana Jones and I was just itching to jump on a horse to ride through the gorge and whip some Nazis. After a quick lunch (with bread) we drove on to our next destination and one of the main reasons why I came to Morocco: the Sahara Desert. The drive down was stunning as you pass through the mountain ranges to get to the flat shrub lands until you eventually see the massive dunes rising out of the distant, their own peaks rivaling those of the far-off foothills. They’re a gorgeous reddish-orange color and is striking in contrast with the browns, blacks, and greys of the rest of the desert.

We got there around 5pm and got our things ready for a night of camping in the desert. We were then escorted to our mode of transportation into our camp: camels (dromedaries for you science nerds and trivia fans). Trust me, they are just as ugly and weird looking in person as they are in pictures, but nothing can prepare you for the fact that their teeth look just like Austin Powers’. It’s fucking hilarious. So we got on, and it’s jolting when they stand up because it’s an immediate push up on their front legs that were hinged beneath them while they were on the ground. You’re pitched forward like some sort of amusement park ride, and if it weren’t for the metal bar on the saddle you’d be going head-to-head with a camel in a contest you’d lose 100% of the time. Eventually everyone in our group got on and when trekked out into the sands with the sun setting at our back. And so began some of the most magical views I’ve ever seen in my life.

In front of us the dunes took on an alluring red-orange color with beautiful patterns carved into them by the swirling winds. As far as you can see are the rolling dunes, pitching like waves in the ocean that have been frozen in time and space. At times it looked like you were either thousands of years in the past or on some distance planet no human had ever been. It was otherworldly and eerie and mesmerizing and intoxicating. But you’re soon brought back to reality as the discomfort of riding a camel starts to set in due to the fact that your sit bones are grinding on their spine. Blissfully we made it to camp an hour later (having stopped for pictures, obviously) and I threw my stuff into my room (literally just a bed surrounded by four carpeted walls) and made my way barefoot into the dunes.

I needed to get away from all the people in the camps so I picked my way through the dunes until I had a good vantage point for the sunset. In looking out over the vast dunes turning a burning red as the light started to darken and the shadows started to lengthen, I dropped down onto my knees and felt for the soft sand that was cushioning below me. In front of me was the setting sun starting down behind the mountains, behind me was the rest of the desert in the dimming light, and around me was no one else. And in this moment I was overwhelmed by many things, not least of which were the beauty of where I was and the colors that I was seeing. But most of all I was overwhelmed by this weird contradiction of how alone I felt but simultaneously how connected I was. An intense pain of sadness came rushing back as my thoughts locked in on Mom and how much I missed her and how much I wanted to share this moment with her. But at the same time I was in awe of where I was and how I’d gotten there and how happy it made me and how much I’ve been able to reconnect with myself during this grieving process. In the midst of the feelings of beauty and wonderment and being torn between missing Mom and enjoying myself, I sat down on a sand dune, wrote her name next to me and cried. I played Elgar’s “Nimrod”, which we played when we spread her ashes, and reached out into the sand in comfort that she was a part of those grains. Together we watched the sunset and it brought me great peace in that moment. I know I’ll never get over her loss, but cathartic moments like this ease my loneliness and help me understand myself better and accept who I am now. It was a magical evening and I’m glad I got to share it with her.

The magic continued as the sun went down and I went back to camp for dinner. After cramming everyone in a hot tent and serving up a hearty meal of tajines with potatoes and bread, we spilled out into the night sky filled with the light of the half moon and a scattering of stars from horizon to horizon. There was a fire and traditional Berber music was played as I wandered up to the top of the dunes away from the light and gazed into the night sky. It was mesmerizing to stare into the starry night and I lost myself in the wonder of the stars as they blinked and shone their way down onto the cooling desert sands. The moon offered a silvery glow by which to navigate and I found a nice spot to lay down to look up and just be. I can’t remember the last time I laid down somewhere and star gazed, which made me feel young and full of wonder again. A couple hours later when I couldn’t take the cold anymore I made it back to my tent and called it a night.

Wasn’t much of a night though as I was caught between a German couple on one side trying to have the quietest sex possible (you’re in a crowded camp and covered in sand, you can’t wait one fucking night?!?!) and the Malaysian ladies on the other who were farting like they were campfireside in Blazing Saddles. Having forgotten my earplugs and realizing my arms covering my ears would only work so much, I put on all my clothes and went back out onto the sand. By this time the moon had gone down so it was just the stars and it was even more beautiful. I just sat out there for hours and felt like the only person in the universe. I don’t know how long I was out there for, as it felt like I had gone into a trance, but the guides were rousing everyone to start our sunrise trek back out of the desert. We got back on our trusty steeds and slowly made our way out, even more sore on the camel than the day before. Again the sun was at our backs but we were able to see it as it rose out of the desert and chased away the purples and blues and replaced them with the soft yellows and oranges of the day.

We made it back to our rendezvous point, had some breakfast (bread and jam), showered, and piled back into the car for the last leg of our journey. It was a beautiful drive back in through the mountains as I drifted in and out of sleep from the long night before. The mountain ranges in Morocco are beautiful and diverse. Some are like exponential curves rising up from the ground, looking like they’ll fall back on themselves. Some looked like striated layer cakes that you’d want to peel back and savor each piece. Some looked like the mesas from the old west, but with oases and mud brick houses scattered beneath them rather than saloons and teepees. Some further in the distance had icings of snow on their peaks, decorated with foothills patterned like zen gardens at their feet. It was great to see so many different parts of Morocco in a short time, even better to have someone else do all the driving. Though it was a lot of time spent in the car, the views were incredible and memorable.

Eventually we made it to Fes, our final destination. It’s a city situated up on a hill, and a bit smaller and narrower than Marrakech. On a last minute whim and at the recommendation of a friend I ate at Nur that night, a modern Moroccan restaurant with a 10 course tasting menu. I’m so glad I did because it was an incredible experience that I’m not likely to forget. It reminded of when I went to n/naka in LA with Anna for my birthday a few years back and made me wish she was there to share in this meal as well cause I know she would have loved it. Highlights included a saffron-infused meringue, one of the best moles I’ve had in my life, a smorgasbord of local fruit desserts, and a mystery box of chocolates to cap off the meal. Three hours and 200 pages of “The Blind Assassin” later I was finally finished and walked home aglow in the satisfaction of a deliciously wonderful evening.

My second to last day in Morocco was spent on the train up to Tanger where I had a whole compartment to myself to read and enjoy the views along the way. I got in at midday and enjoyed the 45 minute walk to the apartment where I was staying that was again in the city Medina. Tanger is a cute little seaside town heavily influenced by its proximity to Spain but still keeping its native Moroccan-ness. I wandered around the rest of the day, got a few groceries, and called it an early night. My last full day in Morocco I had originally planned to explore another town for the day, but after sleeping in, making breakfast and lounging around in the morning, I decided to take it easy and just relaxed. It was a nice day spent planning, chatting, and just farting around town. Had a last meal of a delicious tajine (with bread because why not?) to cap an eventful time in Morocco.

Thus marks the end of the African leg of my trip as I take the ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar to Spain to start the European leg of my trip. And it can’t come at a better time because I’m extremely tired of constantly getting harassed by locals trying to take my money and manipulate me in some fashion or another. My time in Morocco and Egypt have left me with a harder shell than any other time on this trip, simply as a defense mechanism to get through each day. I’m tired of every interaction with people having some sort of monetary string attached and am ready to start trusting people again; because my travels showed me I couldn’t trust anyone and made it even more obvious how on my own I was. I’m finding I’m a trusting person (even more so when I’m lonely) and give people the benefit of the doubt. My time in Egypt and Morocco have proven to me I’m uncomfortable when I need to doubt everyone’s intention, and also how angry it makes me when that quality gets taken advantage. However, like every place I’ve been, I have learned so much from these experiences and feel this has left me better equipped to identify similar situations and know how to protect myself and my innate instincts better in the future. On to España!!

Warmest regards,

Ben

Denial is a River in Egypt

Salaam!

Well, it took all day to fly into my next destination of Cairo as it was raining in Dubai (who’da thunk?) and had to connect in Muscat, Oman. And that definitely led to me stress-eating from the fear that I’d miss my connection, only to find out I had to wait an extra two hours for the OTHER flight from Dubai that was also delayed. Real good awareness there.

I ended up getting in late, waited for my bag — which has consistently had the honor of being on of the last ones on the carousel — and got ready for the journey…three minutes away to an airport hotel. I really didn’t know any details while booking this tour, only where I would be going and what I would be seeing. I didn’t know how I’d be getting there, where I’d be staying, who was taking me, or where I’d get my food. But the culmination of that realization and the slog of the day of travel brought derisive humor as I looked in the bathroom mirror and wondered what the hell I was doing.

The next day I met my tour guide and we into Giza to see the pyramids. What a way to start my time in Egypt; a once in a lifetime experience. They are massive, beautiful, and true works of art. A wonder of engineering and design, they lose none of their impressiveness millennia after they were built. Made of limestone and cool to the touch in the warming sun, it was more harrowing to dodge the throngs of tourists queuing up to get into the chambers than it was to climb the hewn-stone sides. After seeing Khufu up close I went to a vantage point where I could see all three, then traveled down to the Sphinx, which was built to protect the second one (the one that still has its stone condom on.) Of course there were little baby pyramids built for the wives, three each for two of the pharaohs, because women can’t have as nice of things as men.

After that visit I was shepherded to glorified infomercials at papyrus and essence “museums.” There was no obligation to buy anything, but no one told the salespeople that. Thus began the start of the constant barrage of sales pitches and demands that would pester me for the rest of my time in Egypt. The one caveat was that I did enjoy the scent of papyrus essence, and learned that sandalwood makes a good essence to smooth aches and pains. Might have to stop at my local apothecary back home to make some purchases.

We then stopped at the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities where I got to see the largest collection of Egyptian artifacts I’ve ever seen in my life. It was like an Egyptian IKEA, a warehouse of wares that were so numerous they overflowed the halls in haphazard placement. Most impressive was the complete collection of Tutankhamen’s tomb, which was an utter masterpiece. Perfectly preserved and with a bounty of objects and offerings, the level of detail and craftsmanship that went into all the elements of preserving Egyptian royalty was astounding. The burial chamber, death mask, and sarcophogous were all detailed in gold, scattered with hieroglyphs that made it even more opulent. I was having a full-on Rachel Wiesz in “The Mummy” moment and I was living for the egyptologist role-play I had been craving. While photos weren’t allowed, it was a memorable time and worth a trip to Cairo alone.

After gawking over numerous more mummies and sarcophagi and organ containers and statues and bas reliefs, we called it a day and began the last leg of my tour that day: being held hostage in the tour van to negotiate additional ventures during my time in Egypt. These were optional tours I could do beyond what was already included, offered at an outrageous sum for one person. I kept negotiating to drive the price down seeing as I had unexpectedly stumbled into a private tour, an unintended side effect of my lack of understanding of the details of this tour. Eventually we settled onto a price and I was graciously released to go back to the hotel. The “5 Star” airport hotel. At least the breakfast buffet was good, and definitely got some money back out of that. Once a buffet king, always a buffet king.

My next day I had free to myself so I slept in a little bit and tried to plan some of the next steps of my adventure. Instead I farted around, browsed the internet, and threw together my things for a last-minute checkout. I decided to take the bus into downtown because what’s a foreign adventure without not knowing where you’re going or how to get there?! I eventually caught the right bus and got dropped off in the heart of the city, looking every bit like a tall, blonde yeti doing a terrible job of being undiscovered in the middle of the desert. It was during my adventures in the city on that day that led me to think this must’ve been what it would’ve been like to go to China without knowing the language. It was crowded, confusing, people were staring everywhere I went, it was loud and smoggy, and everyone spoke a language I didn’t understand. There was a certain level of chaos that you just went with, namely in crossing the street. It’s like if Frogger were a real-life playable game, as you simply jump into traffic and tango your way through the intersections in hopes of not getting sideswiped. Eventually I got the hang of it and it was quite fun, though the version I was playing was on the easiest setting: Tall White American. What I learned during my time in China is that someone who looks like me is not someone you want to be hitting with your car, so I gladly leveraged that advantage.

I made my way to the bazaars, which is where Egypt really smacked me in the face. There is not a man, woman, or child who doesn’t want to part you with your money. Every interaction is a way to get you to buy something or give them money. Nothing is free in Egypt: pictures, water, bathrooms, advice, directions, nothing. In a way it’s one of the most purely capitalist countries I’ve been to in my life. In another way, it’s completely and utterly exhausting knowing every interaction comes with strings attached and comes with a price. My favorite was a shop owner who threw out, “Hello my friend, how can I take your money?” I liked the honesty.

Eventually I had enough and made my way back to the hotel (via public transit, obvi) and caught a car to the station for an overnight train down to Aswan, the southernmost city in Egypt. The seats were surprisingly comfortable and I wasn’t that massive of a monster in the morning. I got picked up by my guide who took me to the amazing sites of Aswan that included…a dam and a semi-finished obelisk. Truly awe-inspiring start to my tour down south. I did enjoy the confusion of the fact that Upper Egypt is in the south and Lower Egypt is in the north. This is due to the fact that the country slopes down from the mountains in the south, hence why the Nile flows from south to north.

I relaxed in my room on the boat that afternoon and emerged later that evening for the cruise buffet which would be a variation on a broken record for the next three days. It was, and I quote from memory of the order of the stations: rice, veggies, beef, chicken, potatoes, fish, soup. Then you’d have the bread station, carving station, and dessert. And it was these exact same foods for lunch and dinner EVERY DAY. Did I eat anything else? Nope. Did I leave the boat to get dinner in port towns? Nope. Did I have two plates at every meal? You betcha!

The next day was an early start of 4am to drive three hours through the Sahara Desert to the temple of Abu Simbel, a highlight of the trip. This was temples for King Ramses II and Queen Nefertari that were carved into the sides of a mountain, later brought up to a higher location when the dam was being created. It was my first Indiana Jones moment and I was LIVING for it. OMG did I feel like an archeologist. The pictures can’t really do it justice and capture the incredible feat of architecture, design, and artistry. Also, the level of egotism on Ramses II must’ve even been greater than that of Clint Eastwood getting to write, direct and star in his umpteenth film about a cranky old white man.

The rest of the day was spent on the cruise heading up north, which gave me time to process Abu Simbel and its beauty. Ok ok ok, I just napped because I was so exhausted from the last two days of travel. That evening we stopped in Kom-Ombo and got to see the temple there, which was dedicated to the crocodile god Sobek-Ra. We got there for sunset and it made for an enchanting experience, especially as the hieroglyphs started to change colors in the light. Also saw some really disgusting mummified crocodiles, which put a damper on my appetite that night. Which meant I ended up having three plates of dessert that night instead of two…

We had arrived in Edfu overnight, unbeknownst to me since I had left my curtains and window wide open, giving the cruise ship that was an arm’s length away quite the morning show. The first and only tour of the day was at Edfu Temple, which is a giant Ptolemaic temple for the god Horus, the one with a falcon head and a human body. The only thing you need to know about the Ptolemaic period (for you non-history buffs) is that it was the Romans who wanted to be Egyptians, so you got a cool blending of cultures and architectural styles. After that it was back to the boat, and the rest of the day was spent sailing up the Nile river, which was a total treat. It’s beautiful to have the lush Nile snaking its way through the harsh landscape of the desert crowding all along its curves, threatening to encroach on the paradise that its created at any moment. I also spent most of this day up on the pool deck planning out the next stages of my trip, which was the ideal place to do so.

The last day of my cruise was a busy one, having arrived in Luxor overnight. I know what you’re thinking: “How could he possibly have gotten all the way from Egypt to Vegas in one night?” Time travel is real and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We headed over to the West Bank of the Nile, which in Egypt was considered the land of the dead, seeing as the sun set on that side. Our first stop was another stunner: The Temple of Queen Hatshepsut. It was a three-tiered plain temple carved into the side of the mountain on the backside of the Valley of the Kings, where she wasn’t allowed to be buried. But all her life, girlfriend made her own rules, including being depicted as a man in carvings and paintings, ruling in lieu of her stupid bratty stepson (because fuck misogynistic laws), and telling everyone Amun-Ra (the main god of Egypt) was her real father. Needless to say she and her gorgeous temple were my favorite.

This was followed by the Valley of the Kings, where all the major kings of Egypt were buried, including where Tutankhamen was found. It was nice to see all the tombs, but after a while they all started to look the same. It didn’t help there were about 13 Ramses, which I guess when you got a sweet name, why stray from the course?

We then popped back to the East Bank of the Nile (land of the living) to see the Temple of Karnak and the Temple of Luxor. Karnak was the biggest one in all of Egypt, and it was mind-blowingly impressive. My favorite part was this hypostyle chamber that had 134 massive columns. There was this magical point where the sun was setting, a section of it was completely free of other tourists, and I felt like I was in the mines of Moria from the Fellowship of the Rings. You know what scene I’m talking about, fam. I broke out into a huge grin and wandered around in a meditative daze.

After that was the Luxor Temple, which by this point it was now over 85ºF and I realized I’d reach my limits with the tour, the guide, and temples. But I did my duty and snapped some picks, ogled some hieroglyphs, and paced around with my hands behind my back in fake-solemnity taking in the splendor of the ancients. Soon it was back to the boat to change in the communal bathroom (as my room was vacated), shower (run a damp paper towel around my body) and get ready for my trip back to Cairo (another overnight train…yay).

You should be proud of me because at 1am a small child in my car decided to start screaming at the top of his lungs every 30 seconds, and I somehow DID NOT throw him out of the train. Pulling deep into my bag of tricks and finding a white noise app, I gritted through the rest of the trip and made it back to Cairo having not completely fallen apart. Only to have what followed be the worst day I had in Egypt during an all-day tour up to Alexandria. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t sleep much on the overnight train, or because I had reached my limit of tours, or because my tour guide didn’t speak English, or because the driver didn’t know his way around and kept getting lost, or because he was driving 40km/hr under the speed limit on the freeway, or because I didn’t learn a single thing on the tour, or because the one thing I wanted to see, the Library of Alexandria, no longer existed, but I shut down. Not to say it was all a waste, as I learned that I have deep reserves of patience beyond where I thought they reached. And I got a sizeable chunk of the way through another one of my books. But in the end I knew it was out of my control and went with the day-long train wreck that it was. I could have gotten a lot angrier, demanded more, tried something to turn it around. But based on my time spent in Egypt and what I knew about the culture, I knew that wouldn’t change things. So I just gave into the awful experience, and everything turned out. Even when I was taken to the wrong hotel and had to go through rush-hour traffic in the heart of Cairo to get to my hotel by the airport. It was all good to me by then.

Overall, I had an amazing and exhausting time in Egypt. The tour cruise was definitely the way to go, but I’m sure like most tours, it can be made or broken by the tour guides that you get. I was very uncomfortable being on a private tour, as I didn’t like having someone talk directly at me for hours of a day on end, and I felt a lot more pressure to tip and buy souvenirs at the tourist choke points. I don’t know if it was lack of ability to communicate fully, the Egyptian culture of aggressive upselling, or the fact that I was alone, but I was never really comfortable during my time in Egypt. I always had to be alert, always had to prepare for a sales pitch, always had to be ready to decline the multidue of offers hurled my way. There wasn’t really a moment of rest, and I realized after it was all done what a burden that was for me to take on alone.

But for the history and culture that Egypt has, all of that was well worth it. To feel the history is something I can’t properly convey, as some of the structures you can see and even touch are over 3,000 years old. And look like they were made just a few hundred years ago! It really is beautiful in so many ways, and I couldn’t get enough of the hieroglyphs. It was such a remarkable and memorable experience, but it came to a close at the right time. More to come from the African leg of my adventures. And I can finally say I’ve been to Africa!

Inshallah,

Ben

Middle Earth Adventures (Special Features)

Just when you thought three full posts and a plethora of pictures wasn’t enough to fully capture my time in New Zealand, get ready cause Imma bout to hit you with that sweet, sweet bonus content. That’s right ladies and gentleman, these are the special features of the DVD box set that accompanies the original trilogy! This is for all those fun insights and interesting behind-the-scenes looks that wouldn’t fit into the main posts. And by that I mean it’s just a bunch of stats because I’m a geek and actually went back and collated all this data for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

New Zealand

Days Spent in New Zealand: 24
Number of Lodgings: 10
Islands Visited: 1/2
South Island Regions Traversed: 7/7
Southernmost Latitude Reached: -46.66º
Distance Driven: 5,007km (3,111 miles)
Driving Time: 68 hrs
Gas Consumed: 402 liters (106 gallons)
Amount Spent on Gas: $824 NZD ($560 USD)
Audiobooks Listened to: 7 (80 hours)
Distance Hiked: 293.5 miles
Single Day Hiking Max: 23.8 miles
Daily Hiking Average: 12.23 miles
Steps Taken: 538,485
Single Day Steps Max: 43,064
Daily Steps Average: 22,436
Cumulative Elevation Hiked: 12,009 meters (39,400 feet)
Highest Elevation Hiked: 1,833 meters (6,014 feet)
Peaks Climbed: 12
Pairs of Shoes Destroyed: 1
Sore Knees: 2
Advil Popped: 114
Hardboiled Eggs Eaten: 66
Water Dranken: 93 liters (24.5 gallons)
Chocolate Slabs Devoured: 12 (200g/each)
Blocks of Cheese Hoovered: 5 (250g/each)
Nuts and Seeds Eaten: 4.3 kg
National Parks Visited: 5/7 (South Island only)
Pictures Taken: 824
Videos Shot: 23
Cups of Coffee: 52
Glaciers Seen: 9
Seasons of RuPauls’ Drag Race Watched: 5
Number of plays of the LOTR soundtrack: 6 (per movie)
Bug Bites: 7
Favorite Hike: Routeburn Track
Favorite Town: Tekapo
Favorite Food: Whittaker’s Dark Ghana chocolate bar
Favorite Body of Water: ALL OF THEM
Favorite View: ALL OF THEM
LOTR Sites Visited: 7
Top of the Lake Sites Visited: 2
Times Cried Due to Sheer Beauty: Too Many to Count
Happiest of Boys: 1

Thanks for staying for the deep cut of my trip; it was fun and impressive to see how far I went and all that I was able to do. And if anyone needs an itinerary for a 3-week trip to New Zealand in the future, I’ve got the perfect one for you.

As for my next steps, I’m in Sydney for a few days and overlap with Anna and Scott, which will give me some much-needed family time. Then it’s off to my next destination, which you’ll have to read my next post to find out!

Byeeeeeeeee!

Ben

Middle Earth Adventures (The Final Chapter)

Well the inevitable finally happened: I had to leave New Zealand. I knew this day would come and while my body was ready for it, my heart was not and I was sad to leave. It was an amazing three weeks jam-packed with adventure and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Here’s the last week of my trip, but stay tuned because just like the LOTR DVDs, there’s bonus features! Without further ado, my last week in New Zealand.

February 13

I stopped in Arthur’s Pass on the way up north, which is the main route between the East and West Coasts. I had met a couple of people on the Franz Josef glacier hike who said Avalanche Peak was worth checking out, so that’s where I went. And boy oh boy, was it worth it! It was the first time on this trip that I was above the clouds, and it was an incredible experience. It was beyond cool to see the jutting peaks above a sea of white and lose the sensation of being on earth. Surreal. After such a high (literally!) I enjoyed the long drive up north and met up with Lily (recurring character alert!) again and planned our next adventure.

February 14

With Lily in tow (her van/house getting fixed), we headed up to Abel Tasman and explored the national park up there. It began a theme for the next few days of the windiest roads I’ve been on, but the one this day led to a neat little hike and wound to the ocean. It was a bright sunny day and the waters were especially enticing and blue.

February 15

After our easy little hike on the north side of the park, we decided to ramp it up and do an 18km hike that we had to water taxi to the start. After 45 minutes of getting ocean water sprayed in my face (I always pick the best seats), we got off on a beach and began our long trek back. Considering we’re both such incredible hikers, we were making great time so it shifted from a long hike to a bay hop, stopping in most places to swim and relax and enjoy the water. And by water, I’m talking aquamarine, teal, cerulean, turquoise, and every color in between. It was what I thought Thailand should have been like: pristine beaches with the most enticing water, beckoning for you to come swim. All in all, it was a fab day and a great way to explore the park.

February 16

Having exhausted a good chunk of Abel Tasman we drove up to Marlborough Sound, which is the northernmost part of South Island, accounting for nearly 1/5th of New Zealand’s coastline. But the way up told me to hold my beer because THAT was definitely the windiest road I went on in New Zealand. FOR. SURE. However, it was well worth it as the view from our Airbnb was insane. Beautiful 320º views of the sound, and prime position for sunrise and sunset. We had a hot tub sesh, made some dinner, played some checkers, and called it a night.

February 17

While the day before was a bit cloudy and cold, it cleared up the next morning and we went to do a portion of the Queen Charlotte track. While it was a simple walk, this was by far the hardest hike I did mentally because there was nothing to look at, no real physical challenge, and you really had to focus. My mind wandered to some weird places, and the constant and loud buzz of bugs created a trance-like state. After tripping out for a couple hours and feeling a little car sick, we headed back to our lodging (going about 25km/hr) and hung out in the pool and hot tub and had a game night. We also had amazing moon views over dinner.

February 18

Finally parted ways with Lily, and made the drive down the East Coast to Christchurch. It actually reminded me a lot of Big Sur, but more tropical and with bluer water. I stopped in Kaikoura and hiked up to a nice view for a break. When I finally made it to Christchurch I had finished the last of my audiobooks, which was sad because they kept me sane during all my hours in the car.

February 19

After stopping for a night in Christchurch I carried on to Mount Cook, which was an uneventful drive until I got to just outside of Tekapo. I almost drove off the road. There, looming in the distance were the Southern Alps. Full stop, no qualms about it, one of the most arresting sights to drive towards. It truly was like being in the movies, set against the craggy mountains jutting out behind it (but guess who forgot to take a picture of it…).

I eventually wound my way into the mountains and approached the valley entrance to Mount Cook. My hands tightened a little more on the steering wheel because the clouds were getting bigger and darker. By the time I pulled into my lodging, I was full-on in the middle of a gale storm. It was cold and the rain was blowing sideways, but I came all this way, damnit, so you know I was gonna go on a hike! I don’t know if it was being in the car for so long, or the fact that the weather was bad, or the fact that there were so many people on the trail, but I was impatient and angry the whole way. I was getting blown left and right by the wind, the rain was soaking through my shoes, and (worst of all) groups of people were walking slow and wouldn’t let me pass. I eventually got to the viewpoint and the lake looked like the open ocean, the wind was blowing that hard. At that point I’m miserable and storm back the same way, just trying to get inside and warm up. But as I got closer to the trailhead I began to slow my thoughts down and eventually became calm enough to decide to go back a different way and try to enjoy the walk for what it was: time spent outside in a beautiful place.

As I’m walking in the fields along the road, the sun breaks through the clouds, sending shafts of light down into the golden fields causing a rainbow to appear. For the rest of my walk back I’m guided by a rainbow as it leads the way back to town. In that moment I knew Mom was there, giving me a sign to calm down and let me know feelings like this are alright. It was such a simple moment but beautiful in its simplicity. There are times, especially in New Zealand, where I get anxious that I’m not able to do enough or see enough, and I get angry that I can’t do all that I want. I don’t know if this stems from my time with Mom being cut short or feeling a rush to try and do as much as I can before my time comes, but it’s been with me the last several years. I have this feeling a lot in other aspects of my life, and I’m trying to enjoy what I’m able to do and look for joys in the moment. This day was a perfect example of this because even though it was cold and windy and rainy and I didn’t get to see the valley in its full beauty; even though it was crowded with tourists and I wanted to be alone; even though I’d driven all this way on my last couple days and it wasn’t what I imagined, I wouldn’t have seen that rainbow in the fields otherwise. My day led to that, and I wouldn’t have missed that for the world becuase it was just perfect. I’m trying to realize how many things are out of my control in life and to enjoy each day as it comes along, no matter if it doesn’t go how I’d planned. As I was watching the rainbow, I started to cry because there was only one thought that popped into my head and came to my lips: “Today is a good day.”

The moon coming over the mountains that night looked like the start of an old-school horror movie — the wisps of clouds alternatively concealing and revealing the ghostly orb as it illuminated the mountain face just beneath it. Deeper into the valley the fog hazed the view, giving the eerie sensation that it was providing cover for some ancient evil lurking beyond. It was one of the coolest and freakiest sensations I’ve ever had and I stayed up staring out the window from my bed until I eventually fell asleep.

February 20

The morning came and the grey-blue morning slowly gave way to color as the sun slowly worked its way over the mountains. There’s something absolutely magical about going to sleep and waking up in the middle of a mountain range. For me it’s the interplay between the clouds, the mountains, and the light. It’s an alchemy of nature that’s unpredictable, powerful, and beautiful.

It eventually becomes a somewhat nice day and I hiked up the Mueller Hut trail, which affords sweeping views of the valley below and the glacier behind. It was pretty grueling but the views were well worth it. I also blasted the LOTR theme on top of the mountain and was at peace with my adventure coming to an end.

I made it down and enjoyed the sun on the valley floor and slowly made my way to my last stop of Lake Tekapo, stopping at Tasman Valley and Lake Pukaki along the way. It was a bright sunny day that put the blindingly blue waters of the lake into even starker relief. I couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend my last full day in New Zealand, and I know it all was thanks to that rainbow from Mom.

February 21

Not content to have my last day be wasted, I got up at 5am to hike Mount John above Tekapo to see the stars and also the sunrise. While the full moon made it hard to see the stars, it definitely made it easier to fumble up the track in the dark. The view up top was well worth it, as the moon was massive and cast haunting shadows off the mountains and town below. What followed for the next hour was an amazing tug of war on my attentions between the moonset and the sunrise. The sunrise eventually won out because, as you’ll see below, the colors on the cloudy sky were unreal. It was so dramatic and amazing and I’ve run out of adjectives on this trip so I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

Coming full circle on my trip around the island, I made it back to Christchurch at a meandering pace, letting the life-changing experience sink in. I’m so happy I decided to spend my whole time on the South Island, and still can’t believe a place like that exists on this planet. Truly one of the most beautiful and memorable places I’ve been in my life and something I’ll never forget.

There and back again,

Ben-bo Baggins

Middle Earth Adventures (The Sequel)

I hope you have recovered from the volume and visual overwhelmance (not a word, keep on reading) of the previous because get your eyeballs ready for another onslaught of beauty coming your way! That’s right folks, even more pictures of snow-capped mountains, bodies of water, and selfies of yours truly are in store for this sequel. It’s like the original, just bigger, more expensive, and darker (I’m really bad at lighting my selfies). Without further ado, here’s my second week of me living my Lord of the Rings fantasies.

February 6

My knees mostly (not) recovered after my trip down to Milford, I decided to ramp it right back up on hiking again, because who says I can’t make bad decisions in a foreign country traveling by myself?! Besides that’s what Advil is for. So I went to what I perceived to be a less intense hike up to a mountain saddle. And it’s nice and all, until I get to the top and discover the way down is along a fence line with no real trail. Knees hurting, I go the whole way down backwards, clutching at the fence line and cursing the stupid hike like it’s someone going exactly the speed limit in the fast lane. Here’s all the pictures from the parts I enjoyed and wasn’t cursing the inanimate piece of land I traversed.

February 7

I finally learned my lesson and decided to do something a little less strenuous, which meant a little loop to a lookout and a visit to a real-life LOTR filming site. I also did a loop around another ‘Top of the Lake’ filming site, which warmed my Holly Hunter-loving heart (GJ 4EVA!!). It was a nice change of pace and a good way to bring my time in Queenstown to a close.

February 8

Left Queenstown early in the morning for my next destination of Wanaka, another lake town just to the north. My lodging wasn’t ready yet, so I headed up to another national park and hiked through there. Mount Asipiring is a beautiful park with lots of glacier viewing areas and glacier-carved valleys that stretch deep into the mountain ranges beyond. It was a breathtaking hike and made for a lovely day. No snark on this one, it was just really, really pleasant.

February 9

Went back to Aspiring for a hike up to a glacier view and it felt like I was going into an alien world with the muted gray of the day emanating out of the black and green rock face streaming with waterfalls. After that I tried to walk along another trail but it had a little river crossing and I wasn’t about getting my feet wet, so I turned back and called it a day.

February 10

Headed out of Wanaka to start my trip up the west coast, which meant driving through some really intense gorges and canyons through the mountain range. That made for some difficult driving because it’s tough to gawk at the striking landscape while keeping your vehicle in its own lane. About halfway through I pulled over to do a hike up to Brewster hut, which is known for its great views. Didn’t know it would be literally straight up and straight down so here’s some pictures of the top of the trail because the rest of it was a STRUGGLE.

February 11

After staying in a no-stoplight town on the west side (it was a reduced speed zone on the freeway; that was it) I drove back down to see some more glaciers. Hiking through tropical jungles to get to the top of a barren alpine field to see a glacier across a valley is a pretty cool day, I must say so myself. It also looked like a vagina (I think????), which was funny to my juvenile sense of humor.

February 12

Here we are, back to what started off these last two updates: a rainy day. It was a perfect time for a little break in what has turned out to be some go-go-go adventures here in New Zealand. Cozying up with some Netflix, eating peanut butter, and yelling at a stupid house cat to get away from me because I’m allergic made for a nice relaxing day. I managed to get out of the house to go to a nearby gorge, but otherwise your homeboy was a homebody for a day and wouldn’t have changed a thing.

It also gave me time to reflect, so here’s a list of things I’ve learned so far in New Zealand!

Things I’ve Learned (So Far)

My left leg is stronger than my right
My right nostril runs more than my left
Electric kettles make for a surprisingly effective way to hard boil eggs
While there may be more 4 sheep for every 1 human in New Zealand, there are about 47 flies for every 1 sheep
‘Bush line’ only refers to where the trees stop growing and nothing else, apparently
“Shoo Fly Don’t Bother Me” is an ineffective deterrent, even when sung in a kiwi accent
I am face-constantly-hitting-stray-cobwebs-on-trails meters tall
Buy new shoes before the point when you are gluing them back together (thanks for the bad habit, Aunt Mary!)
French hikers have the worst B.O. German hikers come in a close second.
Sand flies like me half as much as mosquitos do
Always sprint to get ahead of the Chinese tour group on a hiking trail when you and the tour bus pull into the parking lot at the same time
Don’t leave cheese in a car for more than 5 hours
Gum helps to keep your ears from popping while hiking, as well as suppress hunger from not bringing enough food on your all-day hike
Take off your shoes when crossing a river; don’t try and jump from rock to rock because you WILL slip and fall
If it looks like it’s going to rain, it probably will. Expect when it doesn’t, then it didn’t. I don’t make the rules…
Every day you discover something new, especially after making boneheaded mistakes.

I’ve now got less than a week left here and will be making the most of it. I’ll be back to Australia after this and am already sad knowing my time here is coming to an end. But I know I’ll have milked it for everything I can, leaving pieces of me along the way. Sometimes quite literally.

Until next time,

Ben

Middle Earth Adventures

It’s raining here in New Zealand today, which means I finally have time to sit down and write an update because like Nic Cage making movies to cover his ballooning castle and dinosaur skeleton debts, I have been going at it NON STOP. After spending most of my time in Australia in major cities, I was excited to spend some time in nature and do some hiking. I was unprepared at how much New Zealand was ready to deliver.

Imagine your favorite lake vacation spot. Now imagine your favorite mountain retreat. Then picture the prettiest river you ever came across. Now think of the most peaceful pond at which you stopped and pondered beauty. Then remember the most amazing beach with the most breathtaking view. Now imagine all of those places combined together into one country, one island even, and you get New Zealand. It is utterly breathtaking how spectacular this country is that it’s hard to put into words. It’s even harder to put into pictures because every photo I’ve taken never looks quite as good as it does in person. But I’ll take you through a little photo diary in my best attempt to try.

January 29

After arriving after midnight, finding out the lodging I booked had closed their checkout at 10pm and staying in an airport motel, I picked up my rental car and made my way out of Christchurch down south towards Dunedin, my first stop. Highlights included cows, sheep, and more cows. Here’s a photo of my car; she likes the beach

January 30

Met up with my fellow world-traveling cousin Lily (from Hawaii to New Zealand!) and we did a couple hikes around Dunedin. The first was a total bust which, given the name of Swampy Summit, probably should’ve been a red flag. The second was incredible, and my first peak into the beauty of New Zealand. Rolling fields stretched out beyond the horizon, reaching to the ocean and the mountain ranges beyond. We also hiked up a cool geologic formation of hexagonal shaped rocks called the organ pipes. We cooled off after at the beach with massive sand dunes and some loud locals who rolled around in the beach and snapped at you if you came too close. There were some seals there too.

There were also penguins that nest up in the cliffs as well, and I managed to get a picture. Weirdly the penguins here are super tiny and grainy as this picture shows. I guarantee it was not at all due to the fact that I was super far away and had to zoom in. That’s just the way they look.

January 31

Got up super early and saw the sunrise at Tunnel Beach and ate hard-boiled eggs on a cliff. Well worth the 5:30am start time.

After that we drove down the coast on our way to the southern-most part of the South Island, Curio Bay. At this remote part is a massive beach that offers dramatic views, frigid waters, roaring surf, and surfing dolphins. That’s right dear readers, this guy got to swim with dolphins in New Zealand. The only way I can help you imagine it is by telling you this: I was splashing in the surf making dolphin noises and shouting “Dolphin!” like they’d come to their name being called; I was grinning the entire time and giggling like a toddler who had just learned the word “fart”; and I was out in the water until my skin was in a permanent state of goose bumps. Quite the magical day.

February 1

After parting ways with Lily I drove West out of Dunedin towards my next destination: Queenstown. As I started getting closer to the mountains I became in awe of the scenery as it grew more and more dramatic. I eventually pulled over to stretch my legs and explore a little bit. An hour later I found myself on top of a mountain, having climbed up there in sandals because “just a little bit further” turned into “just to the top of the ridge” turned into “you’re basically there anyways”, mostly because all the while I was convinced I was in Rohan. This was the first spark that reignited a part of me that I had forgotten had been dormant: Lord of the Rings fangirl. And reader, I have been living that fantasy for the last couple weeks and it has been GLORIOUS.

February 2

Having left Rohan and arrived in Queenstown, I spent my first day there hiking up the nearest mountain in town with one bottle of water, unboiled hard-boiled eggs, an apple, and some nuts. For some reason all of the walking around cities I’d done the last couple weeks didn’t prepare me for the 2 hour climb straight uphill to over 1,700 meters. Not sure why that was the case! Either way, I made it up and down with some effort, but the view was well worth it. Also of note because it was one of the first places on the trip that was so beautiful if made me cry. Definitely wouldn’t be the last. The rest of the day was spent with my legs submerged in the icy waters of the lake. (And for my fellow “Top of the Lake” fans — yes, this is the titular lake)

February 3

Feeling good that I didn’t die on the previous hike, I decided to up the ante and do the Routeburn hike up in Glenorchy, which is the area where a lot of LOTR scenes were filmed. I spent the first hour of the hike with constant goosebumps, as I had the constant feeling I was some tertiary character in the film series about to be offed by an orc in the woods, or a woodland elf who was carrying a barrel or doing something else unimportant yet essential to the lives of my fellow characters (off screen, naturally). It felt like in those moments I understood what it feels like to be Daniel Day Lewis, completely inhabiting a role. I ended up covering over 20 miles that day, and had some of the best views I’ve seen in New Zealand.

February 4

After my triumphant day I kept my moment going and decided to do The Remarkables, a winter ski mountain that has some hiking trails in the summer. I made it to the top of one of the jagged cliffs and wanted to keep going to the highest summit. Well there were multiple unseen canyons and didn’t make it easy to get across. Or get across at all. So I had to slide my way down the rock face like I was some sort of mountain goat but without the hooves and the four legs and the lithe frame and the climbing instincts.

February 5

After my treacherous climb that left my knees feeling shakier than Katy Perry’s voice during a live performance, I decided to take a day off. And by take a day off I mean take a tour of Milford Sound and sit on a bus for 9 hours. But boy oh boy, it was worth it! (Side note: the entire LOTR soundtrack can elevate even the most mundane bus ride into the most epic tour you could go on). A beautiful place even with the intermittent rain, as it caused thousands of waterfalls to stream down from the canyons. Added bonus was that the stormy weather gave me lots of Beyoncé moments with my own natural diva fans. 10/10 would go again.

At this point I’m realizing how many pictures I have from just one week that are also taking forever to load, so I’ll break this up into two parts and update the second week in another post. Besides, I’ve got some more LOTR to watch because I’m going for the fully immersive experience while I’m here. Seems Peter Jackson and I might have more than our inability to edit our content down to manageable lengths in common.

Ben

P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way

After an incredible week in Melbourne (which I was hesitant to leave) I arrived in Sydney, fully prepared to hate on it given how much I enjoyed Melbourne. I’m a very loyal person and was ready to cut the throat of any Syndeyan (-ite? er? ian? on? who cares) who dare speak ill of my precious, recently adopted city. But never fear, dear reader, I’m not writing this to you from Australia prison (which are actually converted Outback Steakhouse’s). It turns out there’s enough room in my heart for two Australian metropolises, and I ended up enjoying in separate but equal ways.

Sydney is Los Angeles to Melbourne’s San Francisco. It’s a sprawling city on the water with a bustling harbor, a beach culture, and beautiful, fit, tan people everywhere. It was reallllllly annoying. The first day I hit most of the highlights, seeing koalas and other Australian creatures, taking the ferry across the harbor right past the opera house and harbor bridge, and walking around downtown for a bit. For some reason seeing the Sydney Opera House was the first time it triggered me that I was in Australia. Maybe due to its iconography or prominence in any form of media set in Australia, but that was the sight that led to my self-awareness, and it gave me goose bumps to think how far from home I was. The next day I did a walk along the harbor, fully appreciating all the nooks and crannies it has as well as how expansive and integral to the city it is. I made it up to the northern headlands and was able to see the opening of the harbor. Due to the steep cliffs and sharp edges, I couldn’t help but think how crazy it was I was on the edge of an entire continent! Then I realized I’ve been to multiple beaches on the east and west coast of North America and let my momentary sense of accomplishement pass like an air-headed cloud.

The next day was one for culture, as I walked into town and found the national art gallery that was inside the botanic gardens. It was partly to escape the heat, but also some excellent artwork as well. I even ended up discovering an Australian artist that I really liked by the name of Judy Watson (look her up!). I then meandered through the botanic gardens, which are right in the heart of the city and have amazing views of the harbor. There were succulent gardens, fields of wildflowers, and even a cute little herb garden, which of all places stirred something within me that I would continue to explore over the coming days.

I’m not a gardener. I don’t like the dirt, I never liked weeding when I was growing up, and there’s too many poking things that can wiggle into the most uncomfortable places (ankles of your socks while your shoes are on, get your head out of the gutter). But I love gardens. And I know this is something passed on to me from Mom, which I know was passed on to her from her parents. Everywhere we’ve lived we’ve had amazing gardens, with interesting and unique combinations of colorful and fragrant plants. They were well laid out with impeccable taste, and I realize more and more recently I’ve been drawn to gardens. But I don’t want to be a gardener; I know that about myself. However, I do cherish the gift my mom and Maureen and Jim have given me by exposing me to beautiful gardens and instilling in me an appreciation for them throughout my life.

This thread of a thought that started in the botanic gardens became even clearer the next day. It was Australia Day and I got to witness the boat races on the harbor, which was an absolute clusterfuck that made me nervous watching from solid land. There were hundreds of boats in the harbor and when I finally crossed the bridge into town, they exploded out of the harbor, racing towards the opening. It. Was. Absolute. Madness.

I farted around most of the day, biding my time for something I had been waiting a week to arrive. When I was in Melbourne, I noticed a list of cultural events and saw to my shocked delight that Florence and the Machine were touring. I wasn’t able to get tickets in Melbourne, but you bet your sweet ass I bought tickets on the spot to the show in Sydney, which just so happened to be on Australia Day. The tickets said the show started at 6pm, so after a two-hour nap in the botanic gardens I showed up at 5:30pm, ready to find a good spot. Well I don’t go to many concerts, which would explain why I didn’t know that there would be an opening act. That would then play for an hour. And it would explain why I didn’t know there would be a second opening act. That would ALSO play for an hour. So then it was 9:30pm and, after having staked out a spot hours ago, too afraid to move and lose it in spite of people shoving their way into me to make room for their friends and/or handsy boyfriends, she finally took the stage.

For those of you that don’t know, Florence was Mom’s favorite artist, and every time I hear one of her songs I think of Mom. This would mark the third time I’ve seen her in concert: once with the whole fam (minus Peter), once with just us kids (plus Scott), and this time by myself. I didn’t really know what to expect of myself, but I just knew I had to be there and experience it. From the opening chords it was thrilling, as I’ve now seen her progress over the years and grow more confident as a performer. Though she was on tour for her latest album, she also delivered standout hits from her previous albums. One of the highlights was when she made the entire crowd of 30,000 put away their phones and jump up and down to the chorus of “Dog Days Are Over”. Utterly magical. It also helped that fireworks were exploding off the harbor bridge during most of her show, and fitting homage to our fiery red-headed chanteuse.

But the absolute pinnacle came when, 2 hours after performing her full set and 2 additional encore songs, she ends with a final song. As soon as sings the very first notes of “Shake It Out” a capella, I lose it. Regrets collect like old friends… It’s a bone-shaking, soul-stirring song that plumbs your emotions and manically urges you to release your turmoils. And it worked. But for the first time in a long time I heard a Florence song and didn’t just cry, but laughed as well. Something in me and my relationship to Florence had changed in that night, and it came from how I was able to find a way to understand what Mom’s passing meant to me.

Like I said, Florence was Mom’s favorite artist. But after standing in the muggy Sydney heat for 4 hours, listening to two other bands I had never heard before, battling crowds (which I don’t like), getting my feet stepped on innumerable times, getting shoved by brattily territorial couples, getting hands of drunk and high assholes waved in my face, and looking past cell phones obstructing my view, I realized there was nowhere else I’d rather be. Nowhere else I’d rather be. It dawned on me that night it was my decision to go, not some way to honor Mom’s memories. Part of that was realizing I enjoyed Florence as much as she did; that she brought me as much joy as she did to Mom. And though Mom isn’t here anymore to enjoy her, I am, and that’s what I did. I had forgotten that I was the one that introduced Mom to Florence. I played her songs for her the first time and told her when her new albums were out. I’ll always hear Florence and think of Mom, but now I don’t think I’ll be as sad anymore because I now remember what joy she brought Mom, and that I was part of that joy too.

That is the seed of thought that started in the botanic gardens and sprouted at the concert that night. I was able to see the joy in what she left behind and gave me, not the sadness of all that she’s not able to see and do. I’m still here to take part in it, and she’s passed on so much to me. She gave me the joy of music and reading and crosswords and curiosity and tennis, and bad TV shows and good TV shows and family and conversation and millions of other things. I’m remembering how happy certain things make me, which is something I haven’t been able to say often these last four years. For a while it felt selfish to do certain things without her, in fear of creating new memories without her in them. Now I think I’ve found a new perspective and realize how she could never not be included because I’m still here making new memories (nor could she ever forgive me for using a double negative).

I know this sounds simple, but it was something I had to find out on my own. All this time Dad has been telling us to live our lives to honor her, as that’s what she would have wanted. I never realized what that meant until recently, and I think I’m beginning to understand. To honor her is to live my life, for me. I realized I can trust myself because I know she raised me well and instilled everything I would need to know to live my life as best I could. So now I’m striving to do that. I don’t have as much fear anymore of doing the “wrong” thing because if I choose to do something it’s not right or wrong, it’s just what I either want to do or what I think is best for me.

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I’m still trying to grasp this new way of thinking and understanding towards my life, and I’ll continue that in the immediate term by going to New Zealand and hiking. I was happy with my time in Australia and for getting to do what I enjoyed. I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for Florence, as she’s brought so much joy into my life in many ways. Plus, she fucking rocks.

Love,

Ben

P.S.

Here’s a clip from ‘Inside Out’ when Joy realizes that in the memories of Sadness, you just have to look at them a little differently to see happiness is there too. They exist together. Leave it to Pixar to put it so elegantly and beautifully.

https://youtu.be/-m5oY5RQIC8

The Melbourne Identity

All throughout my travels I’ve been asked what certain places are like, or used other places I’ve been to help describe what a certain place is like. When I first arrived in Melbourne I wasn’t really sure how to describe it cause it felt like a lot of different places all rolled into one, and at the same time very unique. But by the end of it it was pretty clear that it was the San Francisco of Australia. I knew there was a reason I liked it so much and explained why I had a very strong feeling I could see myself living there. It was one of the first places I felt genuinely sad to leave; like I was passing up a potential future me.

I arrived in Melbourne on a Monday and stayed with my brother-in-law’s friend’s brother’s girlfriend’s nephew’s co-worker’s roommate’s second cousin, twice removed. It was in a great location and had easy access to downtown, which I explored all around on my first full day. 22 miles, 7 pastries, 3 coffees, and 17 Slurpees later, I called it a day having fully gotten my bearings of the south part of the city. The next day was a little bit lighter, only a 17-mile, 6-pastry, 3-coffee, 11-Slurpee day into the north. But what an amazing city to explore. There were neighborhoods on the river, cute little houses on tree-lined streets, beach-town communities, public parks no more than a 10 minute walk from the next one; it was a very well designed city. I was completely infatuated with the botanic gardens, which were some of the best I’ve ever been in. It felt like a completely different world inside of the city, replete with plants from around the world, a hynoptic layout to walk through, and a variety of smells that varied from refreshing to intoxicating. There was a section for California succulents, camellias, rose gardens, lake plants, and of course our ancestral home.

Melbourne also had a wide range of neighborhoods, each with its own unique flare and style…of pastries. There were other cool shops there too, I guess, but I didn’t really look too hard past bakeries. Caramel slices were a definite favorite. Due to the fact that the sun didn’t fully set until close to 10pm, it made for leisurely days of exploration and late dinners when hunger finally returned. There is something magical about eating dinner at 9pm in a city overlooking a river that runs right through downtown while the sky slowly turns to flame. After a couple days of flirting around the city, I finally decided to dive in on what I kept gravitating towards every day: the Australian Open.

Having grown up playing tennis and also waking up at ungodly hours to watch the finals in the US, I decided to buy a grounds pass and see my first ever Grand Slam tournament. Walking through the gates felt like a waking dream, seeing venues and sights I’d only ever seen through a screen. And what a day it was. I saw players on practice courts, men’s doubles, women’s doubles, men’s singles, women’s singles, and mixed doubles. The 2nd round turned out to be a perfect day because it was the start of the doubles events, but still had some big name players on the outer courts. I arrived to the grounds at about 1pm, and didn’t end up leaving until past 11pm. As I was walking out of the park to catch the train, the enormity of what a day it was finally hit me and I started crying, overwhelmed by fulfilling a lifelong dream.

Mom gave me the gift of hand-eye coordination (but thanks for the height, Dad!) as well as passing on a love for the game. Though it may have been unwilling at first (loooots of forced hitting sessions), eventually it became my passion as well. To be able to experience something for the first time without her will always be hard, but this one stung even more. I would’ve loved to have called her up and talked shop about everything I saw, so I did the next best thing and just talked to her out loud. While I was sad in the moment, I was also so grateful for this gift she gave me, and am blessed I was able to travel across the world and have this incredible experience. I know that was another gift she left me.

And when it rains, it pours, and it just so happened that Scott’s mom Cynthia was in town at the same time and was able to get me stadium tickets on Saturday. So I met her in the morning and was treated to a day that was somehow even better than when I had a grounds pass with the rest of the peons. Shocking, I know. We went into Margaret Court arena and I was utterly giddy. The first match that morning was (future champion) Osaka, who managed to scrape it out in three. Later that day on Rod Laver Arena I saw Serena, her green catsuit, and her butt absolutely destroy a poor Ukrainian girl. Lastly, I saw (also future champion!) Djokovic get taken to 4 by my week-long doppelgänger Shopavolv. It was surreal to see these legends play mere meters away from me.

The next day was the start of Midsumma, which is the LGBT Pride event in Australia that kicks off in Melbourne. There was a huge festival in the park in the center of the city, so I met some friends there for the day and enjoyed the ambience. It ended with a rave as the sun went down, with the towers of downtown back-dropping the stage, which was an incredible combination. No pictures were taken because it was too hot, and because if I’ve learned anything, what happens at Pride stays at Pride. No matter which country.

My last day was spent at the National Gallery, which is a beautiful building in the heart of the arts district. There was a special exhibit on M.C. Escher, which was amazing to see, as well as other incredible works of art spanning many centuries. But of course my favorite was the guy who dressed up his Weimaraners in people clothes. Go figure.

I walked around the city one last time and just admired the shops, got my haircut, got my ear pierced, nothing too crazy. I think I’m the first sibling to get anything pierced, barring anyone else having a piercing that’s not visible (NO ONE ANSWER THAT!!!). I’m trying different things with my appearances on this trip (what gave that away…) and recently I’ve been curious about an ear piercing so I thought, “Fuck it, why not?”. I’ve got to leave it in for 3 months so it doesn’t close up, and that timing should work out perfectly with the end of my trip, should I decide to ditch it. Or keep it. Who knows, only time and a thin skin that can’t withstand silent or vocal judgement from opinionated friends and family will tell.

So ended my adventures in Melbourne. It offered a lot that I look for in a city, and could easily see myself living there. I’ve been apprehensive and scared about the thought of living in a city other than San Francisco for a while, but this was the first time the thought of living somewhere else excited me. Change has been hard for me in recent years, but my time away has helped to strip those feelings of apprehension away and I’m finding my sense of risk and adventure is still there underneath. And furthermore, my travels have proven to me I’m as connected to friends and family back home as I want to be, thanks to all the avenues of communication technology offers. Plus there’s direct flights to LA and SF almost every single day. Melbourne was one of the first places that really got my gears turning about the future, and it made me excited about those possibilities.

But that’s longer term; most immediately was my trip up to Sydney, which will have to come in another post, arriving forthwith (I’ve been waiting to use that word for a while :)).

Ever your pretentious nerd,

Ben