Making My Way Downtown

I'm in Australia now. It's weird because I'm approaching people and starting to speak in spanish, only to realize that they speak english. It's happened to me at least three times already, twice to bus drivers. I'm sure that it'll be easy to switch back once I return to South America but right now it seems to be an english only trip. I have had friends say that they got tired after a while and they just wanted to speak some english, but I've found it to be just the opposite. I am wishing that I had spanish speaking friends around me at all times so that I can continue to develop my abilities. I think it's because I don't really have to think about what I'm going to say in advance. I can get my point across without having to plan anything in advance (although I do fumble up some grammar and find my self auto correcting during this process) so I don't really worry about the language barrier anymore. Also, while I don't have a perfect accent, I find that I'm clearly able to pronounce words correctly without struggling (although I slur through "padre," is there something Freudian in that?). Spanish has become such an important thing to me that I don't see myself tiring of it anytime soon.

So I'll just keep reading and writing in spanish until I get back there, but for now I'm in beautiful Australia. Although it's been a semi adventure getting here. I first had to undertake a 20 hour flight (a great omen at the start, no board bag fee, this is basically the best sign of a good trip for any surfer, like a rabbit's foot but less furry and cruel), but it was made interesting when about a half dozen or so Australian pro surfers decided to make a early departure after getting bounced in the first rounds of the WCT contest up in Arica. Among others the group included: Tom Whitaker, Adrian Buchan, Luke Stedman (those three sat next to me), Mick Lowe, Shaun Cansdell and I believe Ben Dunn (but I could be mistaken with Dunn). I basically eves dropped on the majority of their conversations (which wasn't much considering I slept 8 hours straight, without waking from the first leg to Auckland) and when we landed in Auckland I started talking to Buchan. He was a pretty mellow guy, not at all bothered by the fact that I was asking him about the contest and the waves. He said that the wave up in Arica was a good one, but that there really wasn't much around there and he would have liked to have seen other parts of Chile. I felt lucky that I had spent my time in Pichilemu and surfed Punta de Lobos, Puntilla and Infernillo instead of being up there. When we landing in Sydney all of us were staring out of the plane doing a surf check. It's easy enough to do because the plane lands right over all of the surf spots in the southern Sydney Area. The were talking about going straight from the plane to a wave called "Ours," not surprisingly it is a very localized break (although I'm not sure why check out how mean it is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFKAzlNcC3o). I was hoping they were going to name some other waves so I could get an idea of where to go, but they didn't. And when I arrived at Jimmy's place in Bondi there was too much swell and the beach was full of "straight handers" as the aussies would say.

But the real adventure of this trip was getting through immigration and customs. I know, you're going to bring up my beard and the fact that I bear resemblance to Fidel Castro. But I honestly don't believe that it had much of an effect. On passing through immigration I was pulled off to the side and informed that I now need to obtain a visa before entering Australia, just like all other americans. This definitely put me ill at ease as I had just seen the Terminal and had no desire to live the next ten days in the Sydney Airport (Theoretically, if I did have to stay in an airport for ten days I think Sydney would be my second choice afer Singapore). The lady was a little confused after found out I was here to visit an Irish guy but she just looked at me, smiled quzzically and of to the top secret immigration lair. So I sat outside the top secret immigration lair for about 30 minutes pondering ways to live off Duty Free food and no showers for the next week and a half, when the immigration agent came back out to tell me that she just granted me a visa valid for one year with stays allowed up to 90 days. I was shocked that it was that easy for that big of an error. Immensely relieved I made it to the customs area where I was further detained because I had answered yes to at least the following: Prescription medication, having been in South America within the last 6 days, being in a rural area (Easter Island). I'm sure that the beard didn't help me and made the agents more attentive, but no one is getting through customs without inspection when they have put three yes answers on the declaration form. The lady that sifted through my stuff was actually surprisingly nice and was even inquisitive as to what I'd been doing. I'm not going to say this was flirting but it was as close as it gets with a customs agent. She eventually let me go, without any problems. I thought I was free but I still had to make it to Jimmy's place in Bondi.

I still don't have my atm card, and won't for another week, so I'm reluctant to use cash and for that reason I didn't take a cab to Bondi. I have done this before so I didn't think it was a problem, I'd just take the metro in. Unfortunately, it was morning rush hour on the metro and being a unshowered traveler with a board bag and a large back pack doesn't make too many friends. I let the first few trains go by, and then the third had enough room for me to squeeze into. I got stuck next to an absolutely gorgeous girl. I was so unlucky. She gave me dagger stares for the entire trip. I think that the more attractive the girl is, the more evil their stink eye has to be, and it was obvious that this girl had hers honed down. I mean she wasn't even backing off and we were only a foot away (not exaggerating, it was a tight squeeze yesterday morning). I finally got to my junction with a handful more stink eyes (although none came close to the beautiful girl's), and made my transfer to the Bondi Junction train. I had a bit more space and was beginning to relax. I got off the train and got on a bus and finally made it too Jimmy's place in Bondi. I was tired and sweaty and finally completely understood why every single traveler I meet asks me if it is a hassle to travel with my boards.

So now I'm here, a few surf sessions under my belt (both of which were not good, I've been surfing "straight handers" for the last two days) and I'm feeling pretty good. I'm hanging out with Jimmy, who is a class guy. He's got a great apartment and I have the fortune of having his spare bedroom (huge luck as there was a french girl living here and split before I arrived and the next guy is going to move in the day after I leave). I really wasn't planning on a bed and I am very grateful to have it. We haven't really done much because I passed out on the couch early last night and Jimmy went to bed early as well (he's a plumber, early to bed early to rise sort of stuff) but there is the possibility that we'll be making a little overnight surf adventure down south this weekend. I can only hope because he might have to work. He's made it sound like a great wave so I'm going to cross my fingers and hope we go. Not real worried about it though, I mean Jimmy has done so much for me already that whatever's extra is just gravy.