Toilet Trouble and the Pied Piper of Kasama

When negotiating my placement details I wasn't majorly enthused about the idea of Kasama, it being a provincial town 840 clicks north of Lusaka the capital.  I was leaning towards the idea of being based in Lusaka.  That was more than likely borne out of an insecurity of mine more than anything.  Its natural to, in some ways, cling to your comfort zone and Lusaka certainly offered me that.  Much less of an adaptation and the security of a life that’s in some way familiar.  A large foreign population and many of the western creature comforts were in plentiful supply there.

But the experience that I was likely to get in Lusaka was gonna be pretty half-arsed and if I was to spend one year of my life living in Africa, I really should do it properly, immerse myself fully in Zambian life rather than that of an ‘expat’ (that word makes me feel quesy).  The other factor was that Irish Aid were the donors for the Kasama project and they were keen that this was where I’d be involved.  The Irish Government have had a long presence in the Northern Province (and Zambia generally) which I’ll go into at a later date.

We took off on the 10 hour journey north towards Kasama in our Toyota Hilux 4x4 that we’d been given for the year.  Us being Paul, a 28 year old Ugandan (doing Monitoring and Evaluation), Laia (Auditor) also 28 a dutchie from Haarlem, Andrew (Socio-Economic Planner) a 60 odd year old from Zimbabwe and Simon, the driver from Kasama.  The four of us are working together for the year and Simon driving us about.  He’s a pretty cool guy, a Gooner who lived in London for 7 years and a good guy to have around.  The fact that he lived in Europe means that he appreciates the cultural difference that exists for foreigners like myself.

Paul is also an Arsenal fan. In fact half of Zambia appears to be! Easily, twice as many Arsenal jerseys about compared to any other team.  Many say it’s the playing style, could also be the strong African connection over the years (Kanu especially is an African icon who transcends national boundaries) but others have said that it just appears this way as the United fans have their jerseys well and truly hidden away! We’ll see…

Eventually we arrived in Kasama and sought out Laia’s joint (she’s got her own place and the three buckos were stuffed in together. Equality me hoop!).  Her house is quality, a nice old colonial brick building with a massive garden (like 1200m²), with all sorts of fruit trees, a small swimming pool and out-buildings for her 4 dogs to sleep in.

This was the third house I’d seen now where they’d housed people so it was with a fair bit of optimism that I awaiting our arrival at my home for the year.  3km later from Laia’s place (which is close to the middle of town) we arrived at our gaff.

Optimism misplaced – fuckin shit pit it was !! Cos it was Kasama they hadn’t actually come all the way up here to pick it but relied on some other schmo’s to do it.  It reminded me of one of these really bog standard 80’s holiday bungalows in the west of Ireland that are empty for 10 months of the year.  The joint was massive – 4 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms but a dining room with no windows into it, a kitchen with a sink and a 1m² workspace and no storage and a sitting room the size of a warehouse which made our couch and two chairs look like furniture from a dolls house!

The last 1km of the road was something I’d only experienced twice before: the road from Siem Riep to the Thai border (in 2002) and La Paz to Uyuni (2004) ie a lunar-like topography that requires every bit of the 4x4’s manoeuvrability to negotiate.  Ok I admit, these were all first impressions and much has changed since.  I got onto HQ in Lusaka a few days later and let them know the score.  They were pretty apologetic and said there was no issue with changing if we found somewhere else.  Grand job, I’d get onto it.

The Road to Perdition

Next obstacle, Paul and Andrew said that unless I could guarantee them en-suite bathrooms in the new place they weren’t prepared to move.  “Eh wha ??” I’d never had a fuckin en-suite in my goddam life and these two goons weren’t prepared to share a jacks!  Paul confided that on his last placement in Rwanda, he had lived with a Danish guy whose toilet habits had left him so traumatised that he was close to quitting the job.  Now Jesper the Dane must have been a nightly guest at the only curry house in Kigali or I was dealing with one very precious Ugandan !!

There was no convincing either of them. Out voted: Uganda-Zimbabwe Alliance 2-1 Daly !!

I took it on the chin and got to work on the landlord.  In fairness they’ve been good about it giving us extra furniture and putting in a full kitchen which has been a major help in making the joint habitable.  I’ve put my interior design skills to good use with my bedroom which is pretty decent at this stage and I’m getting some extra furniture made to deck the place out.  It must be said that the area we live in is very nice and leafy with a pleasant feel to the place and lots of sociable friendly heads about.

As Zambian towns go Kasama in generally charming place to be.  It has a population north of 200k but like most developing countries (maybe due to their dense living environments) it feels like a town of about 50k (but I’m pretty sure that it’ll bore the shite out of me after a while).  The centre was well designed back in the day by the Anglo colonisers, it is easy to get about and it’s full of life.  Well when it’s bright that is.  Even though we’ve got our own driver, I generally walk home from work and it really is a pleasant experience.  Maybe it’s due to the big blue sky, the lushness of the greenery around or maybe it’s the warmth in the evening air but it really brings me back to my teens and the summer evenings in Ballyferriter in West Kerry strolling home after a day in Irish College.

The Stretch

Apart from the fresh air, the exercise and the nice scenery, my walks home generally leave me grinning from ear to ear from the reactions and interactions I have with people on the way.  It varies from situation to situation and the degree to which this occurs will diminish over time as they get used to seeing me about.

A very common scenario is one in which I’m about to walk past a group of kids who are all jabbering away together.  All of a sudden one of them will see me and a blankness will pass over him, his face will lengthen and silence will slowly descend over the group (purely based on this kids reaction).  The group will then slowly turn to see the apparition that this one kid has witnessed and then I will look over to see a gang of children just staring wide-eyed at me with a ‘what the FUCK is that thing’ look plastered across their mugs.  One of them will have muttered Muzungu (whitey/honky etc) by this point.

To break the awkwardness of the situation I will (while struggling to keep a straight face) wave at them.  Another 4 or 5 seconds will pass without even the blink of an eye, then one of them will wave back.  Then tension generally eases at this point and by the time I’m well passed them they’ll individually begin to shout at me “ow aaaah yoooooo, ow aaaah yoooooo” while jumping up and down and laughing hysterically like I’m the funniest thing they’ve ever laid eyes on.  One evening this happened when I was out jogging and a group of kids started legging it after me laughing and shrieking uncontrollably (like ‘whats this guy running away from’).  I eventually stopped to say “hello, whats your name?” etc.  They also stopped 20m back, but wouldn’t come near me.  This happened 3 or 4 more times until they decided to stop running after me and went home.

The reaction I get completely depends on the audience.  Usually parents of these kids will smile warmly at me as their children have epileptic fits.  Generally teenage guys will initially stare at me in surprise then just play it completely cool and maybe muster a nod towards me.  But it’s always pleasant - Zambians are very placid and warm people.

If I go for a jog there’s one decent route that I’m now kinda reluctant to use.  The last time two times I went there I had a gang of kids join me and run along with me (12 the last time) for about 10 minutes absolutely pissing with laughter.  They react to me to in a way that reminds me of my reaction when I’d see an ice-cream van turn slowly turn down our street as a kid.  It’s hilarious for me too but I half feel like Mohammed Ali in When We Were Kings training in Kinshasa (“Ali kum-bia, Ali kum-bia”) and half like a complete tool!

I’m kinda hoping that if there’s some Zambian fella living in Cork going out for jogs he doesn’t get 12 lads chasing him down the road.  A man could get the wrong impression from something like that !

The other thing that completely gets them is if I say a few words in their local language.  English is the official language nationally but up here not everyone can speak it and mostly they speak Bemba to each other.  Mulishani basically means “hows the form” (or “faaks it gaan kaaant” or “spiffing day old boy” to the Australians and English among you).  They’re amazed at it and start laughing their asses off again, who’s this honky and whats he doing speaking Bemba.  Then they start yabbering at me, asking me all sorts, at which point I smile blankly understanding none of it and leg it….

Shtory Zambia

After spending a fantastic month at home for Christmas Operation Zambia was upon me.  A 3 day pre-departure training course in England was my warm up.  I’d already done a goddam three week online course and I was to have completed another 10 hour online preparation course for this one that I was frantically trying to wrap up as the train pulled into Cambridge Station.  Time had gotten the better of me in the days leading up to my departure.  My arrival at the venue was a bit fraught being 5 minutes late and thinking I was underprepared for an intensive 3 days.

Turned out the whole set up was a nicely relaxed affair and I spend three wonderful days getting a crash course in life as a development worker and the peculiarities and challenges that Africa may present me with.  There were about 20 of us there and it was an incredibly enjoyable and rewarding experience spending time with others who were in the same boat as myself, facing a step into the veritable unknown.  The average age is 41, which was kinda surprising cos it’s usually something you associate doing when you’re young but they prefer using people who’ve got good work and life experiences behind them as they’re more likely to have a greater impact.  The whole weekend was great craic, really informative and focused the minds towards what lay ahead.  Most people were heading off to various parts of Africa and a few to Asia over the next 3 months.  I, on the other hand, was due to fly out the very day the course finished.  This seemed to be far more alarming to others than it was to me!  In a way the more time to think over things the more fretting people seem to do.

I met my fellow Zambia departee, Greg, who I was to travel out with, and we got on straight away.  It’d be difficult not to get on with this guy – a sound fella from Dublin in his 60’s.  He’d recently retired after working as an economist for years and had done quite a lot of work for the Department of Foreign Affairs.  We ended up rooming together in Lusaka for our first 10 days or so.

Myself and Greg Boy

We arrived in Lusaka via Nairobi and Harare and checked into the Lusaka Hotel, our temporary home for our stay in Lusaka.

I was pretty excited in the run-up, never having been to Africa before.  And really, I’d never planned on visiting here either in the foreseeable future, always something I thought I might do later in life.  But when I’d made the decision to do developing work and Zambia came up, I’d slowly begun to get pretty excited by the idea.

A little on that, and how I found myself swapping the comforts of Melbourne living for the dirt roads and mud huts of Africa; international development was something I’d been heavily interested in during my college days.  Put a fair bit of thought to pursuing it workwise but couldn’t really see a tangible long term outcome that appealed to me, so instead I went down the planning route.  But I’d always told myself I’d do it sometime and it kind of annoyed me that I hadn’t.  I absolutely hate saying I’ll do something and not do it so it was gnawing away at me a little.

I had also shied away from doing one of these general volunteering missions, eg I didn’t see the point in me spending three weeks teaching Russian to blind orphaned lepers or something.  Essentially I’d be the main beneficiary.  It wouldn’t be an enabling process.

Then after about 6 years working in Town Planning and Urban Design, I ended up living with Amy and Nis in Melbourne who were both studying International Development and essentially that re-triggered a latent interest in pursuing the idea of working in a development context.  By this stage I’d actually developed some proper experience and skills to make a meaningful contribution.  I was also eyeing up the departure lounge of Melbourne Airport and the chance to pursue this before returning to Europe was spot on.

My initial idea was to get something in Asia but there were fuck all opportunities to get involved in Urban Design or Planning in a development context.  I was initially luke warm about the idea of Africa but fuck it if I was gonna work in a developing country I may as well go all out.  It ended up being the hardest job I’d ever gotten, I’d three pretty challenging interviews and a multiple choice exam, everything based on personality behavioural traits and life experiences with zero on any technical topics.  Placing people in an expensive task I suppose and they need to know you can hack it.  Because Irish Aid were funding the placement, they were keen on me from the start, which helped!

Anyway, where was I. Yeah, it wasn’t quite at the same level as the giddy anticipation I’d experienced before embarking on my trips to South-East Asia in 2002 and South America in 2004 but nevertheless my excitement had been piqued and I was extremely eager to discover what lay in store for me.  Like those other trips I enjoyed not having a strong picture in my head about what Africa and Zambia looked, smelled, felt like.

Ole Kilimanjaro and the Serengeti from the window seat of my Kenyan Airlines flight

Our time in Lusaka was spent mainly between our hotel, the office and Levy Junction, one of the recently arrived god-awful South African built shopping malls.  Lusaka is an odd enough city.  The centre is predominantly a financial area which straddles Cairo Road (built with the idea of Cecil Rhodes of linking Capetown and Cairo), a wide boulevard that has large 1960’s modernist buildings peppered along it.

After 6 the centre is eerily silent and not a majorly pleasant environment to be in.  In a ring surrounding the city is where all the rich Zambians and foreigners live, in these leafy suburbs that also contain these shopping malls that seem to engender so much excitement, as in any developing country I’ve been in.  Out beyond these areas is where the majority live, in the cramped shanty towns of grime and squalor.

While it probably gave me the gradual introduction to life here I needed, I was frustrated by the lack of any Africa-ness to my experience.  It was essentially like any other characterless faux western city I’d been to.  But with black people in it.  Only when I went out wandering about at night (against the advice we’d been given) in the streets behind the hotel that I finally felt I was in Africa.

There I found real life, full of people selling their wares, all sorts of bizarre new and second hand goods, the streets teeming with activity.  At this time people were packing up for the day and loading onto dozens of mini-buses with their full stalls wrapped up in blankets and stuffed into bags, all destined for the slums they lived in.  Not having any possessions on me I didn’t feel in anyway insecure.  Really, any warning I’d received was about getting pick-pocketed rather than being jumped but with practically every second guy I walked past their eyes quickly dropped to look at my pockets.  But the one consistent thing that met me were the massive grins and rows of shiny teeth.  It was seriously infectious and a real rush, the interactions, the greetings, all pleasing, warm and relaxing.  Positive vibes abounded.

People of all ages from aul grannies to young girls working away with their babies strapped to their backs, it was the first true sense of Africa that I’d felt and the buzz and excitement that to my frustration evaded me on arrival had finally, belatedly kicked in.

Trucking Back to Auckland

Early the next morn I took off on the long journey south, I was trying to break the back of the return journey to Auckland. Got a few spins down the west coast. Some absolutely bang on Cuzzy Bru's (Maori's) to shoot the breeze with, some lamenting the changes to the area with the slow emergence of large farmers in the area. Back in the day, each family had their own piece of land to farm and there was a great spirit in the community.  Now its too difficult to make a living from the land so most have to travel into the nearby town, Kaitia, to get a crust.  Again, splendid scenery, rolling green hills as far as the eye could see.

One of the lads, as far from a hippy as you could imagine, had a self sustaining lifestyle - 2 goats, a few pigs (one of which he kills every 6 months) and a vegetable garden does the trick for him as well as fishing in the ocean nearby. "If you can't live off the land here bru, somethings the matter with you" he announced.

I was hoping to make it across to Opononi but time was against me, I was wrecked and I'd heard about a great place to stay in near Kohukohu called the Treehouse. I'd really enjoyed camping til now but this joint was something else. An Australian couple had moved over from Sydney 30 years ago (brave move! Kiwi attitudes to Australians are nearly on a par with Welsh attitudes to English people!).

They'd built this fantastic timber building which was used as a guesthouse, they'd a few old school buses which they'd turned into accommodation as well, but the most impressive thing was the planting they'd done, which had matured into what wasn't far off a rainforest at this stage. I felt like I was in a jungle lodge in Thailand.  It was just me and two young German pups. I was ruined so crashed very early.

The next morning I took the ferry to Rawene, got a spin right off the boat with an absolutely sound German couple from Saarbrucken whose names evade me as I type. I recounted the story of when myself, Quin and Moz overnighted there on the way to watch us play Switzerland in Basle in 2003 and how Moz emptied his guts onto me in his sleep cos his stomach couldn't take the two Weissbiers he'd had that night. They were very amused !

Our routes were very similar so I spent a great day with them, stopping off in a few Kauri Forests to see some amazing trees, some of which were over 2000 years old, with 13m wide trunks.

Tane Mahuta - a 2000 year old Kauri tree

They brought me all the way to Warkworth where I was determined to make it to Tawaranui again. I was waiting for a lift when a guy in a pick-up pulled in and signalled to chuck my gear in the back. I flung my backpack in only narrowly avoiding a massive fckin carcass lying in the back.  I jumped in anyway, yer man was dead on, real character.  I asked him what the fck was that yoke in the back!? It was a deer he'd killed the day before.  This fella was a professional hunter for the Department of Conservation, basically killing any non-native animals roaming the hills - wild pigs, wild deer and wild goats predominantly.  He pointed to a nearby mountain where he said he cleared 1431 goats from in the past four years.  In the first year he'd done about 1000, second about 300, third he killed 30.  It took him an entire year using GPS, a pack of trained dogs and his intuition to snare the last one.

Little Barrier Island seen from Tawaranui

I camped up that night in the National Reserve and took off the next morn towards Auckland. Struggled for a lift out of there as everyone was heading into the park rather than out of it due to it being a public holiday. Started walking and eventually I got collected by eh the Postman! Did his rounds with him before he dropped me back at the main road. Absolute legend of a man, recounted all his travels and years of working on cruise ships, spent a good bit of time in Ireland and knew Cork pretty well.

Eventually arrived in Auckland and went to meet my old mucker Ben Kidd. Went to school and played ball with Ben for years before he'd headed home to Auckland.  Had zero contact with him since then so it was class to see him. Same as he was years ago, he was enjoying life and is now working as a physical fitness and conditioning coach for Auckland's female netball team and their academy.  Netball is huge in Australia and New Zealand for girls.  We hung out for the day just talking shite and reminiscing about days of yore before he dropped me off to meet Trev at Elerslie Station.

Trev flew up from Auckland and we were crashing at his pal Cam's joint. Had a class night out in Galacos where we were joined by John aka Double Suspension, who we were heading away with the next day.  Really good night in there with some proper old school Auckland dj's who were really well renowned but didn't play often.They knocked out the disco and house numbers for the night.  Great night out and true to form, Trev lost his wallet which confused and annoyed the shite out of him !!

Cape Reinga and Ze Germans

Next day I got a spin from a German couple who'd been at the campsite, but I hadn't spoken to - Yannick and Vera.  They were travelling with their friends Broghart and Saskia and their one year old kid Paul, all hailing from Dresden, and again extremely cool East Germans. Both couples had really great refitted old vans, decked out wonderfully and their home for the next few months. Hung out with them for a few days and our paths would cross again.

They were also heading for Tapotutpotu Bay up the road, closer to Cape Reinga. Again a great DOC campground in a fantastic setting, beautiful white sanded beach, nestled between two green headlands and aqua-marine waters, the colours bouncing off one another real nice. On arrival we bumped into Camille and Laurent from Bay of Islands trip. We took off on a coastal trek to Cape Reinga, which took in a few more beaches and headlands, fantastic scenery.

A little cove on the trek to Cape Reinga

Cape Reinga is the most northerly point of New Zealand and there's a wonderful view of where the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean collide, these insane whirlpools and currents that would gobble you up and spit you out. Against the advice of ze Germans I decided to power on and do what was meant to be Day 2 of a 3 day trek, we'd done Day 1, head across the beach and over to Cape Marie Van Diemen.

Cape Marie Van Diemen in the distance

*sitting here trying to write this and the two Filipino girls next to me are blasting out Boyzone songs. There's nothing like Ronan Keatings voice to make my skin crawl and head to slump. Boyzone - The Great Irish Shame!

Anyway, where was I, yeah was making good time, generally twice the predicted time, I'd make it no hass. But with all of these things, you get to one high point and another one appears. Trekking through sand ain't no joke.  I eventually made it over there but the hour was not in my favour, it would be dark soon. I sat there for about ten minutes, soaked it all up, the beautifully wild yet serene picture in front of me, and looked back at the desert like terrain that I had crossed and it was a magical sight indeed.

The path trodden

I had about two hours to do the four hour trek before darkness fell. Fought my way down through an absolute thicket of reeds (no path round these parts) and over the desert-like dunes.

I was then met by a forest that was pretty spooky and dark before the markers directed me to a field of cows.  First I had to make sure they were cows and not bulls ! Then I began to negotiate a way between them.  It was like a friggin computer game, each cow I approached was an enemy to overcome. Each cow and calf combo I encountered forced me into a Mexican Stand-off where I'd have to stare the mother down whilst moving past them with a sideways shuffle. This took bloody ages but they'd all eventually leg it once I'd psyched them out of it.

*They're playing the goddam Corrs now. Jeaaaysus !

Eventually I made it to the main road as night fell. At least I had a fair idea of where I was, and only had another 4-5 k's to walk. In pitch black darkness ! I eventually made it back to the campsite, absolutely bate out. In fairness to them, Yannick and Vera threw me up a hearty vegetarian meal, nothing like a eh chickpea salad to fill the stomach  after a day of hiking !

Lesson Learned: when a german tells you that you are wrong, you should f-ing listen to them !

North Side

The next morning I got a spin off the building inspector from the local Council out doing his rounds, I stopped off in Monganui for my morning coffee, where some aul wan was so enamoured by my being Irish that she asked me to could I come out and work on her farm. I assured her that there wasn't a baby in the world with a bottom softer than my hands !

After spending a day extra in Paihia I had to miss out on Matai Bay which was a dose cos again it came very highly recommended by Diana the Kraut. I was heading all the way north to Cape Reinga. Got a spin off a phenomenally cool old geezer who arrived in the country 15 years earlier with his wife and not a word of english between them. They had spent the majority of their lives in communist East Germany, which I'd imagine, was no bag of laughs. He had a plumbing business for 12 years in Auckland (after spending the first year waiting for a work visa and learning english).  They sold that up, moved north and bought a farm.  They'd no experience nor an idea of what they were doing but learned how to make cheese and harvest olives and now they've a fully fledged hobby farm, the produce of which they sell at the market at weekends, with their free time spent scuba diving. Some pup and some life he has !

Northland and especially the Far North (thats actually the name, these white settlers weren't the most inventive lot!) is a magical place, absolutely beautiful, with rolling green hills and pristine, mostly untouched white sanded beaches and a fantastic climate.  Generally the people I met, while maybe not the most amazing craic or anything were absolutely sound out. Really laid back, all-round decent and easy to get along with.

Northland countryside

Got a few lifts off Maori guys and I've never been so enthralled by an accent before, unreal ! They are all exactly like the characters from Boy, a high pitched stacatto-like voice where they practically put a fully stop after every word !

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uULUhAa90z0

Generally speaking, it was the most successful hitchhiking I'd ever done, rarely waiting for more than ten minutes.  Twice, I'd cars pull up before I'd even gotten my bags from the previous car ! While mostly, guys my own age, I got collected by all sorts, old women, families, the works.  But as I waited at the turn off for Spirits Bay, I was ready to change plans because not one car had passed me and I'd waited for over an hour.  All of a sudden a car came screeching around the corner and jammed on the breaks.  It was a gravel road and as we sped down it, Adam from England, shouted at me that he does rally driving back home.  As my face practically retreated into my head from the speed we were travelling, I mustered a nod back to him, Jeaaysus. He was just coming to the end of a 2 year round-the-world trip, 2 weeks here, 2 weeks there. I could quite imagine it, certainly if he traveled like he drove anyway. When I told him I was off to Zambia, he said it was in his top three countries he'd been to alongside Vietnam and Colombia.  Music to my ears, any country on a par with Colombia is good by me.

Spirits Bay was fantastic, we sat down on this vast, open beach, about 3km in length with two jutting headlands on either side.  Like most places it had a strong significance to Maori culture, it was where the spirits of the dead gathered before departing on their final journey to the afterlife.

Spirits Bay

After Adam had legged it, leaving a dust-storm in his wake, I camped out at a really cool DOC (Department of Conservation) campsite and got chatting to McCall and Alex, a cool Canadian couple who were planning on doing the 3 day hike out around Cape Reinga the following day. We went out to the beach to watch the sun set, a fantastic experience.

Tally Ho !

In hindsight (and probably foresight to come to think of it), working til the friday before the monday  wasn't ideal but I managed.  Still, after 5 hours kip (packing boxes for shipping til 3 in the am) and an epic weekend finale I managed to make my Sydney flight in plenty of time, courteousy of J L Spanos Taxi Service.  My 9 weeks of travel were to commence. First stop Sydney.

Purpose purely to visit my aunty Josephine before I left her as the sole Daly in Australia.  She was none too impressed by my departing! Met up with Laura Sull (late of Bishopstown) and her pal Louise down in Coogee. Dinner with Jo and Richard followed and just relaxed for the eve.  Early flight to Auckland awaited me the next day.

My third trip to New Zealand having hitched around the South Island two years previously and a long weekend with Hessie to visit Trev and the Duffmeister (an incident packed weekend that was !), both of which had whetted my appetite for a third.  On arrival I had planned on heading north straight away but serious winds (up to 200km/h) put paid to that so I decided to stay put in Auckland for the night.

It mightn't look it but New Zealand is bloody big (tiny compared to Australia but 3.5 times the size of Ireland with a similar population size) so I had planned to limit my trip to Northland and the Coromandel. Had such a good time hitching previously and I was traveling alone for the most part I decided to repeat the task, partly for practicality reasons but mainly for adventure. Maybe I've become bored of actually arriving in my planned location on time by bus or something !  But continually met the coolest, interesting people who'd all hitched themselves in the past.

Got onto Izzy, my ole pal from my early Melbourne day, lived together in East Brunswick with the Wangaratta Crew (Nat, Joe and Stef). Izzy had moved back to Auckland and was living with her boyfriend and his pals in a converted shop on Symonds Street, really central location. Great to catch up with her again.

Took off early the day, bused to Silverdale, stocked up on supplies and stuck the thumb out. Not a great spot to commence but got a few short lifts and I was away.  Two young german shams who were living in some hut in the forest brought me most of the way (their car seemed to have been lived in for a fair bit of time too, fuckin mank!).

After a failed attempt at getting to Tawharanui (campsite was closed), the guy who brought me there dropped me all the way back to where he'd first collected me, I got a lift from an old English guy by the name of  Richard. Absolute gent of a man, dropped me (again, completely out of his way) to Goat Island and insisted on collecting me the next morning, which he did, to help me on my way.  He also invited me to visit himself and his wife on their estate at Hawkes Bay for a few days, legend. Unfortunately it was a fair bit out of my way so I couldn't.



That day I made my way up to Paihia the tourist town from which to access the Bay of Islands, which is the major kiwi attraction in Northland. Camped in the holiday park (which was surprisingly good, not usually a fan), lovely setting overlooking an estuary, and some sound people staying there, some good nattering was done.

Photo of dawn breaking from my tent in Paihia

Hung out with Diana the Kraut the next day, decent company if fairly dry, doing touristy things like visiting Waitangi, where the Treaty was signed (as late as 1840) basically turning the country into a colony of England.  I couldn't really see why this was this was is annually celebrated as a significant day for the country as it seemed to have sold the Maori people a pup (the crafty fckers wrote up a different Treaty in English with quite different conditions!).  But apparently it gave the Maori's a better deal than they'd have otherwise gotten. Headed over to Russell, the first capital of the country, and a heritage town. Pretty bland and dull to me.

Early the next morn I set off on a yacht with Laurent and Camille, a french couple and our skipper Glenn to the Bay of Islands.  Great day out, beautiful spot generally.  A rake of dolphins out there and a visit to the lovely Waewaetorea Island.  Later that night I talked the frenchies through the NZ v Aus match as they'd never watched rugby before !

Waewaetora Island

Next day I bailed, (not before time, gettin slightly tired of Paihia's touristy feel). Sweltering heat and a few lifts later (one from an 80+ year old woman - I love these stereotype defeating occurrences!) I got dropped off at the turn off to Taupo Bay (which came highly recommended by Diana the Kraut). Waited for quite a while, no traffic on this gravel road, finally a pick-up came screaming around the corner and jammed on the breaks. The two lads told me to jump aboard, I gladly obliged. As we tore off again, a hand sprung out the window with a bottle, the two lads were boozin (as you do!), it was a pre-mixed bottle of bourbon and coke, rancid shit but I didn't want to appear ungrateful so I grabbed it and took a few token swigs.  Good buzz all the same, traveling in the back of the pick-up with the wind battering me. Dropped me all the way to the beach, who says rednecks can't be sound ! Taupo was only gorgeous, more appealing than the Bay of Islands even.

Taupo Bay

Melbourne Town

Looking back now, tis nearly three years since I arrived to Australia's shores, part of the most recent wave of Eire's youth flocking out across the world, our nomadic tribe, in a movement that has coloured our history and both enriched and pained our people.  Its a country that exists well beyond its boundaries.

My arrival in November 2010 took in a process of detainment that many experienced in Ellis Island in the past and many non-white arrivee's still experience today before finally setting foot on Australian soil.  My 36 hours in Kuala Lumpur International Airport, however, was completely of my own doing and not of the authorities.  I had spent the day scratching my ass, waiting to head to the airport, completely unaware that my flight was 1 hour earlier than i'd thought. Clown ! Missed it by ten minutes (I did eventually cope on) and spent the next day and a half like that Iranian sham who spent 17 years in Charles De Gaulle airport (although he didn't have The Sopranos to help him through it).

I left Melbourne with so many positive memories and a life richer for having lived there. It was fuckin class. Leaving came quickly, the decision was more about timing as long as I still had the freedom to decide. I did. I was off. Thank you and g'luck !

I will miss the place, I had great people there that I shared the three years with. Top notch. That's the hard part. It was the first place I'd moved to that I had people already there - Keefe, Brads, Wonger, Rowan, Spanos and Trev (three hours away up in the hills).  The first two legged it after a few weeks but the others were a major help, ready made networks whose friends became my friends.  That makes the lot of a dirty immigrant all the easier and I didn't really experience the tough settling in period, at least not a prolonged one.

Its a really stimulating city, an easy one in which to exist.  The contrast between life in Gertrude St of Fitzroy and that which awaits me in Zambia couldn't be starker! A largely white, secular, liberal area where stresses revolved around which cafe to breakfast in and which to take coffee in (to do both in the same place would be an unthinkable waste).  But with that, the cushy living, comes a lack, of what I'm not sure but the grittiness and friction that comes in other less 'liveable' places brings also stimulation and interest.  Not that it lacks character but a monoculture of 'creatives' and 'progressives' detracts from an area having a 'soul' so to speak.

My pad in Fitzroy

Melbourne gave me a lot. Super friends, work was great, and I'd a helluva lot of fun. In hindsight it worked out wonderfully, Canada may also have. I left while the going was good but I was comfortable that the timing was right.  My gut agreed and my gut has been good to me over the years.

Leaving was a bit of a rush but I probably managed it better than I expected.  Working up until the friday before my before my monday departure put me under all sorts of pressure to carry out all the things that needed doing but it got done.  A quality weekend to wrap it up was had, centred around a tremendous friday eve at Lilly Blacks, a typical laneway city centre watering hole that is a speciality that Melbourne does oh so well.  Having to work around the different groups required a bit of effort but it was so great to see all those I'd spent the previous three years with and a wonderful send-off to boot that continued into the not so early hours of the morning, gettting down in Boney.

Melbourne, I tip my hat to you, its been immense.