XC 1X2

 I have no circadian rhythms left. The word jet lag implies that I’m on another place’s time. That’s not true. I’m not lagged, just a mess. I went to bed shortly after dinner, whenever that was, woke up for a few hours in the night, and passed back out again. At one in the afternoon I got a knock on my door and my mother’s voice calling my name. I answered and then the knocking disappeared. A few minutes went by and the knocking was back followed by a question about a massage. Massage, massage, right! There was a massage today. I considered skipping it to stay in bed but the urgent pounding outside my bedchamber anxiously reminding me that I had a pressing requirement to relax NOW moved me. Waking up and landing on a massage table is an interesting sensation, I recommend it if you get the chance. After a disorienting relaxation experience, it was time to chill by the pool. Beer, view, do nothing. No thinking, just vibes. This continued until dinner which happened at a restaurant wi...

 This morning and I got off on the wrong foot. A 5 am alarm is never a good way to start the day, especially after a long night. I shove my stuff into my bag and head off to the airport. The hotel’s shuttle is packed full of weary travelers who all, like me, have some need to be at LAX before sunrise. Owie. The van smells like ass, someone hasn’t washed themselves well and the driver has remembered to crack the radio but not the ventilation. Good morning. I check in, toss my bag on the belt, and begin my security ritual. Mainly this means moving the roll of film I was gifted in Uzbekistan into my pocket as a reminder to request a hand check. It’s not in my carry on. I see my duffel roll down the belt and I’m filled with a sense of frustration dulled by sleeplessness. This thing I’ve managed to keep safe for over a month is now getting blasted with X Rays. It might come out okay, it might not. I’ll have no way of knowing until I shoot the roll, pay to have it developed, and see my m...

 I thought for a while about what to call this post. You may have noticed by now that I name the posts after the places I visit. When I’m traveling it’s the start and end points. Over the next two(?) days I’ll fly fourteen and a half hours from here to LA, layover in a hotel overnight, and then fly to Cabo. Going going, back back, to cali cali for less than a day. It doesn’t feel right to call Los Angeles one of my destinations, too final. I’m going to Mexico. Australia has been lovely. I feel like I’ve picked up a rock and seen a whole world underneath it. My whole life I’d been told that I have family down here. After years and years of thinking that I should probably head over, I’ve finally done it and what an experience it has been. Particularly, at this point in the trip it just feels so good to see people who understand more about me than the average stranger. After some brief mechanical delays, we are pointed at the sky and due east. The flight proceeds uneventfully enough. ...

My last full day in the land of Aus. I had some small errands to run and Ash elected to accompany me on my adventure into the city. The first stop was an Ugg store, my dad’s birthday is coming up and he was after a pair of house shoes. The Aussie specials are not currently produced in any form I’d call a house shoe, strange. All chunky soles and high calves these days. Oh well. Laneways, Laneways, Laneways We walked further to check the next thing off the list, get Marcel a magic. This is a Melbourne special. A double ristretto balanced out with a dallop of steamed milk. This tastes like the perfect evolution of the cappuccino. Highly recommend. As we sipped our coffee on crates in a laneway we noticed a flock of barristers in gown doing the same. A quick Google later and we were on our way to the Victoria Supreme Court to see what we could see. No more open sessions for the day but they did have some cool exhibits. Big judge gowns and Santa robes. Vintage wig tins. Some fantastic bike...

 It’s been a while since I spent a morning at a proper museum. Plenty of folks have been steering me to the Ian Potter Center and so downtown I went. The IPC displays the domestic collections of the National Gallery of Victoria and has an interesting mission. It shows contemporary and antique indigenous and European Australian art, an interesting mission. Where many galleries might divvy up the space, the IPC mixes all four together. You might see a traditional handmade Aboriginal fish trap displayed alongside oil paintings of white settlers. The juxtaposition is fascinating and helps to remind you of the depth of the history at play. One of the most incredible rooms was a display of bark art. Aboriginals would traditionally peel bark off of trees and paint them. In one room, there is a collection of antique, classically styled modern, and contemporary examples all displayed together. The eye dances from piece to piece and has a lot to take in, the ideas in each example are radical...

 After breakfast and being confronted with footage of last night’s festivities (oof) another relation scooped me up to spend time together. Ruthie and Sam Persol are relations of mine not far from Sam and Eva Menahem. Sam came by the house to pick me up and took me on a tour of his Melbourne. He’s lived in the area for some years and as a local councillor, knows his best well. He took me back to his for lunch where Ruthie was waiting. We caught up over open-faced sandwiches, talked about family, and ate bread with vegemite (it had to happen at some point). Our next stop was a local theater for a fundraiser. Sam is a competitive table tennis player and his local club was selling tickets for a screening of Marty Supreme. Every subculture is excited for its time in the limelight and this is no exception. The movie was weird and good. Sam notes that the quality of the playing was not quite up to snuff. Back to their house for dinner, the whole mischpocha was invited to sit around the t...