The last thing I did before I left was hug my mother. I tried to keep it in, but I cried a little bit. When I said goodbye to everyone I work with I didn’t cry. When I said goodbye to all my friends there was no crying. When I said bye to Theo I didn’t cry. With 3D and Dread I didn’t cry. With my brother I didn’t cry. But when it came to my mother… I cried. Only a couple of tears but I was still sad to leave. They say real men don’t cry, but I am a real man and I cry…SORRY!
My taxi-van arrived whilst hugging my mom and I loaded my luggage on board. This includes my backpack, my Swiss Gear duffel bag and my bike box. Inside my back pack are my books, my laptop, my Nintendo ds, my camera, my mp3 player and my outlet adapter/converter. My bike box contains my black Specialized Sirrus Sport push bike, my tool bag, my pistachio green Louis Garneau (Olympus) helmet and my reflectors. My duffel bag carries all my clothing: shirts, jeans, shorts, socks, etc. It also contains all my health care stuff, my tent and all my shoes.
I get to the airport at about 10 AM. I go to to the Air Canada desk located at terminal 1 in Lester B. Pearson airport. It seems they have this new check in system with machines so at no point did a human being even check my passport. Two people working for Air Canada were even complaining about how much the machines actually slow down the process of checking in. I get to the counter where an older lady makes me weight my duffel bag. It weighs 55 kg which unfortunately is overweight by 5 kg. She tells me to take something out of my bag and store it in my bike box which I must pay $50 to check. I take out my tent which I remember is about 5 lbs. Sure enough 4.5 kg. I remove the tape from the edges of the box and place it inside and reattach my homemade straps. The straps are two pieces of polypropylene cord and a shoulder strap that I took off of my Huskey Tool bag. Very creative I must say. After checking my bag I bring my bike to the oversized luggage area where I place it carefully onto the conveyer belt. Right away a worker slams it down sideways and I am immediately thanking Naish for the zip ties and bubble wrap he gave me to secure the bike safely inside without damage. Next it’s off to the ticket counter where I get 3 temporary boarding passes and I pay the $50 charge for my bike box.
In the security area I have a moment of sheer terror as I forgot to take off my dragon face belt buckle. This is the most important thing I own. I bought this buckle just over 2 years ago as I symbol to show myself that I was no longer a koi fish swimming through life in walking daze. I am now mentally a Dragon. Growing up my favourite game was Dungeons and Dragons. Yes I am aware that is FULL CHODE DELUXE! In the game there are many different types of dragons and even classes that each dragon falls under. I would always make dragons my character when playing the game and not because of their size. Rather because the character stat of intelligence for dragons is amongst the highest of any race in the game. Draconian is actually one of the most complex languages if you were to analyze it. So basically this buckle personally symbolizes how mentally I have transcended. The security guard only tells me to get it X rayed and that it is “the most original one he has ever seen”.
I get to gate 42 at 10:30 AM but my plane does not leave until 2 PM. In the meantime I grab a Grande Bold from Starbucks and eat my final Canadian meal: Poutine. God I will miss you baby…you are my cheesy, greasy and salty little slut. I also grab a lip balm since I recall having dry lips the last time I was flying due to the air pressure in the cabin. At about 1:33 PM they announce that the flight will leave from gate 37 instead of 42 so I rush over there and show my boarding pass to get on. On and gone. Of course I get the crossbow seat in between two other people. Not only do I not get the window view with this seat but the guy in that seat is a crackberry fiend and has to call every contact in his phone before take-off. The lady in the aisle in a very pleasant and happy older lady who was so kind to me the whole flight asking me about my life and telling me enjoy every moment. I hope when I am her age I still have that zest for life. She smiled the entire flight and was happy to get up for me and the cracky when we had to use the washroom. The flight was smooth. I had a nap for a few minutes during the flight and drank a diet coke. When we landed cracky tried to actually push the pleasant lady and myself out of the way. That wasn’t happening as I blocked his ass like Warren Sapp.
My next flight is on the other side of the Vancouver Airport and I was running to get here even though I knew it didn’t leave for over 2 hours. I checked in very early and grabbed a sandwich from Tim Hortons. Sure I hate on the restaurant a lot because I dislike their coffee and lack of selection but it is still quality as fuck. My last meal on Canadian soil is quick and my stomach is growling as I devour the Turkey Caesar sandwich. Right before boarding I remember that this flight is 14 HOURS LONG!!! Fuck me up the ass. Upon receiving my official boarding pass from the Air New Zealand flight attendant, who is as hot as it gets, I notice I am sitting in seat C which is the aisle. A little extra leg room . The window is occupied by a Dutch lady who has a very thick accent but manages to speak very fluid English. Seated in the crossbow is this ginger Aussie dude around my age who says maybe 3 words the whole flight. We were served dinner shortly after take-off. Curry beef over rice with green beans, some sort of New Zealand Cheddar cheese and crackers, a dinner roll and diet coke. At this point I remember being so hungry I felt ill. Before landing we also were served breakfast: cheese omelette with tomatoes, fruit salad and orange juice. I watched a few films during this flight: Get him to the Greek, Grown ups, Despicable Me and my favourite movie of all time Alfred Hitcock’s North by Northwest. They also had Inception and Toy Story 3 but those will require a deluxe viewing with my friend 3D when I get back to Toronto who has just purchased the ultimate home theatre including a 40” LCD Sony Bravia. I slept between 3-5 hours during this flight and my legs were sore once we landed in Auckland. I am also close to finishing Rant: An oral biography of Buster Casey by Chuck Palahniuk which is such a cool novel. Like the TV show Lost in Book form. I was watching Dispicable me as the plane landed and I planned to watch the last 40 minutes on the next flight.
I only had an hour between landing and take-off in Auckland. These kiwis are SERIOUS about rugby and the all blacks are like a religion here. Exactly the same way us Canadians show love for hockey. I was in seat F in the middle row and the seat labels were complicated to follow as 3 times people told me I was sitting in their seat. Each time they incorrect. Seat F was an aisle seat, this time next to some American dude around my age. I listened to music this flight as it was only two and a half hours. My second favourite album The Beatles Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, After the Gold Rush by Neil Young, Alone by the Bee Gees and Led Zeppelin’s greatest hits. We were served some sort of egg and ham breakfast “tart”, which the flight attendant told me was like quiche in North America. One funny thing that caught my attention was that instead of ketchup they have this “tomato relish” which is bomb as hell. Probably the best condiment I have ever tasted. It was blue skies while landing and I could feel the radiance of the sun of my skin already. The captain said it was 22 degrees outside and that it had rained the last 3 days straight. As the wheels touched down the final part of “Stairway to Heaven” blared in my headphones… and as we wind on down the road.
I collected my luggage with ease from the conveyer belts and examined it for damage: none on the surface. Customs examined my bike box and made me actually open to see if there was a lot of dirt on the tires because they don’t want our soil to contaminate theirs. The customs agent was thorough but very gentle with my bike and said that I was clear to go. My bike appeared fine too…few! At the information counter I paid 14 AUD (from now on the dollar signs will mean AUD instead of Canadian dollars) for the shuttle to my hostel. I had to pay the driver $10 more to bring my bike with me.
This driver drops me off right at central station which is about a block away from my hostel. It’s a good thing I made the straps for my bike box as carrying my luggage is quite the ordeal. Even to go a block to my hostel is like a 10 minute struggle. I could see my hostel, wake up, as soon as I was dropped off so it wasn’t like I was being dropped off in some random city where I know where nothing is. Plus I managed to grab a map of downtown as soon as I got off my plane. The front desk was pretty busy when I entered the hostel. The girls who worked there seemed swamped. A couple minutes after waiting in line some random Aussie announced that whoever was going on the walking tour should follow him and that it is a four hour tour around the city. After waiting about 15 minutes the girl behind the desk helped me check in. She asked me where I was from and told her Toronto. She said she was Swedish and that I probably know Mats Sundin. She immediately gained like a thousand points since Sundin is my favourite player of all time and the greatest Maple Leaf to ever captain the franchise. My key card read 705 as she handed it to me. I stored my bike downstairs in the luggage room until I unpacked my bags. Elevator up to floor 7, swipe card, open door.
Room is fairly clean. There is a tall curly haired dude there who greets me with a Hello. He’s clearly French and I let him I know I speak the language. He’s like, “Oh ma gud! Mi naame ees Stephane!” I tell him I need to shower and then put my bike together. Stephane tells me he also has a bike and that he needs oil. I don’t have any but I tell him I have all the tools for bikes he will ever need. As he mixes his Mioflex protein shake he tells me about how biking in the city is crazy and to “…watch oot for zee asiaans. Zey are very bad driveres ere!” Fuck! I have my first shower in 2 days, almost like a washing off any remnants of Toronto.
Next task is assembling my bike. I bring it outside the hostel and take it out of the box. Front tire is fine as is the frame. My helmet, reflectors and bag of tools are still zip tied to the bike. The PVC insulation is glued on to the frame in a couple of spots, but I can cut it off. While assembling the bike this French girl who works for a local tourism company asks me about myself and if I need work. I tell her that I have everything setup and he tells me I am brave to be biking in this city or in any city for that matter. Before I go for a ride I see Stephane's Bike which is a purple Myata roadie from the early 90’s. 6 speed in the front and a 1 speed in the front, 36 teeth if I remember. “ Yu zee zee roast? I need hoil! I want tu repant zee fraam of dis boike.” His bike is rusted and he wants to repaint. I tell him that the oil won’t shit. Those were my exact words and he clearly understood. I told him instead to buy 80 grit sandpaper and sand the whole thing down, than a can of primer, two cans of the colour he wanted and finally 2 cans of primer. I doubt he got all that but I tried to help him out.
I hop on my bike after re-assembling it. The front wheel is squeaking, I have no inner tubes for my tries and I need to buy a pump and gloves. Stephane told me that there is a bike shop on Kent St. called the city bike depot. Sweet! My ride commences and I am scared to death riding on what I consider the other side of the road. I knew I would have to adapt but this is like jacking off with your left hand… feels weird. This city is very hilly and steep. Bike lanes are few are far between here and the drivers…wow they just don’t give a shit about killing you. One thing I noticed too is that there are hot girls EVERYWHERE! Sure the population is bigger but the ratio of grenades to boss hogs is great. More on this later though. I find the bike shop and the guy who works there tells me he knows I’m Canadian by my MEC (Mountain Equipment Co-op) camel back bag. He says he lived in BC for a couple of years and worked there. He tells me he is happy I brought a helmet because it is the law here; you must wear a helmet at all times on a push bike and read red reflectors as well as a front light. No biggie since I won’t ride anyways without them back home. I tell him front hug is squeaking and takes a look as says he can make it stop squeaking but the hub will require more maintenance at a later date. I grab a bike pump and 2 inner tubes and upon paying I realize that this city is expensive as fuck. Sure the wages are higher, but the cost of living is pricey. At least the price as shown is the price you pay since there isn’t tax on anything. In Toronto the taxes will rape you up the ass twice with their brother and cousin Fred. Here though a 7 dollar sub is 7 dollars flat.
I took out a bank draft before leaving Toronto and I need to head over to 671 George St. where I can get deposit my draft and open an account. George St. is like Yonge St. in Toronto: busy. I think it’s the main North/South road in Sydney, though I haven’t asked anyone yet. I get to the bank and worse fears confirmed it is CLOSED!!! NOOOOOOO!!! I must wait until Monday and with only a few hundred AUD on my person. I have a moment of sheer terror and panic. Even as I write this, I am still very worried about this situation. I trust myself though to plough through “the wall of bad emotion” and not resist whatever life throws at me. I take a few pictures on the ride too and at least now I know where the bank is now and what the hours are, so at least there was something positive to come out of it.
After I eat lunch, a 7 dollar sub, I head down to harbour because I must see the Opera house and the bridge. When I first started planning this trip I said that was the first thing I want to see: the harbour. The closer I got the more excited I became. I could see a bit of the bridge, then more and finally… WOW! What a gorgeous waterfront…breathtaking and stunning to say the least. On google maps I remember seeing that from the Botanical gardens at Macquarie point you can get a great picture of the bridge and Opera house. I proceeded to do so using my camera attached to my twisty tripod which is better than having some random take my picture. The pictures didn’t turn out quite the way I wanted but I do have another 6 months so it should be okay. It was getting late at this point so I headed back to my hostel.
After eating dinner and worrying a bit more about money, I met my other roommates who are Irishmen from Dublin. Look, I try not to judge people but these guys had to be some of the most unwise human being I have ever met. Sure an Irish accent makes you sound dumb, god these guys are dumb. They thought Canada was on the other side of Australia and der tick Oirish occent doesn’t make they sound too bright either. Thank god I am only here for one night. Passed out shortly after this at around 10 PM, but was reawaken at around 3 am when the Irishmen came back in the room drunk as fuck only to eat M&M’s and watch some stand-up comedy on his laptop.
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