Hey guys, I am right now on my way back to Germany (Abu Dhabi airport…) and wanted to let you know that the end of the blog has come! If anyone is interested, there are photos on facebook (you can see them without having an account) of my last days on the east coast (Brisbane and Byron Bay), my trip to the red centre (Ayers Rock etc) and my two days in Melbourne. I don’t really feel like writing travel reports any more…I’ll tell you myself when I’m back! Thank you for reading my posts and see you soon live und in Farbe! xx
]]> http://sydnina.wordpress.com/2009/12/14/the-very-last-update/feed/ 0 sydnina http://sydnina.wordpress.com/2009/12/02/fraser-island/ http://sydnina.wordpress.com/2009/12/02/fraser-island/#comments Wed, 02 Dec 2009 09:36:36 +0000 sydnina http://sydnina.wordpress.com/?p=285 ]]> 2 nights, 3 days, 4 wheels.

We arrived in Hervey Bay at 6 in the morning and got picked up by our hostel shuttle. The hostels in Hervey Bay are all tour operators at the same time and we would start our trip to Fraser Island in one of their pink 4WDs the next morning.

The WEDNESDAY (Nov 25) in Hervey was a really lazy day. Washing laundry, swimming in the pool, watching a movie whilst exchanging photos on our laptops… At 6 pm, we had a briefing with all the other guys that would go to the Island with us – 36 people as a whole, reparted into four groups. The briefing was all about how not to roll over and die when driving in the sand and how not to get eaten by a dingo…very long, very boring…but nessessary, I reckon.

On THURSDAY, we took the ferry to Fraser at 10 am, our pink car ‘Eli’ loaded with all we would need for the next three days. Rich, from Bristol, England, was the first (and, as it turned out, our main) driver. He travelled with Matt from Switzerland and Monika from Germany (near Regensburg!!). Then there was Juliane, from Germany as well, travelling alone. And the three German boys Sebastian, Marco and Steffen. And Amy and I. Which makes 7 German speaking people in a group out of nine. But we gave our best to talk English all the time, except for some singing sessions in the back of the van…how to translate ‘eisgekühlter Bummerlunder’ into English?

Arrived on the island, it took us about 10 minutes to get stuck for the first time. Rich was a bit rude in his driving style and the wheels kept overturning. Fortunately, another ‘pinkie’ was just behind us and we managed to get out of there quite quickly. This whole way from the west to the east side of the island was a really bumpy experience. It was good to arrive on the beach at Eurong, then! Beachdriving is fun for you can drive on the wet parts between the ocean and the soft sand. Not in the salt water though, “you will loose your bond!”. We had to be off the beach by 1.30 pm because of the tide. So we picked a campsite behing the dunes and then walked, as suggested by the organisators, to lake Wabby. They had talked about a “15 minutes” walk which really was a bad joke. It took us about one hour to get there, one hour in the burning midday sun… I was soooooooo exhausted! The lake was quite nice, though. Dark green fresh water right next to a huge sand dune, kind of a strange mix but normal for Fraser island. We spent there about one hour, running down the dune and into the lake, sitting in the water, relaxing…then we had to go back to put our tents up and start cooking before dark. We had very nice BBQ, a few beers (or whiskey coke in my case), played some card games and went to say hello to the three other groups as well. They were camping a few metres further down the beach.

Got up at about 7 in the next morning, FRIDAY. Unfortunately, our breakfast wasn’t as nice as planned as the dingoes had drank our milk over night. I don’t know how they managed to get it out of the esky but obviously, they did! No mueslie then, just bred with jam and peanut butter as well as black coffee. Never mind. Monika, Steffen and Sebastian had decided to sleep outside and now told us stories about nine dingoes surrounding them when they woke up. Scary… even if the dingoes aren’t probably really dangerous, “just dogs” as Rich said.

Our first stop was the (??) shipwreck where we all took loads of photos. Then up to some sand formations and we also bought new ice in ‘Happy Valley’. Our main aim for the day was Indian Head in the north of the island. I don’t know why it’s called like that, it is just a huge rock that you can climb and from up there, you’ve got a beautiful view on either side of the beach. A walk along the beach north from there took us to the ‘Champagne pools’, a natural rock formation filled with sea water. The swimming was a bit of a rush because, again, we had to be off the beach by 2 pm and as our group was full of Germans + Amy, we absolutely had to stick to these times… Fair enough though, because the way back wasn’t exactly easy, the tide already being pretty high. Rich was struggling with the soft sands and said he didn’t enjoy that drive at all. But he got us safely down to Eli Creek where we had a quick bath and then to the Campsite to join the other pinkies. We didn’t do much that afternoon, everyone was pretty tired. I slept in the dunes for a while, Amy went for a run, that crazy girl. After my sleep, I absolutely wanted to swim but there was no lake, so I decided that the ocean couldn’t be that dangerous, that the jellyfish and tigersharks were certainly far away…). So I dared having a quick bath (rather then a swim) but I felt nervous and didn’t stay in there for long. Matt was sitting on the beach next to me during that time so he could have rescued me in worst case. (Well, he probably could not have, but it still felt better not to be alone there.) We had pasta that day and then, same procedure as the day before, a few drinks, a few games, chats with the people from the other groups. I went to bed a bit earlier that day for I wanted to see the sunrise the next day.

On SATURDAY, my alarm rang at 5 am but it was already light outside so I decided that I might as well sleep a bit longer. We were the first group to leave the camp, without having breakfast. Stopped at Happy Valley, the rubbish depot and Eurong to buy some milk and then had breakfast on the parking area next to lake McKenzie where we were gonna spend the whole morning. Lake McKenzie, in the middle of the island, is Fraser’s most beautiful lake. The water is so clear that you can see straight to the ground. It is turquoise as well and the sand is nice and fine (as everywhere on Fraser). We had lots of fun splashing around in the water, doing summer saults (?) and swimming to the other side and back. You could even leave your eyes open whilst swimming and see the ground at every moment through the bright blue. At 12, we had to leave the lake in order to catch the ferry at Kingfisher Bay by 2 pm. It first seemed ridiculous that we’d need two hours for 10 kilometres but we soon understood that they were well necessary. After about five minutes, we all had to stop because of a car that had been stuck for about one hour. And it took about one hour more to get it out of there, thanks to a big truck that pulled it out which hadn’t been possible with all our shovels and wood sticks. After that, we got stuck once more because of some silly girls that obviously didn’t know how to drive a 4WD. We were all getting quite nervous but in the end, we got to the bay at about twenty to 2 and got onto the ferry without problems.

What an adventure!

Our trip started from Airlie Beach on Sunday November 22. At 1 pm, we boarded the 25 metre yacht ‘Matador’, together with 25 other people. Amy and I had made bets beforehand on how many Germans and English people would be in our group and, surprisingly, I lost: Less then 12 Germans . There were only a few German girls and then lots of people from the UK + France + Israel + Sweden + Canada + Switzerland + Liechtenstein… A good mix.

On the 1^st DAY, we had very good wind and got the two sails up (main sail and head sail). I really enjoyed to sail again, even if the Matador was completely different to the small boats that I used to navigate on the Alster in Hamburg. Skipper Trent let me take over the helm for a good half an hour – you really need some muscle power to move that big thing!

We stopped for swimming and snorkling during the afternoon and I finally saw a clownfish – at least I think it was one! It was orange and look very much like nemo except for the fact that it only had one white stripe. Nevermind, I am content now – no more searching J.

In the evening, we ankered at Hook Island, had some delicious spaghetti prepared by hostie Jake and listened to the deckhand’s explanations about jellyfish, sharks & co. You can’t really swim around the Whitsundays without a stinger suit and even if you don’t see them, the tiny jellyfish are everywhere in the water. But apparently, they are not deathly or anything…there are so many backpacker’s myths.

On DAY 2, we left the anker point early in the morning and had breakfast on deck. No wind, unfortunately, so we headed to Whitehaven Beach with the motor on. Whitehaven Beach is one of the most beautiful beaches in Australia and deservedly so – the colours are simply gorgious – layers of different blues and turquoise and then the sand: so light and clean and endless… really, really beautiful. We spent there about two hours and then got back to the boat. Lunch and snorkling in the afternoon…and then some sailing to finish the day. It is so nice to lay on deck, listening to the water and looking up to the sails blowing in the wind. In the evening, we fed some bred to the huge batfish surrounding the boat. Sitting in the tender, you could hold the bred into the water and they would eat it out of your hand. And then you could even pat them! Amazing sensation to touch a fish like that.

On DAY 3, I woke up at 5.30 am. The air isn’t especially fresh under deck when 20 people are sleeping there (the rest was camping on the island). So I decided to go on deck and listen to some music, half asleep half awake. Jasmin Tabatabai’s ‘Another sad song’ always reminds me of that one morning in 2003 when I was in La Martinique with my dad. I couldn’t sleep then either and sat under a palmtree near to our house, listening to that song and watching the sun rise over the Carribbean Sea. Unforgettable moments. The rest of day 3 went by pretty quickly. A snorkel at 7 am, some sailing with only one sail + motor…and then we were on our way back to Airlie Beach. I was grateful for the clouded sky after two full days in the burning sun. Kevin (the deckhand) taught us some knots I already knew but that I had forgotten about.

Back in Airlie, Amy and I had some lunch, chilled at the lagoon where we also had a shower…and in the early evening, went aboard the bus that would bring us to Hervey Bay over night.

I am sitting on the roof terrace of our Hostel in Airlie beach. When I look straight in front of me, I can see palm trees and the bay with its white sailing boats. Woke up at half five this morning of Sunday November 22, which is even earlier than usual. You can’t sleep in here, it’s just too hot, even if the dorm rooms are sometimes air-conditioned as ours is today. It has now been one week since Amy and I left Sydney and flew up to Cairns in northern Queensland. But it seems to me much longer as we have seen so much in such a short time.

SUNDAY 15^th

The flight lasted about three hours. Departure at 8.15 at Kingsford Smith Airport, arrival at about 10 because of the one hour time difference. We had booked ‘The Calypso’ for the first night, recommended by a friend of the Glebe Village Accommodation (the hostel I used to live in Sydney). Very nice indeed, with a pool and a big wooden bar, wireless internet, clean rooms… Haven’t done much of that Sunday apart from wondering around in Cairns which is really not an especially interesting or beautiful city. The blue ‘lagoon’, a free public pool right in the city centre, is of a much nicer colour than the greyish ocean next to it and that jellyfish make it impossible to swim in during half of the year. Not a city to spend lots of time in, clearly.

MONDAY 16^th

Went to get our campervan in the morning and the first challenge of the day was to get used to its tenacious engine and, for me, to driving on the left hand side of the road. The van was pretty old, had already done 300.000 km in its life and its third and fifth gears seemed impossible to use in the first instance. All this got a lot better though within the next few days. We explored the Atherton tablelands, a region that extends south and west of Cairns and is very nice and green. The hills and the green grass and the lakes would have reminded me of Bavaria, wouldn’t there have been palm trees and the typical yellow Australian street signs. We had a swim in the waterfall of Millaa Millaa as well as in the idyllic Lake Eacham. In the evening, we drove to a campsite Amy had found on one of the numerous maps the tourist office in Cairns had provided us with. As we arrived, it was already dark and you literally had to keep attention not to walk on one of the wallabies that were peacefully eating grass between the tents and campervans. Sooo many of them!! As for the rest, the place was very quiet; just a German family next to us (grrr) and maybe 5 other vans in total. We had some spaghetti with pesto and a bottle of xxxx Gold, the first beer brand here in Queensland.

TUESDAY 17^th

Back on the road at about 8 or 9, after a nice cup of tea in the rising sun and a walk in a small canyon, where the wallabies live during the day, and to a creek that ended up in a tiny little lake – or waterhole. We were heading north towards the Daintree region north of Cairns, proudly announced as the only place in the world where two world heritage regions meet – rainforest and reef. A one hour cruise on the Daintree river offered good views on the landscape and was a really nice experience…but the crocodiles we where looking for kept hiding under water. They don’t come out of it so often in the hot season because they don’t need to warm up in the sun. After the cruise, we took the car ferry over the river and started our way up to Cape Tribulation. The winding roads and mountainous ups and downs were a good experience for Amy who only got her driver’s licence two weeks before she came to Australia (which is one day before me). Quite an exciting experience to suddenly stop in the middle of the road because your driver can only switch from lower to higher gears and not the other way round…but we survived and arrived in Cape Trib where a walk through the rainforest as well as a large and wonderful beach rewarded us of our long journey. We didn’t stay long though (no swimming anyway, crocodiles!) because we had to go back to Port Douglas the same day and didn’t want to drive after dark.

WEDNESDAY, 18^th

In Port Douglas, we stayed in a place called ‘Dougies’, a hostel and campsite in the same time. It is really annoying, but unlike the rest of the east coast, there are no free car parks where you can stay overnight north of Cairns. The hostel was nice though and it’s always good to have a shower when you’re sweating all day long. We met Amy’s cousin Alan early on Wednesday morning. He works on one of the companies that offer snorkelling and diving tours on the reef and he gave us a huge discount on our day trip. Starting from the Marina, our boat ‘Silversonic’ made its one and a half hour way to the outer Great Barrier Reef. We had three different stops and could discover the coral and fish extensively. Though beautiful, I was a bit disappointed by the reef, comparing it to the places I had seen snorkelling in Thailand and which seemed to me much more colourful, bright, variegated. I saw some beautiful fish though, a shark even (I believe) as well as parrot fish and yellow butterflyfish. Amy did an introductory dive (I couldn’t, because of my ears…) and saw a big turtle. The later in the day, the more impatient I got though as I still hadn’t found Nemo, the clownfish! It must have looked quite ridiculous how I was lingering in above anemones, waiting for him to come out… But unfortunately, he didn’t! Finding Nemo is really harder than I thought . On the way back, we met another animal: A ser (?) whale, or rather: its back, swimming not far from our boat. Later in the harbour, when we were drinking a beer with Amy’s cousin and his girlfriend, they told us that we were extremely lucky and they themselves hadn’t seen that kind of whale yet.

THURSDAY, 19^th

We left Port Douglas pretty early and drove about one hour on the Captain Cook Highway down to Cairns to bring our campervan back. It’s an awesome road, just next to the ocean, so you have an amazing view out of the window. From Cairns, we took the Greyhound bus down to Mission beach, a short trip – about two hours and a half. Mission beach is famous for being a great skydiving spot and we had initially planned to use it as such, but revising our budget, a change of plans imposed itself. So we just enjoyed having a lazy afternoon, washed our laundry and in the evening set or for a walk on the beach. It was about 6 when we left, the sun already low on the sky and the evening light looked wonderful on the scenery, mountains in the background, the wide fine sand under our feet. We wanted to go up to reach the next stinger net in order to have a swim in the ocean. But the distance proved to be much longer than our map would have suggested – we had kind of ignored the remark printed in big letters onto it: ‘map not to scale’. So it took us about 45 minutes to reach the net. In the end, we didn’t swim but just waded in the water which was as warm as a puddle. After that, we had a lemonade in town and, as it was getting dark and the tide was coming in, thus filling a little creek we had to cross on the way with water and…crocodiles, we decided to walk back via the streets and not on the beach. As it turned out, this wasn’t an especially good idea as our ‘not to scale’ map had hidden that this was a walk of about six km and that four of them would be on a 80 km/h road without any street lights. No way! As we had already walked about half an hour, we decided to call a taxi. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any taxi number, so we tried to call the hostel. No one picked up. Second trial and…my battery died! We couldn’t use Amy’s phone as she didn’t have any net in the whole town. Thank you, vodafone…There we were, in the dark, standing on the corner of a road somewhere in the nowhere. Definitely not such a nice experience! But a slight panic attack and a short car trip later (I know that hitchhiking isn’t recommended…but what can you do?!), we had safely arrived in the hostel.

FRIDAY 20^th

The Friday consisted of a long drive aboard a Premier Motor Service bus. Departure 9 am in Mission beach, arrival 5.30 pm in Airlie Beach. We had called about every hostel in the guidebook in the morning, just to learn that everyone was booked out for the night! The situation hadn’t changed as we arrived in Airlie. The guys we had met on the bus (one Austrian, one German, one Dutch) as well as some others were in the same situation. Every November when school is over, the freshly graduated boys and girls rush towards the closest beach to celebrate… and occupy, as it seems, every single room in town! And we happened to have, if not on purpose, having chosen this ‘schoolie’ week-end to arrive. We thought about sleeping on the beach, but even we had felt comfortable doing that with all our luggage (which was clearly not the case), we couldn’t have because you’re not allowed to and they control it every night. So, no choice, we opted for the only hostel that had any rooms to offer – the Bush Village, a luxurious backpacker’s resort a bit further away, where we paid $88 for one night in a double room. Outch! The boys got a room there as well (cheaper though, because there were three of them) and we spent the evening sitting in the pool with them, chatting and learning how to swim butterfly, then watching a movie. A nice and quiet evening, and we were actually quite glad not to be in one of the ‘party’ hostels in town.

SATURDAY 21^st

We left the hostel in the morning and took the bus into town, storing our luggage in (much cheaper) hostel for the second night, the ‘Waterfront backpacker’s’. Had a swim in the ‘lagoon’ (much nicer by the way than that in Cairns), checked in for our sailing trip departing the next day (TODAY! J), booked our busses and hostels and the Fraser Island trip for the next week… After that, I wanted to lie on the beach and read my book which, unbelievable, I know, I hadn’t done to that moment! Amy is such an active person, she can’t really sit still, always needs something to do. So she left me on the beach and went for a walk through town. About 45 minutes of calm, then she was back and restless as ever…wanted to go for a proper swim in the lagoon. That was actually a good idea as I was starting to burn (even with 50 sunscreen in the evening sun) and we both haven’t done any exercise since we left Sydney. The lagoon was nice and nearly empty, but the water was just too warm for more than 10 lengths…plus, I didn’t have goggles. So I waited for Amy sitting on the edge of the pool, reading. My book (In Cold Blood by Truman Capote) is really fascinating. I am looking forward to spend lots of hours reading it in the next few days on the boat! After the swim yesterday, we bought a bottle of white wine from the ‘Thirsty camel’ bottleshop and then sat and had fish and chips next to our hostel. After that we had planned to write our blogs and exchange photos, but we met some English guys on the hostel balcony and ended up playing card games.

It is nearly half seven now. Amy just came out of the room and is talking to her boyfriend on skype. We are soon going to prepare our small backpacks for the 3-day-2-nights sailing trip that is starting this noon, check out of the hostel and then…go on board!

Everyone who has ever taken a ferry to Manly, made his way down to the Opera House or just had a walk around Circular Quay, has heard it: The cadenced sound of a didgeridoo, accompanied by modern electronic beats. It comes out of a pair of speakers between ferry wharfs two and three, where the artists of the Aboriginal ‘Koomurri’ group are performing day after day.

As the man with the washed out red t-shirt and the old brown Rip Curl cap takes his instrument and switches on the next track on his discman, the crowd is getting larger. “Welcome”, says Gumaroy, “don’t be shy, come closer, and take a photo with us.” Interrogative looks are exchanged between the surrounding people. Some of them go on with their path, some hesitate. A white haired man with an impressive beer belly leaves his secure position and takes a stand next to Terry, whose dark skin is covered with red and white paint. He is wearing nothing than a red loincloth and for the photo, the Aboriginal man even holds a Boomerang in one hand.

Dozens of tourists smile to their family’s cameras like that every day, before putting a coin or a bank note in the braided basket in front of Terry and Gumaroy. Some of them buy one of the four CDs that a third man, Louis, is brandishing. Later at home, the acquirer can listen to traditional Aboriginal songs, healing and relaxing sounds, didgeridoo rhythms. Only one of these discs contains the contemporary music that the group is playing at Circular Quay.

Personally, Gumaroy would like to get rid of that “modern, cheesy stuff”: “When we do the original sounds, people gather”, he says. But the lead didgeridoo player can’t say anything because he wants to keep working for his cousin Russell Dawson. Dawson is the owner and manager of the Koomurri business and thus decides on the program of the group that has performed, amongst others, at the Sydney and Athens Olympic games.

At Circular Quay, about fifteen artists take it in turns to entertain the tourists. This Sunday, Gumaroy’s shift has started at 11 and he will finish at one. When asked what he likes about this job, the answer sounds clichéd, but earnest. “I like the smiles on the people’s faces. When I say ‘welcome to my country’, I’m not just showing off. I really mean it!” Gumaroy tries to address his audience in a personal way. “Hey you,” he speaks into his microphone, “You look German! I have been to Düsseldorf once! Did you know you could sing Düsseldorf with the Didgeridoo?” And then he goes making sounds – Düssel-, Düssel-, Düssel-, Düssel-, Düsseldorf…

“Playing the didgeridoo is all about chanting, about saying words”, Gumaroy explains later. We are sitting by the window in a corner of wharf two’s ‘Quay cafe’ and drinking cafe latte. “I am addicted to the vibration of the sounds, the rolling of the tongue.” Unlike the 4/4 rhythms the tourists can easily relate to, the traditional music is staccato, reflecting the rhythm of land and animals. “The mountains for example”, he says, drawing a serrated line into the air, “are erratic. And so is their music. The ocean’s music goes up and down like the waves, the desert’s music is flat.”

Gumaroy has been playing the didgeridoo for twenty-two years. “When I was four years old, I saw the famous David Blanasi playing the didgeridoo”, he tells me, and the memory seems to be present as if that day had been yesterday, not 32 years ago. “It was such an energising experience, that I decided to play myself when I was older.” Later at high school, when his friends went out to party, he would stay home because he didn’t have enough money. “So they let met there. And I played the didgeridoo.”

Gumaroy lives a life at the interface of Aboriginal culture and an international artist’s career. He grew up in Moree in northern New South Wales, a town with a high Indigenous population. His mother is half Italian, half Aboriginal, and belongs to the tribe of the Wakka Wakka; his father is half white Australian, half Aboriginal and descends from the Gomilaroi tribe. “My parents met when playing on the riverside and they used to live in tin houses”, Gumaroy says. “But I grew up in a house, with bedrooms and everything”, he laughs.

Conscious and proud of his origins, staying down-to-earth is important for the musician who has done eight world tours and “met the most amazing people.” “My mother isn’t proud of me because of my success, she is proud of me because I am her son and I love her. Just as her four other children.” Going back to see his family allows Gumaroy to remain modest. “If you play in front of thousands of people and don’t give yourself a reality check, your ego grows too big”, he says.

An oversized ego is one of the things that make him sad. Racism is another one. Though he considers that things have become better since 1967, when Indigenous Australians were eventually granted the right to vote, “racism still exists, from both sides.” “My talents have taken me out of that”, Gumaroy acknowledges, “but I still can’t get in a taxi with Terry.”

One could wonder why Terry is exposing himself and his culture in that way to anyone who happens to come along. But Gumaroy argues that the job predominantly benefits his friend. “He doesn’t have to accept money from the government. It is an honour not to be dependent. The business’s first aim is to provide employment for Aboriginal people.”

Gumeroy himself is rarely exposed to racist acts. Sometimes though, people come and spit on the artists’ money. “That’s because some white Australians are jealous of our success,” Gumaroy says. But he is mentally prepared for that kind of situation. One of his favourite sayings is from no other than reggae legend Bob Marley: ‘You kill them with your own love.” “I don’t let them get to me”, Gumaroy says. “The arrogance I inherited from my father can be a blessing: The negativity just bounces back.”

Another thing he declares having inherited from his father is his sense of humour. He describes himself as a funny person. “But I am cheeky funny, not comedian funny.” Whereupon he makes a grimace that gives his dark brown eyes a crazy glint.

His father has died from alcohol problems when he was only in his fifties. “Have you ever seen a person dying?” Gumaroy asks, nearly dreamfully. “Death isn’t sad. It’s a celebration.” And he is persuaded that another life does exist.

After the show, Gumaroy and Terry split the money the tourists have thrown into their basket. In a shady spot off the beaten track, they build little towers of silver coins. “We have made about a hundred dollars each today”, Gumaroy says. Adding the three out of ten dollars he gets per sold CD, the musician has earned $250 in only two hours. “It was a quiet day”, he says. “When I don’t have a photo guy with me, I sell more CDs. Because I am more appreciated for my music, then.”

Playing the didgeridoo for Sydney’s tourists is Gumaroy’s main source of income. “But what I am really passionate about are the traditional shows.” In Byron Bay, where he used to live during seven years, he has taught backpacker’s how to play the didgeridoo. Gumaroy sees himself as a communicator, a vessel. “Exchanging knowledge, that’s what life is about. Everyone is on a walkabout.”

Gumaroy has been accumulating knowledge in many different areas. You wouldn’t expect him to have played golf for a long time or having been a boxer at a nearly professional level. Though for him, power doesn’t emerge from muscles. “The weapons are the words”, he says. His poetry book “The best of both worlds” is to come out soon. But for the moment, Gumaroy says he’s too busy. “Doing what?” – “Fishing.”

The didgeridoo has made him abandon his studies at Bathurst University and give up the wish to be a literature teacher. Performing for Koomurri and singing and dancing for the Ganga Giri ensemble, he has visited over fifty countries. “Aboriginal culture is more popular overseas”, he says. “Here, when the juggling man starts his show next to us, people move away. In Europe, it’s the opposite.” That’s why he likes to spend his summers on the other end of the world.

Paradoxical enough, one of Gumaroy’s didgeridoos is made of European cherry wood. Unlike the ones made of eucalyptus trees, this one doesn’t crack in the sun, he explains. “I got it from a sound scientist based in Munich. German engineering at its finest!”

Even though he has seen many places, Gumaroy has clear preferences: “Sydney is my favourite city in the world besides Vancouver, because of its multiculturalism.” He first came here in 2004 and instantly got offers for shows. Still, he doesn’t have much of a city dweller. “I like to live in the nature, to camp halfway between here and Newcastle or to sleep in Manly,” he says. “My ex-girlfriend often told me to stop being a bloody hippie.”

A backpack, four sets of clothes and two didgeridoos are all Gumaroy needs to live. “I get impatient when people make too much fuss about physical appearance,” he says. “If I chose this way of living, it’s not because I can’t afford it elsewise.” Once, he took a taxi near Byron Bay and the driver stopped halfway to the destination. “He thought I didn’t have enough money to pay the trip! So he kicked me out and called the police.”

Gumaroy never runs out of stories. Every half an hour or so, he points at someone walking on the esplanade. “See that girl over there? She looks exactly like one of my ex-girlfriends!” Later, he tells an anecdote about a woman he first met in Paris and then, some months after that, again in Canada, completely at random. And another one about a friend he suddenly ran into after not having seen him for eight years.

Because of this kind of incidents, “the way that people come together”, Gumaroy is persuaded that there has to be a creator. He is not religious in a traditional sense, but sometimes visits the Baha’i temple in Manly. “It’s all religions in one”, Gumaroy says. He often prays to “whatever god” and meditates when playing the didgeridoo. “I actually imagine being a bird, I count the rhythms, pronounce the words…and my mind just drifts off.”

“To play the didgeridoo, you have to relax and let the energy flow through you. When you try hard, you can’t do it.” His philosophy of life seems to have derived from this attitude: “Just BE. Act instinctively. There are no problems until you make them problems”, he says. And then, sipping at his second cafe latte: “I don’t take life seriously.”

So…what have I been up to? Lots of swimming: Two ore three times a week, I do 1 to 2 kilometres in the Victoria park pool. I’ve also been spending hours and hours in the darkroom…my photo projects were due this Monday. It’s all done! Besides that…just normal Sydney life: Glebe market on Saturdays, watching Australian Idol with Adam and Ruth on Sundays, looking after Mikah…she is crawling now! And starts to walk too, but you have to hold her hands to prevent her from falling. My back is starting to hurt! I also went to a very nice Ska concert with Amy the other day. Then I’ve been stopping by in the hostel from time to time. Meeting my classmates for drinks..and taking photos of all the places I’ll soon have to leave! Have a look on flickr or facebook if you want.

Something exciting happened, though: My dad was here for a week. He did lots of sightseeing without me, as I had work to do, but we still managed to spend quite some time together. On Saturday, we had dinner in a very nice fish restaurant in Watsons Bay, which is on the opposite side of the harbour. From there, we had a spectacular view of the entire skyline. On Monday, we wanted to see Hawkesbury river and took the train to Windsor, about an hour away. What a lost place! In the end, we stayed perhaps two hours – no boat trips, no museums, nada – and headed back to Sydney to have a drink at the Opera Bar. What a funny trip;-).

Yesterday was the hottest day I ever experienced – 36°C and a muggy, warm wind. Buaaaaah…And we were sitting on one of those red busses to do some classical sightseeing. Got off in Darling Harbour though to have a beer. It was also Melbourne Cup day yesterday. That horse race is so important that the day it takes place is a public holiday in Victoria!! But even in Sydney, you could feel the cup fever and see people in fancy dresses and hats on their way to Randwick or just to the next pub to follow the event together. Teall (a girl from my narrative journalism class) and Ruth both told me that I had to bet. So I did – $10 on ‘Allez Wonder’. Not that I understand anything about horses..but I liked the name. Unfortunately, Allez Wonder didn’t win, neither did she get placed amongst the first three. But never mind, it was funny anyway.

So, as I said…ten more days and then I’m out of here! Amy is in Melbourne and Adelaide at the moment. I’d really like to go there, too, or to the outback or whatever…I’m getting sick of being in the city! Just need some discipline now and then, the surfing, snorkeling, sailing starts! Can’t wait!!!!!!!!!!

Top left: Hamburg, my hometown…and the Michel tower.

Top right: Regensburg, 3 years of studying…and the stone bridge & cathedral.

Bottom left: Paris, Eiffel tower, 2008-2010…with interruptions

Bottom right: Sydney! NOW (and the Opera House)

“Dieser Surftrip ist das Beste, was ich bisher in Australien gemacht habe. Kleine Gruppe von 20 Leuten, wunderschöne Strände, nette Abende und vor allem unglaublich viel Spaß in den Wellen. Bella und ich sind seit Montag früh unterwegs. Mit uns vier deutsche Mädels, drei deutsche Jungs (von denen zwei in Melbourne studieren), drei verrückte Kanadierinnen, ein Ami aus Alaska, ein Ami aus Illinois, zwei Engländer, zwei Engländerinnen, eine halb Deutsche, halb Malaysierin und sogar – oho! – eine Australierin. Und natürlich die Coachs Rhys (der auch den Bus fährt), JJ und Damien

MONTAG. Ca 3 Stunden Fahrt bis zum Camp, von dem wir auf den ersten Blick sehr enttäuscht sind. Irgendwo in der Pampa gelegen, kein Meer in Sicht. Aber die Unterkunft an sich ist dann recht nett mit Bar, Swimmingpool, Volleyballfeld (wenn auch mit durchhängendem Netz). Die Dorms sind in einer Hütte etwas abseits. Da Bella und ich etwas spät zur Bettenverteilung kommen, landen wir im Jungs-Abschnitt des Raumes. Über meinem Bett begrüßt mich eine Riesenspinne, die Frank und Lukas brutalerweise zur Strecke bringen. Am Nachmittag haben wir unsere erste Surflesson am Elizabeth Beach, nördlich von Seal Rocks. Natürlich wird noch mal alles von vorne erklärt, aber ein bisschen Wiederholung schadet ja nicht. Im Wasser ist die Freude an den Wellen sofort wieder da, auch wenn deren Größe etwas zu wünschen übrig lässt. Abends werden Kennenlernspiele gespielt. Bella und ich gehen früh ins Bett.

DIENSTAG. Ein wunderschöner Strandtag am „Seal Rocks N°1“. Leider schon wieder ziemliche Wellenflaute. Das Mädchen für Alles und angeblicher Däne (in Wirklichkeit Hamburger, der keine Lust hat, deutsch zu sprechen) Steph baut einen Sonnenschutz auf und wir dösen vor uns hin, surfen (bzw. versuchen es) und machen einen super Spaziergang zu einem natürlichen Pool in den Felsen. Darin kann man sich von der Strömung hin- und herschwemmen lassen oder ewig auf der Stelle dagegen anschwimmen. Die Abwesenheit der Wellen hat auch was Gutes: Als wir auf unseren Bords sitzend auf den Wellen treiben und Richtung Horizont schauen, sehen wir eine Gruppe Delphine durchs Wasser springen! Auf dem Rückweg Richtung Camp machen wir einen Stopp beim Leuchtturm von Seal Rocks und sehen von oben ein paar Buckelwale (Rhys sagt jedenfalls, dass es welche sind) bzw. deren Flossen und Rücken. Am Abend „big party“ im Camp, von der ich ziemlich mitgenommen irgendwann in mein Bett wanke.

MITTWOCH. Der Morgen erwacht in einem grauen Dunst und einem Rauchgeruch, der in unsere Hütte zieht. ‚Bushfire’, sagt Rhys, irgendwo ein paar Kilometer von hier. Sobald wir am Strand sind, ist von alldem aber nichts mehr zu sehen. Heute wird am Boomerang Beach gesurft und die Wellen sind überwältigend hoch. Es dauert ewig, bis man erstmal hinter sie gekommen ist. Die meiste Zeit verbringe ich damit, durch die Gegend gespült zu werden. Aber wenn man dann mal eine ungebrochene Welle erwischt (meistens mit JJ’s und Rhys’ Hilfe), ist das ein atemberaubendes Erlebnis. So viel schneller als der white wash, so viel mehr Adrenalin mit im Spiel! Abends sitzen wir ums Lagerfeuer, ein paar Spielen Gitarre, Lukas versucht sich auf dem Didgeridoo und JJ führt ein Spiel ein, bei dem jeder einen Laut von sich geben muss, damit am Ende ein Lied entsteht. Ansonsten unterhalten wir uns sehr nett in unserer deutschen Runde.

DONNERSTAG. Morgens stehen plötzlich die Pferde, die sonst in der Nähe weiden, auf dem Camp-Gelände und drücken ihre Nüstern an die Glastür. Wir haben alle unsere Sachen gepackt, denn heute verlassen wir unsere erste Behausung und fahren zwei Stunden weiter gen Norden. Damien bleibt im Camp, dafür fährt JJ (mitsamt seinem ipod voller guter Musik J) im Bus mit. Am „Crowdy Head“ haben wir die besten Wellen der Woche, paddeln ziemlich weit raus und sind sogar recht erfolgreich mit den greenwater waves. Trotzdem spült es mich natürlich des Öfteren durcheinander und mein Bein mit der Leg Leash dran fühlt sich an wie das einer Marionette. Nach dem Surfen fahren wir noch mal zwei Stunden und Essen Pizza in einem Pub in Kempsey, einer Kleinstadt, in der angeblich nur verrückte und zahnlose Leute wohnen. Habe keinen davon gesehen. Gegen 8.30 pm kommen wir im „Spidercamp“ an, dass noch isolierter ist als unsere vorige Unterkunft und von einem Hippie geführt wird. Alle sind so müde, dass sie nach dem Videoabend auf den gemütlichen Sofas sofort ins Bett fallen.

FREITAG. Morgens weckt uns ein Klopfen an die Tür. 7.30 am, gewohnte Zeit…irgendwann fällt es einem da auch nicht mehr so schwer, aus dem Bett zu kommen. Frühstück mit Cornflakes und Obst und dann sitzen Bella und ich noch mit unserem Kaffee auf der Sitzschaukel in der Sonne. Wir fahren wieder ca. zwei Stunden bis zum Woolgoolga Beach, an dem es kaum Wellen gibt. Wir haben unsere letzte Unterrichtseinheit über Wellen und den Ehrenkodex der Surfer bzw. Vorfahrtsregeln, wenn man so will. Derjenige, der näher an der Stelle ist, an der die Welle bricht, darf zuerst und muss den anderen durch Zurufe wegscheuchen. Auch kommt es schlecht, wenn man einfach hinter allen anderen vorbeipaddelt, statt sich brav einzureihen. Ich bleibe nicht lange im Wasser, die Wellen taugen nichts. Dann machen wir unsere ‚Competition’, bei der es hauptsächlich darauf ankommt, lustig zu sein. Zwei Runden (zwei Gruppen) zu jeweils zehn Minuten, in denen wir alles geben müssen. Ich erwische eine Menge Wellen, mache Purzelbäume, springe in die Luft, schlage ein Rad…und lande irgendwann mit der Hüfte total hart auf dem Sand – ist wohl besser, solche Kunststücke im tieferen Wasser zu probieren! Jedenfalls schaffe ich’s ins Finale, zusammen mit Athi, Jess, Frank, Alaska, Sam, und Lukas. Da krieg ich dann aber nicht mehr viel hin – ist das anstrengend!! – und Frank und ich scheitern an dem Versuch, parallel zu surfen und uns dabei an den Händen zu fassen. Ist trotzdem lustig. Alaska gewinnt die Competition, weil er seinen Wetsuit auszieht und seinen Allerwertesten zeigt. Gegen 2pm pilgern wir zurück zum Bus, machen auf einem Hügel mit schönem Ausblick noch zehntausend Gruppenfotos (Kat ist mit den ganzen Kameras behängt, schaut lustig aus), und fahren dann los in Richtung Byron Bay. Die Fahrt dauert ca 3 Stunden, die aber recht schnell vergehen. Fotos schauen, lesen, schreiben… die Musik ist leider nicht mehr so gut, weil J.J. mittags zurück ins Camp aufgebrochen ist und seinen ipod mitgenommen hat. Abends in Byron werden wir an unseren verschiedenen Hostels rausgelassen und treffen uns später im Chikkie Monkeys, der offenbar einzigen akzeptablen Feier-Bar der Stadt, zur Abschiedsparty…

SAMSTAG Ein Tag im wundervollen Byron Bay. In unserem Hostel gibt’s kein Frühstück, darum holen wir uns Gebäck und Kaffee in einer kleinen Bäckerei gegenüber. Und ab an den Strand – Frühstück am Pazifik, was für ein Traum . “Haben wir ein Leben!” sagen Bella und ich wie aus einem Mund. Der Tag am Strand plätschert so vor sich hin, wir treffen die anderen aus unserer Gruppe, außerdem Edd und James aus Sydney, die gerade beide in Byron Station machen. Alaska hat sich ein Hardboard im Hostel geliehen, mit dem ich auch mal mein Glück versuche. Ist aber so wackelig im Vergleich zu den dicken blauen Beginner-Brettern! Ich glaube, ich schaffe es genau ein Mal, darauf zu stehen. Gegen 3 Uhr machen wir uns mit Edd und James auf den Weg Richtung Stadt, um endlich was zu Mittag zu essen. Schauen nochmal beim Bus vorbei (er will nicht anspringen, darum sind Rhys, Flo und Frank, die den 7-Tage-Trip gebucht haben, immer noch da) und verabschieden uns. Hoffentlich bis bald…

Wir suchen eine Weile nach einem Restaurant, gehen dann ins Beach Hotel und essen überteuerte Spaghetti, Toast und Caesar Salad. Hostel- und Reisenews werden ausgetauscht. Um kurz nach 4 will Bella endlich in die Shops. Edd und James folgen uns noch kurz, verabschieden sich aber dann. Bella: „Ich hab’s doch gesagt, nach dem ersten Shop sind die weg!“. Einkaufen ist aber auch entspannter, wenn niemand draußen auf dich wartet. Bella findet eine Surfershorts und einen tollen Pulli. Ich hätte gern ein weißes Top, um zurück in Sydney noch mehr mit meinem neu erworbenen Teint angeben zu können . Leider ist die Suche erfolglos…vielleicht besser so, ich bin schon wieder knapp bei Kasse. In unserem Premier Motor Service Bus, der pünktlich um 6.35 pm ankommt, ist es nicht wirklich voll; wir haben alle zwei Sitze für uns. Die Sitze sind unbequem und das Video (A few good men – eine Frage der Ehre) ist akustisch nicht zu verstehen. Ich schlafe die meiste Zeit, mit Steffis Schlafsack als Kopfkissen. Gegen zehn halten wir bei McDonalds. Die Reise verläuft ohne Zwischenfälle. Ich wache ein paar Mal auf, aber nur ganz kurz. Plötzlich sind wir in Sydney. Amy hatte mir ja schon geschrieben, dass das Wetter SHIT ist. Aber hallo. Es begrüßt uns eine graue Regensuppe und eine Luft, die 10°C kälter ist als in Byron. Willkommen zurück in der Realität…”

ALLE FOTOS AUF FACEBOOK UND FLICKR !!!

So I set for maybe half an hour and tried to draw the Opera House. Not easy! It’s got such a complicated structure…am quite happy with the result, though .