Perth

I woke up early, probably due to the jet lag. Since breakfast was included but not yet available, I sprawled out on the couches and waited while I checked my options. Unfortunately, a bus tour of Perth was no longer available. I decided I was going to take Sil’s advice and head to Cottesloe beach, which was a quick train ride away. The beach underwhelmed me, but the goal was to put my feet in the Indian Ocean. In that, I succeeded. While getting water at the concession stand, I heard a familiar accent and asked the young lady behind the counter where her home was. She told me Florida.
I told her New Orleans. Apparently, she was on an exchange program. Exchanging of what, I had no idea. I came back to the hostel and did my laundry. I headed to the local Vietnamese grocery to assemble items for lunch, then headed back out to get to see more of Perth. I circled the street I was on (passing a gun store?) then made my way to the State of Western Australia Library. There was an incredibly moving exhibit. It was called Cicada, and it chronicled the artwork featured in the children’s book regarding the life of a cicada that was trapped in a dead-end office job. It was very heavy, leading to the protagonist’s attempted suicide, only at the final moment for him to shed his skin and fly away. I think the reason that it was so striking was that I know too many people that find themselves in the cicada’s shoes. After the children’s book induced existential crisis, I figured the best remedy was to head back to Bar 399 to see my friends.

I think the jetlag was getting to me. I had been feeling lethargic and just blah. The next day, I did take the time to head over to the gun store and talk with the owner. He told me about the gun laws in Western Australia and said that he did not think that civilians should be allowed to own handguns. I was shocked on both counts. Australia had a pretty awful mass shooting in the Port Arthur area of Tasmania in 1996 where 35 people were killed, and 23 were wounded. A 25-year-old man named Martin Bryant was responsible, which lead to incredibly strident gun laws in the entire country. It was interesting to get a local’s perspective, especially in the wake of then-current events.  I walked downtown and took a look at their knockoff Target. The giant retail company let their international copyright expire, so in both Australia and New Zealand, there is a chain of stores bearing the same brand name as well as Target trademark. It was items all made in China. After, I headed to Elizabeth Quay for a cider. There was a lovely walking path by the port with many bars and restaurants. As it was a hot day, a cider was perfect. I headed back to my hostel, where I sat writing postcards and journal entries, not sure what I was going to do the following day, but it ended up being an early night.

So, today I got up and decided to go check out Fremantle. I was not disappointed. It is a little seaside town about 30 minutes from Perth, and a few stops past Cottesloe. Just outside of the train station was Fremantle’s main street, filled with shops and restaurants. One of them was a Red Cross second-hand clothing store. There was an electric blue button-down shirt that I liked, so I got it. I walked around town and stopped by the information booth to figure out where to go. I walked to the beach, got the best fish and chips in the place (apparently, a few places sported that title), then found the statue of Bon Scott, AC/DCʼs frontman, until he died in 1980. He was a local, thus the statue, and did my favorite song of their’s It’s A Long Way To The Top (If You Want To Rock And Roll) I found a rooftop bar and had a Corona as I was at the beach.

Then I hopped the train back with the plan to walk around Perth for a bit but ended up taking a shower and a nap. I walked over to the Palace Arcade to check it out. Two stories of classic arcade games! I found an ATM and got a little cash for the next day. Theyʼre serving dinner tonight at the hostel, so I killed a little time before that. I went back to Bar 399 to keep my streak going. At dinner, I sat and drank some wine with my fellow backpackers. It was incredibly refreshing to hear their stories. Again, most were in town from either Europe or South America to either work or learn English. However, the more interesting part of the night would ensue after dinner. I became friendly with the proprietor of the hostel, an older man in his later 40’s, Chuck. Seeing how I was about a decade and a half older than most of the other guests, we developed an affinity. Chuck was an interesting fellow. He owned this hostel as well as another in town and bided his time between the two. I told him about my designs, and he told me I would love Asia. He went there every chance he could as it was much cheaper than Australia, and he loved figuring out ways to improve his places. One thing he did not need to improve was staffing. He had several beautiful young women working for him that he traded board for work. He told me that he falls in love every day with either his staff or new occupants. His current girlfriend was 22 years his junior and was caring for his seven-year-old son from a previous relationship. She understood that he was a man of appetites and did not mind his wandering eye.

As we sat out front sharing a bottle I had purchased, one of Chuck’s friends showed up. Now, this man shared the same more advanced years as Chuck but looked like he was stuck in a 90’s boyband: tight clothes, frosted tips on a receding hairline, and a sizeable tribal necklace. We kept talking, sharing my wine when the conversation changed to divorce. Somehow or another, it came to the customs in other cultures, and I piped up about how in the Muslim faith, I heard that all one needed to do was say, “I divorce you,” three times, and it the marriage was dissolved. Boyband spoke up and said I was right. He was a Muslim. I found this incredibly fascinating as again, he looked like the 6^th member of N*Sync. He said he converted for his first wife that he met in Bali. When he got tired of her always asking when he was going to bring her to Australia, he divorced her.

It was at this point there was a lot of noise coming from a nearby park. While we could not see them, we could hear them. I asked Chuck if he knew what it was, and he replied that the Abos were restless. There was a colony of homeless natives living behind a building on a nearby soccer pitch. Plied with Goon, they were loudly carrying on. As the noise became louder, Chuck invited me to join him and Boyband at a nearby bar to continue our conversation. We got an Uber there. To show my gratitude for this new insight into the workings of Australia, I bought the first round and just listened.

We talked about business, Australia, travel, and everything in between. Although, one thing stayed in my mind: Was Chuck living the male fantasy or nightmare? Every day new gorgeous young women in need would come to him, looking to either trade work or his bed for a place to stay. When one either got residency, a stable job or just left, another would take her stead. The revolving door on his establishment saw a constant cavalcade of nubile women, but there was no intimacy, no emotional investment, and no love. So was this his heaven or his hell? I would never know.

The next day was an Admin Day, as I needed to check out. I hung out at the hostel, bought some bao (a Chinese rice dumpling) for a little late lunch, and just chilled. I got rid of my last bottle of wine by putting it on the free food shelf. When I turned around again, it was gone. I walked over to Bar 399 to say goodbye to Sil, but it was closed. I did end up running into her on the way back to the hostel. We said goodbye and hugged, and she went her way, and I went mine. I took a shower, then went to the bus station then to the airport 4 hours early. It was good timing because it got very hectic very quickly. Anyway, I finished my Oceania leg of my journey and headed off to Singapore. No more gum for three days!