Dime con quién andas y te diré quién eres...

My first few nights in Vancouver were spent in the far-flung outskirts of East Hastings. My first walk into the city was an eye-opener, to say the least -- Wild junkies, lost homeless, vacant stares; beggars and the lost; living life at the bitter and unforgiving End of the Line. A sad place, a scary place. On my first night, past midnight some time, still wide awake and at the mercies of obscene jetlag, my curiosity got the better of me. As I sat there sipping at a scotch and thinking about the things I'd seen already in the daylight hours -- the people talking to themselves or yelling out at nobody and everybody, the main-vein side-alley self abuse, those wrapped up in their sleeping bags, dead to the world and covered in spew -- I wondered what happened when the lights went out and the clock passed midnight. The imagination recoiled in horror, but I had to see, or at least have a peek...
       So I went down. In the end I made it only 2 blocks down the road. Within a matter of minutes I was offered the body of a short, vacant stared woman and some crack cocaine. I gave her a smoke and tried to spark up a conversation with this lady, to gain a little perspective form her life out here, but she quickly lost interest when I refused her offers. I pulled my hood tight and pressed a little deeper. I could sense the stares, but I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact with any of them, mostly sitting in small groups, talking quietly, searching bins, scouring the gutters for decent butts. With every step I could feel the fear creeping in. I stopped on a brightly lit corner and sparked up a cigarette. I could hear a man behind me talking on a phone, talking wildly to somebody about somebody who "Killed all of those women, Fucking Killed all those fucking women... And a white guy, too". Shit was getting a bit real for me, no shit, so I spun on my heels and retreated to the safety of the Patricia Hotel. On my way back I accidentally looked at the wrong dude, who seemed to be a dropout from the skater crowd, wild haired and jumpy. As I passed him by he got up and started yelling at me, kicked a plastic cup towards me. He followed me not so far behind, a string of abuse I could not understand. I was shitting myself. The last thing I heard him say was "You got no place walking around here at this hour of the morning, man!" Indeed.
       They do it fucking tough out there. As Vancouver's nicer center slowly pushes into their district, times and space are getting harder. A lot of the cheap hotels that some of them have fought so hard to get themselves into are being repossessed to make way for nicer hotels and business places, meaning more people on the streets. A hard situation, both at ground level and for government. I mean once you get so far down the line, you become difficult to help. There are a lot of homeless in this city. A lot of people who need help.

* * *

 I spent the next couple of days going about my business, setting up a bank account and social security number; just getting acclimatised and my feet on the ground and a feel for the city. My perspective of VC was kind of a bit negative still, due to having to walk down Skid row and back every day, but I was having a good time, productive. I booked in early for a weekend at the Youth Hostel downtown, with the idea of meeting a few people, having a good time, and swapping a few stories with and copping some advice from people who were actually out there amongst Canada already doing it.  

        And so, on friday I checked in to the hostel. From there on out until today, the good times just rolled on. Friday night was Pub Night, Captains and Budweisers and rowdiness with a good good crowd at the Bourbon Bar, an American styled Country & Western Saloon bar. Loose moralled behavior. Saturday night: Drinks at the hostel with all and any comers. Aussies, French, Brazilians, Czech, and a fateful encounter with a group of ladies from San Fransisco. BC bud was discovered. Very good conversations, smoke haze and alcoblur. Soul Talk. Good Times. The power of saying G'day and offering a beer. Met at least 20 awesome awesome people over the course of the weekend.

         Sunday was awesome. Burger breakfast with my buddy Shafiqur and the ladies from SF. Larissa, Amanda, Michelle and Cristina. Shafiq and I caught up with the first 3 of the ladies (The Weed Fairies) later on that afternoon, just as they were about to go on a mission to see the Jimi Hendrix shrine on the other side of town -- via an "Amsterdam" style (BYO) cafe, where we were introduced to the VAPOURISER. Freshly baked goods, indeed. We paid our respects to the King. Jimi Hendrix's grandma owned a chicken shop there, way back when, and Jimi would visit her there. It was pretty cool. One or two of his guitars, some of his handwritten lyrics and heaps of other stuff. After that we walked back and had a memorable microwaved family meal and some ice cream. Those SF girls are really something. Awesome people on awesome paths. Good vibrations all round. A little while after that, Larissa and I kind of got all smitten and head over heels and finally got to know each other a little bit. Perfect moment in a park. Then she left the next day. I already miss her. Smitten.

         Another bender on the monday with a couple of the Aussie lads who left today (tuesday), and a day of chilling today. A hobo drew my portrait. I love Vancouver. Off the Wall in Van City. Everybody is awesome. 11/10 start to my new amazing adventure. And tomorrow, it's time to move again. East to West across the Rockies to Fernie, by way of thumb. Whisperings of a job in a hotel, only one way to find out. I'm going to the mountains now! Fuck Yeah!

       

2.0

 A weekend in Brisbane. It’s close. I almost can’t believe that I'm going to make it. It’s been some kind of weekend. I am so unbelievably thankful to all my friends and family, all those that pulled me through my life over the last 12 months --27 years; I really couldn’t live without you. I’m a bit of a freeloader and lately I’ve been taking a lot more than I’ve been giving back. I can be a burden, the human tax. I really don’t deserve the friends I’ve got. I fucking love all of you. I can't give you much but me and some friendship, so thanks for being there for me, even when I've sometimes been a fuck wit. I’ve had the best time, though. My friends are the most awesome people in world. I mean that so much.
And now that you’ve all dragged my  over the line this time, I am soon to find myself alone for a while. Time to learn how to stand up for myself, a jump in the deep end. I’m scared as shit, but so keen. I am embarking on an incredible journey. From my big brown land of Oz to the mountains and snow of Canada, hitchhiking through the US at election time with the Mayor, the remains of Ché and Fidel’s revolution, to the lands of Mayan and Inca, mystical Ayahuasca and so much more, all wrapped up in 2012, the year everyone thinks the World’s going to end. So bear with me. This is going to be something, no doubt about it; so keep posted for DANGER!  EXCITEMENT! INEXPLICABLE FUCKUPS!  .... Romance?; Growing, learning and picking up a little wisdom on the long path to enlightenment and being a man. So I present to you; Jim's Journey 2.0

Extra Super Mega-Thanks to Reannyn and Muz, Smitty and Nicole, Benny and Dave, Eddy, Jjimmy and my MUM!

I owe it all to you.