Out Back in the Outback

Yeeah, still on the travels.  Seems like I haven't been home in a while, but then again, seems like everywhere I go is home, and Roebourne is definitely anotherhome, whereverhome, whateverhome-boyy.  A lot of events have occurred in the past couple of days, and I want to put everything down, but that would be quite near impossible.  But I'm here, as comfortable as can be, at Andrew and Sharmila's home in Roebourne, Western Australia.  And yeah, Andrew and I were chillin in the backyard earlier, and I was like this is the life for sure, out back in the outback, with good people, good food, good feelings.  Thanks Andrew and Sharmila.  I really feel back in the element, and you know this, I'm feeling the land.I am in Western Australia, the state that is my destination, just a couple hours drive south of my specific destination within WA, Broome, where the pearl farms are.  Yesterday, I visited Cossack, where the first pearl farms were established in 1864, and where I definitely saw my first croc in the little inlet there.  That foo saw me and dipped under into the muddy soup.  Gnarly, and the skeptics shall know that me and that foo met eyes before he descended.  The crocodile I saw at Cossack shall heretofore be called That Foo.  That Foo better not bite me when I'm diving and shit.  Watch your tail, Mr. Foo.

That's not a croc, it's a crazy floating beetle.  Less harmful yeah.  Floating around a bit, it took a while for me to get up here, finally to Roebourne, but I found some of the best and warmest solace from my backpacker's solitude my second and last night in Perth, when I was mumbling in front of an ATM in central Perth getting money out for a deposit on a room at the Aberdeen Lodge.  My prepaid Telstra mobile rang, and it was Sharmila's mum, on whose machine I left a couple messages earlier.  She was super coo and said, "Would you like a free bed?"  Woooooooooooo!  And I had the most super comfortable, hospitable dinner and conversations and best sleep in a while, not worrying about weird dudes staring through the dark or waking up to find my backpack replaced with a bag of roo-shit.  Soooo nice.  Great grate-ful-ness, for sure.

Then I rolled out on the Greyhound Australia for a 24 hour ride up from Perth to Roebourne.  Awww, the characters on this bus!  A chapped lipped writer who was going to pick fruit on a whim, an old retired French lady who still had to work to pay for the 7 homes she had all around the world, a country teenager who was blacklisted for driving drunk on the highways- "The speed.  That's what I live for- the speed and the bush."  We watched Dude Where's My Car on the bus DVD together.  Annnd theeennn  

Yeah, good times.  Here's a pic of the bugger that crossed the Nullarbor, across the continent from Sydney to Perth.  It's called the Indian Pacific Railroad, and it's one of the longest in the hemisphere.  I saw it roll in before I left for Roebourne.

 

 These travellers, these beasts, these flying wonders.  Now, I'm immersed in the land, red, like this face of movement.  Finally.  I want to learn more about the land.  Then on to the ocean.  As of now, though, beside the rocks, where spirits are good.  Later.

On to the West Side

When I was in hunior High, I remember reading with particular devotion a certain Japanese comic book called Captain Tsubasa. It was a story about this kid soccer player in Japan who becomes one of the greatest to ever play-- his touch on the ball is like music, every ball and person he meets playing football he befriends (Yes, soccer balls are his friends.) Anyway, my older brother was into the main story, but I was more interested in some of the side stories, like this guy Shingo who never really got recognition in high school ball but moved to Italy on his own to try to make it on a team in Milan while shining shoes near some fountain. So this kid was an amazing juggler, and he'd go do crazy tricks with the ball without having it ever touch the ground, kind of street performing for loose change. And the way the artist drew the football pictures made you feel like you were better after you looked at them, you know? Like you can do the same shit, rolling the ball off your heel into the air and balancing it on your forehead like nothing.

Anyway, on my last night in Sydney, I met the personification of Shingo in the mall under the Sydney Tower. I was skating by when a soccer ball rolled to me, and I was super happy because I'd been wanting to kick around a ball, so a couple Japanese dudes and I had a small juggling session, then they started drumming, I danced around a bit, and this kid started a one man show, attracted a crowd of like 35 in this mall, and killed it. Killed it. Everyone in the area was drop-jawed by his soccer skills. And they gave really good money for the show. I chilled with them a bit, and turns out they all met there and made their living with the show. They were all down dudes. Talk about inspiration. Regrettably I have no photos, sorry.

So after that I got on a plane this morning to Western Australia, had a verrrry pleasant bus ride through the suburbs of Perth, and am now in a shabby-esque hostel in the city, having a good time chillin out. Feels kinda like a frat house. No beer-pong though, alcohol isnt allowed in here. Oh yeah, I finished Bill Bryson's book In a Sunburned Country (Down Under in Australia) on the plane today. Super good, funny, informative, check it out if you're interested in reading about Australia. All right, onward up north soon. Laater

Shid-knee

This morning I awoke to the wonderful aroma of the guy in the bunk above me dumping four gallons of Axe/Tag body spray directly into my sinuses and throat. The smell is so nice; I’m sure that he’ll spit many a dope a game with the ladies today. I ate breakfast and came back and the entire 8-bunk room was still stenched completely. The fact that the Sydney Railway Square youth hostel is probably the best I’ve stayed in made me forget the cologne attack, though. I sit in the communal living room now, the sun going down in the big windows between financial buildings of Sydney.

I admit, the last entry I wrote in Okinawa was pretty wack—rushed and non-informative. The typhoons held me back a day in Okinawa, which turned out to be nice—I was able to relax an extra day with my girlfriend, her family, and some friends. Then two nights ago I left for Sydney by way of Taipei. I met this Norwegian chick on the plane; she was wearing a WESC hoodie in the waiting area and it was that weird thing where we ended up sitting next to each other. During the flight and train ride to the Central Station we talked and I slept a lot. She was on her way to Sydney to climb mountains and chase her boyfriend. Finding parallels in our situations, it was pretty dope to be able to witness their reunion in the rain at the train station. Like a movie—if I was a film director, I couldn’t have directed it any better.

So that was yesterday, last night I played foosball and billiards with two Belgian dudes and this guy Sam from the south of London who asked everyone to carve their names in his guitar with a knife. Explored with this Japanese dude who’s leaving for Melbourne in a bit. Today, head groggy from the Axe Attack, I took off to skate the city, and went all around the financial district, Darling Harbour, Royal Gardens… I had one of those timeless skate sessions with this teenager with earphones in his ears and fingerless gloves at a triple three stair mellow spot. We didn’t talk at all—he ripped, and we were both like yeah or dare I say jeah. For some reason I got back-180s on lock. I was thinking it’s a committal thing. Feels good to be committed to these travels. A lot of positive energy in Sydney—though there was a dude singing “Whyyy should I caarre whyyy should I caaarre?” walking around. That’s a good question. Maybe it’s pointless to care like Meursault (sic?) in Camus’ L’etranger. But as of now I care about my next meal. Later yawl.

Embark Down Under

Thought I'd drop a line before I drop a turd in line with the wonderful people about to get on this Taiwan flight. There was a gnarly typhoon yesterday that hit Taiwan (the winds and rain in Okinawa were intense at times, but I'm sure the island over near China got it bad) so my flight was cancelled. I got an extra day to kick it and chill before getting to the west coast of Australia. Damn the ticker on the internet 100 Yen is going fast. I'll be back. Many nice goodbyes in Okinawa. Island home.

It`s been begun

Greetings yawl. I moved away from Los Angeles last week for good- meaning not "for good" as in necessarily forever but for the good of spirit, myself, and potato salad tastes everywhere (turns out pasta goes pretty well in potato salad, had some last night). I'm a wanderer for real now, bent on making the most of what I've got, wherever I'm at (currently Okinawa, Japan, then on to Sydney and Broome in three days). And I thought I'd put it down on this weblog treefrog thing, so check back if you're ever interested in toxicity and bright colors (both of which may be lacking, in fact, but interest is a coo concept anyway).

This is the intro, like "Just when you thought it was overrr...." on that Gravediggaz album (haha Geoff), or like the prologue to that Danielewski novel House of Leaves where it gets all crazy right from the title page. Since I no longer have a true home (recently left the Comfort of Colby, parents sold the house, and my skateboard isn't large enough for my sleeping bag), I've decided that this blog will be a home for my ideas. From now on, Home is Wherever I'm at. "Village Well" is simply the chinese characters of my last name (村井）loosely translated. So dip a bucket.

Here's a photo taken at a park nearby the school where I'm looking into a future job in Ginowan City, Okinawa. The giant mammal whose teeth I'm picking is called a shiisaa, kind of an Okinawan gargoyle. I asked a large beetle the size of the original iPod to take a pic of me cleaning his gums. Okay, dunno how often I can get back again, but check the well whenever. And let me know how you're doing too. Bye-cha.