Australia, a land with uninhabited landscapes and incredible natural attractions that inspire superlatives like "Great" in Great Barrier Reef. The combination of its location "down under," and exotic natural features, were intriguing to me as an American. From a distance, the less complicated lifestyle and independent spirit of the Australian lifestyle seemed both familiar and yet different. I had been excited to travel there since I was eight years old when I first opened an atlas and became intrigued about the huge floating continent in the south pacific. As if I needed more reason to travel there, my cousin Ben had agreed to fly from the States to meet me in Australia.
My cousin, his dad, our grandfather, his dad's cat, and myself all carry the distinction of having the same first name. Because of this a certain linguistically uncertainty permeated our family gatherings. "BennY" or "BenITO" we say, mumbling the Ben and revving up the "Y" and "ITO" to avoid feeling like there is an inane echo in the room. Cousin Ben and I never got tired of the chuckling responses that inevitably ensued after introductions to strangers on our trip through Australia.
Cousin Ben and I meet in Sydney. He flew from Washington and I came from Bangkok. "BennY!" "Cousin Ben!" we exclaimed as we greeted each other with a hug. Yet, the first few minutes our conversation foreshadowed how difficult it would be for me to reacquaint myself to friends, family, and former life after having spent so much time on the road moving from place to place. Even with the simplest of observations my perspective has shifted.
"How are you?" he said with his Doonesbury shaped conical head not shared by any other Stefano or Robertaccio.
"Fine, what's happening!?"
"Man, its been long! What is going on Cuz!?"
"Whew, lots! Home good? Sydney's chilly!" I said with squared shoulders but still smiling.
"I know, it's nice!" he said still feeling the relative cold of March in Washington.
"Nice room you got us. How much did it cost?"
"Not much. I got a good deal at $80 a night." Cousin Ben said with a proud smile like those found on a serial shopper at a “buy one get one free" shoe sale. Eighty dollars a night? After where I had just come from, $80 sounded like a fortune. I felt weirdly uncomfortable and it took some time for me to adjust to modern life and expenses in Australia.
In the end, the relative cost disparity between Australia and the other countries I had been traveling through for the past year, proved to be a greater discomfort for Cousin Ben than myself. Cousin Ben would have to endure my compulsive and repetitive comparisons to Asia. As if I had a verbal tick, most sentences for me would start with, "In Thailand." Followed most often with, "…that only costs..."
We decided to shake off my economic nausea with a walk around the city. But, my adjustment to the westernized world required more than adjusting my economic perspective. Here my head looked up to the beautiful skyline framed by a harbor and hills instead of straight ahead towards the intriguing foreign faces of the locals. Before I left on this trip rush hour in Washington DC, was an annoyance. Now the organized bustle of the worker's daily commute became a symbol for how the acquisition of wealth is an activity and possibility for most in the westernized world. Sydney's zoned neighborhoods, green city parks, clean air, and an organized transportation network, reminded me of the luxuries I'd long forgotten. The lack of sewer smell and choking exhaust fumes were just two differences that went unnoticed by Cousin Ben.
After spending a few days "Pub'ing" in Sydney we decided to head towards the Australia of my childhood dreams, the Great Barrier Reef followed by the Outback. Since cousin Ben had only the typical two-week American holiday, we decided to fly between locations instead of buying a cheap car as I had originally planned. We traveled from Sydney to Cairns, to Cape Tribulation, to the Great Barrier Reef, to the outback, and back to Sydney with unfortunate haste.
As we embarked on our quest to find the Australia of my childhood dreams, little did I know that the quest would prove to be more difficult than I could have possibly imagined.
Cousin Ben and I used Cairns, an ocean-side tourist trap town with unswimable "box jellyfish" -infected water, as a hub to get to Cape Tribulation and the Reef. We quickly left this town of facades to go to "where the rain forest meets the reef". Like many of the places we visited in Australia, the only way to get there was by a canned tour. So, Cousin Ben and I piled on a bus where the driver wore a headset microphone through which he chirped his corny canned jokes. Stopping for a rain forest walk, a croc-spotting boat ride, and a "you have thirty minutes to eat" lunch, Cousin Ben and I were glad when we finally arrived at Cape Tribulation. There, on a beach - surrounded by the croc and box jellyfish infested water - we witnessed a spectacle that would serve to encapsulate our Australian experience.
While hiking on the Cape Tribulation beach, Cousin Ben and I decided to stop a rest for while. We stopped at a spot where a small stream from the forest met the bay. We were warned, "by no means do you enter the water. If the crocs don't get you the box jellies will!" The water was shallow but it was tea-colored enough that we decided not to wade across to the other side. Instead we rested on a log joking that every rustle and every disturbance in the water was a croc ready to pounce, do a death roll, and cause one of us to become the talk of every future family gathering.
"What's worse, death by dismemberment or the seven minutes of a slow suffocating shock induced death of a box jellyfish sting?" Cousin Ben asked as we scanned the area for the possible threats.
Uncomfortable with the possibility of our jokes becoming reality we stopped talking. The silence was broken when a couple walked out of the shrubbery towards the shallow watery divide.
"Maybe your question will be answered," I mumbled to cousin Ben half joking.
"I bet the guy will try to make it and the girl will resist," I predicted to Cousin Ben. With a thumbs-up gesture to acknowledge my bet our log became a seat in the Roman coliseum where gladiator, crocodile and jellyfish battled.
However, what we were about to witness was not a battle between nature and man. Instead, it turned out to be a battle between the comfort of the familiar and the intrigue of the unknown.
The gait of the man and woman slowed as they neared the water's edge. There the woman stood silently as the man slowly rattled off his assessment of danger. "We can walk across. They're no crocs here," he said finally looking over to check in with the woman. She slowly rotated her head away looking into the distance.
"Come on! We'll be on the other side in a minute tops." "Look, I'll go first" he said. Before he could finish his step towards the water the woman yelled, "Charles! Stop!" and stared to cry. "Fifty steps and we'll be across!" he yelled slapping his hands on his thighs in frustration.
"I feel uncomfortable. I'm scared." The woman said through her tears. "But it's only a foot deep. You can see what is in the water," he said trying to reason with her. "I don't feel good about this Charles!" she said crossing her arms.
"They're going," I excitingly said to cousin Ben. "She's going to freak out" cousin Ben replied as we both kept our eyes forward in anticipation. Charles turned towards the woman, leaned into her cheek and whispered something inaudible. He grabbed her hand and led her to the water's edge. Both stuck their foot in slowly like they were stepping into a scalding hot tub. "Come on baby. You can do it. See there's no crocs here," he said trying to keep her going forward until he tripped and almost fell into the water. "That's it! I'm scared," the women yelled shaking her fingers at her sides. "We're going back now!" she said to Charles with determination in her voice. The last thing we heard Charles mutter was a defeated "Ok." The woman firmly walked away occasionally turning her head to yell something at Charles. Charles followed her back into the shrubbery.
This turn from excitement and danger to the safety of the shore mimicked my own step from my often dangerous, yet never boring travails throughout Asia, to the safe, urbanized and thoroughly westernized Australia. The dreams of the exotic Australia of my youth were now clouded with the Australia I had witnessed, an Australia that could pass for almost any place in America. I avowed to myself to go back to Asia, and not, like the couple I encountered, turn back to the safety of the familiar. Here in Australia I realized how much I missed the intrigue and allure of the road less traveled.
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