Today is November 26th, my last full day in Australia. Hard to believe that I'll be on a plane to Asia in a matter of hours, a trip that I still can't quite fathom is going to happen. I knock on wood that it goes well.
I don't know exactly when or why it happened, but my experience in Melbourne started to change after that first weekend here, and with it my attitude and outlook over the next two weeks. It has been a matter of much thought (dwelling?), trying to interpret how I interpret, and I'm sure I'll still be trying to figure it out for some time to come.
As it turned out, planned meetings with travellers failed to materialize, as did the jams and musical outings which I'd felt blessed to have fall into my lap. Tammy, my main contact here, was dealing with matters which which left her less than energetic or keen on showing her Canadian aquaintance the sights. I am extremely grateful, however, for the time she did spend with me, as well the people to whom she introduced me. I was left to my own devices during the day, and didn't know anyone I could hang out with for a bit of company. Furthermore, a sudden spell of cold lousy weather (hail!) dampened everyone's spirits.
As for me, the rigours of travel, and desire to explore both the day and night aspects of each place I visited were now catching up with me, leaving me with no motivation to be curious about where was I presently. I had arrived here with the naive notion that I would automatically be "one of the gang", and found myself simply a room-mate. Perhaps I had raised my expectations too high, or not clearly thought about what I would do to pass the time in an environment where folk had their own lives and were working full time, while I was accustomed to the fantasy culture of non-working, fun-seeking wide-eyed travellers. I began to feel like a third wheel in many ways, the over-eager dog waiting for its owners to come home, a dud who needed to be led around. I felt equally out of touch with events back home, hearing of things second-hand, if at all.
I was also frustrated musically, as there had been no replies to initial contacts (shoulda known), and as the nights to the clubs to watch or play were rapidly turning into solo missions, I lost the taste for that too. Furthermore, a reluctance of the band to rehearse made me a bit stressed about the upcoming shows, the very reason I was staying in this foreign environment as long as I was. I began to respect that the art of music-making, in addition to the unreachable horizon of skill with which I'd be satisfied, relied on singular drive, years of networking, freshness of ideas, and clever marketing savvy with which I'd never been blessed. The months of impromptu jam stunts had been fun, not to mention good for my ear, but perhaps gave me a false sense of my musicianhood.
In short, the comfort, solitude, serenity, and exploration I had been looking forward to transformed into alienation and loneliness. I was losing the muster to enrich others' lives, and simply desperate to satisfy my own. So much for the intrepid traveller, now I was questioning my validity as a musician and a person. The neon signs reading "The trip is what you make it", "One shot", and "Solo is the best way to travel" kept flashing in my mind, but now I just wanted to smash them. Here I was in this great city, and I was wasting it. It was a tough time for me, and I'm thankful for communications with my mom and brother, and friends Salim, Sab, and Eric for keeping me going.
Why do I publish these darkened perspectives for the world to read? Simply put, they are as real a part of this adventure as beaches and waterfalls. I've spoken to quite a few folk who have travelled alone for long periods, and tough times such as these seem to be a common experience. It sucks at the time, but it really does teach you to pull yourself up by the bootstraps, as well as appreciate what you do have. It has made me realize how important my family is to me, and how much I miss the folks at home.
I continued to swim just to keep my blood flowing, and practice horn to prevent total boredom and utter embarrassment. After about a week of the negative thinking (the dog chasing its tail?), I decided that Australia wasn't going to end like this. I'm sure I was re-invigorated by a decent gig at Northcote Social Club on November 19th, opening for American songwriter Jason Molina (who as part of his banter gave a little spiel about missing the changing colours of autumn while on the road - gulp!). Additionally, in a week I'd be boarding a plane for Asia, something new to get stoked about.
Nor was this time a total write-off, as there were many high points: touring Cap. Paul Watson's Sea Shepard boat with Leon before it departed Melbourne to combat pirate whalers; a trip to CERES environmental centre and a crazy night on the town with Tammy's friend Cat; the Paul Williamson Hammond Combo at the Rainbow Hotel in Fitzroy (glad I didn't bring the horn that night, or I would have been humbled by young trumpet upstart Amon); a night of experimental music at Bar Open in Fitzroy (yes, a bit of key-jangling); hooking up with Sean, the guy on my Tassie trip who outdrank the pig, for a good night at Hotel Bakpak (and incidentally, a night out in the company of other travellers also did wonders to refresh my sagging spirits); a night out with Annie and Lee; hanging out for the afternoon with producer/percussionist Beno, marvelling at his toys and picking his brain for insights; and an afternoon at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image at Federation Square (sorta pictured), which had an exhibit on pre-film trickery of the eye and entertainment through motion, as well as a free library of multimedia installations. I should have come here a week before I did! Ah well, the things you learn, right?
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home