Queenscliff Music Festival, yes the pix are pretty weak, but the best I can offer, unfortunately. Maybe the blurry photo is indicative of what a whirlwind soul diva Betty Harris is on stage. Not bad for late 60s.

Our set was a mellow affair at 12:30 in the afternoon (arvo) on the Fishnets Stage. We had about 50 people there, a bit of applause, and played decently enough so as not to lose any sleep.

It was a multi-venue festival, and thus we could wander form stage to stage checking out a variety of music. We also had VIP status, meaning we could get a couple of free drinks in an area adjacent to the main stage, which unfortunately had terrible sightlines, but made for easy access to the front. I didn't really recognise anyone in the VIP area, perhaps if I knew the Aussie scene better I would have. Instead, I chatted with people Tammy and Eliza knew from the music scene, including Rae, my trumpet predecessor in Royalchord. She is a pianist and composer in addition to trumpet work, and has done residencies in Banff and Florida (with Sam Rivers). Full on.

Highlights of the festival were Betty Harris; Mihirangi, a Maori singer who incorporates sung loops and beats into her tunes; the Blues Train, an old steam train in which each carriage had a blues guy on acoustic guitar, and half-way through the trip the passengers change cars and thus entertainment; LABJACD, a nine piece funk-latin band with KILLER trumpet players; Fourplay, a string quartet doing modern works and covers of Radiohead; jazz quintet Baartz Freeman, whose piano player blew me away; and RnB band Blue King Brown, who I only managed to catch a bit of because it had been a really long day by that point.

Sunday was spent sleeping in, and enjoying the sun, since the previous day at the festival had been a bit cool and rainy. Also dragged myself into the mindset that I was about to leave the country, and made the final preparations for that, sitting on the suitcase, etc. We had a little barbie, and watched the epic finale of Australian Idol, the series which has been dogging me throughout Australia. Damien, the Irish dude, won it. Your fifteen minutes have started.

As I watched the over-the-top fireworks above the Sydney Opera House, I realized that this was the end for me as well, at least the Australian portion. It still hasn't sunk in, though today as I write this, the butterflies are starting to flit. The Melbourne stay was an introspective affair, essentially what I was seeking, though not in the manner I expected. It has given me much to think "aboot", as well as the urge to get back out on the road, and spin my head around the in other direction. Despite wanting to get back and begin forging a regular life for myself, I'm happy that Norm and Karen talked me into continuing my journey after all.

In a couple of minutes I'm going to hand in my keys, grab my bags, and pull the gate shut behind me. A final meal with Annie and Lee, and then I'm on a plane. For the two of you still reading this, thanks for staying with me. Drop me a line! Maintaining this blog in any sort of fashion has been difficult, though at times offered a bit of sanity too. I'm not sure if I will do it for Asia as well, since I don't know what the Net access or travel preoccupation will be like. Check here first, and if I start a new one, I'll post the address here.

As Aunt Katie put it (pandkgoskiing.blogspot.com), that's a wrap. Thanks, Ta, Conrad

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?