The End of One Season Merely Means the Beginning of the Next

Hardly 3 months have gone by since I arrived in Jindabyne and it is already time to leave. That was quite different to my usual experiences in a variety of ways; many hard to describe. For the better part of the season, weather in town was quite mild. Tshirts, skateboards and open windows ran rife while the wind up top made skin coverage a necessity.

Beautiful Girls concerts and a real melting pot of instructors on the hill. Austria, Switzerland, Slovenia, Sweden, Czech, Australia, New Zealand, Scotland, The US, Finland; you name it. Doing a season in Australia is, in many ways, very different to what I had expected.

At first glance I could not figure out why people kept coming back year after year; comparatively poor snow conditions, low pay, no guaranteed hours, employee perks few and far between... so why come back then?

It took me the better part of the season to figure it out but it's the people and the atmosphere that keep people coming back. The energy that the culture brings to the place can be felt all around you and why? I can't really answer that but at a guess I'd say it's because that's the only way to get by. Why are the Irish and Jews such famous comedians? Some say it's because they've had a pretty crappy time of it. Maybe that's the case here as well. Because the quality of life is not served up on a silver platter you have to look for it- perhaps that makes it so much more satisfying when it's found.

The house parties were excellent and when there was a sunny day down in town you appreciated taking a soccer ball and a few beers down by the lake. It felt good and the feelings were mutual. In a way it also served to cull the weak. If you could make it through an employer season after season they way Perisher treated you? You had to have a strong and positive personality or you'd get eaten alive. Frankly I didn't make it through easily. The word stubbornness rather than perseverence springs to mind.

We certainly found ways to keep ourselves entertained. When we weren't trying new stuff in the park or building craggy little jumps in between the trees; we were making funky photos with our camera, playing poker, hitting the skate park, learning card tricks or sneaking in to local resorts' trampoline facility to practice our inverted skills. You know; typically productive behavior of any good 26 year old.

More than anything; being around some pretty good photographers is slowly teaching me a thing or two about using this semi-SLR camera of mine. I've come a long way since David's 17th birthday present. Although giving it some thought I'm pretty sure he just bought me that in the hope that I'd take pictures of girls. What was he thinking?

It was sad to leave but exciting at the same time. I've lined up a few weeks in Perth, a wakeboarding trip in Thailand, a quick visit to friends in Sweden and Amsterdam before flying over to Canada to start a new season there. Who knows, maybe I'll take some of this positive engergy with me this time?

From Jindabyne to Perisher

For a variety of reasons; from bad internet connections to issues at work right through to moving into my third house - I have massively neglected the Wanderer.

Here we are two months later and I've finally pulled my finger out.

After a few days in Sydney to visit Amy - who has since given birth to little baby Sonia, the Wanderer is now an uncle! - I jumped on the bus down to Jindabyne. The road down is the most quintessential of Australian landscapes. A scene straight out of The Heidelberg or The Man from Snowy river; it's no surprise that half of the places in town are named after Banjo Paterson. A short 7 hours later I was setting about town and settling in to my new place. My roommates were veterans here, lift operators mostly who seemed like a good bunch who didn't mind a beer or two. I had a room to myself for a few days before Bobby moved in.

Bob was an interesting character, I couldn't tell if it was his accent or if he had some kind of speech impediment; but basically it was bloody hard to understand a word he said. As a pretty heavy sleeper, I'm not normally bothered by snoring but this was something else. Whimpering noises, snoring, talking... it made sleep a little difficult. Otherwise the house was pretty good, good people, but it got a bit much after a while so I moved on.

House number two seemed alright at first- I even went over to meet my new housemates and checked the place out before I moved in. What I didn't realise is that I was living with the biggest stoner on earth and pretty incredibly messy house habited house mates in general. The mess, the laziness and the tiny rooms lead me to look elsewhere once again. Third time is a charm so far though; I moved in across the street with another snowboard instructor and so far has been smooth sailing.

About a week ago I was playing poker at a friend's place with the guy who replaced me in house number 1. He started telling me a story that made my particularities over living circumstances feel a little wiser. A few nights earlier, Linden (my replacement) woke in the middle of the night to some strange mumbling/whimpering noises. Slowly finding his bearings he looked up to see Bob standing over him, mumbled a few incomprehensible 'words' and walked away. Linden thought little of it and turned over to get back to sleep. Not two minutes later did he feel a strange sensation either side of him... something wet? He felt around and there were two distinct wet patches on the bed. As he sat himself up to investigate he saw Bob sitting on his bed, completely naked and the horrible truth became clear. He had walked in his sleep to find the toilet - my old bed...

Jindabyne is a town at the bottom of the mountains on the banks of a man-made lake created by the Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric project. Most of the staff from both Thredbo and Perisher live in town and the better part of skiers find themselves a place to stay and make the daily 20minute drive to the Ski Tube to spend their day on the slopes. Most of the time you can get around Jindabyne in a t-shirt and jeans, maybe a jumper to find yourself 20 minutes later in minus 5 degrees surround by snow. It's an interesting set-up they have here. Most of the time we can organise a lift with friend and co-workers to get to the train, but sometimes it's easier just to hitch-hike. It's such a well-established tradition here in Jindabyne that you don't even need to stick your thumb out- you can just stand at the hitching point and without fail, in just a few minutes you'll be picked up by any variety of people, tourists and locals, young and old... it gives the town a real community feeling and can usually keep you pretty entertained for the boring drive up. More importantly; it helps keep you distracted from the distressing image of the flattened Australian fauna that litters Kosciusko Road.

Working in Australia I have never felt so unsafe on the slopes. Front Valley is the best place around for low-level riders because of it's clarity and accessibility but the chaos that ensues can be terrifying. People with absolutely no idea about skiing/boarding get their gear on and jump on the chair that accesses the 'green' run. They then get to the top, look down and think: "oh crap, now how do you stop on these things?" Long heavy objects with sharp metal edges attached to 60+kg people with no idea and no control can lead to some pretty disastrous collisions. I am surprised I haven't seen worse injuries while managing to avoid being cleaned up myself (touch wood). My theory is that Australians have an attitude that steers them away from lessons in favor of trying it out with little or no idea where to start. "Aussies having a crack" might be a charming element of our culture but it has no place in the snowsports industry. They are not only endangering their own lives but risk causing severe injury to those around them. While many falls result in a tumble, a laugh and back on the horse- the potential is pretty horrifying. Unfortunately there is no system in place to make lessons mandatory.

The Visit Home

Perth is fantastic. It's apparently Winter and the weather is unbelievable. You can't really fault it. Sure there were rainy periods - but only a handful of days were anything to complain about - a handful of days in 5 weeks is not actually much to complain about in the big scheme of things.

The visit home was a bit of an eye opener though; the majority of my friends have moved on. Jobs, houses, dogs, wives and in several cases; children. This is not a world I belong in right now and it really showed this trip.

I had a couple of friends on the same page and we did our best to make use of the evenings and weekends but Perth's nightscene leaves one wanting. It just doesn't shape up to the rest of the world and yet people still think they are the shit. Why is that I wonder?

You have to give Perth some credit though. They are doing their best; new bars and clubs are opening up around town and they aren't all replicas of the Cott, Bayview and aren't all in Northbridge.

Having just come from Sweden; one of the most notoriously expensive places on this earth for alcohol, I suddenly found myself in horror at the bar in Perth. $9 for a pint? $14 for a vodka redbull? What are these people on? My best theory is that the mining boom sent prices up as minors flooded into town all cashed up with nowhere to go; but what about the rest of us? Particularly the temporarily unemployed people back at home with mamma? How are we supposed to get on the sauce?

My promises of masses of skateboarding and exercise through the nose turned into a last minute attempt to gym it up - about 6 sessions in 10 days; not a bad effort.

And now for something completely different

Taking a break from Wandering, my brother-in-law put me onto an interesting bit of material. Stuff White People Like caught my eye with its Seinfeld-like observational humor and sucked me right in with its observations about career paths and Snowboarding. I like to think that the dry humor evident here is something I strive towards when I am going off on some random tangent. The book gets the Wanderer's thumbs up.

Preparing for NSW

To anyone who got all the way through my last post: well done but also: what the hell is wrong with you? In light of how ridiculously long-winded, directionless and alcoholic I have become blog-wise I am vowing to make an effort to make the next phase of the Wanderer a little more civilised and interesting. After all; partying is great when you're there (Thailand? Best 10 days in all my travels) but doesn't make for good copy. As I do the family (big sis is ready to pop out her first) and friends thing here in Perth and the temperature drops over east, I am gearing up for a fresh season in Perisher; my first on home turf. Put onto it by my Brother-in-law, I have been informed that white people like snowboarding.

Island Hopping

Thailand turned into a bit of a blur of partying. Arriving at Bangkok airport with only the vaguest of ideas of what I was going to do: I bought myself a ticket down to Samui that would have me arrive sometime after 10 at night with no where to stay.

In fact, keeping in mind I had little to no plan and ignoring the fact I had a massive suitcase, several large jackets, thermal socks and a laptop; this was the most backpacker-esque 'Wanderer' trip I have done in a long time.

While waiting for my flight down to the island I met an English guy named Sean. After a few minutes of talking we found out we had more or less the same plan and decided to try to find a place that night. What started out as the exchange of a few words turned into 10 days of financially efficient craziness.

We dumped our stuff in our hotel room and headed out to the bars. In reality: Koh Samui is a little seedy in terms of the nightlife. Hundreds of sleezy Thai girls clawing at the white tourists that come into the bars. They start to get a bit inventive with their approach after a while, jumping on people like monkeys, flashing their expensive implants and... playing connect 4? you name it. Not really my scene but we managed to have some fun. It really hit home that I was in Thailand when I was constantly harassed by lady-boys on the walk home from the bars at 3 in the morning. They drive up and down the main street on their mopeds looking for unsuspecting tourists to take home and... my imagination didn't go much further than that but hey, at least they're honest: "Hey sweety, come back to my place!" "Do you have a penis?" "Well, yes, but look at these!" "Well they're very nice and props to your surgeon but no thanks."

On our second day on Samui we had dinner at the hostel's restaurant and met a couple of other young guys on a similar trail to us. One of them seemed to be your typical quiet, well educated, well off kid> about 19 years old and pretty inexperienced on the world scale... Get a few pints into him and suddenly an insane party animal appeared. It was all we could do to keep him from getting up on the tables and dancing in a pub with perhaps 20 people in it. When the live cover band offered him the mic our jaws dropped to the floor as he ripped up the stage and took the veteran performers by surprise. As the night progressed we collected a little entourage of European tourists around us and I managed to keep up the Swedish a little and even got to test my Norwegian skills: or lack thereof.

After two nights on Samui we decided it was time to move on. Along the way I heard rumors of the full moon party on Koh Pha-Nang that was coming up in just a few days. So we stocked up on supplies (mostly water to nurse our severe hangovers) and headed for the ferry. Due to lack of organisation; we were subjected to copious amounts of waiting and lugging luggage but come about 4pm we arrived at our destination.

For pretty much the same money we managed to get ourselves a gorgeous room with fantastic airconditioning, nice beds, clean, tv, great bathroom and a balcony with ocean views and an amazing hammock. It was a little out of the way but this turned out to be a good thing. The main area on Koh Pha-Nang is a penninsula with most of the action on the north-east beach. Rin Bay View was right on the south-east beach giving us peace and quiet just a 10 minute walk from the action.

After dumping our gear, taking a quick shower and getting changed we started a long wander of the streets to quickly discover a totally different feel from Samui. Koh Pha-Nang is quieter and feels generally safer and friendlier. The streets are littered with small delis, tattoo shops, all kinds of restaurants - all of which are constantly playing some kind of movie, 24/7 episodes of Friends or Family Guy, clothes boutiques and of course: bucket stalls. The beach is bursting with bucket stalls. A small ikea-style plastic bucket, filled with ice, half a bottle of Thai whiskey, a Thai Red Bull and your choice of soft drink makes for a very potent and inexpensive drink. On the down side they are quite addictive and after a few Thai Red Bulls... even at 5am sleep is far from a possibility.

Falling asleep took some time and as such; so did waking up. We ventured down to the beach in the late afternoon to get a refreshing swim and a bit of sun in before the next bucket wave. The life on the beach is amazing. Surrounded by all kinds of accents, one could spend an afternoon trying to work out where people are from. England, Australia, Sweden, Norway, Spain, Italy, Germany... I can´t think of anywhere else where that kind of diversity is so at ease and in such a small space. After buying myself a beer a little before sunset, we kept ourselves entertained by a bunch of Swedes behind us throwing each other several meters in the air while doing backflips. I felt like I had found the wanderer´s mecca.

Unfortunately, far from the pure and utopian portrayal of Thailand by Leonardo DiCaprio in The Beach we were those drunken idiots on the mainland. We were the stumbling fools that had no idea of the purity that was just across the water. And we loved it.

Out to dinner that evening we sat ourselves at a big table in front of a movie and tuckered into some Pad Thai: the cheapest and possibly best dish on the menu. As seating options in the restaurant became slim we started to let a few groups of people join as at the table and before we knew it there were 7 Swedish girls sitting around and chatting to us. After all, part of the reason I went to Thailand in the first place was to keep up my language skills.

After dinner we headed down to the beach to get onto the buckets and enjoy the fire performers. Ball and chains, staffs, fire blowing - the kind of things they were doing would completely destroy and OH&S here- flaming poles flying into crowds of people? Only in Thailand. Whistles blew and before we knew it they were putting together the balloon game. Pretty straight forward; everyone ties a balloon to one foot and tries to put everyone else´s with the other. The winner gets a free drinks. The game is set up into rounds and when the whistle blows... stay on your toes. We soon discovered this was just about a nightly event in the absence of utter craziness (ie. the Full Moon Party)

Later that night we heard about a place called Mellow Magic Mushroom Mountain: a couple of bars on the cliff at the end of the beach. So incredibly dangerous walking up and down those rocky steps... and couldn´t stop thinking... How is this place legal?! What felt like 20 minutes there turned out to be 5 hours and after speaking with some people who had spent way too much time there, we made our way down to the beach. We ran into an American guy who spun the most passionate and amazing story about the perfect beach and to quickly get on the boat with him to paradise. We quickly conferred amongst the 3 of us and decided: what the hell, why not? Once we were away it turned out he was completely full of it and just wanted some company for the trip to his bungalow on the other beach. But even though we were conned, it turned out to be a pretty fantastic beach and we got to meet Yut, Sammy and Claus. The Thai-Rastafarian who ran a little hut on the beach with music, beers and great chicken sandwiches and his two ´local´ Italian/Germans who tried in vain to get us to try every drug I had ever heard of. On the day before the Full Moon Party we got to bed about 10am.

The actual Full Moon party was a bit much actually. Easily 10,000people on one beach and a blend of music so that you couldn´t make anything out. Perhaps we had too much fun the two nights before? Randomly I ran into two of the girls I worked with in Norway. You can imagine on a insanely crowded beach in Thailand, you don´t really expect to run into people you know...

Two days later we jumped on yet another boat to check out the smaller island of Koh Tao. Unfortunately we didn´t allow ourselves enough time to dive as one does on Koh Tao: the island for us became more or less a repeat of Koh Pha-Nang. But better in many ways, quieter, cleaner: but more expensive unfortunately. Koh Tao for me? More buckets, more chill lounge-bars on the beach and better quality fire-twirling. Getting the crowd involved and twirling chains and poles at the same time? Quality stuff.

Two days later we got on the boat to Samui to begin the end of the trip. We met a couple of Finns and from there things got a little crazy. Basically we jumped on a last minute plane to Bangkok after a few cocktails on Samui and got driven all over the city in Tut Tuts and went to the most exclusive clubs with the priciest drinks and in a haze I headed back to Bangkok airport to start the journey back to Perth. This was a series of events that led to me not sleeping for two days and when I got home at 2am I seemed to still have the energy to debrief with mamma and have a slideshow.


Obviously this lack of sleep didn't really equip me too well to deal with the excess luggage charges I got stung with trying to get out of Asia. The best I could do was get a $700 charge down to about $400 by getting it shipped back to Australia. Turns out this whacked me in the end anyway as quarantine needed to look at my sneakers to make sure there weren't contaminants on them and thus incurred an inspection charge. I love excess luggage.

Saying goodbye was an emotional time. Such fun has not been had in a long time and we are beginning talks for another round of Island Hopping later this year.

Svenska Drömmar

It's good being able to communicate a bit more thoroughly and effectively again, but having said that the Swedish influence still shows itself here and there. Once in a while a Swedish word will fly out of my mouth mid-sentence but seems like people aren't noticing too much which is good. I have said och instead of and and nästan instead of nearly amongst a few others I haven't noticed. My dreams are still 100% in Swedish but after all, it's only been 3 days so I am sure the kinks will sort themselves out soon enough.

England is so dirty and chaotic compared to the beautiful, clean and organised Sweden. I have thought on a few occasions of doing a year in London but I don't know if I can take it. Sure, when I consider the Swedish migration board are on my case right now for working a whole season without a work permit London sounds a bit easier but still, how do people put up with it?

Once one gets out of London however, England can be quite beautiful. Rather than staying in the city, this time we got a big van and drove down to a little farm house near bristol. As part of our farm trip we did a little bit of a detour through Bristol, Warwick and even jumped out of the car for a quick look at Stonehenge. We were a little tight on time and considering the entrance was over six pounds, the 7 of us decided to take the cheaper viewing spot about 100 meters away. It's a bit smaller than I expected.

Sudden death hot sauce was a prominant theme of the trip; I myself was a victim of it on 3 occasions - one of which inadvertantly - this is the stuff that you take just one tiny drop on a teaspoon and you feel like your whole mouth is on fire and within a minute tears are streaming down your cheeks. It takes a while for the heat to really take hold and on the worst of my incidents I had demolished a litre of milk within seconds. Ben had ingeniously positioned a fork-full of mashed potato with a generous dose of hot sauce under the fork; serving to both hide the act while maximising sauce-to-tongue contact.

Staying on the farm there wasn't an incedible amount to do- we kicked the footy, cooked some food, listened to music and got through a few drinks - soon we starting thinking of other things to do. We suited up and stumbled off into the darkness in the hope to find the local pub. We passed groups of cattle, sheep, rivers, bridges, barbed wire and headed towards the lights. By some miracle we actually negotiated the terrain successfully and found ourselves at the local in less than 30 minutes. It was pretty close to closing time and once they'd gotten rid of the locals the two bartenders locked up and joined us for a few drinks- we were even treated to a couple of beers free of charge. I can't see that happening in the city. A few drinks put away and loading up on take aways, we started the trek back to the farmhouse while being entertained at Chris' attempts to spook the herds of sleeping cows along the way.

Back to the Mothertongue

I did the obligatory goodbyes in Stockholm with unprecedented good weather. It's funny the way living in a ski resort gives you a hightened respect for weather conditions and how unreliable weather forecasts can be. Everyday so much depends on temperature, snow conditions, wind and visability amongst other things. Pretty much my whole time in Stockholm was met with gorgeous blue skies and warm weather. I was laying out in the park with friends working on my pre-Thailand tan without much trouble at all.

Jenny came out to see me off at the airport a few hours earlier so we had a bit of time to kill. After soaking in some sun accross the street for a while we spotted a giant chess set - we were stopped by the police while walking there, apparently two people wandering around the unexplored areas of Arlanda airport is considered suspicious behavior. When we told the guy that we were walking over to check out the chess set while we waited for my flight he replied: "Chess set? What chess set? I've never seen THAT before. Very well, Carry on" Or something to that effect. Unfortunately jenny is not the father-educated chess geek that I am which actually says more about her lack of skills than the abunance of mine.

I sad my sad goodbyes and began to realise that it was goodbye Swedish and back to English for some time now. Sure there's always facebook chat and a few magazines and books I've taken with me but on the plus side it will be nice to be able to adequately express myself once again.

You Know You're a Wanderer When...

Lifts are closing down, big patches of earth are appearing on the steeper runs, bars and people are packing up their things. Time to go. Last week we all hit up the bartommnings; as the bars close down for the season they try to sell all the alcohol they have and drop the prices drastically; you can imagine a pretty messy result. A good way to wrap up the season really. Right in the middle of my course we had our ski instructor's banquet- a formal occasion with three course meals, wine, suits and the like. You know it's a special occasion when even your boss looks a little off stumbling around clutching a fresh bottle of wine.

I wanted to make sure I was well clear of the snow before I put it into words but I can now safely say that I survived my first of three seasons without serious injury. Sure there was a pretty painful and annoying incident early on involving a small bone in my hand having a rather violent encounter with Joakim's elbow and sure I had to take a bit of time off work due to a nasty pulled muscle in my back but other than that? I am injury free. Maybe I am growing up a little and seeing some sort of sign that I might actually survive a few more years of this wandering in the white stuff.


Last week was ridiculous. In one week we had as many blue bird days as we have had all season. Perfect timing for my ski instructor course. The skiing was a fair bit more difficult than I expected on a level one course but it was good for me. I now actually have a good foundation for my skiing instead of just self-taught stuff I make up as I go along. Sweet. If I wasn't on the course I would never have made it up to the very top; we paid a little extra to get towed up the peak of the mountain and ride down the back side. All three instructor groups gathered together before setting down some seriously slushy powder which was pretty cool. I now regret never going up there on my snowboard. I pictured it being a rocky death trap but it was actually big wide open spaces - a little concerning to see big cracks developing from water flow underneath the snow just waiting to be set off on a massive avalanche... But it was all worth it and I survived the day, and the course injury free. Quite unexpected given my history.

Packing up my things I came across a hefty selection of mobile SIM cards and a bunch of different currencies. Australia, Sweden, Norway, Canada, England... Why I still have a Canadian SIM card two years later beats me but when you find stuff like this littered throughout your belongings? You know you're a wanderer.

Counting Down and Getting On

7 Weeks quickly became 2 and that is all that remains of my time here in Åre. It's been pretty crazy. Living in a massive house full of youngin's who love nothing better than to party 24/7 and trash the place and trying to crack into an established group of instructors in a foreign country in another language (which I tackled with mixed success) while trying my best to fake the ability to ski: it's been fun.

Weather lately has been a prominent topic of interest. Rain, warmth, sun and very little snow. I spent the better part of the day yesterday in shorts and a t-shirt while running errands around town. I got my fair share of funny looks but it was totally justified. I went skiing a little later in a long sleeve shirt. No jacket, no gloves, no beanie- and that was totally OK too. I was very close to getting sunburnt yesterday as well. It's just that time of the season. But what season is it exactly? Massive brown patches all over the place, rivers of melting snow flowing through the park, dry roads and a lake that is very close to breaking through the ice. - This picture is in the middle of the day; that's just how thick the fog is while we're waiting for the bus. - It's sad in a way but you can see the signs of live reappearing all over- you might even say that things are springing to life; you might but I am not that cheesy.

One more week of work and then a week of an instructor's course before heading south again. Stockholm, London, Thailand and Perth on the way to Perisher for next season. I try to avoid having high expectations of the season there particularly when compared with the snow here in Sweden but hey, I'm an optimistic kind of guy.

In light of leaving Sweden, and as much as I love it here; I must say I am looking forward to shutting off my brain for a while: on the rare occaisions I have spoken English here it has been a little weird to say the least. I start using the English language with Swedish grammar and often finding myself stuck for finding the right word. Once I am out of here it should only take a few days to get back to normal... at least I hope so.

I am particularly looking forward to seeing (in order of appearance) Sandra and Jason in Stockholm, Ben, Adam and George in London, Mamma, Pappa, David and Stroose in Perth and especially my sister in Sydney. Perhaps even my niece/nephew who is due alarmingly close to the date I will be visiting them. We'll see about that. The wanderer an uncle? Wow I'm getting old.