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The morning after a last day of work always feels like the beginning of a holiday weekend. No more repeated referrals to information scribbled on paper after a call to Brisbane's excellent Trans Info line; the backpack is no longer stuffed with paraphernalia of work or snacks for lunch. Gone too is the need to be somewhere by a certain time. I can luxuriate in bed stress-free. Also removed from the day is structure. So I've slept in - now what?
There's time to finish a little recreational research reading. A hour's spent flipping through the last few pages of John Dyson's Hot Arctic, a book written in the final years of the 1970s about the life, conditions and challenges found above the Arctic Circle in Alaska, Canada and Greenland. Some impressions, facts and tips to store away for future use have been lifted from the pages, like Musk Ox wool for its thermal properties in the harsh cold of the far far north and the timing of a future expedition for March/April.
From my vantage point up on my bunk I watch two of my dorm-mates select and pack gear for their camping trip to Stradbroke Island over the weekend. Becks has virtually re-filled her backpack brought with her from the UK originally packed to sustain a year's Working Holiday in Australia. Eric, on the other hand, uses his German military service training to lay out in neat piles what he'll need according to requirements then assembles it orderly into his NATO-cammo tote bag. I think loaning my otherwise fiercely protected tent out to him for the weekend will be fine. "Hey, I'm German" he assured me yesterday; as reliable, trustworthy, efficient, considered and deliberate as the stereotype from his country he implies.
Now, with no job and my mind already set to leave Australia not by yacht (at this time), it would be a good time to visit my Aunty Sone, Uncle Vahid and the cousins Naysan and Nadeem on Mount Tamborine before I go. In my haste last night I had invited myself to stay with them again with no warning. This morning I called time on them having to rearrange their lives at my beck and call - at least for 48 more hours. Leaving Brisbane Sunday would mean Eric could return the tent to me by post to New Zealand, a task I'd set myself to save on weight so I could fit everything within the 20kg luggage allowance for flying home.
Walking in the leafy shade down the hill from Somewhere to Stay to the local Post Office I barely notice the excellent view across South Brisbane to the glinting cliff of the CBD on the other side of the Brisbane River in the distance. I'm hefting my tent under my arm judging the weight and tallying the probable postage in my head.
Ambling through West End in the clear day's sunshine I'm halted beside the Boundary Road landmark of a concrete goanna by (until today) a Good Cause colleague. His earnest pitch for me to help the charity Plan were unsuccessful because of my circumstances but he gets points for perseverance despite my explanations.
At the Post Office I find that my old tent with its souvenir scars in the tent fly covered over in duct tape each telling a story of misadventure in Bulgaria, Pakistan, Tibet and Australia plus prized iron tent pegs from Everest Base Camp weighs in at 3.75kgs. To post to New Zealand even by Economy Post is more than $30. Oh, to pay the rates of postage from Iran again! More consideration needed. "Not today, thank you" I inform the teller.
Across town, on the streets of Fortitude Valley, in a trendy mall of pubs, clubs, cafés and shops called 'The Valley' are my (up to yesterday) my team mates Su-hui and Kirsten. I cycle over to drop off some resources before I return the remaining gear to Good Cause HQ back in town. They've had a good day. The wonderful work of Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) is partnered with some new members of the public thanks to these two. The bitter-sweet theme of the past eight years since I left New Zealand for the first time is played out once more. The interesting and companionable people that have made my life (and email address book) full and rich in the time I've shared with them are bid farewell. It's heartening to know that the exchange of thoughts and effects has been two-way. Su-hui and her fellow Canadian partner Chris have been inspired to take to bicycles for their continued travels across Asia after Australia.
The only regularly worn uniform since my first job's clip-on tie at a local supermarket at age 15 is returned to Good Cause along with a clipboard and Welcome packs. The T-shirt, identical to those worn by the doctors and nurses volunteering to provide emergency medical aid around the world depicted in the documentation I also handed back, gave me a tangible connection with their Nobel Peace prize-winning work. Like cycling around the world to benefit the charity ITDG to find practical answers to poverty, being an advocate through Good Cause for a non-profit organisation like MSF as equally noble satisfied me on more than one level.
Not to neglect those already close and important to me, I went to nearby Peter Pan Travel on George Street for their $1/hour Internet connection to wish my sister Natia a Happy Birthday. Many happy returns for this day, sis.
Darkness falls quickly after 5pm in the shortening Autumn days in Brisbane. Back on the streets to ply the roads with commuter traffic, I cross Victoria Bridge, again paying little heed to the brilliant display of Brisbane's South Bank now illuminated in the night. I'm enjoying racing cars like a vacant-headed mutt darting about without a lead as its austere companion continues regardless.
I meet the third bunk-mate in my four-bed dorm for the first time back at the hostel. Our waking patterns out of sync for the three days previous call for intros this evening. The greetings are brief as Marina heads out for a masked party. I unfold and spread my Michelin World Map across the floor. Its mosaic of colours and shapes are a wide tapestry of countries and oceans that I lie across spanning distances with my fingers planning routes ahead. The world literally at my finger tips and under my nose.
On her return later in the evening, Marina asks me about continents and countries yet to visit plus which country I'd most like to return to for business unfinished. I'm stunned as I look at the map. I think my options are fewer than before. Then again, inspiration is not hard to find when the wheels are turning.