So let’s talk about my tour group first, or as I call them, my “keys to survival.” I found the people I met fascinating, so bear with me.

Dillon, our tour guide. A young, terribly enthusiastic, and laid back Aussie. While I considered the flies spawns of Satan, he described them as “just very friendly”. Definitely looked the part of an avid bushman, you could tell this dude could be content without showering for days and it seemed like he actually enjoyed being out in the outback (a totally insane concept to me). Had great taste in music** (Jack Johnson, CCR, Foo Fighters) and loved talking about the crazy weeklong, nonstop Australian music festivals where you don’t shower for days.

The rest of the group consisted of a variety of European couples, two British solo travelers, and myself. All very nice and interesting people with much longer stays in Australia than I could ever fathom as a member of the US workforce. It took a few days into the trip, but I eventually came to terms that Europeans view the United States as New York City, Hawaii, and Los Angeles. Connecticut is too much of a foreign concept. Fun trick though, if you tell them that you’re only given two weeks vacation, they will flip their shit.

Lastly, the 4WD tank, the new love of my life. This thing was a monster, and is truly the only vehicle one should drive through Kakadu (or anywhere). It was large, loud, and had little concept of suspension. My favorite joys as a kid was rolling down the windows as my dad hydroplaned across a puddle of water after a recent rainstorm. Bumping around in the 4WD as it crossed rivers, boulders, trees, and dunes brought me back to my youth. My goal is to own one of these tanks before I die.

Sweet ride, huh?

So Day 1 in Kakadu:
- First, I should say that Kakadu National Park is about the size of Israel and covers about a dozen or so totally different environments. Driving anywhere, including to/from Kakadu involved at least an hour drive (often 2-3 hours) of bumping around dirt roads listening to Jack Johnson or CCR.

- Australians are very proud of the fact that they think about or are drinking the minute the sun goes up. Stop one was to a roadside stop to purchase beer…at 9 in the morning. There were emu’s in the parking lot. Definitely not in the States anymore.

- Our first stop was the Mamukala Wetlands. It had an assortment of birds and ducks around a waterhole that really was an oversized puddle at this point in the dry season. I don’t know, I found it fascinating, but then again, Australian dirt gets me excited. I wasn’t as weathered of a traveler as the rest of my group, I guess. On our way over to the viewing area, a monitor lizard had crawled from the edge of the watering hole into the bushes. Missed photo opportunity, unfortunately.

There's a monitor lizard in this photo. Can you find it?

Kakadu more or less runs on two seasons: wet season and dry season. The park is an entirely different environment in wet season in every shape and form. However, the dry season allowed us access to fun watering holes to swim in, relatively free of croc danger. “Relatively free” being the key term.

Lots of birds

- Our next stop inside the park (not counting the entrance) was a middle-of-nowhere picnic area on the bank of a small river/swamp. It was my first introduction to what would be a common theme during this trip: being out in the middle of nowhere after hours of endless driving in a potentially dangerous environment with no one around for miles except your group who could just as easily desert you. As we prepared and ate lunch amongst the flies and made introductions, it became very clear that everyone in the group only came to see crocodiles. Poor Dillon had to assure them that crocodiles would be seen…on Day 3. We were not pleased by this turn of events.

Croc infested watering hole, a perfect place for lunch

- We stopped at an aboriginal center as well today while Dillon filled up the tank with gas. I didn’t take too many notes on it, because amongst all the natural scenery, aboriginal culture was the least of my interests. However, months later, the aboriginal culture is what continues to fascinate me about this country. Not that I wasn’t interested in what I was seeing, I just wish I had paid more attention.

- Maguk/Barramundi Gorge was one of those watering holes. After getting changed in an outhouse with a giant cricket-spider-cockroach amalgamation, we hiked through a recently burned stretch of forest and grassland. Some of the trees were still smoking, and the whole place seemed to be one thrown cigarette butt away from another wildfire, but like the true outback bushman he is, Dillon was unconcerned. He instead showed us the debris that sat atop on the treeline above our heads as proof of water levels during wet season. To me, that debris just seemed extremely flammable.

The hike to Maguk

The water is thhiiisss high during wet season

- Well, if you know me, I don’t really swim. So plunging into a beautiful soul-cleansing gorge underneath a perfect waterfall did me wonders…until I realized I couldn’t swim and flopped around with the fishes. While my group admired the waterfall up close from a rock perch in the middle of the lagoon, I clung to the edge of the rocks 50 feet away and bobbed my head in and out of the water, examining my lack of buoyancy.

Maguk...my little piece of Eden

When it was time to move on, one of the German siblings, Alex, stopped me as we climbed out of the water.

“Mike, do you not know how to swim?”

“Umm…not really.”

“Do you want to see the waterfall? I can help you swim over.”

Humilated, “…No…it’s okay…thank you…* heavysigh*” …dignity gone…fml.

- Nearly getting eaten by flies…no (additional) comment.

Near Death Experience: Nearly drowning in Maguk. Although, I thought I got the hang of the swimming business right as we were leaving. Honest…

Then it was off to a primitive camp-site in the middle…of…nowhere. It looked like this was a campsite that could accommodate a few groups, but I’m fairly positive our group was alone out there. Some highlights of the evening:
- Rediscovering my faith in humanity when the Dutch guy in my group saw me struggling with my tent setup and helped me out.
- Getting my own tent! Everyone else was coupled, except for the two British guys, who shared a tent. This made me very pleased.
- Rediscovering my faith in mother nature when the flies disappeared the minute the sun went down.
- The amusement of Dillon trying to educate a group of Europeans on the mechanics and rules of cricket. I think I had the advantage of having at least known baseball, but this seemed entirely foreign to everyone else except one of the Brits.
- The Czech couple sharing homemade apricot gin to the group. Strongest shot of alcohol I’ve ever had. It could knock out a moose, but it was delicious.
- Brushing my teeth in the dark and spitting it into the ground. Hey, I’m not outdoorsy, this felt badass.

Setting up camp

My room. Equipped with swag and see through tent for stargazing

And with that, a very eventful first day in Kakadu was over. As I laid in my tent looking at the beautiful Southern skies at night, I was amazed I lasted this long doing what I had done.

**I dwell on the musical tastes of my guides because of its importance to the morale of the group. Every activity during the day is split between hours of endless driving of desert, bush, or some combination thereof. Trust me. Good music really passes the time.

IN THE CIRRRRRCCCLLEEE....THE CIRCLE OF....LIIIIIIFFFFEEEE

I just sat on a beach to watch the sun set in all its Lion King Circle-of-Life-like glory. I think that officially means I’m on vacation. Let’s roll it back to September 30th when my trip technically began…

The flights to Australia treated me as kindly as 24 hours in sardine class could treat one. I struggle every vacation with the amount of valuables I bring and the onset panic attacks when I realize I don’t know where my handful of valuables are at all times. Even with just one carry-on, I’m constantly fretting over where my wallet, camera, mp3 player, video camera, laptop, etc. are at all times. So it comes to no surprise (if you know me) that at the LAX stopover, I left my Zune on the plane upon debarking. Luckily, I was paged and reunited with it before re-departure. Eights hours into my trip before my first crisis is actually pretty good for me.

The 13+ hour leg to Sydney was surprisingly ok as well. It helped that I was in front of the galley, so I could lean back without feeling guilty. I always feel guilty when I lean back my seat, but not when I lean back in da’ clubs, yafeelme? No multiplayer airplane games like my Europe trip, but there was a great selection of movie and tv shows from Qantas. I started The Hangover, but lost interest (man card revoked, I know), and mostly stuck to alternately burning out the Daniel Merriweather album available for listening and watching British tv series. I found the Vietnam special of Top Gear enthralling. And I watched about a half season of The I.T. Crowd (verdict: cheesy but funny).

Somewhere early in the Sydney to Darwin leg was where I went crazy from being in the air so long. The dry eyes, lack of sleep, lack of legroom and lack of personal space finally broke me. What really did it was the fact that this flight had plenty of open seats (rare in this day and age), but I got still got stuck with a full row. Oh, and I think a woman was dying on the plane, as a doctor was paged. I went back to use the bathroom later in the flight and saw the passenger doctor administering shots to a real sickly-looking woman. Jet lag caused extreme apathy at her situation. I couldn’t help to wonder who was having a worse flight, me or her. At least if she died, she would’ve gotten some good sleep, AND she did get the whole back row to herself…jealous… (note: she was fine).

A LONG 6-7 hours laters, I was on the ground in Darwin, all 35+ celsius of it. What many maps fail to properly represent is the size of Australia. It’s actually about the width and length of the U.S. or Western Europe. So a flight to Darwin is like a flight from JFK to Seattle.

Checked into Dingo Moon Lodge and found I was rooming with Matt, a German fellow traveling on holiday after just graduating. I would later meet Pinky and David, a Taiwanese girl with only rudimentary English understanding and an older (like 30) Scottish guy, who had been staying and I think traveling together in Darwin looking for work to get their holiday visa extended. They were attempting to be fruit pickers.

Matt and I went to Mindil Beach because I wanted to see the sunset markets. This was like a farmer’s market on crack, insane amounts of Asian food stalls, a whip stall (with expert demonstrations), digeridoo concerts, and all sorts of local crafts and goods. One stall was called the Roadkill Cafe, and they pandered to all the tourists who wanted to try “exotic” Australian meats. I bit and bought a Croc kebab. Tastes like chicken, just really rubbery.

The icing on the cake was the sunset. Watching the fiery red sun set below the sea line with no clouds or anything to obstruct the view while eating greasy Asian food from a stall on a beach was a spectacularly zen experience and a great end to the day. Apparently, this happens daily in the dry season in Darwin. I’m extremely jealous.

Later that night, the Matt and I joined Pinky and David to have some beers and discuss our wanderlust, fruit picking, and my lack of vacation days. It felt like those first nights in college when everyone and everything was new and exciting. I’m happy my trip started so effortlessly, social-wise. It’s a little disappointing I leave for a tour tomorrow morning and can’t get to know them more, but they should still be around when I get back three days later.

Near Death Experiences

This is a new feature I’m introducing for Australia edition since I’m on my own and no one is around to prevent my mishaps. The amount of stories I’m sure I will accumulate on this topic probably warrants its own section.

Today’s near death experience was actually my first steps onto Australian soil. The airport shuttle bus had conveniently dropped me right across the street from Dingo Moon Lodge. Having not quite grasped that Australians drive on the other side of the road and what that meant, I looked LEFT, saw nothing, and started crossing the street. Next thing i remember was some swerving, honking, screaming, and mild embarrassment. Note to self, look RIGHT first (note from Future Mike: I never quite grasped this concept until about the last day, which now leads to problems at home).

I don’t have a crystal ball, but I’m sure this section will only get better as the days go by.

It’s official. My next big vacation adventure is to Australia. I had talked it up this to the point of either committing or ruining friendships and credibility. And so, I pulled the trigger last night. $922 from NYC to SYD on Qantas. You got to admit, that’s a pretty stellar deal.

I still have a LOT more planning to do, money to spend, and tours/hotels/passes to book before I take off. And I got plenty of time, I’m not leaving until October, but the anticipation of knowing that I’ll be halfway around the world will keep my eyes on the prize for the rest of the year. One week by myself (not really) in the Outback, one week with Adriane in Tasmania. More or less.

Fun fact I learned: Australia is about the same size as the US. You would never think so on a map, but I’m learning that I will be spending a LOT of time on planes this time around.

Not worth saying anymore on this blog until I actually go, but get pumped. If this blog falls off the face of the earth for the next few months, I’ll at least have something come October.

Now if I can only finish documenting this Europe trip before then…