Expect to see some great stories from my Australia trip, if I can still remember half the details.
Update July 18th – I couldn’t take it and booked my next trip, even though I’m only on Day 3 of this series…oh well…Stay tuned to see where I’m heading off to next (or just follow me on Facebook or Twitter)

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.

Before I leave you totally hanging, here is a letter I wrote while out in the Kakadu wilderness. Call it one of my patented over-exaggerations if you wish, but, trying not to sound cliche, you had to be there…

Open Letter to the Flies of Kakadu National Park,

Dear Flies of Kakadu National Park,

My name is Mike, and I have never loathed an entire genus of insects as much as I loathe you, all 1000 unique species of you flies. I don’t know how things work in Australia, but here in the States, we have something called “personal space.” You seem to have no concept of that unwritten rule us humans abide to, as you attempted many, many, many…MANY times to say hello by flying into my eardrums, mouth, and weirdly but most annoyingly, my eyelids. Now, this is barely justifiable if it happens one time. Maybe you were drunk and thought I was attractive and wanted to make out with me. Fine, I get that a lot. But you didn’t stop. Not only did you not stop, you brought an entire posse to also join and constantly ram into all parts of my body and orifices.

NO MEANS NO! Not “Yes, may I have some more, and why don’t you bring your entire extended family to have their turn raping me too…” Yeah, I went there. It might not be politically correct, but I was violated to my very soul by all of you. The lingering scars of what you have done to me will remain for a long time, if not forever. You are the reason why I have to add a disclaimer when I describe how breathtakingly beautiful your home was. And any buzzing I hear, either from your own kind or something as common as the laundry machine, now causes me to have sudden nervous emotional breakdowns. I wish it was possible to sue you.

As a creature of habit, there are a few things I always do to get ready for any trip, long or short, far away or close by.

1) I get a new book. I can’t travel without a new book to read, whether I end up reading it or not. It just doesn’t feel like a trip without one. Long car rides or plane rides or waiting for long car rides or plane rides are ideal situations to whip out a paperback and keep myself occupied. Also great for when I feel anti-social, which is almost always. Also great for dining by yourself without looking like a total fool. One thing I like to do is whenever I travel abroad, I try to get at least one book on the region/country/culture I’m visiting. This time, it’s In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson and Vagabonding by Rolf Potts. Clearly, I’m still working through my travel bug this year…

2) Pack the night before/morning of. To pack any sooner only means that the anguish I feel at realizing I forgot my toothbrush is that much more agonizing. And no, I’m still going to forget it…

3) I don’t sleep. This isn’t typically by choice. For someone who lives such a boring life, work and personal deadlines always find their way to the days leading up to a trip. This also explains #2.

4) Tell everyone. Because I truly believe they care, even if they tell me differently. Why do you think I have this blog?

5) Get a Moleskine. This is one of those irrational purchases because I fall for the marketing that I’ll look hipster and feel like Hemingway if I have one. But for an overpriced stack of paper, they do make me feel pretty hipster and like Hemingway. And they travel amazingly well and are great for sketching, notes, doodling, and capturing random memories, lists, and experiences. It’s not like I can whip out my laptop everywhere.

Of course you didn’t, you barely know I have a blog.

Well, there’s plenty of random-ass videos being uploaded in an inconsistent basis. Plenty of vacation videos (long overdue, as usual) and plenty of random other videos from my weekends and things I find interesting enough to point my Kodak Zi6 at.

And if that wasn’t enough to convince you, plenty of embarrassing video of myself.

So what are you waiting for? View my videos here

Here’s an example:

“Oh look! Dead chickens!” from Mike Nguyen on Vimeo.

Here’s a fun fact on hunger pangs (I always thought it was hunger pains. It would be definitely more fitting.)

“When hunger contractions start to occur in the stomach, these are commonly referred to as hunger pangs. Hunger pangs usually do not begin until 12 to 24 hours after the last ingestion of food. A single hunger contraction lasts about 30 seconds, and pangs continue for around 30–45 minutes, then hunger subsides for around 30-150 minutes.[2] Individual contractions are separated at first, but are almost continuous after a certain amount of time.[2] Emotional states (anger, joy etc.) may inhibit hunger contractions.[2] Levels of hunger are increased by lower blood sugar levels, and are higher in diabetics.[2] They reach their greatest intensity in 3 to 4 days and may weaken in the succeeding days, though hunger never disappears.[3] Hunger contractions are most intense in young, healthy people who have high degrees of gastrointestinal tonus. Periods between contractions increase with old age.[2]” – Wikipedia

I guess it’s because today is another Sunday where I should be finishing up my classwork. Actually, it’s my last module of schoolwork for a while. I’m taking the fall semester off in order to work on my thesis proposal and go to Australia. The joy of travel…

My parents disappeared for most of the evening yesterday, and I made some tortellini, a staple of when I lived alone. It brought me back to a happy place. It’s the first meal I’ve made for myself in a long while. I miss cooking.

I watch a lot of Food Network. I know I’m probably not the right demographic for the channel, but I’m hooked. I find chefs to be total rock stars. Maybe I should consider a career change. BTDubs, I think Melissa will win Next Food Network Star, if it matters. Calling it.

Someone that SHOULD be on Food Network is Sam the Cooking Guy. I love his show on FitTV (yes, I watch FitTV, deal with it) and wish I lived in the San Diego area to see his regular local show. His recipes are simple but delicious, and he’s a fun guy to watch.

Also, Julia Childs is right. French cuisine is the best there is.

If you are what you eat, then maybe what I want to eat is a good indicator of what I want to be? Below are some of the recipes I’m dying to follow when I finally move out and get my own kitchen again.

• Lobster Mac and Cheese
• Fried Chicken, like the KFC/Popeyes shit. Yes, I would kill to know the Colonel’s secret recipe
• Spaghetti Carbonara I don’t get enough pasta in my life. I’m craving olive oil. Is that weird?
• Bacon Wrapped Sea ScallopsSam has convinced me scallops are simple and tasty enough to try. Never really had it before.

Well, this helped my hunger a little bit. Off to either do homework or further raid the fridge.

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Instant Gratification of the Week

So I got a Palm Pre on Thursday. I know it’s only been out a week but…FINALLY. I was hoping to get it opening day last Saturday, but I was in Baltimore and the Best Buy I went to sold out on the phone within 30 minutes. I was so distraught, I bought the Sims 3. This made me feel good (and reclusive) for about four days, and then I finally got the Palm Pre. Now, it’s like having a plate of fish-n-chips a plate of steak-and-fries in front of me. I can’t handle eating both, but I don’t want to choose between the two.

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What I Should Be Doing Right Now

Due to my new phone, I’ve been trying to organize my Gmail and contacts. Getting a Palm phone inspired me to get organized for the upcoming semester and my own sanity. I spent yesterday transferring over my phone numbers, and realized how many people I’ve lost contact with. Sad.

I’m still not done archiving and filtering all my emails. I have 400 emails just sitting in my inbox waiting to be sorted. I get bored and nostalgic after cleaning out 10 or so emails, so it’s back to play with my phone or The Sims.

Also, I failed miserably at revising my thesis proposal. This is going to bite me in the ass almost immediately.

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And Two More Things

I don’t know why The Sims 3 is getting horrible reviews on Amazon. It’s amazingly fun, but I think people are having issues that it isn’t full blown Sims 2 + 10,000 expansion packs yet. The object selection does kind of suck at the moment, and EA is nickel-and-diming users for additional content, but what else is new. The game is still incredibly fun.

Also, I’m not going to even advocate for the Palm Pre. Everyone can get that new iPhone 3GS on AT&T, because nothing I say will dissuade their misconceptions of Sprint or a Palm phone. I like going against the grain anyways. This phone is amazing, and it has potential to be even greater even on its first iteration. I hope it takes off and I can look like the innovator. If I were to say one thing, Multi-tasking applications is worth every penny. Suck it, Apple fanboys.

Stunning little canals, colorful townhomes, quiet, desolate cobblestone streets, and lots of chocolate. Every 100 paces or so in this town could go on a postcard.

We never really intended to go see Bruges, but Brussels was a bit of a bust. On a suggestion that Bruges was a must-see, I pushed for Plan B to only minor resistance (Ezeibe wanted to stay in, relax, and use the internet…no comment). Our Brussels hotel, Le Meridien, was conveniently right across the street from the local train station. Even better, there was a train promotion that got us round trip tickets to Bruges for 8euros each. Huzzah for cheap daytrips!

The train ride to the countryside was pretty spectacular. I didn’t get a seat in the crowded cabins, so I hung out by the doors feeling like a stowaway. I didn’t even bother taking a seat when some became available. Just me and lots of green grass, small village rooftops, an occasional windmill, and European countryside whizzing by. Pretty great.

When we got to Bruges, it was just a day of strolling. It’s great when there are no expectations of a place, and you can just explore. We just wandered aimlessly (surprise) and got lost amongst the cobblestone streets and small parks. No one minded a bit. Bruges was utterly charming. The canals were smaller, but just as stunning as Amsterdam’s. Nothing is big and pretentious here. Long lines and plenty of people about shopping those post-Christmas sales in the boutiques and in the Christmas markets, but still, it never felt all that crowded to me.

Nothing like a stroll down a canal to lighten the mood

You know a place a is pretty romantic when there are horse-drawn carriages on cobblestone and brick.

Zeebs and Alan have an epic chess match.

The canal bridges are worth the visit alone

The Good:
- The three of us, after being fairly thrifty thus far, practically bought out a small chocolate shop. The prices seemed reasonable and Ezeibe brought up a good point: Who doesn’t love chocolate? It was the perfect gift to bring home. We tallied up close to a 100euro bill each on chocolate. I ended up eating most of mine before giving it to my friends. So if you never got a souvenir from me, now you know. The owner was awesome, claimed he ate chocolate every day, with every meal. I kind of worried for his teeth, but his passion for chocolate only led me to buy more chocolate. In comparison, there were some super fancy chocolate shops we passed that wouldn’t even allow you in the store without dropping 50euros on their chocolate.
- Besides the chocolate, all the other food we had in Bruges was amazing too. 2euro frites. Might have been the tastiest fries yet, and definitely the cheapest we had come across. I also made Alan and Ezeibe stop everything to order a bratwurst dog in the Christmas market. Every bite was orgasmic. It rivaled the first dinner in France. Ezeibe ended up eating half of it, which annoyed me greatly. He should know that my definition of sharing is 80/20.

The Bad:
- Locals would be crazy to be in the medieval section of town during the day. The tourists literally run rampant through the village. It kind of felt like we were just going through an outdoor museum of sorts, as there were no signs of local life. Just tourists and out-of-towners.

Beautiful houses, but anyone home?

- Going back from the train station, we got back with some time to spare before our train departed. So we grab a seat in the station lobby and rest our feet. Not smart. When we got to the train platform, the train was already packed in with people who were smart enough to wait in the platform rather than the lobby.
- There’s a belfry tower in the middle of Bruges, but we decided the line was too long and too expensive to go up. I still kind of regret that. I think the view would’ve been spectacular.
- Alan and Ezeibe didn’t let me go ice skating in the Christmas Market.

No ugly from Bruges. It was the perfect way to spend our last day.

We got back with a whole evening to enjoy. Ezeibe and I decided to spend even more money and buy more chocolate by our hotel. You can never have enough chocolate.

Hot choco by the Brussels chocolate shop. I'll take a Venti please.

Our last supper would ironically be at a Vietnamese/Thai restaurant. We kind of just wandered into Vietnamtown part of Brussels while searching for another restaurant and just ended up there. Ezeibe wanted to get back quickly to watch a documentary on world religions (don’t ask). My parents would’ve been pleased. We ordered off the prix-fixed menu and had another minor paella incident when Alan and I thought a 3-course meal for two people meant we were splitting the cost of the meal, which was reasonable. Instead, it meant, we were both paying the cost listed on the menu. Alan and I were not pleased. I also remember dessert taking a ridiculously long time, because I think they forgot about us, but it was still delicious.

Ezeibe had left halfway through dinner to try to catch his documentary. It turns out he got the time wrong and it didn’t even start for another hour or something. Alan and I got drinks at our English pub we found the other day and watched some European football. I again tried to convince Alan to do karaoke at said pub, but we didn’t quite know where it was going on (turns out it was in the building next door) so we joined Ezeibe and his documentary.

We packed ourselves up and got an early night’s sleep, because tomorrow, after 16 days of traveling together, we were finally going home! And you had no idea how exciting of a prospect that was.