In January 2006, two intrepid explorers left their homeland for what would turn out to be the most extraordinary, awe-inspiring, life changing experience one could ever dream of. At around the same time Matt and I also left home for a 12-month around-the-world piss-up. Our trip didn't go exactly as planned. We got separated in some mild weather off the coast of Kangaroo Point in Queensland, and through the completely shameful inability of our travel agent to read our minds we missed our onward flights from Australia. Matt was last rumoured to have bought a small plot of land in Manchester (England) where he was going to grow a rare breed of turnip to export to poor western European nations such as France and Germany. And here I am, 26-months into my 12-month trip, still stuck in a penal colony on the wrong side of the planet (all for a measly loaf of bread). But worry no more my free-world chums, because as from tomorrow I am a free man once more. I am leaving these shores and heading due east to New Zealand to make a new start with an oriental princess and a campervan. Then after 2-weeks of this new start, I am being shipped to Vietnam (or 'Nam as we know it in the forces) to face the Viet Cong in what could turn out to be a decisive battle in the ongoing struggle for truth, freedom and the American - ... what? You mean to tell me that war's finished as well since I left England? Ah bollocks. You'll be telling me man's walked on the moon next.
Well the last 12-months have seen me work my way through three jobs, ninety-six Big Macs, several thousand gallons of ale and a Peruvian midget. There have been good times (mainly pissed) and bad times (mainly sober). Australia is a beautiful country and the people aren't too bad either once you get them out of their ankle shackles and stripey shirts. For the last few months I've been living with a lad from Brighton, and apparently despite the fact that it is the gay-capital of Britain, not everyone from there is actually gay. Well that's what he told me the other night anyway, whilst ironing his pink dress and putting his make-up on ready for the Boy George concert.
So when will I be returning to England I hear you ask? Well hopefully I should be returning around May, so long as I don't miss any flights - and lets face it, you'd have to be a right twat to do that. But where have my travelog diary entries been for the last several months I hear you cry? Well I decided that seen as this is meant to be a TRAVEL-log and I haven't actually been doing any TRAVELling (I thought I'd spend a year living in big cities instead because we don't get them back home) I'd give it a rest for a while. And as someone dutifully pointed out, it had gone a little from "Jacko's Round-the-World Extravaganza" to "Brits Abroad", all that was missing was Benidorm.
Today was my last day - day number 730 no less (I even accounted for the leap-year don't you know) - in Australia. I'd love to tell you a grand tale of exploration and discovery but I've spent most of the day packing and cleaning. I did manage one last session at the gym this morning (it's a crazy world I know), and then had a half-hour chat with a random 70-year old Italian bloke. You know it's going to be a good conversation when he strikes it up with; "I'm not racist or anything... BUT..." It was nice to listen to his stories, however, and even nicer to be able to talk to someone without fearing what they want from you. He was wearing a Boy George t-shirt though. Hmmmmm...
So there will be a few more updates coming soon, as and when I get chance. In the meantime, if you do feel the need to message me, use Facebook or email me at mark_alexander_jackson@yahoo.co.uk (just rolls off the tongue doesn't it?) Don't leave messages on here, as my inbox has been rammed full of messages advising me I need a penis enlargement...
...all off ex-girlfriends strangely enough.
