It’s a short winter in Australia and your favorite vagabond has just gone on a trip to the mountains. Being white and privileged I love skiing, so I used my resources and went to the only place where there is substantial snow in this entire country.
For three days I slept in my car, woke up every few hours, and dreaded having to go outside to pee. I’d remind you all to feel grateful that the Internet doesn’t (yet) allow me to send scent.
I had been on a massive road trip and when I arrived I was eager to tackle the slopes; every morning I’d head out my front door before the birds had a chance to brush their teeth. I took lessons, maximising my time in The Snowy Mountains — it was me, the instructor, a few classmates, and gravity, that ol’ scene stealer. The Irish made-up in energy what the rest of us were lacking in finesse. We skied down the mountain at 30mph. Although I could be off by at least 30mph.
And now I’m traveling more, through New South Wales (because the name South Wales was already taken), in my car, listening to the only CD I brought with me. I know all the words, Amber Lawrence, but it be way better if I could carry a tune.
With a look of determination that could serve as the dust-jacket for a
how-to-succeed-manual,
‘mi

PS: Special mention to The Newlyweds. And, the most bogan thing I’ve seen in Australia: A full-on ice rink with no zambini, just two dudes, a shovel, and a garbage can.