... but that's not all, if I phone 0800 xxxxxxx right now I could find a sledgehammer to smash the TV set in Room 26, Cooee Backpackers, Kings Cross. Not that I would want to of course, it is all part of the charm. Along with David (who age is now set at 61 and status as alkie confirmed), Sarah (53 going on 78 who used to think she was shizophrenic but now knows she was part of a government experiment in her hippy days and is just waiting to get revenge through swinging her hula hoop), Craig (who emerged from drug slumber long enough to eat a mountain of rocket and flat bread off the floor, smiling benignly as he did) and Grumpy Nameless. He sauntered into the room just as I was trying to escape David war stories, Sarah's hula hoop and Craig's rocket and get some sleep on my top bunk. GN snarled at us all and flopped into a bottom bunk which had been littered with clothes belonging, Sarah had told me, to "young 'uns who were thrown out for not paying".
At about 01h00, the room filled with light and noise as the landlord - a very suave chinaman - pounced on Grumpy Nameless and, in a lengthy and painful sounding process, extracted money from him. About to leave, the landlord turned his spectacled glare on me: "Hu Yu." "Pleased to meet you, Mr Yu." "Hu Yu?" "Oh. I'm Dave Williams." "Yu Peh!" "I Peh!" "I check." "Yu czech?" "Huh?" I rather thought I'd got the best of that little exchange but he probably had more sleep in the long run.
And now, because I feel rather strange sitting on the edge of a still revelling street muttering about my self-imposed hardships, let's finish with some photos of places we've talked about but you haven't seen. Again, the photos are not mine - it will be weeks before I get around to dealing with those. These are randomly snaffled in contravention of copyright laws in at least 8 nations.
We have the Williams River, the bunkhouse, coming ashore as I did (without sandalwood) and Mount Yasur on Tanna.
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