Qantas Jet, flying home

I've only got this long left in Australia:

Back in the USA

I have returned to the land of my fathers. Plane touched down on time and friends picked me up on time. We rode to my friend Mickey’s house in a silver minivan. Not a Mom’s minivan, mind you, but somebody’s work van. Much convenient for baggage and quite unexpected and quite more than I’m used to. Parking in LA is aways hard, but was pretty fun for me just cause… well, I’m home. Had a few scares where I thought we were driving on the wrong side. Getting used to my own place again, so to speak.

I partied it up with my three best friends in the world (in the world!) and then I made my way back. Seems that while I was gone, the homestead got up and moved without me. I said goodbye to my Mom, who was just leaving Palm Springs for Santa Rosa herself, then crashed on a friend’s couch (in grand backpacker fashion). Then I lost my friends cat, more or less. To be fair there is a hole in the wall big enough for a cat so the evidence remains inconclusive.

Eventually we took the trip north to San Francisco for another one of the friend’s 21st birthday. I migrated to Santa Rosa, which is where I’ll live now. I’m back. You can still continue the trip, back to what has to pass as normal, over at the (real) Glot.


Wanting Home Again

It’s official. I wanna come home.

I mean, Australia’s a nice place. I like it. If it seemed like I could stay longer I would, really I would. Problem is it doesn’t look that way. The logistics of going to Queensland, getting work, changing my flight, getting a tourist visa, changing my flight again, and then travelling around on godknows how much money for how long and where… it’s a bit much. Not that I’m scared of doing something like that; quite the opposite. I’m tired of doing something like that. I would like to have my familiar bed, my familiar computer, some nice American food, cable (surprisingly, I miss having 6+ channels), and some people who talk the same as me. It’d be a nice change is what I’m saying.

So I guess this means no tourista programme. All those Australians who gave me travel advice… “you have to see Kakadu,” “Perth is amazing in winter,” “see Uluru once, even if it means you spend a week getting there,” to them I’d like to say:

Well, thanks anyways. You have a lovely country. But it’s kind of expensive for me, you see. I have to go now. No really; it’s been nice. Maybe we’ll meet again someday. But I’m busy for a little bit, so, you know… call me. Thanks for everything, Australia.