I awoke grumpy, having never slept. The bed was a thin foam padding, less firm than a camper's mat. Even placing two beds together, the padding dipped in the middle, nestling me like a huge egg in two stacked pancakes.
To add to the bad bed was a dose of party fever. Several young women and a few young men were loudly discussing anything in a most inebriated tone. Although it must be about something extremely unvital, like just how many shots did they take or who really paid for the last round or maybe something deeper, like why was that bartender such a complete and utter bastard.
Whatever the hell it was, it was enunciated loudly. For a while.
This was around 1:30 AM. This also happened to be the night after the famous cup of coffee, and by 10:30 PM, when I laid down for the night, my bloodstream was still pulsing a bit too vigorously. Dub dum. Dub dum. Dub dum. Dumb Dumb. So, the night was going to be a difficult one, even without the drunk gang.
Finally, their ramblings and giggles dispersed into a few lone comments and a sporadic whiny note. I began to loosen the grip on my mind, and attempt to relax into a cycle of sleep. Just about at the moment of letting go, a large, sharp RAP RAP RAP RAP RAP bangs on the door. Jesus H. Christ! What the hell was THAT?? Before I had time to think about it, another RAP RAP RAP RAP RAP on the next door. And, the next door down. The RAP RAP RAP RAP RAP continued down the hall, and then back up again. This insane angry drunk was playing Fist Xylophone with doors 56-65. Being in room 60, the cacophany was quite pungeont on both sides.
This is now 3:00 AM. The alarm is set for 5:00, as we are being picked up to go to Uluru-- after all, we are Adventurers and Explorers. So, the mind never released its grip and I remained in a pissed-off cocoon position until 4:57, when I said my final, "Fuck This," and got up.
I spoke with the lady at the front desk about the night torture, and she assured me that they would replace my bedding with a new fancy pad. As to the night howlers and the psychotic musician, that was more the luck of the draw, and a polite sign saying, "Please refrain from noise after 10:30 PM" can only get you so far. Fair enough. If it hadn't been for the convergence of caffeine, leaf-like bedding, inebriation-based dialogue, and psychotic rapping, I would certainly have been more understanding to her point.
So, you can imagine my delight when, upon returning from the full and magnificent day at 1:00 AM, after 18 hours of Tic and his merry banter and the after killing three roos, I open the door to my 6 share dorm room to find it fully packed. The night before there were only three of us-- a nice quiet group. The two other girls were: Emily, a medical student from LA, whose parents, parents' parents, etc. were all doctors, and now so was she. She came from a long line of pediatricians, and she, herself, was going to be a pediatrician. Sarah, a nice german girl, was also planning to begin medical school after she returned home.
A side note, to explain a general theme, relating to the typical backpacker: While many people are simply traveling to see the world and meet new people, most of the people I meet are young adults who come to Australia to work and improve their English. Then, they return to their homeland with the valuable language skill and can acquire a more attractive occupation or advance a current career.
Emily, then, was a rare breed. Like me, she was American and here for holiday. There are very few Americans who visit Australia. Further, someone said that only 5% of Americans posess a passport. Visitors from Australia are predominantly from Asian countries and Europe. A visible portion of muslims seem to live in cities, as well (based soley on dress, is my assumption).
Back to my return at 1:00 AM. I open the door, see all the bunks occupied, utter an instinctual, "fuck," when two girls look up at me. I notice they are Asian. Great.
Allow me to explain my racism. You remember my blog about the "strangulation fantasy," with the young Asian girl's voice, yes? Then, in Darwin, there was another young girl in my dorm room who enjoyed talking on the phone for great lengths of time, in that singy singy way that makes my blood simmer. As my son Sam said, after returning home from a fourth grade Anger Management class in Elementary School, "Mom, guess what? I'm a Stuffer-Exploder!" (I know how you feel, son....)
So, I see these sleep Asian eyes look up at me, and I'm not thrilled. Plus, every bed is filled, always a bad sign-- lots of traffic, noise, and people roaming in late at night. Well, actually, I was the one roaming in late that night-- but hey, that's different. It's me, after all.
Uh huh. Well, they replaced my bed-- heeehhhhaaaveeeehhn....-- so, the night was quiet, comfy and pleasant. In the wee hours of the morning, however, I am rudely awakened by giggling. God Damnit! Not a-fricken-gain! I roll over and stare-- face to face-- with one of the culprits-- a pretty young thing with long black hair and those tell-tale features. Turns out they are ALL Asian-- and they all seem to KNOW each other! God Damnit! Un fricken believable.
I reach over to grab my phone, and see that it is 10:00 AM. Okay, so maybe it's not the wee hours. But, God Damnit! Do they have to be talking? To each other?? In the room??? I make a highly visual attempt at putting the earplugs in my ears, wrap the bandana over my head, covering my eyes, and turn toward the wall. That'll show them.
After a bit more dressing, re-dressing, talking and giggling, the four girls make their way out of the room.
I see these four girls in town. They're all together, walking around, talking-- and-- god damnit-- giggling. Just seeing them pisses me off. I know they'll be back in MY room, coming in late after a night of wild drinking and keeping me awake all night.
Turns out to be sooner than I thought. I return to the room after dinner, only to find one of them in a bed-- the top bunk, above me. She's on the phone-- THE PHONE!-- talking to someone in her NATIVE TONGUE. The singy singy is permeating the room, worse than fish for dinner. Worse than my family's farting after Thanksgiving. Worse than the violent fighting movies-- like Gladiator-- that my dad watches, with the volume spiked so high the neighboring tenant complains and the dog runs out of the house. This is torture. I'm sitting on my bed, refusing to leave MY room, and she is above me, singy singy, giggling, talking, and I am ready to attack.
Then, it happens. The rest of them come in. All four of them. All there. In the room. Christ. And, there they are, laughing and talking and giggling and their stuff is laying all over the room, and I am on the bottom middle bunk, in the center of this mind-trap zoo, and I have the barely retainable urge to leap up, throw out my arms, and scream at the top of my lungs,
"Get the FUCK OOUUUUUT!"
But, no, like my son, I too am a stuffer. In public, that is. I savor my explosions, privately. So, I'm stuffing away, and my mind and body are boilng with rage and I am screaming the chant to myself like hell's mantra.
Then, there's a knock at the door. ANOTHER ASIAN! This time it's a GUY! Great-- now they are going to start playing spin the sake bottle or flirt-- raising the level of their high voices even higher. But, no, he leaves, then comes back, then another Asian girl comes in. She's from Korea-- and one of the other girls-- who, by now I've found out is from Taiwan-- is interested in learning Korean! OH, GREAT. Just what I need. So, now the Taiwanese girl and the Korean girl are jammering away in Korean and English, and the Taiwanese girl invites the Korean girl to have a seat on her bed (No chairs in these rooms. Think: Closet Space). And, now who knows when they'll leave, because they've just sat down for a CHAT. And, the Taiwanese girl is saying, "How do you say #%$@& ? And, How do you say &**%#$ ? And, I'm mumbling to myself, 'How do you say, Who gives a fuck?? and, Leave this fucking room??'
On the other side of the room, the other Taiwanese girls are gabbing away, giggling, answering the door for the young man who keeps coming by, and they're all just having a grand ol time. It's taken them about ten minutes to complete the communication exchange of names-- they seem quite taken with the Korean girl's name. And, here I am in the middle of the tiny room, surrounded by people and conversation, going postal in McDonald's. Just one gun, fully loaded. It's all I need.
Sarah, the girl from Germany, returns. She quickly takes in the scene and throws me a glance. We exchange polite visual gossip. The empathetic eye sigh shared between two strangers. She heads back out. Lucky girl.
This continues in pretty much the same fashion, until the Taiwanese girl describes to the Korean girl that she left her sleeping bag outside to dry, and soon after, it had gone missing. It was a very good quality, very expensive sleeping bag. I turn to listen, and they see me looking, so they turn to me. I say something like, "that's too bad. I'm sorry to hear that." She nods her head and looks down. She says, "yes, it is just gone. Someone has taken it."
After a few moments, she asks about me. Where am I from, for how long, what brings me to Australia? She and the Korean girl are listening to me, staring politely and intently. I feel the need to return the energy of the conversation back to them. I ask about them. They are here to improve their English. They've been here almost a year, and plan to stay another year, if possible. They are looking for work, as expenses are high in Australia. The Korean girl explains that she has a double major-- in Spanish and Communications-- media & broadcasting are her passion.
I reply in a bit of Spanish, and the Taiwanese girl's eyes jump, delighted. You speak Spanish?? This stirs the interest of the girls on the other side of the room. Suddenly, I am in the middle of this conversation. I am telling them about my journey, my goals for this year, Vermont and my two handsome sons (more giggling and smiling ensues). They tell me about Taiwan-- what a lovely country it is, the progressive economic and cultural stance it takes, its resistence to being controlled by China, and their goals for when they return. Imagine young people in America wanting to better their lives, so they decide to move-- alone-- to a foreign country, to learn a foreign language and work for several years, only to return to their home and have a better opportunity for a better job, to improve their own homeland.
One of they young girls-- Jessica-- asked about where I was going next on my trip, and I mentioned Perth and Adelaide. She began showing me all these places to go, recommendations on sites and restaurants that have great food at reasonable prices. With every word and gesture, I could feel the anger being replaced with embarassment, then gratitude, then a flooding of love. I can't tell you how many times I can relate to the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and how many times I visualize in my mind's eye my heart growing too big for the wall.
Jessica is squatting next to my bed as she explains on a map about the places to visit. It looks like an uncomfortable position, so I ask her if she'd like to sit. She thanks me, and I make room for her on my bed. Soon after, Sarah returns and now sees one of these girls on my bed-- talking with me. We exchange a quick smile.
Then, another Taiwanese girl-- the one on the bunkbed above me, leans her head down, and I see her for the first time. She's this lovely, sweet looking girl, Rebecca. She climbs down the ladder to join us. She has this gentle, enthusiastic smile, wide eyed and so curious. Almost too sweet to contain, kryptonite to my sarcastic and mean ways. I just wanted to hug her and pinch her cheeks.
Then, another Taiwanese girl-- Tzu-Chin-- who had been chatting with the Korean girl (didn't take the time to know her name), comes over. There was something about this young woman-- a calm intelligence, very assured. I was most impressed with her mature and confident sense of things. Tzu and Yuki (4th girl) come over, and at one point, I'm explaining something, and they are all-- all five-- listening to me so intently and respectfully. It was as if I had kernals of great knowledge and most important wisdom-- I think I was talking about how it snows in Vermont or something trivial-- but it seemed important to me, and they got that. I had never been more fully listened to by so many people in my life. It was like getting a massage from 5 people all at the same time (I know that sounds gross to you, Luc and Sam, but trust me-- it would be quite wow). Yeh, I've been a teacher for 10 years and there's always been more than 5 in the class. I'm telling you-- nothing like this.
When I mention to them that I am 45 and my boys are 19 and 16, they all recoil in shock and disbelief. No! NO! NO WAY! You too young! No Way! I felt like Demi Moore. Shucks, I felt like Anne fricken Hathaway. Tzu Chin asked with a playful grin, "what do you, you facial every day and night??" Intent listening and assuming I was under 30-- a backpacker like them. I....... love........you................wooooooooh...............
They gather their address books and have me write down my email, website, etc. I mention that I have a blog, and maybe I'll write about them? Giggle! They offer to give me a picture to post, and we exchange our information.
As the conversation begins to end, we move to our separate beds, and begin our night stuff. Jessica surfing on the internet, Yuki repacking a messy suitcase, Tzu Chin reading and organizing. Becca is back up on top of her bed, and every once in a while, they talk to each other in a singy singy way. But, I'm now realizing that they are using it in a type of self-mimicking way. They're just goofing around, having some fun with themselves. I look up at Yuki, and we catch glances. I say, "you girls sound cute." She replies, "oh, yes, we make fun.. Like oooooaah kaaaaaaay.... (giggle.)"
It was the cutest thing.
They invite me to visit in Taiwan, and I invite them to visit in Vermont.
Think about it; the 5% Americans who travel are probably-- by generalizing those who travel-- more open-minded, adaptable, and tolerant. And still, American travelers have the reputation for being loud-mouthed, arogant and annoying people, impatient and intolerant of their surroundings. How does that describe the 95% back at home?
They're some of the nicest people I've met on this trip, and every time I hear an Asian voice, I miss them.
Good thing I didn't kill em.
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