If you followed my travels in an earlier posting I made about my Australian genesis, incorporating my travels from London, through the Thai jungle near the Myanmar border where I lived with native Karen tribes in their village, on to Cambodia where I marvelled at the ancient temples of Angkor Wat, through Vietnam where I visited Agent Orange victims in their workshops and squeezed through the underground tunnels used by the Viet Cong in Cu Chi. I dived with turtles of the coast of Ao Nang and snorkelled with angel fish shoals. I got sea sick on a clapped out speed boat miles off the coast of James Bond island, swung from ropes tied on to rickety bamboo platforms 20 metres above the raging Mekong river in Laos and most importantly scored four goals for the rest of the world team against the Pakse village side in a 9-6 barefoot soccer match on a dirt pitch which had an open sewer meandering across the halfway line. I ate octopus, frog, deep fried crickets, snake and ‘mystery meat on a skewer’. I trekked through jungles and bathed under waterfalls. Drank sang-sum buckets (an extremely potent cocktail which mixes Thai extra strength Red Bull syrup with coca-cola and Thai whisky served in a child’s sand bucket and drunk through a straw) with British, French and German backpackers in a Rasta bar, only drawing the line to new experience when the Thai guides started offering pure opium round the group! All this intense exotica pales into significance with what happened on arrival in Balmain, an inner west suburb of Sydney .
My girlfriend and I had travelled down the east coast of Australia visiting obscure towns on the way, and living out of a camper van for a month. This really is the promised land! The beaches are incredible with clean sands and warm oceans. The strength of the waves crashing onto the shore and scale of the sea makes you realise how insignificant you are in comparison to what else it out there. We were that far removed from city life at this point that the stars are as bright as spot lights, winking from the heavens. There is no light pollution or smog up in Queensland . We traced the coastline, roving through banana and pineapple plantations. As we neared Sydney and civilisation, my anticipation grew of what would meet me. I can clearly remember trundling down the Pittwater Road from the northern beaches where we now live and coming round the corner from Neutral Bay to lay eyes on Sydney Harbour Bridge for the first time. It was like driving onto a film set: the bridge arcing into the vast cityscape with the Opera House crouched down to the left framing the skyscrapers in between with ferries delivering commuters like bees buzzing between full blooms.
We crossed the Anzac Bridge and drove into the hiving suburb of Balmain, parking up on the harbour side, fizzing with excitement. We had completed our journey which started at the end of June, almost three months and eight countries ago.
I couldn’t wait to explore the city and was eager to wet my dry throat and the many bars which beckoned me in with the promise of ice cold XXXX, Pure Blonde, Carlton Draught and Tooheys. I had a whole new drinks menu to sample. We got a bite to eat and picked up the essentials. I had always gone by the old adage that the best way to get to know a new place is to get a drink, buy the local newspaper and see what is going on below the headlines. I pinned a couple of longnecks and leafed through the Sydney Morning Herald and turned to ask my girlfriend what a Bogan was only to find her slumped in a coma like stupor. I shook her awake and she cast her eye around the room. Only minutes had passed and she felt like she had been in the deepest of sleeps. We wrote it off to the huge amount of driving we had taken and went to bed.
The next night the same thing happened, during the 7 o’clock evening news and the night after that. We were apartment hunting and had another hectic day running round looking for business suits, recruitment agents and ferry timetables. I was now recovered from the travels and had my business head back on, eager to find gainful employment and through myself into the Sydney life. My girlfriend was still conking out early evening, leaving me to watch TV shows about celebrities I didn’t know and news reports places I hadn’t heard of. We finally decided that she should visit a doctor to see what was wrong. We had secured an apartment or unit as they are called here in a modern building with a swimming pool, gym and sauna. I was living the dream. I had heard back from several companies who were eager to meet me regarding job offers. I had even arranged to meet someone from Northern Ireland who had offered to show me round and who shared my passion for football. My girlfriend’s phone rang. It was a Friday afternoon. The voice on the other end introduced herself as the doctor’s receptionist. The doctor had finished early for the weekend, but he had left a message to say, Yes you are pregnant. That was the first day of the biggest adventure of our lives.
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