All good things

I'm home. It's different.

My clothes are clean. The suitcase has been emptied and put away.


If I'm hungry, I can walk to the fridge. If I need to go somewhere, I can hop in a car.

People are driving on the right side of the road.


I don't know if anyone else has noticed this, but if you listen carefully, you'll hear Australian accents everywhere in Melbourne.


Now that I'm back, I have lots to look forward to and an endless list of things to do.

The main priority is a second successive Collingwood premiership tomorrow.

I'm happy to see family again, I've enjoyed seeing friends, but I desperately miss travel already.

I'll miss learning new lessons – good and bad.

I'll miss the inspiration.

I'll miss having firsts.

I'll miss doing nothing but sit on a beach and read a book all day.

I’ll miss being day-drunk on a weekday and having no one judge me.

I'll miss being the only Australian in a room.

I'll miss being lost… Actually, scratch that, I'll get lost plenty at home.

I'll miss meeting new people.

I'll miss Holiday Dom.

A final week spent in Toronto encapsulated everything I loved about the trip.

Adventure, family, friends, sights and fun.

Canada is Australia with a picturesque landscape, fewer poisonous animals and funnier accents. It’s my new home away from home – my plan B if Melbourne ever has enough of me.

I think if the USA and Australia ever had a kid, the result would be Canada. If Canada then had an affair with France, the result would be Montreal.

I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve such amazing hospitality from my Canadian family and friends, but it must have been good.


My relatives, the Cicontes and Paolas, housed me, fed me, entertained me and even smuggled me past the US border to attend my first NHL hockey game. A big thank you to Tom Ciconte, his wife Liz and future sporting star Luke.


I won’t mention the fact that we got stuck at the border at Buffalo and were lucky to avoid a cavity search. I really won’t.

I was taken to cottage town Muskoka by friends Nadine Green and Andrew Brandt and shown a place that, alcohol poisoning and liver damage aside, sits somewhere between fantasy and reality.

The words “oh for sure”, “ya” and “aboat” will live on in my heart forever.

Cheers Canada, I’ll definitely be back.

The trek home held none of the excitement and promise as the one two months ago.

As if a 15-hour flight from Vancouver to Auckland isn't long enough, the woman next to me rubbed some salt in my wounds, coughing sneezing and complaining for 15 hours straight.

Some people just never got that whole 'human decency' lesson at school.

Here’s a thought, why in the world does the captain of a plane have to always say “This is your captain speaking.”?

Who else is it going to be?

Just once, I’d love to hear over the loudspeaker, “Hello, this is Timmy speaking… Hello?... Hello?... Mummy?... Where’s Mummy? Where are my toys? I want my juice! I think I went wee wee in my pants!”

The flight did have a bit of entertainment.

As we were landing in Auckland, a five-year-old boy woke up and felt the plane descending. The kid panicked and yelled at the top of his lungs, "The plane is going down!!! Dad, the plane is going down!!"


"No Shaun, we’re landing, everything is fine. We are landing on the ground."

"No, it's going down, I can feel it!! Are we going to die dad? We can visit Pop!"

This holiday delivered everything I could ask for and more.

Unfortunately, all good things do have to come to an end.

Hopefully there’s a few more to come.

New York - April's city

Start spreading the news. I'm leaving today. I want to be a part of it...

New York, New York.

Before I arrived, I was excited, but fatigued. The drinking and lack of sleep had caught up with me. I didn't know if I'd have the energy to appreciate the city.

You don't need energy for New York. New York provides it.

It started with a ride on the subway - an experience in itself - to the corner of 55th Street and 8th Avenue, meeting up with friends from home -Ryan Attwood and Natalie McPherson- and finding a packed Aussie bar to watch Collingwood win a final in the AFL.

It only got better from there.


It just so happened that Ryan and Nat were in the city at the same time as me on their own travels. It also just so happened that they were staying within a two-minute walk of my building. Spending six days with them was a relief. Having a few cooked meals, having someone to help with directions, having someone to enjoy the sights with - it was a great change of pace.

Times Square, Yankee Stadium, the Museum of Natural History, the Empire State Building, the 10-year anniversary of the twin tower attacks, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Grand Central Station and 'the top of the rock' - Rockefeller Tower at night. We did it all and not one destination disappointed.

There was also the small matter of getting on the news back home after a Channel 10 reporter spotted us in the crowd at the 9/11 memorial site, throwing a camera way too close to our faces.

You couldn't make up some of the things that have happened to me on this trip.

After six days we covered everything on the checklist and after Ryan and Nat left, I had another three days to slow down, wonder around and get lost.

The city is organised chaos. A living and breathing thing that has slowly melded together perfectly. There is a unique mix of old-world character, modern wonders and American charm. That 'buzz' that everyone told me about is all around you.

You can take a million pictures, but you'll never do the sights justice. You can write forever, but never capture everything you experience. But, it's amazing to try. Some of the best art ever created and best literature ever written has come from people that tried.

It's not hard to tell the locals and tourists apart. The locals are walking at the speed of light, all with headphones on, weaving around cars, ignoring traffic lights and the threat of certain death. The tourists are walking slowly, mouths opened a little, staring skyward at the surrounding buildings, believing that everything they see is photo-worthy - because it is.

I never received any of the famous New York rudeness that I was warned about, but, some stereotypes did ring true.
Every driver is physically-attached to their horn. You don't even have to do anything wrong, these people just love their beeping, even when it can't possibly achieve anything.

"Hmmm, peak hour traffic, maybe, just maybe, if I really get into this horn and be as loud and annoying as possible, things will open up for me, just like Moses and the Red Sea! Only one way to find out..."

If the city lives, Central Park is its heart and soul. Nestled peacefully in the centre of the hustle and bustle is one of the most beautiful parks you'll ever see.
Immaculately maintained and offering the ideal balance of water, flora and room to spread your wings, it's the perfect escape.


The running and riding tracks are framed by unmatched scenery and beauty. No one else knew it, but I was the winner of three marathons. The people I was running against just didn't want it as much as me.

Hidden in one of the park's most picturesque spots is John Lennon's 'Imagine' memorial. When I walked by, there was a large crowd of people just sitting around the decorated tribute, listening to a fan with an acoustic guitar play all the great man's classics - unforgettable moment.

On my second last day I was armed with a laptop, towel, some music and a cheesy 'I love New York' t-shirt as I walked through the park, looking for a quiet spot to stop, relax, write and do as little as possible for the entire day.

I found my spot.

Next to one of the park's small lakes was a deck chair with a message engraved in the wood. It read:

''April, when I think on thee, all losses are returned and sorrows forgotten. To me, you were more beautiful than this park and more inspiring than this view. When I sit here and close my eyes, I can still feel your head on my shoulder. This city belongs to you. I'll love you forever - Bobby. ''


Sitting on April and Bobby's chair, imagining the couple sitting there, growing old, taking in the park, watching as the city peaks through in the background, I had a couple of thoughts. Firstly, nice touch Bobby - someone is definitely getting pancakes in heaven. You can't find words like that for someone unless you truly mean them. Secondly, there's a reason why people flock from around the world to come to this place.

They come here to fulfil a dream in a city of opportunity unlike any other. They come here to be inspired, get the best out of themselves and become part of the culture and history - just like April and Bobby.

But, not everyone makes it. For every person in a suit, for every happy family, for every success, for every April and Bobby there is a another person holding a sign promoting a $5 sandwich at Subway, a homeless man on the street with a depressed dog as his only companion and another guy with a bag of 'goodies' for sale that included condoms, white wine, water, maps and ponchos - I'm not even kidding.

Sure buddy, I'd love to buy stuff from a stranger who smells like death. How much for your condoms that look like they expired in 1992? And that pre-opened bottle of wine, how many drugs did you throw in? Only a little you say? Sold!

There is a perfection even in the flaws of New York. I'm really going to miss this city.



I know I'm coming to the end - the end of the trip, the end of adventure. I'm really looking forward to finishing this off where it all started - Toronto.

For now, I have to say goodbye to April's city. Hopefully I'll be back one day.

When I think on thee, all of my losses will be returned and sorrows forgotten.

Time to fly

I'm on the home straight. The trip is coming to an end.

Constant reminders of what awaits me back home are being sent my way - a mix of good and bad.

The good
My bed, my shower, family, friends, my pup Georgie, Melbourne in spring, a potential Collingwood grand final and dinner with my grandparents.

The bad
Looking for a new car, looking for a new job, trying to get back in shape, planning for a future, being friends with Michael Sweeney, the sound of my alarm clock and the return of responsibilities and commitments.

Those first few weeks back home will be interesting.




After more than a month on the US west coast, the east has been an incredible experience. Chicago and Boston may not have had the same perfect weather, but what they lacked in sunlight, they more than made up for in history, sporting passion and character.

Another old friend made in Europe, this time Chicago native Kaitlyn Thoen, took me on a fantastic tour of Chi-town - a city I didn't want to leave.
The home of Michael Jordan and my Chicago Bulls, the city has an interesting history, complemented by incredible sights, beautiful architecture and jaw-dropping landmarks.




Boston is where it all began for the USA and the stories the town have to tell are the most interesting you'll find in the country. Armed with a thick 'Bostonian' accent that sounds more like American slang, the natives are warm, accommodating and their city had a passion for sports that I've only ever seen in one other place - Melbourne.

They were my kind of towns.

As I sit in the Boston airport now, I'm confident I've left the best till last - New York.

Oh airports - my new friend, my new enemy - the 'bonus' that comes with travel.

It's a place where you need patience.

They say time waits for no man, well, at an airport, it waits... oh how it waits.

Have you ever woken up and asked yourself the question, 'I wonder what it would be like to pushed around like cattle' ? Try getting through customs at the Los Angeles international airport. You get the full cattle experience, short of getting branded.




There's also the joy of hidden charges. I swear these people are making it up as they go along and who are we to question? We've paid for our non-refundable flights, we forgot to read the fine print, we're not going to stop forking out cash now.

Sir, there will be a check-in fee of $34. Are you wearing shorts sir? There will also be a shorts-wearing fee of $26. Please have your money ready at the gate for the barcode-reading fee and seatbelt fee - have a great flight.

The people at airports always interest me. You have a great mix of comatose backpackers sleeping on the benches, hungover from the all-nighter they tried to pull the day before. You have your business suits, walking around , looking as important as possible on their phones. You have your parents with small, loud children, with a look on their faces that screams 'I am never having a child again, I am never having sex again just in case.' Finally, you have your airport staff - you can literally see the sense of enthusiasm and motivation stripped from their souls as the answer the same questions every five minutes.

No sir, this is a Virgin America flight to Chicago departing at 3.30pm. No, sorry sir, I don't know anything about your American Airlines flight. Why? Because I only get paid by one airline and I don't check up on what other airlines are doing in my spare time. The toilet? It's right behind you where the big toilet sign is. Have a nice day.

My usual habit while waiting for my flight is to listen to music, read a book, write, have a Kit Kat and read one of the local newspapers. Today, my iphone is dead and, in a true blessing in disguise, I was rewarded with some rare airport magic.

Next to me right now is a young child singing 'Old McDonald had a farm' at the top of his lungs. His mum is incredibly embarrassed and trying to get him to stop, but the rest of the people waiting at the gate are loving the entertainment. An old guy, in his 50's, joined in, then another next to him.

Of course I joined in, who could resist!? After five seconds there was about 20 people at the gate singing Old McDonald.

E I E I O !

When the song was over, we all went straight back to airport-zombie-mode, like nothing ever happened.

This kid was on to something. There is a way to escape the monotomy of airports - having fun.

But, adults arent allowed to go crazy, run around with toys and sing whatever song comes into their head. I've tried it, you just get weird looks.

The actual flying part of travel now comes very easily to me. It wasn't always this way but logging up hundreds of hours around the world will help you get over those tiny sounds that have you convinced the engine is about to explode.




I can't sleep on planes. My trip from Melbourne to Toronto, including waiting time at airports, was 36 hours. 36 hours without sleep. Everyone else on planes looks so comfortable and cosy when they try and sleep, but I just can't do it no matter what I try.

The one time I could feel myself dosing off, I was woken by the flight attendant, asking me if I wanted icecream.

This is what I said in my head.
Really? You woke me up to ask me if I wanted sugar-coated ice? That's going to help me sleep? I've only been awake for the last 27 hours, I'd love a pick-me-up!
Ofcourse I want one! What am I, some kind of person who doesn't take delicious icecream! Give me the damn thing!

This is what came out of my mouth.
"Ok, thanks."

I can stomach it all, for the promise of starting fresh in a new city, seeing new sights, meeting new people, being inspired and delaying reality just a little while longer.

Final call for boarding to New York.

E I E I O ;)

Sunny days, long nights

Please note: Parts of this blog that are bolded have been 'edited' for quality and classification concerns. If you are reading this, you are also entering into an agreement not to tell my beautiful, innocent nonna anything incriminating.

I come to you today from my Chicago hostel 'the getaway', fresh from a long run along the North Avenue Beach, feeling fatigued, old, a little sun burnt and, most importantly, happy. Content.

I have a really, really good feeling about this place.

Today is my first day on the east coast and what should be a whole new experience compared to the last two weeks spent under the sun and bright lights of the west coast and Las Vegas.

My time on the west coast was like one really long Beach Boys song.

San Diego provided everything I hoped it would. Beaches, new friends, great times with old contiki friends AJ DePaolo and Max Carpinelli and an intimate hostel that featured poker nights, pub crawls and enough drinking games to permanently damage my liver.



Los Angeles provided all of the cheesy tourist attractions, crazy people, beautiful sights, another good hostel, fun theme parks and more great people.

I've passed the halfway point.

My bank account is just holding its head above the water, my suitcase has just about kicked the bucket and my t-shirts are beginning to look like they've been washed by a 25-year-old guy with no idea about how to correctly use a washer and dryer. Despite that, Holiday Dom and I are soldiering on.

I was sitting in a restaurant last night, looking at a slightly out-of-shape American guy, who was holding hands with his beautiful girlfriend.
While I sat there, trying my best not to storm over there and shake his hand, I had a thought.

This guy, who was also sporting a ponytail and wearing a Star Trek t-shirt, has clearly used all of his luck (or money) in life getting that amazing girl, who had a smile that lit up the whole room... have I used up all of my luck on this trip? Or can I carry this on for a while longer?




Time (and maybe a second Collingwood premiership in five weeks time) will tell.

Talking of the need for luck, I turn to my four days in Las Vegas... what I remember of them.

After a month of solo travel, I was joined by my cousin Ross Marotta in Los Angeles and armed with enthusiasm, pluck and that excitement that I now know comes from ignorance and stupidity - we flew out of LA and on to Vegas early on the morning of August 28.

I think the best way to provide a commentary of the trip is in running diary form. Without further adue...

Day 1

10am: Arrive in Las Vegas. We are greeted by slot machines, excited elderly people armed with their pensions and advertising for machine guns, sex shows and David Copperfield - that was all before we can make it out of the airport.

Arrive at the world-famous Bellagio.


How can I put this in perspective... after four weeks of staying in hostels, sharing bathrooms, bunk beds, mysterious smells and 'do it yourself' breakfasts, this hotel was what I'd imagine heaven to be like. The artwork and surroundings were intricate and breathtaking, the service was beyond anything I've seen and the lobby was filled with people in quiet awe.

12pm: After doing a few adult things like jumping on the bed and trying on the robes, we decide that it's time to gamble.

12.34pm: We get drinks for free at the table. Dear lord in heaven, we get drinks for free at the table!

4pm: After a short stint of gambling and a high-priced lunch in which we paid $8 for a glass of tap water, we head out for a bit of shopping and spend my some of my first winnings.




It's at this stage that we got a sharp reminder that we are in a city that's been crammed into a desert. It has to be at least 45 degrees (celsius) outside. The heat hits us like a punch to the face.

6pm: Now, the plan was to have a little flutter, then go to a local night club... but we never got that far.

7pm: After tracking at about even for an hour and enjoying the free drinks, I go on the run to end all runs. Every decision was the right one, chipping up was always the right move, every big bet pays off and somehow, in amongst bumping fists with the dealer, celebrating with the rest of the table and tipping everyone that came within five metres of me, I look down and see that I'm around one thousand dollars up.

10.22pm: As we bump fists with the dealer, she remarks on how soft Ross' hands are. For the rest of the night he was 'soft hands' Marotta.

10.40pm: I become 'that guy' at the table. I can't lose. I've never had a run like this in my life. Everything I touch turns to black jack. I'm in the gambling zone. We are not leaving this table to go to any night clubs. I'm not leaving this table ever again. I'm going to buy a house and raise my kids at this table.

12.30pm: The casino decided that enough was enough and changed dealers on me. Around $1200 in winnings turned into around $900 so it was time to see what else the town has on offer.



1am: So, armed with a little over $900, free drinks and a high from a night of fun and success, Ross and I decide that enough is enough for one night and that we should hit the sack early. I have a few glasses of water to make sure I'm not too dehydrated, I then stand up and complete my straight and competent walk back to my room. We don't go anywhere else, I don't spend any of my winnings on silly things.

Day 2

11.30am: Where am I? Why is there an un-eaten pizza over there? What time is it?

12pm: After having the night recounted to me and finding most of my $900 in winnings still intact, I decide that it would be a good idea to take advantage of the lavish hotel gymnasium, which is complimentary to guests.

Doing a workout the morning after your first night in Vegas? Mistake.

4pm: After some more rest and a little gambling, we hit up the hotel buffet.
Following weeks of Subway, hostel barbecues, cheeseburgers and whatever the closest vending machine has to offer, this buffet was like a gift from God. Lobster, pastas, prawns, juicy steaks, fresh broccoli - I filled my plate three times and only stopped eating when the button on my pants broke.

7pm: We get ready for The Lion King Musical. Luckily enough, the show was in town and it's something I've always wanted to see.

Good sign.

The show is amazing. The intricate costumes, the atmosphere, the performance - the whole thing transformed me into an excited 8-year-old kid again. After the show finishes, we head back to the Bellagio.




10.30pm: More free drinks, more gambling. It's at this stage that I realise how much fun it is to gamble with the casino's money. That big win on the first night has allowed me to have stress-free fun in a place that can easily eat up your life savings in a haze of drinking, attractive waitresses and the hope of hitting that jackpot.

11pm: Ross returns from the ATM: "Even the bloody ATM machines, the one machine that is SUPPOSE to give me money, won't do it. I'm done for the night."

Day 3

5am: "Dom, wake up. Dom... it's 5am. Get up."

5.50am: With the winnings from the first night, I was able to comfortably afford a limo and helicopter service that would fly us over the city and on to the Grand Canyon.

The limo arrives at 6am to pick us up and we pile in like a bunch of excited, sleep deprived, hungover primary school kids.




7am: After checking in at the airport, we meet our pilot and I bravely get in the helicopter.



The flying over, then landing inside, the Grand Canyon is one of the best things I've done with my life.



Once you reach the floor of the canyon, there are no need for words. You shouldn't waste any time talking when you have to take in the perfection of the natural phenomena. The pictures taken will never do the site true justice, but God help me, I thought I'd try anyway.

A small meal is consumed and we confidently get back in the helicopter and fly back to the strip.

10.30am: With the last night in town ahead of us, we catch up on sleep and re-charge the batteries for one last big night.

7pm: Starting our tour of all the hotels and casinos on the strip, we make it around to three or four before settling in at the Paris Hotel, playing black jack with dealers that were modestly dressed women.

4am: After five solid hours of drinking and gambling, it's time to go. Vegas is done. We head back to our rooms and catch our last few hours of sleep before jetting out of town the next morning.


Vegas. In one small dose, I had an amazing time that I'll never forget. But even though there was so much we didn't do, staying there for any longer than three nights would be too much. Too much on my body, too much on my wallet, too much for my sense of decency.

There is just too much of whatever you want on offer. There's a reason why everyone walks around with that look of quiet awe - Vegas is a fantasy world that we aren't suppose to experience in any kind of extended dose, unless, like the Star Trek fan with the ponytail, you have a lot of luck on your side.