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.

Imagine

The problem with writing about your travels is prioritising your stories and deciding what's worthy.

I could write about individual experiences over the couple of weeks, talking about all the sights, attractions and people, but I'd end up with something 6000 words long.

So the question becomes, what do I write about? What makes the cut?

The 35 minutes of panic and horror at the Seattle International Train Station I experienced when I thought I had lost my passport? Or the embarrassing place I found it after notifying security?

The mystery surrounding my suitcase. How is it getting heavier each day when I haven't actually added any items to the luggage?

What about the incredible tale of getting into San Francisco's Alcatraz prison despite it being completely booked out for a month in advance?

I think airports, flying, delays, getting through US customs and how to keep yourself busy while waiting is probably worth a blog all on it's own for another day.

No, I think I'll save those tales and just remain really generic and aimless like usual.

I write to you today from the floor in one of the hallways of my San Diego hostel - Lucky D's.

The hangover I'm nursing is the stuff of legend. I have sore spots on my body, but no idea where they've come from. The German girl next to me, Lina, has been skyping her dad back home.

German is such a beautiful, angry language.

Whoever is running the hostel has been playing the soundtrack to my life from 2006-2008. It's just been one amazing song after another. Appropriately, John Lennon's Imagine just came on. If I didn't think I'd throw up from the effort, I'd probably get up and break into song.

Imagine all the people, living for today.

Lina tells me that the movie Up is playing in the common room. One of my inspirations for adventure and travel.

Good sign.

I'm now past the three week mark of the trip and I've had a revelation.

This is it.

This is that period of time that I'll look back on for the rest of my life as my prime.

The escape, the fun, the life lessons... I'll never top this.

Sure, one day, maybe, if I can trick a girl into taking me, there could be kids, houses and a goldfish that we'll forget to feed. But, as far as adventures go, I don't know how to top this. I don't know how to go back to the rat race after living like this.

The US has certainly been a different experience to Canada, but no less fun.

The buildings are bigger, the cars are bigger, the servings of food are bigger and, by extension, some of the people are a LOT bigger, but I've felt incredibly welcome everywhere I go and certainly enjoyed the cheap(er) food and drinks.

My ever-expanding stomach says hi.

Seattle provided great sights, good people and a solid platform into the west coast.

San Francisco provided some of the best people I've met on the trip and a vibrant city filled with fun.

Early days in San Diego have been amazing. It's going to be tough to leave.

The most exciting thing is that I feel this way and I may be yet to reach the best part. Vegas, LA, NY and the east coast are still to come.

The good signs have continued to come. Things on the list have fallen into place.
Apart from a few cold days in San Francisco, the weather has been perfect.

I have no one to argue with. Anger, frustration, depression - I left those emotions somewhere on the plane between Melbourne and Toronto.

My meager attempts to travel semi-healthy have fallen away. Subway has been replaced by cheese burgers. Water replaced by "your coldest beer please" and exercise replaced with hangover recovery.

My body and I are not on great terms right now. It's disappointed that I fell asleep on a Vancouver beach without sunscreen on. It's angry I keep drinking and eating. It doesn't appreciate the sleep deprivation.


So, I made a compromise. I bought a pair of runners and in doing that, I've made another discovery.

Running in a foreign city turns a normal, unfit person like myself into a world-class athlete.

I no longer feel pain when I hit the 10km mark. How could I when I look to my right and see a sunset, beautiful park or marina.

My lungs take in more air when the backdrop is not a familiar, depressing track in Cranbourne.

I don't need to convince myself to push on anymore - I have to convince myself to stop.

I imagine this is how Forrest Gump must have felt when he went on his journey.

All this talk of exercise has made me hungry. There is a sports bar and cheese burger with my name on it downstairs.

Next stop: Vegas baby.

Me time

Whether it's in sport or life in general, when you have a dream start, things have a way of slowing down.

I've been waiting for my trip to slow down, but it hasn't happened.

This week there is no sporting brilliance, long-lost family or old friends to write about, but, against the odds, the fun has raged on.

I've found myself running out of words I can use to describe the experience.

The one that comes to mind now is overwhelmed.

The fun, excitement, adventure - it's all happened so fast and with such intensity that it's hard to take in.

I think travel is one of the only things adults can do to capture what it's like to be a child again. You know, if a child drank and ate too much and spent money like it was going out of fashion. When we grow up, we stop experiencing things for the first time. Travel is the best way I know that can get that back.

Three weeks on the US west coast awaits. The tour will feature stops in Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, LA, San Diego and Las Vegas.

As I type now, I'm on a train from Vancouver to Seattle. My Canadian stay is temporarily over.



This is one hell of a train ride. Watching the sun slowly set on a coast lined with soaring pine trees and cosy little towns is a thing of beauty, as is having wifi and cushioned seats.

The guy on the seat next to me, Cameron from 'Seaaattle', has flaunted every 'stop talking to me' sign I could put up. Wearing headphones didn't work, reading a book didn't work and trying to look busy on the laptop hasn't worked. After the third time he accidentally spat in my face while asking me questions about kangaroos and koalas, like those jokes were a new concept he just thought up, I got up and went to the dining car.



After six days of fun in Vancouver meeting great people, if Cameron is my punishment, i'll happily cop it on the chin, especially if I have a view like this one when I look to my right -->

Canada, I am in your debt. Don't ask me for any money though because I've spent it all.

Toronto was followed by a stay in the picturesque Montreal, then the fun of Vancouver. Again, I've been able to find good people to spend my nights with and again, I've been able to entertain myself during moments of solitude with beaches, restaurants, fireworks, exploring and some unbelievable sights along the way.




Things on 'The List' are slowly and entertainingly getting ticked off one by one. I'll save those tales for the final blog.

Now, after an amazing two weeks, I can provide all the cliches that everyone has heard before.

I'm learning about myself. I'm inspired. I'm free. I know it all has to end so I'm enjoying every moment.. etc etc etc..

That's all true and when it does happen, it's an amazing experience. But, it's the other things that I'm picking up along the way that interest me just as much.

These are some of life's new lessons that spring to mind.

Self reliance - Dominic Ciconte is the only person I can rely on to ensure I make my next flight. There is no one to bail me out. Ciconte is the only person who can make sure I stick to a semi-reasonable budget. He is the only person that can help in times of crisis.

This is the same guy who could get lost driving in a car park. It's the same guy who has 'misplaced' his wallet three times in the last 18 months. I've seen him panic, crawl into the fetal position and weep on many occasions.

Is he trustworthy?

To say I'm sceptical is an understatement, but so far, touch wood, he's doing ok.

Photography - There are no words to describe the beauty of a photo that features my shoulder, a close up of my face and an out-of-focus landmark in the background. Can't wait to show you all.

Freedom - It's liberating to wake up every morning, have no responsibilities or commitments and then go and do whatever I want for the day.

There is no compromises, no debates, no deadlines, no rules (except the legal ones set by the Government) no limits and no one to answer to. It's just me.

Rat race? What rat race?


Solitude - Despite all the friends you make, the nature of travel is that eventually you have to move on. More often than not, you're alone. Alone with your thoughts, alone with a book or alone with your music.
Being alone is never fun, but getting past the clingy attachments and need to be constantly surrounded by family and friends is also a good thing. It makes you appreciate the time you spend with them more.

Carpe diem - Actually taking moments to stop, breathe and think about where you are and how you got there can be inspiring.
The sights are beautiful, the drinking is fun, the people are great, but it's those little moments in between the bigger ones that make traveling worth the trouble. Those are the moments you have to seize.

The best moments of this trip, for me, will never make their way on to facebook for everyone to see. I won't be able to do them justice when I try to convey them through dance, as I like to do with most of my stories.

And with that point comes the pitfall of solo travel.

I don't get to share.

Ample 'me time' is part and parcel of the gig.


Sometimes, unfortunately, maybe because of body odor or horrible personality, it's just me.

When I see parents walking their child on a leash like a dog, when I see a homeless man with an hilarious sign that reads "smile if you masturbate, then give me money", when I trip over nothing and eat cement in front of a big crowd of people (may or may not have happened) I can't turn to my left and laugh about it with anyone.

I still think travel is a game for couples. I know this because I see them everywhere - asking me to take a picture for them.

There is only so many sunsets, waterfalls and romantic moments a single solo traveler can take!

But, in the big scheme of things, those moments are a very, very small price to pay.

I'd take them over Cameron.

Good sign

I'm a "It was meant to be" kind of guy.

I like to look for life's little signs to help justify my big decisions.

This year, more than any other, has been a year for some pretty big decisions - going overseas, resigning at work, ending my delicious relationship with KFC and a litany of others.

I'm slowly building my way up to responsible adult decisions. It's all about baby steps.

Sometimes you can get all the positive signs in the world and the end result is still heartbreaking. But, if you're willing to follow them, they will look after you more often than not.

Now, when I say signs, I'm not talking about the alien crop-circle movie starring Mel Gibson that no one should ever watch on a farm, at night, alone with the lights off like I did...

I'm talking about the perfectly-timed song in the background that speaks to you, chance encounters with people thought long gone, personal messages within advertising or the right quote at the right time.

If you're paying attention, these signs should make you pause, tilt your head to the right and rub your chin. Smoking a pipe and having a long white beard is optional.

So, after arriving in Toronto for the first leg of the trip four days ago, I was looking for signs to convince me that the trip would be a success. That I wouldn't regret another big decision.

Toronto delivered.


The city provided a benchmark for fun that will be tough to top. I don't really know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.

In amongst the beauty, the hospitality of the people, the incredible sights, the vibrant atmosphere, the jaw-dropping power of Niagara Falls, the drinks, the girls, the partying and the sleep deprivation were a few signs worth sharing.

The friends, the family and the catch.

The friends
If you're willing to sacrifice some privacy, some sleep and some water pressure during a shower, hostels will reward you with like-minded people, new friends... and the occasional bed bug.
To be back in an environment where everyone is free from responsibility and looking for adventure is liberating.
Instead of being in a shared room with a group of three or four friends and having to weasel my way into picking up some drinking buddies, I found myself in a room with two lads in the same boat as me - travelling alone. An Englishman, an Irishman and Aussie - no one understood us, but we had a ripping time.


On top of this, I'm treated to the amazing hospitality of Canadian friends made while travelling through Europe two years ago. Nadine Green, Andrew Brandt, take a bow - They absolutely went above and beyond to show me an amazing time. Couldn't have asked for better tour guides. I was picked up at the airport at 1am, wasn't allowed to pay for anything despite my protests and was given a 'behind the scenes' tour of the city.

Good sign.



The family

Travelling alone for 60 days, I was sure I would be saying goodbye to a decent home-cooked meal and the fun banter of Italian relatives trying to one-up each other around a table until I got home.

How wrong I was.

Through the magic of Facebook, we found direct relatives that lived in Toronto some time ago and I was lucky enough to stay in touch and meet up with them when I arrived.
Tom Ciconte, his wife Liz and son Luke picked me up On Saturday and drove me out to another relative's birthday party near Niagara.

With a little research, Tom had informed me that we were related directly through our grandfathers, who were brothers.

When we got to the party, I was introduced to the birthday boy, Richard Paola, who, somehow, recognised me.

"You're Gino's boy right?" he asks casually.
"What!!?? How do you know dad?"

Turns out Richard had visited Melbourne 20 years ago, visited all of the family and took an interest in following the entire family tree. It was incredible to listen to a relative in another country who you've never meet talk about relatives you grew up with.


The night was fantastic, I felt right at home, laughed all night and didn't want to leave.

Canadians just know how to host.

Good sign.

The catch

This is the sign to beat all signs. It's actually more of an open slap to the face. I'll never top this for as long as I live.

Nadine and Andrew surprised me with a baseball game on my first day in the city. The Toronto Blue Jays were hosting the Baltimore Orioles at Rogers Stadium, which is an incredible sight at night with the CN Tower in the background.
After getting a pre-game beer at a nearby sports bar, we arrived at the beginning of the second inning and the Blue Jays were batting.
Our seats were incredible. Second level above home plate, cushion seats, beer and food a few metres away.
As we sat down, we quickly saw one batter walked. A Blue Jay named Eric Thames came to the plate. The first two pitches were balls, the third was a foul ball hit hard in our direction.


As soon as it came off the bat, I knew it was mine. I stood up, beer in left hand and caught the ball with my right hand clean as a whistle. Those who have seen me field in cricket may not believe it, but it happened. I plucked the ball clean with one hand, without dropping a sip of my beer.

The reality of what happened took a few seconds to register. My first baseball game, the fourth pitch I see and I catch a foul ball. The crowd around us cheered, we laughed and I stared at the ball in disbelief.
Nadine and Andrew were on the phone, shocked, telling family and friends. I had a quick chat with Andrew's dad that went something like this:
"Ive been going to baseball games my whole life and I've never caught a foul ball. My father went to baseball games his whole life and never caught a foul ball. You sit down for your first at-bat and catch one straight away! Where's the justice?"



First night of the trip and I end up with a souvenir that I will cherish for life.



Almost like it was meant to be.

I don't want to jinx anything, but...

Good sign.

A holiday from real

As I sit at home, unemployed, bored senseless, watching my bank account take more hits than a girl dating Chris Brown, I feel the time is right for the self-indulgence of a blog.

Dom still has work to do to become an adult - revelation #32: It's one thing to make big life decisions. It's a whole other thing to actually follow through and live with them.

That, unfortunately, is the reality I now face after turning my life upside down in the pursuit, foolish or not, of inspiration during my holiday.

The first step before taking a long holiday: Unemployment.

Unemployment. The word itself is shameful to say.

For many people, a job isn't just about a wage and 9-5, it's how we define ourselves, it's how we differentiate ourselves, it's how we give our lives meaning. You don't even have to like your job, a purpose and goal will do for most.

The alternative is not a pretty picture.

Sure, my decision was made with a holiday in mind and I won't have to worry about finding work for a few months yet, but this preview of what's to come is not an attractive one.

I knew unemployment would eat into confidence and identity, but I never realised how much it would sap energy levels.

Doing nothing is incredibly tiring.

Today I made one phone call to my insurance company and wrote an email to a friend. I had to sit down afterwards and have a drink of water because of the unbridled effort it had taken.

For the past four years, I dreamt of sleeping in till 11am and watching DVD's in my trackies till the sun went down. Let me tell you, that gets old after about two days.

Laziness is creeping in. You know you're becoming a lazy person when you start to justify and believe your own lies.

You were right not to get off the couch for three hours, that spider on the ceiling could have been provoked by movement. You were right not to go for that run, you could have caught a cold. It's normal to wear the same trackies for four days in a row...

Goals you set for yourself while unemployed are so much smaller. Things you would usually cram into two hours on a Saturday all of a sudden take the best part of nine hours. "Today I'm going to get my hair cut and walk the dog. May god have mercy on my soul."

I'm needy, I'm lonely and I have way too much time alone with my thoughts. I feel like these are the pre-requisites to a flaming skull tattoo or mental breakdown.

The second step of a big holiday: Remembering why you planned the big holiday.

Amid all the planning, last-minute booking and reflection on everything I'll be missing while I'm gone, doubt had crept in.

What if this turns out to be a flop? What if I can't do it on my own? What if they find the 72kgs of cocaine strapped to my waist?

There was even a time when I didn’t want to go. Things were piling up that I couldn’t leave behind, change was scary and I had everything I wanted at home.

It's been so long since I travelled that I forgot why I wanted to do it.

One day, when I’m an old man, I'll wake up, pee four times in 15 minutes, then, I won't wonder what it would have been like to travel the world in the prime of my life. After I'm finished not wondering, I'll pull my pants up to my waist, complain about the younger generation and be genuinely concerned about a report on dodgy supermarket meat I watched on A Current Affair.

Apart from the adventure, inspiration and escape, there's another, much bigger reason for this trip - I just don’t know it yet.

In amongst the copious amounts of alcohol, pub crawls, new sights, new friends, weird accents and freedom from responsibility and commitment, I think it will reveal itself.

The third step of a big holiday: Going.

I’m a week away from jumping on the plane. It’s actually happening.

Here’s the plan, I'm putting together a list of things that I must complete before coming home. If I can get them all done, I'll deem the holiday a success.

Here they are, feel free to add any ideas.


Drink beer out of a red cup
Start writing a book
Attend a baseball game and any other US/Canadian sport in season.
Drive left-handed car without crashing
Give a homeless guy money
Win a game of beer pong
See a live gig
Get lost in NY - disgustingly lost
Full day on the beach doing absolutely nothing
Hit 26 black on roulette in Vegas
Have a Chicago deep dish pizza
Supersize something
Learn a new drinking game
Don't get shot
Don't get robbed
Eat a NY pretzel/food cart hotdog

Bon Voyage all, I’ll keep you updated with the blog as I go.

If anyone sees holiday Dom before I do, tell him to throw some beers in the fridge.