The Customs of Customs

1-8-11: For some reason my biggest fear throughout my entire trip was Australian customs. For the last few hours of my flight time, this was my one and all consuming thought. I was prepared... I was over-prepared. I had every sort of document t you can think of, ranging from my birth certificate to my bank statements to my 2nd grade report cards. I suppose living in the United States you grow accustom to a certain amount of state-sponsored paranoia toward immigrants and I just sort of expected it from the Australian government. My mental images consisted mostly of being led into a dimly lit room where I would be asked to prove that I was not a terrorist or would be a drain on the Australian social economy with the most suspicious part being my lack of a return plane ticket and my attempt to smuggle a box of pop-tarts into the country (a gift for a friend).

So eventually I disembarked my rather uneventful flight from Sydney to Melbourne. The only thing to report from the flight being that I ordered a Coca-Cola and surprisingly discovered that it tasted funny. On further inspection I realized it was an Aussie Coke bearing the tag line: "Real Taste. Uplifting Refreshment." My best description is that it has a sort of Diet Coke twang to it...

Regardless, I stepped off from my flight and immediately proceeded to customs. I first had to fill out an Australian customs slip and report where I was coming from, where I was going, and declare any foreign products (like pop-tarts). I filled out the form dutifully and proceeded to talk to the customs agent. I started with a friendly greeting and an apology for my lack of skill with paperwork. He very deftly countered by saying it was okay since I am from New Jersey; (He was looking at my passport.) The next revelation came when he checked my visa and realized that my surname and my given name were reversed on the paper work, (effectively I was Brunner Adam). This made me a bit nervous and I was asked to step aside into a small waiting area where another person already stood. Another customs agent then took my paperwork and disappeared into a back room.

Meanwhile two more customs agents in rubber gloves approached the person I was standing with. The first words the lead agent spoke were, "So you might have Yellow Fever."

After overhearing this, I very noticeably jerked my head to look at the man and then slid as faraway from him as possible. Soon enough though, my customs agent returned, handed me back my papers, and said, "Welcome to Australia, Mr. Brunner."

I felt almost giddy walking away, and the feeling continued as I discovered that my checked bag had not been lost in transit (as I assumed it probably would have). My stomach again dropped as I got into a line where bags were being inspected, my thoughts turned again to the box of wheat and processed sugar I had in my bag. Soon enough I was approached by another customs agent who took my paperwork and looked it over.

She then looked at me, "What sort of food are you carrying?"

"Pop-Tarts," was my reply.

"That's it?" She gave me a look like, why would you even waste my time and stamped my slip of paper with a green stamp. She handed it back to me. She did not even ask me to open the bag to make sure that I was telling the truth. She just okayed my paperwork and the next thing I knew I was out among the general population wondering why I was so nervous about the whole damn thing.

My next step was to approach the airports information desk and present my voucher for my shuttle ride. The desk clerk gave it a once over and summoned a shuttle which took about 20 minutes to arrive. When it did I was directed to Bus Port 2, where the shuttle driver informed me that I was not in the right bus port as he was heading in the opposite direction. He pointed me to Bus Port 5 where I presented the voucher to another bus driver. He looked at it in confusion and asked for my ticket. I responded with saying that the voucher was all I had. He simply shrugged and loaded my luggage. That is the thing I am coming to discover about Australians, in general. They are very easy going. I have no idea if I was even on the right shuttle for that voucher to be valid, but the driver accepted it with hardly any question. It was something that in America, I am sure probably would have elicited a lot of huffing and puffing and maybe even a radio call back to headquarters followed by a 15 minute wait for confirmation. In Australia, all I got was a simple shrug. I found myself thinking -and not for the first or last time- that Australia really is a remarkable country.

Theories of Relativity

The farmland surrounding Melbourne as seen from the air.

1-8-11: I am now into the second leg of my trip, cruising at 33,000 feet above the black and unforgiving Pacific Ocean. Surely, if we were to crash into the dark, shark-infested depths we would all be lost forever. On the brighter side, my pilot's name is Captain Sullivan. I am sure it is not THE Captain "Sully" Sullivan, but it is still comforting to know that if this plane needs to make quick u-turn, head 8,000 miles in the opposite direction and make an emergency landing in the Hudson River, we will all be fine. You know, it is those small comforts that I need to hold onto when the plane hits those extreme pockets of turbulence. Mostly, however, I have been trying to not think about it as my main goal has become to combat my sleepiness. I have set all my clocks to Australian time and my goal is to hold off sleeping till a decent and respectable Aussie bed time. By my current count that is still at least 3 hours away, even though it is nearing 4 in the morning on the east coast of the United States.

Crossing an International Dateline is an odd thing. I understand the principle behind it and I get that there has to be a dividing line somewhere on the globe that separates it all, but speaking in strictly rational terms... it's an odd thing. Its what might happen when one enters a wormhole or travels faster than 88 miles per hour in certain cars. I mean how else can a person cease to exist for a single day, and vice-versa. For the majority of the world January 7, 2011 has come and went like any other day. For me it will never. So to anyone who has celebrated a birthday, an anniversary, or other special occasion deserving of well-wishing, I do apologize as I was just not in existence on that day to express to you my congratulations on your joyous day. You know, according to Einstein's theory of relativity, the closer to the speed of light you travel the more time slows for you, but it still remains a constant for the rest of the universe. Thus, you live one day while several may pass for your friends and family back at home... I think Einstein must have taken frequent trips to Australia...

For me, however, one trip is enough. I am growing weary and frustrated with this entire process and I am not even halfway through this daunting trip. I suppose it could be worse. At the height of Australian immigration in the 1950's a flight to Australia from England took 3 days to complete and a round trip ticket cost nearly as much as modest house. Even when Qantas (the premiere aussie airline) introduced their new Constellation-class plane (warp factor 6), the trip still cost as much as purchasing a new car. So, understandably, most immigrants traveled the 12,000 mile journey by boat. Imagine a trip where you spent every waking moment for weeks on the deck of a ship slowly watching the familiar sights of countries and continents drift away one by one, till you found yourself arriving on the almost forgotten continent of Australia. And of course what makes it even crazier is that this happened not in 1880 or 1902, but in the 1950's. When the rest of the world was being introduced to rock n' roll, James Dean, and was preoccupied with thoughts of the great Red Menace, there were still people on freight liners steaming their way toward a new continent in search of a better life. It seems an experience that would be almost out of place in the mid twentieth century, but as I am coming to realize Australia runs on its own sort of timeline. Time zone speaking it is a country ahead of the world, but in a lot of ways it remains a country comfortably settled in an idyllic past. Australia really is a strange and wondrous place when you think about.

I can almost relate to those early immigrants. I feel as if there is still so far to go and still so many challenges ahead, many things yet to accomplish.

Safety First

During my long flight I was reviewing the safety manual given to all passengers. I cannot speak for all my fellow passangers but I found some of the pictures to be not as universal as maybe the authors originally intended.

On some aircraft: you may be killed in a horrible watery crash...

Note: The floor may become slightly radioactive.

No cigarettes, no briefcase, no shoes, no service...

In my opinion, this is just kind of suggestive.

First try to use your laser vision to break open the window.

Remember, when hiding the key to lift the mat first.

In case of the plane diving head first into the ground, your dead. In case of the plane diving head first into the water, your still probably dead



Do not sit. Do squat thrusts.

No lighters, no cellphones or AM/FM radios made before 1985, and most importantly no remote-controled cars. I can only imagine the chaos that must have ensued on flights before the "no remote-controled cars" rule was enacted. Curiously though, the use of remote-controlled helicopters is perfectly fine.

When floating in the middle of the ocean with nothing but a life-vest, only a bright-idea will probably save you.

Leaving on a Jet Plane...

1-6-2010: And so we have come to it at last. I am currently somewhere over the United States, (Missouri, if I were to wager a guess), winging my way to sunny San Fransisco on the first leg of my journey. Before sitting down to write I was contemplating how I should approach writing this blog as I begin my journey. The answer I came up with, was simple honesty. So far I have had an emotional journey, and quite frankly I have only been in the air less than an hour. In the most general sense I am tired, nervous, excited, and hungry. Of all those emotions, my hunger seems to be most prevalent. Mostly because my seat mate (a blond woman who has a passion for cross words and with at least one child waiting for her at the end of this flight -As I surmised from evesdropping on her phone conversation- just ate a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich and it smelled very good, even though I am not a jelly fan. It also raises the question of how she snuck a homemade sandwich in a plastic bag past airport security. This is a major concern, as what if had turned out to be a C4 and jelly sandwich.) As for myself, my meal options are fairly slim. There is a brochure featuring overpriced and undercooked airline food which I am debating, but there seems to be nothing truly appetizing, other than the chocolate dipped cheesecake. If there is time I will try to grab a quick bite of food in San Fransisco... if there is time.

This of course brings me to my other emotional states. In accordance with Adam's Law, less than two hours before departing for the airport I discovered that United Flight 95, my flight to the Golden Gate City, no longer existed. Instead I received a cryptic response from United as I checked in electronically. All they advised was that I talk to Continental. Of course, a talk with United's home office in Mumbai, India, revealed no answers. So after 25 minutes on hold I finally reached a representative at Continental, and after another 10 minutes of heated discussion in a thick Indian accent (his not mine), I was finally able to determine I was scheduled on a Continental Airline's flight out of Newark. All this was accomplished while the family (mine not his) yelled suggestions and questions in my ear. Thankfully, I am the one that caught this little oversight, because if it was up to United and Continental, they would never had notified me. However, what kind of story would it be if it stopped there. I next spent an hour at the Continental check-in counter rehashing out the problem with several airline representatives. (To their credit they were very nice and helpful, it not a bit stressed.) After straightening the mess out a second time, I finally received my boarding pass, checked my bag, and made my way to the correct terminal... to wait as the flight was delayed. Apparently the plane was just fresh back from a foreign land (It was either, Belfast, Costa Rica, Portugal, or Cybertron, I cannot really remember.) So the plane had to be cleaned; inspected by customs for dangerous materials and Decepticons; loaded with food and baggage; and finally boarded. All of this took time. I occupied myself with reading a magazine I found. Apparently, TV Land president Larry Jones, feels that true TV success comes from targeting the 40 to 65 demographic with classic TV and contemporary sitcoms created in the classic manner. According to the article it is working very well.

My last view of New Jersey, lovely Newark Airport. You
can see the smoke plumes of pollution if you look hard
enough.

I think I am digressing a bit, but I will try to head toward a point. I am on a plane heading toward the west coast... and I think the person in front of my is stealing food from the food cart... Also I am using one of those U-shaped airline pillows, and I do not quite yet know what I think of it. Regardless, I am nervous for the coming journey. There is still so much that can go wrong. What if Australian Customs decides that I am not welcome? I can be thrown out the country before I even arrive. Maybe I should just stay in California... I hear it is kind of like Australia. However, I think an even bigger worry looming in my mind... What if I make it past customs and everything goes as planned? What if I actually make it into Australia? What next?... For now it seems that everything is still very much "up in the air" (if you pardon my pun), so I will continue to write, though I cannot know when I will get a chance to actually post these thoughts.

All I Want for Christmas



With the protection offered by my 100%
polyester "Bug Out" head protection, no
Aussie insects will bother me.

Marley was dead to begin with. There is no doubt, whatever, about that... Everything else, however, is a different story. With less than 10 days till my departure I am beginning to feel the crunch of time and the uncertainty of the coming weeks. It seems there is still so much to do and yet my time is passing like sand through an hourglass. The Christmas season itself lasted only a moment longer than the blink of an eye. This year my holiday was marked by (as you can imagine) gifts centered around my coming journey (both practical and odd).

Among the many gifts were essential items, such as body wash, shampoo, a flash drive, and items of clothing. Other gifts of importance include a leather-bound writing journal, reading materials, a wrist watch, and a very nice digital camera given to me by my mother. Among some of the more spectacularly odd yet thoughtful gifts I received in preparation for my trip was Captain America underwear and a head-sized bug net, meant to keep Aussie pests away from the face. All in all, it was everything I could have asked. Still it was all very practical, as if to remind me that I will not be around long enough to use anything impractical.

Time is moving quickly. In a few days we will bid farewell to 2010 and usher in 2011. I have been thinking about what (if any) resolutions I should make this year. Going to a new place, means that I have the opportunity to reinvent myself in almost anyway I can imagine. Thus, any type of resolution I make will have an even greater significance because it could define who I am for the next year. Mostly, I think I have boiled it down to two ideas which I should focus on:

1. Be open to new experiences and ideas
2. Remain true to myself and my values

At first glance they seem mutually exclusive, but that is untrue. My real goal for this coming year is to focus on who I am and try to shed a lot of the unnecessary inhibitions, which have so commonly got in the way my whole life. It will not be an easy process as the phobias and quirks I have developed over a lifetime are not so easily discarded. However, if I can get beyond them, and let the real me come through, than regardless of what else does or does not happen, I will consider my trip a success. I suppose, my true resolution is to find a way for me to be me. This I fear, is a task more easily said than done.

Yet, wherever my travels take me and whatever I learn about myself, I am resolved to do so with an open mind, good humor, a net on my head, and Captain America in my pants. So as Tiny Tim observed, "God bless us, everyone."

Rock and Roll and the Post Office

So I finally am beginning to feel like my old self. Yesterday I visited my Alma Mater, TCNJ (or The College of New Jersey, for those of you who might be baffled why "The" gets its own abbreviation.) I saw some people, had some lunch. I also did some assorted errands, etc. I sent some Christmas packages... which I don't recommend. I have never waited in line to get concert tickets but I imagine it is something like the experience I had at the post office. I am pretty sure there was guy in a tent waiting for the doors to open. And yesterday marked my last day of teaching. I gave my final for the Writing Composition class I teach.

All in all it was a modest day, but a good one. Walking around TCNJ I was beginning to feel the old confidence returning. (Not that I had a whole heck of a lot to begin with...) This mini-vacation from work and stress may be just what I need to get my head screwed back on, before I set sail (figure of speech) on my voyage. The campus of TCNJ has that effect on me. It tends to remind me of better days and better times.

I also discovered yesterday that I do not necessarily need an international drivers license... After I spent $10 on passport photos. Apparently, the only people who recommend you get an international license is the US State Department... and I suspect they have a vested interest in receiving the $20 fee. Now that I am jobless, I just do not know if I have the money to be spending on a license I don't need.

I was also saddened to discover yesterday that the exchange rate between Australia and America has about flattened out. Originally, I thought the rate would benefit me by a few extra thousand dollars... but turns out that is not true now. What's worse, I was looking at prices over there, and I will give you a few items I found. Just bear in mind that the exchange rate is now $1 to A$1.

-6 Pack of Beer - A$8.00
-Movie Ticket - A$15.00
-Cup of Coffee - A$3.00 (not Starbucks)
-Cover Charge for a Nightclub - A$20.00 (okay that's pretty aligned with America actually)

Either way, I am starting to think that maybe I can go without that $20 international license. On the flip side, it is looking like minimum wage work nets anywhere from A$15 to A$18 an hour. I never made that working the cash register at A&P or sweeping the floors at St. Philips Church.

All and all, I am trying not to concern myself with monetary issues. I am $10,000 over the recommended value that they advise you take with you when going on a trip of this caliber. I should be able to live comfortably, (assuming I find a job), and still be able to enjoy the country. At the very least I will be able to live better than when I was in grad school. I may not even have to skip meals to save money.

On a side note, I am releasing this blog to the public today, and by public I mean people on Facebook. So if you are reading, or even enjoying my ramblings. I want to thank you and there will be more to come along with pictures and much better stories and insights. At the very least when I talk about nonsense it will be in Australia, so it will have the appearance of sounding interesting.

The Unheroic Journey

Today I closed the lights and locked the door on final day of work. I hesitated for a moment looking back at the darkened office where I has spent so much time over the past year and a half and expended so much effort and frustration. There were good times and bad and it was an eerie sitcom-ish moment. Like closing the lights on Cheers or JD leaving the hospital at the end of Scrubs. The moment was just that though, a moment, and it passed. I walk out the door never to return… until I got to my car and realized I had forgotten to drop off some deposit slips and I had to go running back up two flights of stairs and burst back into the door I thought I would never enter again. All and all it ended in my usually anti-climactic matter.

Now, all that is ahead of me is the Land of Oz. I am less than a month away and my journey is finally about to begin. I stand at the precipice of this new adventure like Alice at the rabbit hole, Ulysses at the shores of Troy, or even like Rod Albright at the foot of the good ship Furkel. (An obscure Aliens Ate My Homework reference… look it up…) I of course have less of a sense of destiny surrounding my trip than they did theirs. I have been told by several sources that this will be a trip that will define me. That I will come back a new person... In a way I would like to believe that, but there are reasons I named this blog: The Unheroic Journey. Mostly I see myself doing touristy things and trying to find a place to do laundry. Still I suppose my journey, in some ways, might mimic the Hero’s Journey. (A less obscure Joseph Campbell reference… look that up too)

In the Hero’s Journey there are many steps and temptations, most of which have been laid out and categorized by mythic scholars like a list or recipe on how to create a hero. Of course, that was then quickly exploited by many writers as a formula for adventure stories… I’m looking at you George Lucas… However, I cannot point fingers as I have used it in my own writings and found there to be a lot of truth in it. At the true heart of the hero’s journey, it is really a metaphor for growing. Luke Skywalker wears white in A New Hope and is wearing black by the time of Return of the Jedi. This is no mistake as it symbolizes that his innocent youthful self (white) has grown into the confident and powerful adult (black) with a greater understanding of the world. Maybe in a lot of ways that is the journey I am looking for.

It is something interesting to think about, and principally I have always been fascinated with mythology. Maybe parallels do exist between those old stories and our human experience. I mean most have survived since the dawn of human writing. Yet, if there is a connection between Aeneas and myself I am not saying I am going to find it in Australia, (nor am I looking for it). Really I am just trying to explain the name of my blog, so people will stop asking me.