My last post about Malaysia was silent. I thought silence was a good way to express my grief about the hundreds of people dieing a few kilometers from me, trapped in the rubble of the Christchurch earthquake.

And then I thought I could do that as well for the next posts to save me the trouble and time of writing and laying out the page. I found myself choosing pictures.

And I told myself I had so much to say about them, about my travel, that pictures cannot express alone.

Words cannot either, but they help.

After my quick stay in Malaysia (now that I think about it I did more sport than traveling there. Anyway), I took another flight to Hong Kong, stayed a couple of days there to pack my stuff up, say good bye to my family, before heading to Australia.

It was my first time on the Southern Hemisphere. Not that it is a big deal, but when you think about it, it is a bit sad that we spend almost our whole lives in only one half of the world. (I am counting the oceans as well to make it simpler. Anyway) My timing was good, though, as I had realized when I had finished planning my final itinerary and schedule. I switched from the incoming winter in Hong Kong to bright summer in Brisbane. Well, hem. Bright.

“So you’re traveling?”
“Yep”
“You’re not very lucky… Bad rain eh?”
“Yeah… Thought coming in summer was a good idea…”

I really thought coming in summer was a good idea. Turned out it was the worst Australian summer in decades. Floods in Queensland covering a surface area equivalent to France and Germany altogether (gives you an idea of the size of the country as well), floods in Victoria near Melbourne, bushfires all around, especially in Perth, Western Australia, and, on top of that, a good old hurricane back in Queensland. No seriously. But let us begin my tale. So. It was raining.

I landed in the middle of the night, got stopped by the customs – no surprise, something had to happen, I was in an airport after all – because of a bit of soil on my hiking pole. A bit of soil. The officer inspected my whole belongings, made sure I had no drugs, questioned me, and when he was finally done, wiped the extremity of my pole with a tissue in one move and asked me to pack my backpack myself. Hempf.

My cousin Chaston was waiting for me, alone, in the now desert arrival hall. We got out in the night, hopped in my uncle Toby’s car and they brought me to their house.

I had by then defined a quite good pattern for my trip: getting into a country before opening the Lonely Planet and deciding what to do next. No need to plan anything, and a flexibility that allows you to react and adapt to any unexpected event, like floods or earthquakes, for example.

My plan was thus to visit the city and see some koalas in a sanctuary before heading south, along the East Coast, to see the famous Australian beaches on the way to Sydney. Rain slowed it all, obviously, but we found a few clear days to get out on the nearby Gold Coast, and for me alone to visit the city center. And the amazing museums there.

I am usually fond of classical art – maybe because of the predominance of it in the European cultural background. In Australia, I discovered intelligent, subtle, striking, original and moving modern/contemporary art. And loved it.

I never saw the koala sanctuary. The day after, Julia Gilllard (Australian Prime Minister) confirmed Brisbane was to be flooded. No surprise, considering the massive, solid monsoon-like rain pouring over the city for days and days. I saw the floods building up as we where making our way to the city center, trying to gather resources – for me to go on on my trip, but also for my family to have enough to eat during the floods.

My family was on a high suburb, and were fortunately not affected during the floods.

On my side, I decided to take a bus to the south to flee the rising waters; staying in Brisbane would have delayed my trip by at least a week as the highways around the city were starting to get blocked. And I felt really bad about it, cowardly leaving an area of suffering for my own comfort and pleasure instead of helping people there.

If I have learned something from my trip in Australia, it is that traveling is, sadly, a definitely selfish passion.