Japan...Who Knew?

In Japan, to have "Cow Oki" - A face disproportionately large compared to the rest of your body- is one of the biggest shames a Japaneese person can have.

This piece of information turned out to be very useful to me when sitting at the top of Tokyo's fanciest hotel in what may be the most surreal experience of my life, drinking sake with my hero, Theo Epstein.

It would also bode well for my experience in Japan in general. I like to think that I have nicely proportional face.


.................


Tokyo Part I:

I took out $30,000 yen ($300) from the ATM and immediately felt like Floyd Mayweather placing a $34,000 bet on the Nuggets because he was boys with Carmelo Anthony

Everyone was short, no one spoke english, I felt like I was in the Matrix only I was the lady in red.

St Patty's day in Tokyo turned out to be one of the most fun days of my life. This was the reason we were all here. Padraig (pronounced Paw-rek) was an old friend of mine from when I studied abroad in Dublin who was living in Japan, teaching english in a small orange village, about 3 hours outside of Tokyo. He brought out Shane Russell, another friend of mine from Dublin, Shane's girlfriend Jane, Jamie O'Keefe and John Kennedy, two guys I hadn't known before, to come ring in the festivities. These boys certainly did not go to Temple Emanuel.


I had no idea what to expect. Padraig said there would be a huge parade. My initial thought was "huh?, St. Patty's day in Japan?"

Yet again I was pleasantly surprised. We got off the train to New Year's eve in Time Square. Total Madness. There were white faces here and there but the area was 98% Japanese. No idea.

We went to the corner store picked up a bunch of beer and walked over to the parade. Your allowed to drink anywhere in Japan, apparently you can piss anywhere too. Both good pieces of info to know.

We looked on as we saw 150 groups- dance groups, bands, schools etc- march in a parade that stretched about 6 city blocks long. Then we did what any drunk foreigners would do.

We jumped right in.

Behind a group of green dressed Japaneese recorder players and in front of a Japeneese dance troop marched Me, Padraig and the rest of the crew. We smiled and waved at people in the crowd. Japaneese school girls thought we were famous, Americans appreciated our moxie as we all cried from laughing so hard.

Ferris Buehler's day off had begun.

After an hour long march in the parade and pictures with many of our new Japaneese fans, we stumbled off for a nice afternoon bar crawl.

All of a sudden it was 10pm, we were all drunk, happy and looking to do the one thing people do in Japan...

KARAOKE.

We journeyed to Ropungi, a big night life area in Japan looking for a spot to sing our little hearts. We were ushered by street hustler into one of the most interesting places you could imagine:

An all you can eat-drink-karaoke Brothel.

I shit you not.

We didn't stay. The place was seedy (makes sense) and we were with a bunch of girls. But I sure am glad we made the stop.

We ended up in a proper karaoke bar, $30 all you can drink. It turned out to be one of the most fun nights in a long time. It was just one of those times. So cheesy, happy, everyone telling each other how much they love each other. Hugs, smiles, singalongs. It was like the last night of summer camp.

Youre never more honest than when you're uncool. And when I sing karaoke, I am not cool.

Every once in a while I would take a second away from the madness and soak in what I was experiencing. I looked around the room and smiled, once again like Andy Dufrane as he watched his fellow inmates drink a couple of suds on the newly tarred roof in Shawshank Redemption.

Then I would start to think of certain people that I really wish were there to experience this moment with me. Chances are if you received this email you mean something to me, so maybe just maybe it was you I was thinking about.



Makaabi:

The next stop on the trip was Makaabi, Padraig's orange village.

Holy shit this was different than Tokyo. In Tokyo you can never move. There are more people than anywhere else I have ever been times about a 100. You get dizzy from claustrophobia walking in the subway station.

In Makaabi, there is nothing.

It was Japan's version of the town from My Cousin Vinny. A Sak o'Suds, some bushes with leaves.

A few thousand Japaneese people and one 6'5 irishman named Padraig. He was a local celebrity.

There was a certain peacefullness to the town. One bench, overlooking this creek, where I read a book, Fall River Dreams (Two Enthusiastic Thumbs up). And that was about it. It should give you a sense of what there was to do in Makaabi, considering that I was reading.

But it was cool to see.

The second night we went to Padraig's school where he was going to give a presentation on Ireland. The night could not have been stranger.

When we arrived at the school I was told to take my shoes off. Didnt they know that I was the kid they once called Johnny Brasco, and that I didn't take my shoes off for nobody. That is, except for the Japaneese school system.

We went up to a classroom took our seats along with 10 Japaneese women, the tallest was 5'0, ranging in age from 18-60. Padraig marched into the room dressed in a leprechaun outfit and taught the classic about basic Irish tradition. The translator translated Padraig's wacky tales and we all just looked on in disbelief.

At one point the translator quizzed the audience on what color was best associated with Ireland: Red, orange, green or blue.

After stumbling on the question for about 5 minutes, 8 out of 10 students got the question wrong. It was truly adorable.

Afterwards was where it got fun.

It was time for the westerners to teach the Japaneese about our culture and vice versa.

First, we taught them how to shake hands. Only they couldn't do it without bowing after. Again, adorable.

Second, we taught them how to say, "hello, nice to meet you."

Finally, "good night."

With every exercise the Japaneese women got more and more excited. At best, one lady spoke minimal english, while most didn't speak a word.

They gave us standing ovations when we left as though they just received a lesson on peace from Mother Teresa.

Very weird night.


Hiroshima:

My first thought when I arrived in Hiroshima was, "man, we blew this whole fucker away."

Hiroshima was pretty big.

It was also by far and away the most American friendly place we travelled to. More people knew english than anywhere else and we were greeted with a warmer welcome than anywhere else.

The clerk at the hotel offered us an "American discount" and gave us free pay tv.

We went to the A-Bomb dome/memorial, the place where the atomic bomb went off. It was a pretty powerful experience just knowing the shit went down there some 60 years before.

Everything about the area stressed peace: a world of harmony free of atomic weapons. It was also interesting, the tone of the memorial, very apologetic.

At the war memorial in Tokyo it was "America who crushed the great empire of Japan." I remember feeling weird being at a memorial when it was my people that, in fact, did the memorial-inducing.

But in Hiroshima, the war was Japan's fault. It was almost a "We are really sorry, lets move on and never think about this again" type thing.

Pretty bizarre.

We went to a sushi restaurant where I am almost positive that we served by Jason Shim, the kid who left Collegiate after 7th grade and always would say "fuck you bitch" to teachers. Only our chef always smiling and reminded me a ton of the really cute fat black kid from Hook who Robin Williams gives his sword to at the end of the movie.

At the end of the meal I asked for the "ocha," the check, or so I thought.

I had always asked for the ocha at the end of meals. I later found out that I was asking for tea every time. I just thought that they brought you tea a nice little way to end your meal. Oh well.


Osaka/Kyoto:

The Jimmy Eat World concert in Osaka was hands down the best concert I have ever been to. Hands down. One of the funniest times of my life.

We towered over an arena of 2,000 little Japaneese people, our shirts off, dancing our little hearts out. The room was filled with Japaneese hipsters (really funny) going nuts for a band that didnt speak their language.

And they went beyond nuts for us. We were the beatles or Keanu Reeves.

We high fived the crowd like we were the rockstars and they giggled like school girls. There were two 4'2 hipsters in front of us who looked like they were 12 but were really in their early 30's.

They knew about 5 words in english. One of them was "cool."

I taught them that in America, when something was "cool" you showed that by doing the Randy Moss touchdown celebration: "Break it up."

Within minutes I had dozens of Japaneese people "breaking it up."

We put Japaneese girls on our shoulders, took endless pictures and had a blast.

Jimmy ended up dedicating the last song of the concert to the Americans with their shirts off. PAdraig was not happy being labelled an American, but it was all good.

We had become fixtures in the Japaneese emo scene.

After the concert ended we took tons of pictures with our Japaneese fans.

I have one of me sitting in the middle of a circle of 8 japaneese school girls, all of us "breaking it up."

And the night only got weirder.

After some good times at a shady Japaneese after hours spot, me, Shane and Jane stumbled around Osaka looking for food.

We ended up in what looked like a typical Japaneese noodle bar. But this was so much more.

We looked at the menu and everything seemed shockingly pricey. But we were hungry and did not care. It turned out that we were eating some Japaneese delicacy. But thats not important.

Somehow someway, I found myself arm-wrestling a 50 year old Japaneese man. He was in a group of three men, the other two older, and the whole group drunk.

The man was strong, but I had him. I didn't want to beat him so we just struggled for a minute or so before we decided the match was a draw.

Then, the 70 year old man came in for a turn. I was AC Slater at the carnival. He was weak and again I fake struggled.

Next thing I knew, the men had thrown a $10,000 yen note at me. I didn't know what to do. I tried to offer it back but they wouldnt have it. Some of the other people in the bar seemed to think that these were Japaneese mobsters. I really didn't know what to do.

I bought them drinks hoping I was doing the right thing. I was later comforted by three Americans, one a pro basketball player in Japan and another, a 30-something from Duxbury, Mass, home of UPenn great Lucy Bezdek.

I eventually left the bar, praying I didnt wake up with a Samurai sword in my back. Everything turned out to be ok.

I did some sight-seeing.

Went by the Sumo arena where I took a bunch of pictures with Sumo wrestlers.

Went to a famous golden temple in Kyoto. I didnt spend enough time in Kyoto, which was unfortunate. But I'll be back. I figure some time after my nuptuals to Grace Matsui, I should be spending a lot of time in Japan.

Tokyo Part II:

By now, Mike and I had bid the Irishmen goodbye. It was an incredible run. And I was exhausted. I couldnt keep up with these kids. They drank every night till 6am, slept for 3 hours and then did it again. They did this for like ten days straight.

I needed a breather.

We headed over the Tokyo Dome Hotel to check out the area and potentially meet one of my baseball front office heros. No luck.

The next day we went to Disney Land. What a bug out.

We did what any American tourists would do. We picked up some Mickey ears and started taking pictures with random Japaneese people. We watched a parade with all our favorite Disney greats. I got particularly excited when I saw Donald Duck going crazy. I insisted we go on "Its a Small World" and the Race cars.

As a three year old I thought the Racecars were the coolest thing in the world. At 8, I was disappointed when I realized you couldnt actually steer the cars and at 25 it didnt matter.

I was a 3 year old again.

Seeing thousands of little Japaneese kids at Disney Land was about as weird as it gets. The day was cold and we were ready to head home.

That night turned out to be the most surreal night of my life. I know I speak in superlatives more than anyone in the world (blogger humor), but this one really takes the cake.


The Bar:

Mike and I were deciding on dinner. We were both exhauested and just ready for the trip to end. We had discussed going to the Park Hyatt hotel- the hotel from Lost in Translation, a tourist attraction- for a drink.

We were deciding between there and a japaneese beef place for dinner. We were leaning towards the japaneese beef place, knowing the hotel would be on the pricey side, but when we couldnt find it, the hotel it was.

We got up to the 45th floor (something like that) to what was one of the most amazing views I had ever seen. The woman took our coats and spoke very good english, a sign of a fancy place in Japan.

She told us that there were no non-smoking tables available and that the only options were the counter or a smoking section. I looked at Mike and we went for the counter. It turned out to be a very good decision.

We were escorted to the counter, a table looking right into the cooking area where there were three men sitting. One was Theo Epstein. Inside I froze while I kept on walking.

Theo Epstein is my all time hero. He became general manager of the Red Sox at the age of 28 and has since carved an amazing career in the game.

Its the type of thing where if you were to ask me which three people I could have at a dinner table, he would definitely be on the list. And now here he was... at my dinner table.

We sat down and I looked at Mike...What the fuck do I do???

I quickly guzzled a whiskey and two guinesses needing to loosen up from what may have been the most tense I had ever been.

Our food arrived at the same time as Theo's table, which is when I signalled to the waiter. I asked him to send over a bottle of wine to the table next to us, the same one they were drinking.

He did not understand.

He brought us a bottle of wine.

I said, "no, Im sorry." can you bring the table next to me the bottle. I didnt want to point, but he still did not get it. He then pointed at them, and I quickly signalled yes.

He brought the bottle over to Theo's table.

And there it went. We had about a ten minute exchange, introducing ourselves. About 15 minutes later they sent us glasses to help them with the bottle. Finally, one more conversation with Theo's two buddies and the meal was over.

Theo insisted on paying for the bottle of wine we sent them. All class.

He then invited us to have drinks with them in the main bar.

Unreal. There we sat, Me, Mike, Theo Epstein, Jed Hoyer - The asst gm, and Brian O'Halloran- another front office guy.

We drank sake for a couple of hours, talked about anything and everything had a blast.

Theo really enjoyed when I told him about Cow Oki, the disproportiantely large head, and how we planned on heckling Hidecki Matsui regarding his giant head.

There is too much here to go into too many details with all this, but this was one of the best nights of my life. Sitting down with my hero at a hotel bar in Tokyo. This was the definition of surreal, the type of thing you always envision and never imagine happening.

It kind of made me believe in fate.


And so it was.

The next night we hit up the Tokyo Dome for the Sox v A's game, had one more night on the town with some crazy canadien dudes we met at the game.

And our journey came to an end.


Japan was unreal, unlike any place I had ever been.

Like a christian person going to Penn, I felt like I was in a totally different universe.

I was in a world where no one spoke my language, where people were machines, and where people put up peace signs over their faces when they took pictures in an attempt to make their face little small.

A world when someone throws commit suicide by throwing themselves in front of a train, that the family is sent a cleaning bill.

Now I am back in America. We have really good bar food here.


.........


Two months and change felt like two lifetimes.

Im back in SF for the twins bday. I havent shaved in three weeks and have been told that I look like a terrorist. I just grabbed lunch with Nick the Voice. I had lunch with him the meal before I left. It was fitting.

I'm happy to be back but sad that its all done.

Anyways.

Good things.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far.

Vaya,
Jon

Sydney RIP

In one night you go from a frat party at Florida State to a mixer of philosophy and bi-sexual asian studies majors at Swarthmore.

And so is the transition from Sydney to Tokyo.

12 hours in Tokyo and I feel like i am in another galaxy, a man at a mascarade ball without a mask. And its awesome.

Everyone in Tokyo wears dark suits, is short and doesnt look like me. 20 percent of the people wear surgery masks around the streets and subways supposedly because they are either sick or have allergies but im convinced its becausre they are all germaphobes.

Me and Mike actually picked up a couple of the mouth masks and rocked them around the subway. We got a real kick out of it. As they say, When in Tokyo do everything you can to look like a crazy dentist.

Everyone told me that Tokyo is like 10 Time Squares and it really is. Big buildings, bright lights, good stuff.

I already fulfilled a lifelong goal of mine.

Many of you remember that as a teenager i NEVER wore jeans. It was always cackis with a cuff and a crease. My favorite t-shirt was this navy blue one that I separated from a Georgetown baskeball jersey that was part of a bar mitzvah present someone gave me from Upper East Side 90s staple, Off Campus.

I also loved the movie Friday. I spent a lot of nights of my youth eating dominoes drinking cokes and watching the masterpiece.

I would wear a navy blue t shirt, baggy cackis, a silver chain and backwards navy hat and and do everything in my power to become the upper west side version of Smokey (Chris Tucker).

I spent many a day in front of mirror trying to master the look.　But I was always missing something

The sneakers. A clean pair of blue chuck taylors. That was until today. Very un-Jon, but I had to do it. For all you sneaker-heads out there, you should really check out tokyo. I spent like a half hour in the store and all I wear is Sauconys. B rhymes, jraw, pretty lew, you boys would have a field day out here.

But enough of Japan. Going to meet the irish boys in a bit to get it all started.



..........


Australia will be missed.

I spent most of the last weeks on trips to Fraser Island and the Whitsundays.

Fraser- The Worlds biggest sand island was the first stop. I wasnt all that excited. After all, what the hell does Worlds biggest sand island mean (Cant find quotations on japanese keyboard)

But the trip turned out to be really cool. We went on a tour of 18 and a guide through this awesome rain forest. Hidden within were fresh water lakes with the finest sand beaches you could imagine. Dingos - a combo of dog and wolf- patrolled the island. They were really cool animals. They eat basically anything, like rats, and invaded the beach when people went swimming ravaging throuh peoples personables.

Our tour guide was this guy Graham, a mid 40s australian guy. He showed us a great time, was funny, friendly and very knowledgable. He also turned out to be a bit of pervert. At the bar after the first day the whole group drank. Graham invited me to sneak back with him to the bus where he had a bottle of tequilla. A bunch of shots later and he told me about his love for his job and the occasional snogging of an 18 year old british girl. Im thankful my father is the man that he is. Nonetheless, good stuff.

A 14 hour bus ride, that turned out to be pretty easy, and we arrived at the　Whitsundays. Might start bottling ambien and red wine back in the states cause it really is a miracle drug.

The Whitsundays was a 2 night sailing trip. 26 of us packed into a sailboat. The accomodations werent all that comfortable,　in fact, they were very uncomfortable. But the group was great. We hung out with a big group of Irish and british folk. We toured the islands by day and drank Goon- the aboriginal term for boxed wine- by night.

Went scuba diving for the first time. I finally knew how Johnny Utah felt the first time he surfed. Scuba Stoke is what Ill call it. It was one of the best things ive ever done. You feel like a fish, its pretty liberating.

Both trips, like the rest of the experience, were made by the people i met. Its really impressive. Most people from Europe just pack up and leave for a year and more to see the world. Ive been to Norman, Oklahoma for a long weekend. Boomer Sooner!

One kid on our trip was this 18 year old from England named Dan. The kid looked like he was 12, yet there he was travelling around the entire world　on his own. Kid really had a pair on him. I rarely walk to the deli without begging one of my upperwestsiders for companionship, yet here this kid was doing it all.




..........



But then it was back to Sydney for one final 24 hours.

I had to squeeze in more than i would have liked but it was all good.

I hit up all my favorite spots one last time sandwiched around my fantasy baseball draft. I sat in an internet cafe with aussie techno firing me up in the background, as a landed like 40 percent of the dbacks roster.


I found myself laying at the beach at 6pm unable to leave. I was a baseball player playing in his　final game not yet ready to hang up the cleats one final time. Only my sport was nothingness and I was a shoe in for Cooperstown.

2 of the best months of my life in Australia.

Already figuring out the next time i can get back.

Now its １２ days in Japan with my boys from Ireland. Havent seen these guys in 4 years so it should be a blast. Then SF, LA, SD and Vegas from the 26th-7th before its back home where once I bang out my dvrd episodes of Lost and Friday night lights and order strippers for my brothers bachelor party, i will be bored out of my mind and desperate to return back.

This might be it for the old blog train.

Might bang out one ｍｏｒｅ when I get to SF but you never know. Sometimes even the greatest bloggers have to close their laptops one final time.

Vaya all,
jb

The Saga Continues

I got a text message Saturday morning from this really cool American girl i met out here:

"Hey!!! Apparently today is Mardi Gras in Sydney, we should head into town!!!"

Lot of exclamation points in her text. A lot more ringing through my head. Mardi Gras. Good times. Beeds, costumes and girls going wild...OWW OWW OWW!

I shared my excitement with my buddy Mike, who had been in town now for about 5 days, and he too got fired up for a big night ahead.

The entire afternoon was one big buildup. I spoke with a bunch of people to find out their plans for the festivities and everyone seemed to respond "not sure." Where was the enthusiasm people?!

Mike and I stumbled to our favorite breakfast place talked to some of the waitresses about the day and they weren't even sure if they were going to make it to the parade.

Their loss.

So after a day of stress filled with a few trips to the beach and an afternoon ice cream, Mike and I returned home to get ready for the wild night ahead.

We found two of our flatmates sitting in the living room, said hello, shot the shit but remained focus.

"What you up tonight," asked Rajani, the 42 year old laid back Aussie.

"Mardi Gras," I responded without hesitation

And we were met with a chorus of laughter from Rajani and Andrew, the third flatmate, and shockingly, a really nice laid back guy. .

"Why you laughing," I asked somewhat awkwardly.


.............


So it turns out Mardi Gras in Sydney a'int like Mardi Gras where we come from.

Imagine the gay pride parade in New York only for an entire country and then all of Asia. Gays flock to Sydney like it were the Super Bowl to revel in the bright festivities.

I'm pretty sure it would have been funnier if we didn't get the tip.

Our plans took a big 180. I called up Big Mike, my 6'10 semi pro basketball/carpenter buddy and his girl friend Kerry and we met them for the final game of the Conference finals for the Sydney Kings. I had previously rejected the invite assuming I would be out partying. Both Mike and Kerry laughed when we shared our story. The drive to the game took us thru the center of the city. Lets just say it sure was something. Big win for the Kings.

And the post game pep rally was equally great. The coach thanked the fans, raised his glass and spoke like Jon Gruden. Is there anything better than coaching cliches?

So that was a good one.

Much like pretty much everything out here. Really fell in love with Sydney since Ive been here. When my buddy Mike came out here to stay for my final couple of weeks I was pretty curious to see what it would be like to go from rolling solo to having a good friend on board for the journey.

Yeah, there have been some moments where we ran out of things to say each other, but all in all, having him on board has been awesome. It makes grabbing that afternoon drink a little easier when you have someone who is down for whatever.

Mike has helped me to discover what may be my favorite bar in the world, my favorite breakfast place in the world (tied with Mama's in SF) and maybe my favorite restaurant.

Bunga Bar is this bar right down my street that is designed like a tiki bar. So pleasant and peaceful.

Les Paris a Go Go is the breakfast spot. Normally I don't think much of the French. Of all the travellers I have met on the journey, the french have been the least friendly. I once compared their language to "verbal diarhea." But this place is incredible. You sit on couches overlooking the main street and just eat these incredible meals served to you by beautiful waitresses. You might put this place up there with Thierry Henry on the short list of great things to come out of France.

Nothing over $10 is what it sounds. A restaurant where nothing on the menu costs more than $10. And to clarify, EVERYTHING is Australia costs more than $10. Australia is insanely expensive with a weak US Dollar. You'd think with a cheap menu that the food would be sub-par but that is SO not the case. Everything is incredible. Steak, fish, Risotto. Its like a gourmet restaurant at deli prices. Now I don't claim to be much of a foodie, but this place is totally legit.


...........


As some of you endure the dreads of the east coast winter I hate to be that guy that tells you about how great everything is over here. So if you want to stop reading, Now is the time.

My routine is a relaxation dream.

Banana bread and a couple of apples for breakfast
Beach
Shower
Email
Lunch
Simpsons/Friends Reruns
Jog/lift
Beach
Shower
Dinner
Go drinking or get good night sleep

Its going to be sad to see her go.



........


The other day Mike and I went to the zoo. It was sweet. You go on a ferry around the harbor and get perfect views of the skyline and all of Sydney's landmarks: The Opera House, The Bridge, The Space Needle (Or so I call it)

The boat ride was worth the price of admission on its own.

But then there was the zoo.

I'm not one of those guys thats too cool for the zoo. I fucking love the zoo. I love animals. You might say I go bananas for monkeys. Which is why I jumped in giddieness when the gondola up to the zoo flew over three gigantic elephants.

This was my shot at redemption.

When I was 3 years old my mother took me to Lincoln Center where there was an elephant on display. I was a pretty cute little guy and was picked out of a crowd to pet the elephant in front of what seemed like 100's of photographers. And then the moment came. My mom picked me up to pet his long elephant nose (or whatever they call it). Cameras flashing. This was my chance to be discovered and become the next Cory. Only I froze. I covered my eyes and started crying. The picture was put in the New York Times.

So this was my chance to make nice with the elephants. And many more.

The Koala bears, kangaroos, tigers and lions were cool.

When I saw my monkeys I was literally as happy as I ever been. They were gorillas, technically, but close enough. I just love those guys.

And then we walked down to the elephant barn. The keeper asked me if I wanted to pet the elephant. Here I was 20 some years later with another shot to pet old Stampy. And I took it.

What a day, what a town.

Everything seems to be working out. I'm pretty musically retarded yet 2 of the 3 songs from the the "name that tune" segment of trivia night at the bar were songs by Coldplay and the Killers. We ended up winning 1st place by 2 points.

- Took a dip in the Icebergs pool. They featured it in the times. Its right on the end of the beach with ocean waves often flowing in. Pretty awesome.

- Made a bet with Mike at 1000:1 that I wouldn't marry an asian girl. Easiest $10 bucks I've ever made. This and my bet that I will "bed" Natalie Portman by the age of 35 remain open to the public (Don't worry Grandma, she's jewish).

- Laughed for a decent amount of time at the idea of talking about the election with people in Japan. You know how they pronounce "L" as "R."

-Destroyed this shit talking British girl in a beer chugging contest. I thought I had grown past these days but this girl would not shut up. I knew I had to defend myself when she called me a "Wanker."

"I am no fucking wanker," I responded proudly.

So there it was me and her, a decent crowd around.

What, you think I'd lose to the British. 1 if by Land, 2 if by Sea, 3 if Baerga and how bout 4...get about it.

I flexed like Bo Jackson after the victory was sealed. She bought a round for me and my buddies.

........


So yeah, thats where we are. I'm now in an internet cafe at this little stop over beach town called Hervey Bay before I head out to Fraser Island in the morning (Biggest white sand beach in the world).

Then its a 2day-2night sailing trip before we head back to Sydney for one final night in town. Wednesday nights at Beach Road will be missed.

Thursday (next) we have a full day ahead. One last chance to go thru my routine. Plus I have my Bottom half payroll fantasy league draft and a free massage at the Icebergs courtesy of a bet I made with Michael. (He traded the massage for not having to Bic his head)

Then its off to Japan on March 13th for 13 days with all my buddies from the UCD basketball team of 2002 capped off with baseball opening day- Red Sox vs. A's in Tokyo.

Then its back to SF for about a week, LA for about a week and home, just in time to once again catch the energy of Mets baseball and find a job for the Summer.

Life's not bad. Hope you guys are all doing well back home. If anyone wants to join up in Japan, say the word. There will be Sumo Wrestling.

There Will not Be Blood, though- thank god- perhaps the worst movie I have seen since my mother convinced my father to take me to see Strictly Ballroom back in 1990 at that foreign film theater on 66th street.

Vaya,
Jon

The Australian Way

This whole trip can be summed up by that scene in Forrest Gump where Jenny is sitting on the curb playing her guitar, when some hippie dude pulls up and asks, "anyone want to go to San Francisco."

"I'll go," Jenny responded.

And so it was that she turned into a Heroin addict only to then face her demons, give birth to the kid who sees dead people and marry Forrest.

Apologies for the sidetracking but my point is that everything has been pretty spur of the moment, go with the flow, carpe diem.

The Diamondbacks go with Josh Byrnes at GM over Jon Budish and I find myself in Sydney.

I get an email from a random family who knew a kid who was friends with a kid who I played basketball against when I was 12. Boom, I had shelter.

So when I got an email from my cousin's Jersey friend Keith telling me that he was going up to Byron Bay, I said fuck it, I'm in.

We shared a cab to the airport, me Keith and his buddy Alex. They had been in Australia for two days and had already seen the light. The conversation titled: "Why the Fuck do we live in America" became the fall back.

Byron Bay is considered the hippie town of Australia. We hopped on the shuttle to our hostile, befriended a European traveler named Alex and were on our way.

We arrived at the Arts Factory- the name of the hostel- and it was just pretty damn surreal. It was like a commune for travellers. It was set in kind of a forresty area, with tents and bungaloos, a picnic area where people ate and drink and mingled. Hard to describe but it was really cool.

We played trivia that night and befriended a couple Norwegian girls with names I can't spell, a 42 year old hippie from San Francisco who looked like a skinnier, pony-tailed version of my buddy Louis and a bunch of random french dudes.

We got second.

I won a raffle and got a free scuba trip in Cairns. That was pretty sweet.

But then I was blown away.

I started playing with this dog who was roaming around the picnic tables. His owners, a man and a woman came up and introduced themselves. The man, a spitting image of former Miami heat great Ronny Seikaly wore a t-shirt that read: "I'm big in Europe."

I chuckled. I'm always down for the ironic frat guy humor.

So I told him it was a cool t-shirt.

He proceeded to take the shirt off his back and give it to me.

"I can't take that," I said, bashfully.

"No worries mate," replied Bizarro Seikally.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Please, it's the Australian way," he replied.

Ah the Australian way. You'll read later about the most amazing "Australian way" you could experience. But I was pretty impressed. I gave him the t-shirt I was wearing as a token of appreciation. It was navy blue and said nothing on it, but it was the best I could do.

Combined with the spirits and the setting and I was truly in heaven. The t-shirt did smell pretty bad so I went back to my room to change. But I'll never forget the story behind that t-shirt.

I developed quite the kinship with one of the norwegian girls named Bianca. Her english was pretty good and she insisted on dancing. Considering I am my father's son , possessing the dance moves of a young Brandon Walsh, I grew nervous but was up for the challenge. A couple of pints of liquid courage and I would be on my way.

I made her and her fellow Norwegians take pictures doing the Randy Moss "Break it up" TD celebration. She got me on the dance floor for the first time since Bar Mitzvah season of 1995. When she told me in a broken Norwegian accent that she was "proud of me" life had peaked.

Jon Gruden, one of my heroes, loves to talk about how proud he is of his team. It's a pretty big drunk among me and some of my nearest and dearest. Now a 5'2 Norwegian who drank scotch and orange was too.

The next day, I ventured solo to a place called Nimbin.

Nimbin was a day trip, an hour away, that can be only be described as Haight Ashbury X 10,000. It's a community of hippies based around marijuana. The whole town is a Dave Matthews' fan dream. On the bus I met two girls from St. Joes who I spent the day with.

The thing to do there was to buy pot cookies or brownies and just freak out. Another american from St. Louis named Cory sure loved to talk about his pot. I'm not really a pot guy but I thought I'd check out the place anyway.

It was worth the trip.

A total freak out. The girls I was with bought there cookies. I wasnt about to buy drugs off a guy who looked like the homeless man on 77th st who was a diehard Collegiate basketball fan, but apparently that was the thing to do.

We walked up and down the street, checked out the crowd. Really unlike anything I had ever seen. Definitely worth the trip.

Got back to the hostel and met with Keith and Alex. There we bumped into Kieran, a british traveller who we had randomly met in Sydney about two weeks earlier. He was a die hard Buffalo Sabres fan (don't ask) and a heck of a bloke.

We went to a bar where this girl from Vancouver we had met the night before was bar tending. It was a whole crew of us now, about 8 deep. We watched Barcelona play Rome in soccer. Kieran, a diehard Rugby player had this to say about Soccer:

"See the thing about soccer, is that all soccer players are a bunch of faggots."

I was expecting him to say it was a game of discipline or patience. I was rather amused.

Partied again, had a blast. Once again there was dancing. I learned a very important lesson. People from the rest of the world LOVE to dance.

And apparently so do people from Jersey.

My buddy Keith had all the moves of a glow stick twirling, Corona drinking, Cancun meat head. I was fascinated that a little white guy from Jersey could move like that.

For me, my legs just don't move as fast of my upper body. It's too bad.

The next day I hung out with the St. Joes girls at the beach and took a hike up to this lighthouse that is the most eastern part of Australia. In my head I couldn't help but think of the Keanu Reeves smash hit "The Lighthouse" -the one where he and Sandra Bullock are living two years apart.

Ben Lyons of the E! channel panned the flick.

I insisted on listening to the Keane song from the preview during my trek.

I caught a flight to Melbourne that night to meet my friend Annie. I was also going to meet my maker, Bodhi Satva in Bells Beach.

I arrived in Melbourne at around 9pm Thursday, completely wiped out from my time in Byron. Annie was pretty dead too so she whipped up some noodle dish and we crashed.

But bad news.

There was no public transportation to Bells beach and she had to leave Melbourne early Saturday. I was pretty bummed. She tried to calm me down by telling me that she found out that final scene in Point Break was, in fact, filmed somewhere in Oregon - Ok Dana.

Oregon, who knew. Jesus freaks named Luke who are sweet at basketball and the final scene of Point Break. Go Ducks! I later found out that there was a type of tree in the Bells Beach scene of Point Break that doesn't grow in the Southern Hemisphere. FYI.

I needed rest before I could weigh my options.

Friday I slept for about 15 hours. I woke up, got some breaky (among my favorite Aussie terms) and went into Melbourne. While Annie worked I wandered around the city. It's a really cool town. Kind of reminds me of New York, SF, London. Very clean, beautiful.

It's cool to check out new places. I got off the tram at a place that seemed central , turned around and saw the Australian Open stadium.

Annie called me at about 5pm telling me to meet her and some of her friends at this bar in town. I knew that Bells Beach wasn't going to happen. It just didn't make sense. I wasn't seriously upset but I was in a joking way.

I met a bunch of Annie's friends, an Asian girl whose name I forget and three Australian guys. All really cool. They all worked in finance and the bar was very much an "after work" bar. Only it didn't wreak of D-bag finance people like they often do in NYC

One of them, Richard, was a huge baseball fan. We talked Moneyball for about an hour.

Then is when the miracle happened.

I'm sitting there and introduce myself to Nick, another finance guy.

We shake hands tell each other where we are from. About two minutes in I tell him that I was bummed that I didn't get a chance to get to Bells Beach.

His response:

"No worries mate, We'll take you tomorrow."

(We had shook hands for the first time within the last 200 seconds)

"Oh don't worry about it, you don't have to do that" I responded assuming he was kidding.

"You want to go Bells Beach, you're travelling all this way, I'm going to take you to Bells Beach," Nick replied.

"But Nick, it's like 2 hours away."

"No worries. Me and Rich will pick you up at 11am tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" I replied in utter shock.

"Jon. No worries, its the Australian way."


Ahhhhh. The Australian way. Befriend a complete stranger and offer to drive him 5 hours so that he can go see a beach that he is fixated on because of a Keanu Reeves movie.

Imagine meeting someone at a bar and agreeing to drive them to philly because they wanted to try a cheese steak.

I was in complete shock.

I had never expereienced anything like it. How could people be so nice? It wasn't human.

We partied the rest of the night. I got some more pics of people from all over the world doing the Randy Moss TD celebration and went home.


The next morning, sure enough I get the call from Nick.

He picks me up from Annie's house, we grab Richard and are on our way. I still couldn't believe what I was experiencing. Two people who I had met 12 hours earlier giving up their Saturday to drive me to Bells Beach.

The car ride was as pleasant as one could be.

Two hours of chatter. Sports, politics, women.

Nick insisted on driving to Lourne, a beach town about two hours outside of Melbourne for what he called the "best steaksandwich in Australia."

The restaurant was awesome, overlooking the ocean. We ordered at the bar and I insisted on paying. And this wasn't a half hearted attempt. I really insisted on paying. But Nick and Richard wouldn't have it. They paid. They wouldn't have it any other way.

I promised them that when they came to America that I owed them the world.

I made this promise about 30 times.

Sure enough, the sandwich was incredible. We wrapped up, had a few beers and I was off to meet my maker.

We drove to Bells Beach. With every passing mile my anticipation grew.

When we arrived I smiled.

It wasn't all that great, a lot smaller than I had imagined.The waves weren't that big and the day grew slightly overcast.

But it didn't matter. I was in a place that I had joked about coming to for about ten years. I took more pictures than I would if I visited the White House. I walked around and soaked in the moment and more so the act of generosity that brought me here.

I was still in shock by the gesture.

I wish my co-worker Nick the Voice could have been there. We used to watch Point Break quite frequently instead of working. He called me Johnny Butah.

Unfortunatenly there was no sign of Bodhi. I saw some footprints that may have been his, but were not confirmed. I eveen saw a surfer that appeared to be Bodhi, but it wasn't him.

It was time to go.

I accidentally cut the bottom of my foot on the beach leaving a minor trail of blood. It was special. Me and Bells Beach had become Blood brothers.

We drove back to the airport, Nick and Rich dropped me off. Their act of generosity would never be forgotten.

If anyone needs anything and I mean literally anything in the world, now is the time to hit me up. I'm in a very giving mood.

Vaya con dios,
Jon


Email of the trip: "Yo Jon. How's Austria going? Scwartzenegger is doing big things back in America."

-Jawn

The Best of Times, The worst of times.

It was 11PM on Saturday and I was the happiest and most content I had been in a really long time. Yet it was only four hours earlier that I literally found myself in my own personal hell.




The following takes place between 9pm Friday and 1pm Sunday.



Friday 9PM: I venture to this girl Kristen's house for dinner on her roof. She lives in Kings Cross- Think Times Square but a little seedier and one of the more popular night life areas of Sydney. Her roof gives you a view of the entire city in every direction. Its one of the cooler views Ive seen and can be rivaled only by the view of the 84th st Loews theater from my apartment at 450 West End.

Friday 11PM: I go to meet some friends of mine at a place called Dragon Fly in Kings Cross. I am warned: "This might not be your scene."

Friday 11:30 PM: I enter what can only be described as a discotechque. It's completely Euroed out. We are meeting this little Asian girl from Italy who took "experimentaion" to new heights. If asian girls are your cup of tea, then this one would have really suited you.

I looked around for a minute or two and realized one undeniable truth...

I was completely sober.

This was place was beyond bizarre. Of all things I don't get in life, techno music might top the list. Dudes dancing around to this music like it is some form of zen. They hopped and skipped around. Everyone looked like the french guy from the movie Swimming Pool. And there I was. Generic Jon from New York City. I realized I had a few options.

1. Drink half a bottle of whiskey, get creepy and join the fun.

2. Sip beers from the side and observe.

3. Leave the bar.

At first I figured option 1 was my best bet. When in Sydney do what the really weird Euros do?

That was until I found out that shots were $14.

I started to "sip beers." I watched the action with some of my friends and was particulary dazzled by two things:

1. The freakishly tall Travis Knight look alike who was so into this techno music that it was consuming him. His dance moves can only be described as awkward-suave.

2. The group of three eastern european women standing a few feet away wearing what appeared to be nightys who all looked like super models.


So after enjoying the freakishly tall guy do his thing for a little while I decided to go talk to the eastern europeans.

SLAM DUNK it seemed. This was too easy. It was going way too well. They were really friendly despite a significant language barrier. In my mind I had the most glorious visions of the night to come.

But it all came crashing down.

I realized after about 10 minutes of conversation that there was something a little off about these girls. In America there is the stereotype that girls like guys for their money. I got the sense that these girls were similar only different.

See they wanted my money, but they wanted lots of it and in return they would do bad things to me. The lovely russians were hookers...Salt.


1AM Friday: Time to leave. We depart from the discotechque for Scruffy Duffy's. You couldn't ask for a more opposite place.

It was the Jersey Shore in Sydney. The cover band rocked out to the killers. Meatheads and girls named Lisa sang along, marveled about Bruce Springstein and talked about how nice it was to grow up in Jersey. Not really buy you get the idea.

4AM Saturday: We leave the bar and return to Bondi. Good times.


10:30PM Saturday: I have a pretty bad headache. My room is too bright to go back to sleep.

2PM: After banging out a few episodes of Heroes I grab some lunch

3PM: I make my way down to the beach. Normally I'm not a big beach guy but Bondi Beach is great. The water is the perfect temperature and then when you get out, you lay down and it is perfect weather. Sometimes I'll fall asleep. Other times Ill just lay there and think about blogging.

But its about as relaxing as it gets.

The only comparison was this beach I went to in Costa Rica during my senior year of Spring Break. It was beautiful and empty. It would have been my #1 except I have this dark memory of this girl I was with surprising me with what turned out to be maybe the greatest arm I had ever seen on a lady. She fired that football at me like she was Brett Favre. And I wasn't ready for it. It knocked me right in the gut and completely took the wind out of me. Because of that, Bondi is #1. No bad memories.

4PM: I go this little outdoor gym they have right on the beach and get in a quick work out. I can do 11 pull ups now( definitely not going all the way down) and am gunning for 20. This is when I realize that I don't have keys.

4:10PM: I start walking home hoping that someone is there. But I wasn't worried. There is ALWAYS someone at the house so this wouldn't be a problem.

4:17PM: THERE IS NO ONE AT THE HOUSE.

4:18PM: FUCK

4:19PM: After knocking on all the doors and getting no response, I check each of the three doors to see if any might be open. They are not.

I go to the side of the house to see if any of the windows are open. They are not.

The exterior of the back of the house is all windows and I could see no one was there. No one except the dog, Loki.

I try to connect with Loki to somehow let me into the house. That doesn't work. Then I realize that the wet bathing suit I am wearing is starting to make things downstairs a little itchy. I am not happy.

4:30PM: I start walking around Bondi praying I will see one of my flatmates. I have to pee really badly and walk into a local bar.

4:31PM: Thats better. But still, hopeless. I decide to walk to the other end of the beach- about a 15 minute walk- to my friends house.

4:45PM: I arrive at the apartment. Joanna, one of the girls is getting ready to go to work. Todd is sitting there checking out the internet.

I explain my situation. They empathize. We then strategize.

CHECK MY EMAIL!

Maybe the person I was renting from had emailed me her cell phone #, I could call her from todd's phone and this could be solved.

I check my email. Nothing.

I begin to worry that my flatmates may have gone to their beach house and wouldnt return for the night. This really sucks.

I borrow some money and a sweatshirt

Todd tells me of a bbq he is going to go to later and I tell him I will meet him there.

5:07PM- I return to my home praying that someone will be there. No one home.

5:09PM: I try everything. I try to go Maguyver with a coke can and some plants. I try jedi mind tricks. I pull on the door as hard as I can.

5:12: I am defeated

5:13PM: I sit down in my backyard and just go blank. I am convinced that this will all work out. They will return any minute and all will be good.

6:00PM: They have not returned. By now its getting a little cold. I walk out to the main street hoping I will see someone. Surprise, surprise. I don't.

6:30PM: One last try with the Jedi mind tricks. They don't work. I do manage to get the dog to bark a lot when I start banging my head on the door.

I am completely helpless.

I decide to walk over to the barbeque. Why not? If worst came to worse I could stay on Todd's couch that night. It really wasn't that bad. This is just the type of shit that I stress over.

6:45 PM: I finally find the house. I walk in- flip flops, bathing suit, mesh jersey and zipper up hoodie thats about 3 sizes too small. I basically look like a hobo.

I walk to the door and see a couple of dudes standing there.

"Hi I'm here for Ali's bbq...I'm a friend of Todd's"

And that was when things turned.

As always, these were nicest people in the world. The two guys greeted me as though I were Eli Manning right after winning super bowl. They walked me into the party and introduced me to everyone. Couldnt have felt more welcome. I find my friend Todd and he introduces to the hostess, Ali.

Shocker.

A jewish girl from New York City who went to Horace Mann and Cornell and dominated the Jewish Name game unlike anything I had seen since the good old days back at UPenn. She was a real sweet heart.

There were about 15 people on the giant outdoor patio and at least 7 nationalities represented. And of course, 2 jews from the New York City private schools.

8:45 PM- Just having a blast. I've had a few beers and a few burgers. Talking, drinking and laughing with people from all over the world. As a bonus, there are three of the most beautiful English girls I have ever seen in my life at the party. They all had boyfriends (Bullocks) with them but it didn't matter. It restored my faith in Mother England.

Up until then, I HATED England. I got the worst food poisoning in my life in that hell hole. It was the worst 48 hours of my life. I got on an airplane back to Dublin (study abroad) that I was convinced was going to be taken by terrorists because I actually wanted to die.

Fuck England!

Until now. One looked like Victoria Beckham. Another looked like the Adult film star, Sylvia Saint. Don't really have a good comparison for the third. And they were all really cool, too.

Everyone at the party was for that matter. They wanted to know about American culture so I told them.

I got in the classic argument with this South African guy about American football vs. Rugby. And for the first time I felt like the argument was resolved.

They are just two different types of athletes.

Football is a game of short bursts. Rugby is a game of stamina. The helmet allows freakish athletes to be crazy in a way that no Rugby player could be, but few American football players could run as much rugby players do for 90 straight minutes.

Everything was great.

But still in the back of my mind was my house. I wanted to change. I wanted my cell phone. It's unbelievable how naked you feel without a cellphone. And I didnt even really have anyone to call.

9:30 PM- I tell the revelers that I am going to give it one final shot to get into my house. They wish me luck like its my wedding day. I would be back either way, but hopefully in some different clothes. They wish me well.

9:45PM- I arrive at my house. In my head I hear the Final Countdown by Europe, my cell phone ringer for much of my junior year of college. This was it. Gut check time. 24 minutes of good solid team defense.

9:46PM- VICTORY!

9:47PM- I get let into the house. My three flatmates deep into another random movie on the Sci-Fi channel. I had never been happier to see them. I explain to them of my journey, they have a laugh and remind me of the importance of bringing my keys with me when I leave the house. Simple but true.

10:03PM- I leave my house, showered up and dressed. Life is good. I walk back to the party, pick up some beer for everyone and am on my way.

10:20- I return to the party. People see my outfit change and get excited, much like Jon Gruden when he sees Charles Woodson make a play.

I feel like I'm at home, partying with my best friends in the world. I had known most of these people for about 3 hours.

11PM- A few beers later and a few conversations about different parts of the world, rap music, new york and baseball, and I find myself sitting on a really comfortable chair wearing a funky pair of sunglasses that I had borrowed from one of the british dudes. I sat there and kind of just observed the party.

The chair was incredibly comfortable, the weather just right, and I was perfectly drunk on Victoria Bitter beer (finally I have a favorite for the ever popular question: Whats your favorite beer?)

I hadn't felt this much at ease since I went to a University of Georgia football game about three years ago. It was the first week of the season, the day was beautiful, football was back. I had just had shoulder surgery and little girls named Katie offered me sweet tea and asked me if I was ok, in perfect southern accents. I was with a great group in a great atmosphere and I was just totally at peace with myself.

I was here again.

I looked around the room and around the globe. Everyone was having such a good time. Human interaction at its purest.

I probably looked ike Andy Dufrane (Tim Robbins) in Shashank Redemption when he sat on the roof and watched the other inmates drink the cold beers that he had earned for them, just totally content.


3AM- One of the best nights of my life had passed. I made great friends of total strangers all thanks to a party hosted by a girl who grew up on the other side of Manhattan.

The Montagues vs the Capulets is how I described the East Side/West Side Debate to the United Nations of party goers.

The night had come to an end.

I exchanged phone numbers and emails with about 5 or 6 people with the promise that this wouldnt be the last time we saw each other.

You meet a lot of people when you are travelling and often youll never see someone again in your life. Not this time.

11AM Sunday- I wake up to a text from one of the girls inviting me to join a group of them for "Breaky."

I was tired and wanted to go back to sleep. But I couldn't pass up my first ever invite to "breaky." (breakfast)

11:25 AM- I arrive at the cafe and see a group of 10 or so of the people from the night before. It was like I was walking into Blondies to meet the crew for Sunday football.

11:35 AM- DESTINY

Padders, one of the diners is discussing his favorite movies when out of nowhere, he brings up POINT BREAK.

We discuss the film (it is a film) for no less than 20 minutes. The South African tries to argue with me against Keanu Reeves' acting chops for which I get very heated. The irish girl tells me she has never seen the movie for which I am shocked. The english girl tells us of how when she was a kid people told her she looked like Anthony Keedis (a little resemblance) for which we all have a laugh.

11:50AM- I realize my mission is still not fulfilled. I eat some of the tastiest french toach I have ever eaten, drink this crazy fruit drink ordered for me by one of the Aussies and I feel like about $62 bucks - a big step up from an hour earlier.

12PM- I bid the table farewell, but not before we make plans for a screening of Point Break for later in the week. Homework before my trip to Bells beach.

1PM- I head to the beach to meet some people, keys in hand.


Vaya,
Jon





A couple of side notes that I thought would pass but didnt really fit the story.


1. A few regrets

-Havent taken enough pictures. Really wish I had the first lady out here to snap away as my own personal papparazzi. Salt.

-Really wish I had brought a draft day suit - the ones that you see players wearing at the nba or nfl draft. Im talking light blue with a cane. Its fun and you could pull it off here and chalk it up to being foreign.

-Wish I had done a few more day trips out here. Oh well.

2. Thursday I hit up another NBL game. It was the Sydney Kings vs the New Zealand something or others. This was my second game and I was anxious to find a player that I recognized (not easy). But then there he was, Kirk Penney, the former Wisconsin sharp shooter chucking three's from the corner much like I did for most of my childhood.

I started rooting for Kirk and the New Zealand squad but they got killed. Oh well.


3. Really fascinated by the slang they use out here. .

There are so many little different things that people out here say:

"How you going?" instead of "How's it going?"

It took me a while to get used to this one. How am I going? Im going to walk. I think?


They say "proper" instead of good. "It'll be a proper time."

There are about a million others.

4. Shaved my head the other day. Had to. It was getting too long and all they have out here is salons. Not spending $50 bucks to have some french guy tell me how he can make me look pretty.

Plus I hate cheating on Franco. Franco is my barber who Ive gone to since I was I was 3 years old. I take a 45 minute bus ride to see him every 6 weeks or so. I used to plan my trips home from college around seeing him. Ive known him longer than anyone in this world outside of my family and do everything in my power to not go to other barber shops. He cuts my hair, we talk baseball. It just works.


5. I've seen more bizarros(twins) out here of people back home. If you are interested in knowing if Ive seen yours, shoot me an email. Decent chance I have. I can lie if you want me to. But its amazing just walking down the beach and seeing an exact twin of say, Tim Sacks, a friend of mine from home. I saw him, only it wasnt just about an hour before I write this piece.

6. Outside of disco, the other thing I really dont get is women's footwear.

The new thing in australia are those sandal/shoes that look like they are straight from the Gladiator Era.

Is that the Spaniard? Nope, its Inga from Austria.

They just look so weird and dumb.






Tis all.

The Saga Continues

Great times continue.

Been out here almost three weeks, feels like three years. I find myself saying 'mate' and 'cheers' and wondering which one of my friends from home will punch me first when I do it back in the city.

The weekend was a blast.

Did some sight seeing. Was going to go out to the Zoo but it was raining so me and a friend walked around, checked out the Opera House, the botanical gardens and a decent part of the downtown area.

Imagine if New York was surrounded by beautiful beaches and then the Hudson and East River were clean and nice. Then throw in the weather of Los Angeles and happy people and there you have Sydney. It has definitely lived up to expectations.

If only it had my deli.

Saturday night we did a pub crawl for my friend Annie Pak's bday. Annie went to Penn a year above me and she recently moved to Melbourne for work.

The theme was golf, a back 9 with 9 pubs. Each pub you had a different drink, every sip counted as a stroke. Low score wins. It pretty much turned into a chugging competition, FIERCE, and a pretty big shit show.

Everyone dressed in pretty sleek golf outfits and it was a really great group. Me, with limited wardrobe to get creative looked like a washed up drunk who frequented the local pitch and putt in some really shitty part of Florida.

Great times. Most of her friends were Aussies and British. I normally hate everything about England but these people were all really friendly. Definitely going to steal this idea for my birthday.


Sunday I did the walk from Bondi Beach (Where I live) to Coogee. Its a walk along the coast, something that people do. My mother would have said "gorgeous" about 500 times. I think I dropped it about 15-20. But yeah, It was really beautiful. Kind of like the drive up the PCH to Malibu. Definitely something everyone should do once.

It took about three hours and I ended up with a pretty sweet redneck.

But like my previous 'Momo' highlight, I was once again a pig in shit when I saw a Subway in Coogee. I had said to myself earlier that afternoon that all this place is missing is a Subway/deli that makes sandwiches and then it might as well be heaven on earth. And then there she was.


My time in Sydney is quickly coming to an end.

In about a week Im going to start doing some travelling.

Will do 3-4 days in Melbourne. Most important though is the visit I plan to make to Bells Beach, the sight of the 50 year storm and the last known whereabouts of Bodhi. Apparently its about an hour outside of Melbourne. I think the last time I was this giddy was when me, cousin and J Schubes took the walk to the Lincoln Memorial to re-enact the scene from Wedding Crashers where Owen Wilson says "We're not that young."

Take it or leave guys, I am who I am.


Then, my buddy Mike Needham from home is coming out here to travel with me. It was a pretty pleasant surprise. Travelling alone gets tiring and I wasn't too thrilled about doing any of those Contiki tours so this really worked out.

We're going to do the following:

-1 Week on the south Island New Zealand

-1 week up the east coast of Australia (Cairns, Airli, Byrum Bay)

-5 days in Tokyo/Small village where my buddy from Dublin lives. A bunch of the Irish kids I played basketball with from when I studied abroad will be out there for St Paddy's so it should be a proper laugh.

The last time I saw any of these guys was when my buddy Padraig came to the states, we got stuck in Jersey coming home from Atlantic City on the night of the New York Blackout. He shows me Tokyo. I showed him Jamesburg, New Jersey.

- 3 days in Hong Kong

- 3 days in Kuala Lampur

- 5 days in Thailand


Then back to the good old US & A just in time for Opening Day.

Going to spend a week or so out in SF for the Twins birthday and just to take some time to relax before I head back to the NYC for the home opener at Shea. It's going to be pretty sad to let her go.

My first opening day was when I was in 8th grade. Big ups to my folks for letting me skip school. I think that was the one day where Collegiate taught us about the advantages of Judaism. Sad I missed it.


It was glorious rain-soaked day. It was me and Jawn and then my brother and a bunch of his friends. Rey Ordonez made the throw from his knees up the left field line and we accidentally left Jawn at the subway station on the way home.

13 years and many a trip to Subway later and here I am. Live from Sydney, Australia.

Today I went to a bar where there was trivia night. When the questions turned to American politics, all the Aussies I was with quickly turned to me.

It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life.

Vaya,
Jon

PS- If anyone wants to come join the travels give me a shout and I'll let you know where we'll be.

A Trip to The Movies that turned out to be so much more

A quick trip to the movies turned out to be quite the experience.

The weather was shitty so I called this girl I know for a matinée of "There Will Be Blood". We hopped on the bus to Bondi Junction (10 minutes away) to the big Westfield Mall. She was a jersey girl and a mall aficionado. You might say she was in heaven. (Why is everyone from Jersey exactly the same?)

The movie theater was on the 6th and top floor of the mall. We shot up the escalator until we got to floor #5.

That is when my mouth dropped and I found myself in complete awe.

It takes a lot to blow me away. It's usually not a celebrity or star athlete as much as when I see someone wearing a really obscure NBA jersey that I get truly excited.

But there it was. The most amazing sight I had seen since my travels began.

It was the most gorgeous view. It was so bright and so sharp that it could cut glass. There it was in neon lights with beautiful purple trim...


MOMO

It took me two weeks to find my first Momo sighting. But there is was, the bar lounge right outside of the movie theater entrance.

Most of you should catch the reference, but for those that don't, Momo is the last name of my oldest friend, Ben Momo, the midfielder to my goal-hanging forward in West Side Soccer when we were 6 years old. His name has become legendary over the years, a fixture in the New York City Prep School Hall of Fame. I didn't have my camera on me, but lets just say, I will be back to secure my many photos with the landmark.


..............

Of course the movie I wanted to see wasn't starting in Australia till Saturday, even though apparently all movies there start on Thursdays. Bullocks.

So we had two options.

Charlie Wilson's War or Fools Gold.


I didn't really care which one to ...Or did I? I purposely let the girl I was with choose knowing that she would go for the girl's choice.

Fool's Gold- A romantic comedy in which Kate Hudson and Matthew Mcconaughey mend their relationship while searching for treasure...YES!

It didn't matter though. Kate Hudson is my #1. (I caught Raising Helen in the theaters...Sorry Dad)

And I legitimately liked How To Lost a Guy in 10 Days. Hudson and Mcconaughey have a chemistry that I haven't seen since Woody and Wesley.

But still, my expectations were rather low.

And lets just say, my expectations were barely met. The movie was 2 hours of pretty unentertaining junk. But there was a lot of Kate Hudson in a bikini...

AND TWINS!

Yeah, the movie wasn't all that great but the experience sure was an eye-opener.

First off, we had assigned seats. We paid for the tickets and our concessions in the same place .

$16 Fucking dollars for a movie ticket. My student id card knocked the price down to $12. It made New York feel like Tempe, AZ.


Additionally, I hadn't eaten lunch so my plan was to load up on movie theater snacks.

$17 later and I had myself a soda, popcorn and an M & M's.

You might say that the $30 some odd dollars it cost me to see a lousy movie would not be worth it.

But the site of those two precious syllables, Mo and Mo- made it all worth it and then some.


Vaya,
Jon


PS- apologies for the series of grammatical errors and one line paragraphs. The editing is where Bart and formerly Lucy usually come in to help me out.