Oasis or Mirage

Have you ever thought you found the perfect place, a sanctuary from the world, a magical place filled with great characters and magnificent energy? Maybe you thought, this is a place I want to live.  So you put your energy into it, change your course of action and put your efforts into staying in this magical place.  After the illusion has come to pass, the practicality sets in.  To stay here, what do I need to give up? What opportunities have I closed off to open this door? Is this truly the right place for me or do I just want it to be the right place?

I found  a place such as this in the form of a small Western Australian town called Broome.  For a long time I have wanted to come here, I didn’t really know why. I saw it on a map, heard of it through other travelers, but no significant reason why I wanted to be here. I even went so far as to change my method of travel (originally via train) because the railroad does not come anywhere near here.  After traveling for a month via land and coming across other small  Western Australian towns, I thought maybe I was expecting too much  and setting myself up for disappointment, as had happened in Coral Bay, home of the infamous Ningaloo Reef.  Great reef, characterless town.

So when the car I was in broke down south of Broome, I figured I’ll take the bus to Broome, spend a couple nights and be on my way. I took the bus from Karratha, a soulless mining town that sucked the energy from you as you stepped in the town limits. The town existed only to pillage the land and it seemed to have an eternal grey cast. I traveled through 850 km of red dirt baked hard by the searing sun. When I arrived, I felt an incredible energy fill me. Broome was  an oasis in the dessert.  This place was obviously special, but I couldn’t understand why.  Broome is a town of about 11,000 people, with a beautiful beach 4kms from town.  It’s a tourist town, in the best sense of the phrase. People here create their lives, find a way of doing what they love and live from it. This is what I was looking for.

I met  artists, musicians, blacksmiths, seamen, astrologists, pilots, divers, wanderers and wizards. The energy kept filling me up and I decide to stay as long as I should. Life here was relaxed, I spent my days running and swimming in the world famous Cable Beach, I spent my afternoons learning to cook and making food for friends. I listen to stories of the Kimberley, sharks, crocodiles and politics.  I wanted this to be my life.

With attachment comes suffering says the Buddha.  I found a person and a place that I held onto, a life I would like to live. I staked my happiness to this ideal, not realizing happiness can only come from within. When the oasis started to become a mirage, I saw it was all just perception. I love this place, but  I need to find my place in the world. Broome and its people are incredible, but it is what it is, he is who he is, and I have to be who I am. 

Leaving Sydney Behind

I left Sydney almost a month ago, flying over to the west coast to the most isolated capital in the world, the City of Perth. We flew for 4 hours, always keeping within observation distance of the country below us. I looked down and watched the Nullabul Plains, a 2500 km distance that I almost drove across. Watching it from above I realized it did live up to its name, Nullabul, Latin for no trees. I imagined myself cruising along the highway, endless nothingness ahead. The plane landed and I was soon in a city the size of Dallas, Texas.  I had no plan except that I wanted to head up on the west coast of Australia, see the “real Australia.” Places that lend themselves to the imagination as what reality should look like. I expected to find Australian men with wide brimmed hats and a drawn out Australian accent. I was after a slower pace of life, a respite from my 6 months of working in Sydney.

I didn’t have much of a plan except to try and locate a ride north from Perth.  I posted an ad online and figured I would have time to explore the city for a week.  I was having a late dinner on my third night in Perth when my phone rang. “Hello, I saw your ad, would you be able to leave in the morning?” the thickly accented voice said.  We agreed to meet up for drinks and decide then. Alessandro and Janina walked into the pub that night, looking around for me. I figured it was too early for me to leave the next morning, but as soon as I met them I said yes.

We were complete strangers, Alessandro the 30 year old Italian lifeguard that had been traveling Australia for 2 years, Janina, the 29 year old German girl that quick her job in Germany to figure things out, Julia the 19 year old German girl that just wants to party, and me.  We headed north through 4WD only tracks, hugging the coastline, driving on the beach at times.  We visited places that were not destinations, but forgotten places only locals knew about on the map.  We drove through ethereal sand dunes in Lancelin, the pinnacle outcrops of Nambung National Park, then to the other country in Australia, Hutt River Provence. We met Prince Leonard, a man that successfully succeeded from the commonwealth in the 1971 and remains very proud of that fact. We heard about expected a tourist trap, but it was getting late and we needed somewhere to camp.

We met Prince Leonard, sovereign of Hutt River Provence. Eccentric, worldly and captivating, the man is presence to behold.  His natural charm made his royal presence a reality.  He met with us when we arrived, showing us where we could camp, just behind his house and in the morning walked around the grounds with us engaging us our surroundings. An elderly gentleman of about 80 years old, his emphysema was the only thing that cut into his speech. As we left his kingdom later that day I played Tom Petty’s Its Good to be King in tribute.

Our trip continued through amazing national parks, gorges, ancient rock formations and coral reefs.  We woke up with the sun and swam with technicolored fish day after day. We drove through the Pilbarra, becoming one with the swarms of black flies that constantly hounded us. The red earth extended all around us and the constant hum of the engine became our soundtrack. We were dirty, cranky and after spending 24 hours a day with each other for 24 days, we parted. We may or may not see each other again, but for the one month we were part of each other’s memories, that will last a lifetime.