Haven't had a chance to write because, frankly, I've been too busy having
fun.

Monday morning, I took a train to a friend's place to drop of one of my
three very heavy bags. The train went over the Harbour Bridge and through
the hilly residential suburbs of North Sydney, which reminded me a lot of
San Diego. Then back to King's Cross to meet Victoria and board the big,
green Oz Experience bus.

The bus had about 50 people on it, and I sat down next to a guy named
Lindsay (poor guy) from Toronto, who looks like Robert Urich. A quick show
of hands revealed that most people were from the UK, and most of the rest
were from Canada. Most people are between 20 and 30 years old, some couples
but a lot of people travelling alone. As soon as I got on the bus, I
started meeting people.

We have a lot of interesting characters on the bus. Graham is from the UK.
He looks like Sting and always has something to say. Neil is an English guy
whose teeth look uncannily like Arnold Schwarzenegger's. Anat is a small
Israeli girl who had a golf ball-sized tumor removed from her brain six
months ago. Mike is from Toronto and owns a swimming pool company. Patrick
is an English bastard who is experiencing the trip through the viewfinder of
his camera and takes pride in the fact that the prototype for the Sydney
Harbour Bridge was built in his hometown. And then there are Stella and
Kirsty, two lesbians who we mugging down right next to me the entire time
they were on the bus. Victoria has turned out to be one of the quiet ones.

Clarke (pronounced CLARK-ee), a young Australian guy, introduced himself as
our bus driver and tour guide and immediately began spouting off historical
facts about Sydney. Apparently Paul Hogan was discovered when, as a rigger
(maintenance guy), he saved a man's life on the Harbour Bridge. Clarke is a
great host. Very knowledgeable and lots of fun. We're never on the bus for
more than two hours at a time, making frequent stops at lookouts, water holes,
and eating places. He's an expert at maneuvering that huge bus along cliffs
and around tight corners. And while we're on the bus, we play games like
Windshield Bug Lotto, Bingo, and "Which Side of the Bus Can Come Up with the
Most Condoms in Thirty Seconds?".

The Oz Experience tour so far has been a blast. Almost everything is
already planned for us, which makes it a lot easier. We're seeing all the
cool stuff that a Greyhound bus wouldn't have stopped for. And we have the
freedom to get off the bus and stay a any of our stops for as long as we
want. We get Oz Experience discounts on almost everything we do.

After leaving Sydney, we took the highway inland towards the Great Dividing
Range and stopped at a cafe after a couple of hours. I had a steak sandwich
and some Jungle Juice (tastes like fruit punch and wine mixed together). I
then introduced myself to Kari and Carol, two girls from near Vancouver, and
they introduced me to their two Scottish friends, Steve and Kenny. Kari
looks just like Andie McDowell, only younger and, um, more fit. Steve and
Kenny are hilarious. Hard to understand sometimes, but fun to listen to
with their accents.

That afternoon, we stopped at Nundle, a small sheep town with a population
of about 300, and parked the bus at a farm called the Dag Inn. We met the
locals, who told us a little bit about the region and the sheep-farming
industry. Then we met Mickey, an older guy who has been shearing sheep
locally for 30 years. He gathered up about 50 sheep with the help of his
sheepdog, affectionately named "Head". Then into the barn for a little
sheep-shearing demonstration. Clarke told us on the way there that Mickey
was famous for his haircuts, and while we were all standing in the barn,
Mickey asked if anybody wanted one. Guess who raised his hand? I did, and
got my head shaved. You got it. After Mickey finished, everyone started
congratulating me and rubbing my head. Apparently, I got a lot of respect
for that.

That evening, they turned the mess hall into a dance club. They turned on
the music and turned off the lights, and everyone on the bus got drunk
together. Then they lowered a foam-covered barrel from the rafters, which
they called the Bucking Wild Sheep (the Nundle equivalent of a mechanical
bull). The barrel had a rope attached to each corner, and once you got on
and secured yourself the best you could, the locals would tug the ropes and
try to throw you off. Guess who stayed on the sheep the longest? Yup.
They had me chug a bottle of wine and then ride one more time and then gave
me a T-shirt. They asked me where I was from, and I said Texas. That's why
they think I won the contest. For the rest of the night, everyone called me
"Texan boy". If only they knew that I have never ridden a bull (or a sheep)
before. Then we had a drunken push-up contest in the middle of the dance
floor. Guess who won that one? After all this, everybody knew my name. I
became the hero of the bus.

Cora, a Canadian girl with shoulders like Natrone Means, started bitching
that she was on the sheep longer than me. She demanded my T-shirt but I
politely told her no. I then offered to buy her a drink because I felt bad,
and she told me that if I was buying it for her because I felt bad, and not
because I really wanted to, she wasn't interested. At that point I totally
blew her off and she has been giving me dirty looks since then.

The next day we drove further inland and stopped at McDonald's for lunch.
The billboard said it was 44 degrees Celsius, which by my approximation is
about 120 F. It only gets hotter as we go north up the coast. The bugs are
also getting worse. Flies and enormous roaches and spiders are everywhere.

Then off to Tamworth, the country music capital of Australia. Felt at home
for a few minutes. Then off to Bingara, another small town on the Gwydir
River. We had a few drinks in the pub and had a pool contest. Kari and I
partnered up (neither being any good at pool) and almost won the damn thing.
We stayed in the pub that evening and then went for a beautiful horse ride
along the coast in the morning. I was with a friendly horse named Eric, and
Eric cantered along the river while I snapped pictures. We stopped the
horses along the river and went for a swim. We took turns holding onto the
horses tail while it galloped through the river. Great fun.

Last night, we arrived in Byron Bay. All of the hostels were booked up, so
Clarke hooked a group of us up and got us a private house to rent for a
week. It should be quite an experience. No AC, lots of bugs. The address
is 6 Cemetery Road. Our landlady is an old, wrinkly, hippie lady, and her
husband is about 20 years old. After dropping off all of our stuff, we took
a walk to Byron Beach. It was nighttime, moonlight was bouncing off the
water. There were a million stars in the sky above. It was amazingly
beautiful and peaceful. A time for reflection.

Yesterday I went skydiving. Don't ask me how it was because I blacked out
at 5,000 feet.

Kari, Carol, Lindsay, the two lesbians on the bus, and I went to Byron Bay
Skydiving and spent most of the afternoon waiting in the lobby. In small
groups, they took us to get briefed, suit up, and get onto a plane. First
it was Lindsay and the lesbians, then Kari and Carol. I was last and went
alone.

I hit my head on the wing three times trying to get into the plane. The ride up
to 10,000 feet was not nearly as nerve-wracking as I thought it would be.
We hopped in a Cessna and flew out over the coast. We were all tandem
skydiving, and I was diving with a guy named Guy. On the way up, Guy hooked
up his gear to mine, and I sat there looking out the window. Then the door
swung open, I placed my legs on the wheel strut, leaned back on Guy, and off
we went. The first five seconds of freefall were exhilarating. My mouth
dropped open and I didn't know whether to scream, cry, laugh, or shit in my
diving suit. We flipped, spun, and dove. Guy reached his arm around to
show me that we were at 6,000 feet on his wrist altimeter. As we got lower,
I could feel the air getting warmer. He then pulled the rip cord and the
parachute popped open, slowing us down so dramatically that it felt like we
were shooting back up. Then I started seeing stars. I leaned back and told
guy that I wasn't feeling so good. My stomach started turning and I felt
like I was going to puke right into the wind and into Guy's face. The sun
was setting, and it was beautiful, so I took out the disposable camera that
was strapped to my suit and did my best to snap a few pictures before I lost
consciousness. Next thing I remember was Guy yelling into my ears to get my
legs up about 10 feet from the ground. We plopped down, Guy unstrapped
himself from me, and I laid down flat on the grass for about five minutes until
I felt OK to get up.

Turns out that some Swedish guy named Mats, who was also in the Cessna, had
a video camera rigged to his helmet, and he caught part of my dive on tape.
I'm going to have him make a copy for me.

Woke up this morning to discover sunburn, bruises, scratches, and bug bites
all over my body and a welt from the plane wing on my bald head. All this
fun is beating me up. Neil, who is terrified of spiders and is sleeping on
a mattress on the floor, woke up this morning with a softball-sized welt on
his left leg. He's off to the chemist to get a diagnosis. And Matt just
removed a sand dollar-sized spider from our bathtub.

Went surfing today.

No Regrets.

PS: I have had numerous problems connecting with Earthlink from down here,
and their technical support has been expensive, unhelpful, and even rude at
times. They don't bother responding to my question/complaint e-mails and
both times I called today, the automated recording gave me an estimated hold
time of over 30 minutes. I plan to discontinue my service with them as soon
as I get home and just wanted to spread the word.

Jeff