Originally written 19 May.
Three noteworthy people have transited my life in the last 24 hours. How much of some one’s personality can you consume in 20 minutes?
Michael is a hair stylist who cut my hair in Manchester. Covered in tattoos of stars his icebreaker was his astonishment over a shop assistance in Armani who directed him to buy a bag from T K Max. I guess I can relate to that, sure. He had a shaved head (for some reason this is popular in Manchester) and a thick ______ accent (I have no idea of the name), so over the buzz of the hair clippers around my ears I had to concentrate very hard to provide the other half of the conversation. There were still comments met by my clueless smile and robotic nod. I guess for me Michael represented a traveled Brit who was not from London – the importance of this was highlighted by the third profile in this journal entry. We discussed how our countries regard travel (there really isn’t that much of a difference between the two), such as how disposable Bali is to Australia, and of the UK’s many European equivalents that provide a very whitewashed holiday experience. Travel is the main thing on my mind, and hairdressers are so adaptable to conversation, we probably could have talked about anything.
Jason was the quintessential Australian backpacker I found chatting (up/to?) my sister in the hostel kitchen. Flip flops, board shorts, and a few months of facial hair. I always hesitate using the words ‘bogan’ and ‘dero’ towards Australian backpackers because they receive some credit for actually getting out of the country and into the world. Jason’s world was ticking off European cities and finding the cheapest alcohol in each. He was drinking a Strongbow and asked my sister if she could cut his hair. This was his second trip to Europe and had no interest in seeing other parts of the world. He was really friendly and energetic and loved giving travel advice and left the kitchen with as much energy to have a smoke.
The quirky nameless British lady we met in the line to check into the Dublin ferry. Orange tinted glasses, floral patterns on multiple items of clothing, she had lived in Australia for a few years (Alice Springs of all places) and loved to discuss cultural difference. Aussies overseas love to start their sentences with “In Australia…” so the conversation flowed without effort. She was full of advice, of which stuck with me the most – London is not England. Europeans have no sense of traveling distance when compared to driving across outback Australia, the smallest towns in the UK make the best tourist destinations. She used to be an opera singer. We never did find out where she was from, or why she was going to Dublin. In a few weeks however, she was moving to the US.
When you journal your travels, a lot of the experience is visualised as a fictional narrative. These are some of the characters in my journey.
Posted from Dublin, Dublin City, Ireland.