Benjamin Ritchie - Im not here for the culture : South East Asia

A normal Monday morning at work: one of the regular departmental meetings I had grown accustomed to. My boss wasnt happy today, ensuring a bad week ahead. Mistakes had been made. His voice faded to a background drone as I tuned out of the meeting and began to daydream. The four walls enclosing me in the corporate prison disappeared as my mind wanders to past holiday experiences in Thailand the food, the people, the pumping pulse of the nightlife, and above all the lack of a boss.

My attention refocuses and the walls close back in around me when my manager looks at me, asking a direct question. So how are we going to rectify this? It always amused me how managers use the word we in a situation like this instead of the word you, which is generally what they mean. As it turned out I wasnt about to rectify anything accept the routine boredom my nine-to-five job had forced on my life. In the time I had been daydreaming a decision had formed subliminally and it was my subconscious that answered the question for me that morning, surprising myself with the words that followed: I think Ill resign. My boss looked stunned. Why? He finally asked. What will you do if you resign? My answer was final. Im going travelling.

My written resignation was formally handed in that same day with the kind of conclusiveness usually reserved for more thought-out and internally debated decisions. In terms of the conclusiveness of my choice, the letter of resignation reaching the hands of my boss was as good as a stamp in my passport. My snap decision evoked a bigger problem than resigning from work, however, and that was telling my long term girlfriend Elisha that I was about to leave for a few months. I was going alone. I knew I was going to do this unaccompanied, and the idea had planted itself so firmly in my mind during that day at work that by the time I was reaching for my keys on my desk I was willing to sacrifice everything in order to go.

It was absolute freedom I was chasing, no work I have to get out of bed for, no boss I have to obey, and no rules restricting me. I wanted to be able to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted: a completely selfish binge. Unfortunately, in order for me to have that luxury, someone had to get hurt.

Elisha was less-than-impressed. What do you mean you want to go travelling for three or four months? Youre going to Bali to meet your family in six weeks anyway. Im coming to meet you there, remember? Her voice slowly escalating, emphasising that final word remember . Yeah I know, I havent forgotten, I handed in my resignation and I finish on the day I leave for Bali, Im thinking of leaving straight from Bali. She was having trouble comprehending the suddenness of the decision and her expression showed it. How long have you been planning this? When did you make this decision? She was yelling now. This morning, in a meeting with my boss I confessed. That wasnt the end of the conversation, in fact that conversation continued for many more days. In the end, given the circumstances Elisha handled the situation better than I could have imagined anyone would.

I have always had long-term girlfriends. In fact, I havent been single for longer than a month since I was fourteen. I grew up and went to school, then university in New Zealand. When I got my degree I secured my first full-time job in Auckland. Two years later I was transferred to Perth, Australia, and Elisha moved here with me. We share a house, and all the furnishings have been bought together. Now, according to Elisha, Im running away. Elisha broke up with me in the weeks following my decision to travel. I was sacrificing a lot for this opportunity. By this stage I knew I wanted to do it, no, it was more than that now; I had to go.

Six weeks later and Im sitting on the couch watching television. Its a crap show. My dad says television was the death of radio; I say reality shows are the death of television. The screen is flashing but I cant concentrate, my eyes keep darting off to the corner of the room where my bag sits packed and ready to go. The backpack contains my passport, wallet, my phone containing my electronic ticket, five pairs of underwear, four pairs of shorts, two pairs of pants, four t-shirts, two singlets, one sweatshirt, a camera, two books, and the laptop Im typing this on. Thats all Im taking with me from my current life here in Australia to the next in South East Asia. Well, that and ten thousand Australian dollars to keep me afloat.

Its time to say goodbye to my girlfriend who is no longer my girlfriend. I cant blame her for that decision, we are still civil and she is still coming to visit me in Bali as planned. I take Elisha to a specialty chocolate dessert place she has been nagging me to accompany her to for many weeks. Its there that we say our goodbyes. Im sad to say goodbye but also excited for my adventure. Elisha is just sad.

Its three a.m. and Elisha drives me to the airport. She doesnt get out of the car when we arrive. I watch the taillights as she drives around the designated drop-off looped road. I wonder if she is the best girlfriend I could have ever hoped for and if I just made the last of a series of mistakes.

I pull my phone out of the front zip pocket and swing my backpack onto my shoulders. Walking towards the terminal I scan the email sent to me by the airline. I need to find the check-in kiosk so I can scan the barcode that was sent to my phone for my automatic check-in. A hurried and confused ten minutes follow as I walk frantically up and down the terminal looking for the kiosk. I have no luck finding it and decide to wait at the conventional counter. When I reach the counter Im informed that Perth International Airport does not have the self-check-in facility and I will have to check-in manually.

After Im checked in the staff member requests the three dollar fee thats applicable to those who do not check-in online. I exhale a long breath as Im reminded exactly why so many people hate airports. Struggling not to show my frustration and feeling the lack of sleep setting in, I explain that I did check-in online hence the barcode on my phone. Oh yes, but we dont yet have the facilities to scan the electronic barcodes she informs me for a second time. My patience falters. I spent some time searching for the facilities and I concur that you dont have them. Unsurprisingly, one of the key pieces of information I was prompted for when making my online booking was the airport of departure, this airport. If this airport doesnt have the facilities then why did your company send an email to me instructing me to locate the kiosk inside the terminal for my automatic check-in? If you had informed me that this method was unavailable I would have checked in using another system. I didnt pay the three dollars. Its a small win but those three dollars are going towards my first two beers in Bali and Im going to enjoy them all the more.

The flight to Bali was painless. I actually sat next to a normal human being with standard social adequacy. He waited until I had finished reading my book before engaging in conversation. During conversation he didnt touch on religion, politics, or herbal medicines. He wasnt the Victorias Secret model I was quietly hoping for but he was a far cry from the last person I sat next to on a plane. The last guy was a new and excited investor in a blatantly obvious pyramid scheme, who spent the entire flight trying to convince me it wasnt a pyramid scheme. At five a.m. my pre-booked meal arrived. I had to smile at my own stupidity. Chicken on rice is not my normal breakfast choice and I cant imagine what was going through my head when I chose that option at the time of booking. I ate the entire meal anyway, and soon after, the unmistakable sound of wheels screeching on tarmac marked the start of my adventure.