Lost in Berlin

      ‘As the warmth of the sun leaves my back,
and these bruise coloured skies turn to black,
none of these faces look the same,
and not one knows my name.
I am a long way from home.
-Radical Face

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Thank you Radical Face, I couldn’t better describe the feeling of losing myself in the streets of Berlin today. It’s an eerie isolation being in such a remarkably visual city, but having no familiarity with where you are and no understanding of the language. The strokes of the street change ten times within the space of just as many blocks. Old is butted hauntingly against new. I found myself searching the faces of older men and women for a hint that they may have been in Berlin during the war. The city itself hides none of its past and is beautiful as a result.
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I managed to stop and take a few photos, despite my fascination. I’ll leave it with that, as some serious jet lag is pulling me towards the comfiest hotel bed I’ve ever seen! Thank you work – Regent Berlin rocks!
Best,
Timmy
Instagram: @the_lostboys
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The Manhattan Grit

I’ve spent the past four days on the streets of New York. I’ve sat in gutters for hours waiting for time to pass. I’ve watched the city move and moved with the city. If a city’s streets are the veins distributing blood to the body, Manhattan is constantly sprinting. When they move, the people are impatient and agitated. They wait for no one, because no one will wait for them – they yell and beep and push as they pump as one.

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It’s a grit that I’ve never experienced before.It’s like a grit that running for a long time produces. It’s a toughness, an endurance, and I love it. With the few encounters I’ve had, I love the people the city attracts, and the people it doesn’t break.

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I hired a bike today and took on the streets. *No helmet might I add, but I figure the guy sitting on the back of a garbage truck smoking as it bounces down 7th Ave at 60 km/h isn’t wearing a seatbelt, so why would I need a helmet? At first I was a liability, and stuck to the bike lanes. But before I knew it I was tailing a local as he weaved and dinged his bell, and slapped taxi bonnets all the way down Broadway. By the time he pealed off to SoHo I feltlike I could fake the ‘attitude’ and survive. It was a frenzy of lane changing, squeezing between cars, dodging, cursing and peddling, but I felt like I was an infinitesimally small drop of blood in the system.

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At one stage a fifty-year-old man in a brown plaid suit pulled out of one of the avenues onto a surprisingly clear Broadway. He was upright and pedalling his fixie effortlessly up the middle of the road in front of me. It was this point that I wish I had been able to stop my bike, (*sudden stopping almost certainly means sudden death) and snap him as he disappeared into the maze of yellow, because that’s the image i’ll see in my mind when I talk about New York.

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It’s been a blur of unfamiliarity that’s slowly diluting to hints of understanding. It’s been just that, a maze of taxis, subways, bridges, basement bars ten floors underground and hidden brick music venues. I watched the sun come up from underneath the Brooklyn bridge, and the sun go down from the 92nd floor penthouse of Spencer St.

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My only regret is I didn’t take enough photos, but for the first time I really did just get lost with no intention of missing anything by stopping. I also have a funny feeling it won’t be long before I’m back.

imstagram: @the_lostboys

Lost in NYC

Chicago is behind us, and we leave with blurry but revelrous memories of Hugo’s Frog Bar. *It’s next to Gibson’s famous steakhouse – and serves the same great steaks as Gibson’s but has amazing seafood as well – no brainer. I may or may not have played their piano! No one seemed to care.

See: http://youtu.be/KBAmLcoDjco

I knew I would love New York. I loved it from the second I woke up hazy on the plane and gawked over two people to catch a glimpse of the Manhattan skyline out the window. I’m always mindful of how the anticipation of going somewhere new can ruin your experience, but I just knew that I was safe to assume NYC was going to blow my mind.wlkin

It’s true, the place is in a hurry. Even the way the buildings scatter and stack the sky gives the impression that they would up and rush if they could. There is no balance to the city as there was in Chicago.

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I met a local barista at the Blue Spoon who recognised I was Aussie and she made me a flat white coffee. It was out of control good, and I actually danced with excitement  in her empty cafe.

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I’ve been here for five hours and I’m hooked on the buzz of the faces in the streets. There are film trucks on every second corner. For the first time on this trip it is actually hard to take photos, because I’m anxious that I’ll miss seeing something else by affording time to a shot. If Sydney could be the LA of Australia, then first impressions of NYC definitely remind me of Melbourne (on some serious peptides) *No Essendon joke intended.ny

I’ve got the next four days to get completely lost in one of the world’s biggest cities. Let’s see who sleeps first!

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Lost in Chicago

It’s the heightening of the senses that makes travel exciting for me. It’s the constant analysis of the world I’m used to vs. the world I’m immersed in. In short, I take notice instead of cruising on autopilot.

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That as it is, I think every traveler is searching for that ‘unique’ experience that affirms their adventure is different to anyone else’s. It’s the same feeling you get when you hear your favourite lead singer tell you that your town rocked way harder than any other on tour.

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I’ve heard people say, ‘A city is a city, seen one seen em’ all.’ But some cities have a soul, or an anxiety,or a pulse.  I’ve spent the last few days in Chicago, with the prospect of a day off today. There has been an anxious hype pulsing through the crew ever since we arrived. It’s the 4pm sunlight reflecting off mirrored glass buildings, raking through black fire escape stairs. It’s the sound of trains roaring overhead on twisted rusting metal arches, transporting people to somewhere that I’m anxious to be missing out on seeing.  The city is intoxicating, it draws you in, and strums at your excitement  every time you discover another one of its secrets.

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Even now writing this in the hotel, I have a nervous pang that I’m missing something somewhere outside that I couldn’t experience anywhere else in the world. So I’ll leave it at that!

instagram: @the_lostboys

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Bye Cali

After five days of the most perfect weather (post 11:30am fog burn off) in Califonia, it’s time to say goodbye.

If we weren’t riding bikes down Venice beach in the Cali sun, we were shooting a timelapse from the helipad on the roof of a downtown LA dance school. It really is hard to call a trip work when you’re squeezing in movie launches in Hollywood, or climbing all over the walls (and trees) at Google HQ.

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Izzy, our local LA correspondent was amazing at getting us around, finding us amazing margarita+mexican digs, and literally passing the time with.

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Frank Gehry, our subject for the documentary was a little under the weather when we picked up a few sequences with him in his office. Soundbite of the day, Frank: Get this fucking microphone off me. There is no doubt however, that his buildings are genius.

Google have a games room in their office that puts Toys R’ Us to shame! Should have been a web designer.

The Thompson Hotel in Beverley Hills kicks ass. It takes five minutes for your eyes to adjust to the ‘mood lighting’ they’ve got going on in there, but the free wifi in the lobby helps with that. The staff are all so friendly. I feel like employing someone to sit at my house and just say to me,’Welcome home Mr Small’ every time I return.

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LA definitely lived up to expectations, and although sleep has been sparse, it’s rocked.

Next stop, Chicago.

instagram: @the_lostboys

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