Yes, I do.

It’s warm, even though it’s winter in Sydney. I’m wearing tight leggings in a dark gray color, with a scrunch at the back. It’s actually way too warm, but I won’t change until later. The van is ready to go, and it was registered in advance. Jack has even already mounted the license plates. “No time to waste!” I think to myself.

My large suitcase and the backpack are on the floor where the taxi driver unloaded them. I bend down to the backpack, which is quite heavy. It feels like it weighs the same as I do. Then there’s this feeling. I sense something familiar as I lean over the backpack—this feeling from soccer and other moments when boys and men have watched me. I glance briefly over my shoulder and quickly look forward again. I’m turning red. Jack’s gaze is glued to my backside. I quickly load the backpack into the van, trying to stand upright. When it comes to the suitcase, I ask Jack for help, and we carry it together through the sliding door. Then I get in, and off we go!

I search for accommodation nearby on Maps. Indeed, there’s a hostel not too far away that seems affordable. I have to get used to driving on the left side of the road, so I drive slowly and carefully. I’m making good progress, and I’m really glad I bought a van with automatic transmission. Shifting with my left hand would be really crazy, and I would never have managed it.

The drive takes 15 minutes when I arrive. The hostel is specifically for backpackers. It looks inviting, even though the area is rather run-down. However, the prices on the website were quite cheap, and there’s even a pool. Well, with the renovation of my van, I probably won’t spend much time here anyway, but maybe the other guests are around my age.

The building in front of me is fairly new. A neon sign reading “Hostel” lights up on the roof. I get out of my van and walk through the glass doors to the reception. It’s just a small counter behind which an older woman stands. I ask her for a room for the next two weeks, and there’s only a mixed 8-bed dorm available. I give her my ID. She tells me that it’s not very busy in winter, there’s a cheap breakfast by the pool, and I can leave the hostel every day. Only the actual overnight stays are charged. That’s fine with me. The hostel is affordable, and if I finish with my van sooner, I can jump straight into my adventure.

The room is in another building. Heavily loaded with my suitcase and backpack, I enter the cooled hallway. Then I walk down a long corridor to room 114. I knock on the door, but no one answers. I step inside and see four double beds and several lockers. There are curtains in front of the beds that can be drawn. The washrooms are in the hallway. “This will have to do,” I think to myself and store my luggage in two lockers. Otherwise, it just won’t fit.