Chapter 14 - Guerilla Marketing, Real Estate & Big Visions

After a few great years working at the Irish Bank, I decided it was time for a change.  I didn’t know what I wanted to do next.  I just knew I wanted to make more money and not have to work nights for the rest of my life.  Late one night, I came home from work and put on the TV.  It was about 4am and there was an informercial on with some cheesy dude talking about how he made millions from buying real estate with “Zero Money Down.”  As cheesy as he was, I was blown away listening to what he had to say.  So I ended up buying his CD's (“Real Estate Riches”).

This was around 2004/2005 and everybody and their mother were talking about real estate.  So I decided to get my real estate licence and jump on the bandwagon.

I ended up getting a job through a craigslist posting as a “Loan Officer” for a Mortgage Brokerage.  The brokerage was called Specialty Funding  - it was run by three Jordanian brothers, George, Faris and Fadi.  These guys were super cool, extremely knowledgeable, very down to earth and very ambitious.  Real good people to be around.  My job as a Loan Officer was to find potential home buyers and people who wanted to refinance their existing mortgages and take advantage of the lower interest rates and home loan programs.

Even though I was working for a broker I was basically working for myself.  To say the least, it was a bit nerve racking at first.  I had to find all my own customers and it was 100% commission based.  This was completely new to me.  Like most folks in real estate, I was thrown in the deep end and after some mortgage finance training, I had to hit the streets on my own and find customers.

I started off the traditional route by calling all my friends and also going to networking event after networking event.  My goal was to become friends with CPA’s, Real Estate Agents, Real Estate Attorney’s and Financial Planners in hopes that they would refer business to me.  It was tough. Most events I went to were full of other mortgage brokers all on the same mission.  And I never felt that comfortable trying to befriend Real Estate Agents/CPA’s etc... who didn’t really have any interest in talking to me either.  They knew I was looking for business from them.  

The networking approach wasn’t working very well for me, so I decided to take the fight to the streets.  Proper guerilla marketing style.  I used to print up 3000 fliers per week and hit the streets with approx 500 flyers a day.  I put them on cars behind windshield wipers, in mail boxes,  anywhere and everywhere I could.  I used to wait outside the front door of large apartment complexes and when someone came out I’d walk in and start on the top floor and put flyers under every door from the the top floor to the bottom floor.  Sometimes I’d get chased out by property managers.  I also nailed 24” X 24” ugly yellow signs to lamp posts on all the major intersections around San Francisco with the words “3 Bed, 2 Bath House For Sale, $2500 per month, Zero Down Payment, Free Recorded Message”.  I had a free 1-800 number with a recorded message with me talking about how you could buy a house with no money down - the message lasted about two minutes long.  I could then see on a software program called “call capture” how long someone listened to my message.  If they listened for the whole duration and left me a message I knew they were somewhat serious.  I would then follow up with a call and then a meeting.  Yet again, it was a complete numbers game.  

I used to have all sorts of weirdos leaving me messages, especially over the weekend in the early hours of the morning.  Obviously people on the way back from the bar drunk.   Some were sincere and some would shout crazy abuse down the phone.  The ones who shouted abuse down the phone never expected me to call them back, and I would.  It used to really shock them when they would get a call at 11am on a Monday morning asking them what their issue was.  Even if you pressed *67 trying to hide your number before you called, call capture would still get your number.

By law, I had to put my Brokers License number on all my marketing material.  After a few months of me blanketing the city with ugly yellow signs and flyers, my broker called me into his office and told me that he had gotten quite a few complaints from the City & County of San Francisco and I had to stop with the flyers and signs.  

It worked for a while so I couldn’t complain, I’m still friends with quite a few people that I met through my ugly yellow signs and flyers.  I then teamed up with a Russian guy named Vlad who worked in the same office as me and had the same vision which was to to build a real estate empire.  Our only obstacle was, we didn’t have any money.  So, we put the the Zero Down thing to the test.  We bought two houses in San Francisco at the same time with no money down. We then rented them out and refinanced them after a few months after we did a new paint job and maybe some new flooring if needed.  Then we took out a line of credit on each of them and used that money to purchase some commercial properties in upstate New York through a lender called Greenpoint.  Greenpoint would allow you to buy commercial property with only putting 10% of the selling price down, then allow the seller to finance 10% and the bank would lend us the remaining 80%.  This was unheard of in commercial property.  This was 2006/2007, and the real estate market was very different back then.  Not long after, Greenpoint went bust with lots of other banks.

Vlad and I had a big visions.  Our goal was to buy distressed commercial properties all over the US do some work on them, bring them up to scratch and positive cash flowing and eventually have one property manager run everything.  Things went great for a while.  We had some commercial property in upstate New York that paid us enough passive income each month to pay our living expenses and travel.  During my free time, I did some courses on how to trade the stock market and started day trading futures,  that was an eye opener.  

It actually seemed like our plan was working, until....  We cashed out some money from our buildings in New York and bought some more commercial property in Huntsville, Alabama.  Our goal was to fix it up, rent it out and then refinance again, pay our creditors back and still have enough money left to go again.  Naive and silly, we left the remodel of the Alabama property in the hands of a young property manager who talked a great game and didn’t deliver on his word.  And like many people all over the world, we got stuck in the middle of the credit crisis and couldn’t get the bank to refinance our new property in time.  We were left with a pretty big monthly holding cost that we couldn’t sustain for much longer unless we got the refinance sorted out.

Lessons I learned from this Chapter in my life.

1. Guerilla marketing really works :)

2. Don’t ever leave your business in the hands of someone else to look after.  Nobody will care for it as much as you do.

3. Yet again, sales is a total numbers game.

Till Next Time

Cheers

Gerry :)

Chapter 13 - The Irish Bank, War Pigs And Boat Parties

After hearing there was good money to be made working in Irish bars, I went on a mission to find a cool Irish Bar to work in. For about three weeks, I hit the streets with introduction letters and resumes showing all my bartending skills etc. I visited lots of different Irish bars in the city, but ended up narrowing the job search down to one bar in the financial district called “The Irish Bank.” It was a cool Irish bar that was super busy with young bankers and up and coming tech guys. With some persistence, I ended up getting a job there as a bar back (picking up glasses and making sure the bar was fully stocked at all times). I was prepared to do anything just to get my foot in the door.

When I came in for my first day of work, I got formally introduced to three bartenders, all from Ireland: Eamon from Kerry, Kevin from Donegal and a guy called Dahi from Armagh in the North of Ireland. That name sounded familiar so I asked Dahi where in Armagh he was from, not that I had ever been to Armagh. He said “Blackwater Town” and gave me a funny look, as if to say “What do you know about Armagh?” Suddenly a light bulb went off in my head and I heard that “twilight zone music.” Then I asked him, “do you know Dermy Finn?” This really threw him off. “How the fuck do you know Dermy Finn?” he said all serious. I then told him the story of how Dermy and I worked together on a building site in Australia and him telling me about San Francisco and the Burning Man etc... Here I was on the other side of the planet just by chance running into the guy my friend in Australia was telling me about. Pretty crazy to say the least!!!


I started working Friday and Saturday nights collecting glasses and within a few months I was working four to five nights a week bartending making decent money and at last saving a few dollars again. I loved it. Bartending in the U.S. is way different than bartending anywhere else. In the States, it’s all about being social, friendly and taking care of your customers and in turn, they tip you out well. In most other countries when working in a bar, it’s about dishing out as much drink as possible as quickly as possible. Customer service is not always the best -- in fact, it’s usually shit. But I guess when you’re relying on tips, you have no choice but to be personable, which I gotta admit came pretty natural to me.

There was a real good group of us working in the Irish bank. I used to work with a crazy girl called Melissa. Melissa was so much fun to work with. She was stone mad. She had a husky voice and was a hardcore drinker and smoker. We used to work some day shifts together. She was waitressing and I was bartending. We’d usually both come in a bit hungover and we’d start the day off with a few shots. Melissa would set up her tables in the restaurant and then come back into the bar, grab a bottle of bud and another shot, and put the craziest heavy metal tunes on in the jukebox, like “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath. This was on a Tuesday afternoon at lunch time. We had people from all walks of life coming into the Irish Bank. That’s what was so cool about it. Every week like clockwork for about six months a lunatic called Kenneth (Crazy Kenny) used to come into the bar every week to visit us. He’d also put the craziest music in the jukebox and start dancing next to it as if it was last orders on a Saturday night. And Melissa would join him. It was hilarious. The business folks who came in for lunch didn’t know what to make of it. Some would laugh and some would frown. Kenneth used to tip me really well so, of course, I used to give him double shots. Then Jacques (The Manager) came in one day for some lunch on his day off and asked Kenneth to relax. Kenneth got all pissed off saying that he paid for the songs in the jukebox and was entitled to dance beside it. So Jacques fucked him out and barred him from the Bank (or as they say in the States, 86ed him).

Then, on the other side of the scale, we’d have some young executives from PayPal. I remember one guy in particular: Jack Selby. He used to tip really well. I asked him one night what he did for a living and he said he was out of work right now and wasn’t sure if he was going to go back. He was 29 and had the option of never working again. Now, that’s pretty fucken cool and inspirational.

Not only did I get a new job that I loved, I also got a new place to live. Dahi had a spare room in his house and offered it to me, Thank God. The hostel was getting a bit out of hand and it was time to move on. Dahi, his brother Mark and their friend Austy, all lived together in an apartment in the heart of Haight Ashbury. It was pretty wild to say the least. There was no shortage of people to go out on the town with. Sundays and Mondays were my weekend. So Austy and I would do a pub crawl every Monday day even though he was meant to be in working on the building site. He’d usually go back to work late on a Tuesday or Wednesday morning. We had some fun times on those Monday afternoon sessions in Haight Street. Through Dahi, I got introduced to a whole new group of friends -- a lot from the North of Ireland through his football team and a lot of people in the bar and nightclub scene. He was like an older brother to me and had no problem putting me straight when I got out of hand. 

The two of us would work Saturday nights together and instead of having me just collect glasses doing the bar back work (as my job was) he’d let me bartend and split the tips with me 50/50 which was pretty cool. A lot of bartenders and waiters from all the other bars and restaurants downtown used to drink in our bar. It was unreal. We used to look after the other industry folks pretty well -- these guys would tip the best. Because I worked in the Irish Bank, I could drink for free in nearly all the bars in the downtown area. Once you get into the bar scene and you treat other bar staff well, it can be pretty amazing. Some nights after work we’d make our way up to the StarLight Room a snazzy nightclub on the top floor of the St. Francis Drake Hotel for a lock in. The manager at the time “Billy” used to open up the whole bar and a few of us would sit there till early hours of the morning drinking and chatting while looking out over Union Square. 

Dahi was always talking about cool ideas and businesses he was going to start. He was a real go getter and was constantly working on something. When I first met him, he used to hold boat parties on a small boat called the “Angel Island Express.” He used to fill the boat up with booze and put a DJ booth in the corner and hold a rave on the boat for hours cruising around San Francisco Bay. In the beginning, it was all the Irish lads from the Gaelic football team and their friends that would come out to support him. Then slow but sure, he had clubbers from all over the Bay Area coming to party on much bigger boats. The word about his boat parties spread like wildfire. I remember in the beginning, a few of us would go out to Berkeley University with Dahi handing out flyers to students trying to hustle them onto the boat. And then a year later, tickets would sell out in a few days. It was so inspirational to see it grow.

One lesson that I took from this period in my life was, relationships (real relationships) are one of the most valuable things this world has to offer. Make sure to cherish them and appreciate the times together, as you just never know what the future holds.

Till Next Time

Cheers 

Gerry :)

"As long as i'm breathing i'll never quit" Gerry Kelly 2011

Chapter 12 - My First Few Months In San Francisco

After a 10 hour bus ride from LA, my buddy Des and I arrived in San Francisco on a cloudy Tuesday morning in September 2000. We made our way to the Pacific Tradewinds Hostel in Chinatown. We couldn't book in until 4pm, so we relaxed for a few hours in Union Square drinking coffee with our backpacks wondering what the fuck were we going to do next.

While sitting in Union Square, I got talking to an Italian guy who had just traveled around South America and funded his whole trip teaching English. He said he had done a course called TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) just up the Street from Union Square in a language school and could literally travel anywhere in the world and teach English with his certificate. 

“Pretty cool,” I thought. So after we settled into the hostel, I went in search of the language school he had talked about. I had a vision of myself travelling around South America teaching English. I enrolled in and completed an 8 week TEFL course that took place two nights a week at the school. 

We stayed the maximum allowed in the hostel which was only two weeks and then had no choice but to leave and find another place to stay. I called my family in Ireland one day and spoke to my sister. She told me that she had spoke to one of our cousins and they said that their brother Padraic (my cousin) was living in San Francisco. It was probably 20 years since I had last seen Padraic. She had a number for me to call, which I immediately called. It turned out he was a painting contractor in San Francisco. After a quick surprise call to him, we hooked up for a few beers and the next day I was painting retail stores and houses in San Francisco. Thank God for that because I had run out of money and was thinking about packing up everything and just going home. The first job I worked on was a pretty cool fashion forward boutique called “Villians” on Haight Street. We painted it some cool funky green and purple colors. I used to spend most of my wages buying clothing in Haight Street. It used to have the coolest stores in San Francisco. Mind you, it still has some amazing vintage boutiques.

Then, we were painting some beautiful houses in the Marina district. It blew me away that these houses were owned by young tech millionaires in their early 20’s. I had arrived in San Francisco at the height of the dot com boom in 2000, which was a pretty crazy/interesting time to be in San Francisco. It’s actually very much what it’s like right now.

Also, it was extremely tough to get an apartment to rent, especially with no references and no deposit etc. So Des & I sniffed out another hostel in an area called “The Tenderloin.” To say the least, the hostel was ok but the area was a shit hole. It was crack head central. It was crazy. We had bums literally sleeping outside our front door and fights on the corner all night long. There was a sleazy strip joint next door to us too. Every night at about 3am a Chinese woman used to empty all the trash cans on the sidewalk in front of the hostel and dig through the trash for cans and bottles to turn in for cash. There was a lot of activity.

Our hostel was full of long term backpackers in transit, some guys had come to SF for a week and were still there three years later. I gotta admit, it was fun and a great place to get situated, meet people and get work. There was always something going on. There were guys and girls from all over the world. Most people were working in construction or bar work. There was a bar directly underneath the hostel called “Reds Corner” where a lot of backpackers used to hang out. I got a job bar tending two nights a week for a few weeks filling in for a guy who went back to Ireland for vacation. I’ll never forget it. At the time, people used to smoke in bars. They had some loophole. If it was owner operated, you could smoke etc…

One night, I was working with the manager, a hardcore New Yorker called Tommy. Tommy looked like he smoked 200 cigarettes a day and washed it down with a bottle of whisky. He had a face that was as rough as a badgers arse. I think Tommy grew up in the inner city Bronx and was mysteriously transplanted into the middle of the Tenderlion. All he knew was rough hardcore, no nonsense, carry a gun, knock you out type of shit. 

I’ll never forget one night when we were working together I asked him, “What’s the craic like in here on a Friday?” He gave me a strange look and said “same as every fucken day.” (Craic in Irish terms means Fun/Good times) Then, the same night, I asked him could I smoke a fag behind the bar. O man, he didn't know what to make of my Irish chat. It was a real eye opener. We had all types of weirdos trying to come into the bar begging for money, trying to use the toilet, trying to steal jackets. Tommy would roar and shout and chase them out. Sometimes, he’d throw handfuls of ice at them. Some bums would knock on the window and abuse him. I used to have to hold myself back from bursting out laughing, as I don't think he would have appreciated it. He was well used to taking crap from bums. I was only there for a few weeks but I could now see why Tommy looked like he did. It was crazy. Entertaining for a few weeks but stressful if it was your full time job. 

I wasn't much of a painter. My cousin would regularly lose the plot with me as he was quite the perfectionist when it came to painting. We’d argue like crazy during work and once work was over, all would be good. I gotta admit. I was in quite a hole and he helped me out, that’s for sure. Some days/weeks, he’d be waiting on another job to start and instead of saying “there’s no work today,” he’d pick me up and we’d drive around the whole day chatting. He’d show me different jobs he did or some fun places to go. And he’d still pay me. For that, I will always be grateful to Padraic.

Because he and I both knew painting wasn't my forte, I went on a mission to find a job in an Irish Bar. The word on the Street was you could make good tips if you were personable. That was something more up my alley. In my first few months in San Francisco, I experienced gratitude. Thankfulness that the Tenderloin “lifestyle” was a temporary one and gratefulness that I had many choices before me. I saw San Francisco as a motley crew of characters and I liked being part of it so far.


Till next time :)

P.S. Please feel free to share with any of your nice friends that you think would enjoy it :)

Cheers 

Gerry :)


Sonas Denim
www.sonasdenim.com



"As long as I'm breathing, I'll never quit" Gerry Kelly 2011

Chapter 11 - USA, Here We Come!

After an amazing year in Australia, it was time to move on. Four of us flew out of Melbourne on the same flight heading to New Zealand. By now,all our good friends were back in Ireland, bored and pissed off with only memories of their trip. It was a bit depressing leaving Australia knowing that we were now on the last leg of our round the world trip and I still had no idea of what I wanted to do with my life.

I had already spent eight weeks traveling around New Zealand, so I decided to continue on to Figi for a few weeks. The four of us ended up on a little Island called Mana. It was paradise: warm turquoise water, palm
trees, golden sand and chilled out big Fijian people.

While sitting on the beach one morning, I saw an extremely pale looking girl walking towards us. I had a sneaky suspicion she was Irish. She was milk bottle white with rosy red hair. Your stereotypical Irish girl.
Turned out she was from Dublin and was on route to Australia and had just come from San Francisco. We got chatting and she said to me, “You gotta check out San Francisco! There’s something about it. It just draws you in."


"Wow," I thought. That was the second person who told me about San Francisco in the last few months. There must be something to this San Francisco place.

After a few weeks in Figi, we got a flight to Hawaii. We flew into Oahu. Again, we didn't have a clue where we were going, so we did the usual. We went to the bookstore in the airport and read through the trusty Lonely Planet travel guide and took down some names and numbers of some local hotels and hostels.

We ended up staying in a dodgy hostel in Honolulu and sharing a room with some pretty straight backpackers from France. We were now in Hawaii and decided to head out on the town and celebrate “Irish style.” We hit up a load of cheesy tourist bars. We kind of knew it was probably our last big night out together for a while, so we made sure it was a good one. We stumbled back to the hostel like a pack of wild dogs, three sheets to the wind at about 4am. We were shouting and roaring, waking up everybody in
the hostel. We clambered back into our bunks. We were super noisy and obviously very annoying. There were eight to a room. My buddy Liam lit up a cigarette in his bed. That was the final straw. A pretty big French lad jumped out of his bed in a pair of “Y Fronts” shouting and screaming at us to shut the F&*q up and telling Liam to put the cigarette out. “Chill out Pierre, or I’ll put you out,” Liam said in a calm passive/aggressive tone. I guess he wasn't used to being told off, especially by some pretty tough drunk Irish guy who was sharing a room with him. He didn’t say another word. He gave Liam a look and got back
into bed and went to sleep. He was gone before we got up, thank God.

We left the hostel the next afternoon and made our way to Waimea Bay on the North Shore of Oahu. We rented out a caravan in a pretty cool campground that was full of surfers and backpackers. We had barbecues there nearly every night for a week and got to meet some fun local surfers and more backpackers.

Our next stop was Los Angeles. Four of us arrived in LAX and got a shuttle to Venice Beach. We booked into a budget hotel called the “Jolly Roger” about half a mile from Venice boardwalk. If I didn't know what I
was doing before, now, I was really lost. I didn't know a sinner in LA and our hotel was very impersonal. After getting used to staying in hostels and meeting other travelers, I felt a bit out of place in our boring hotel room in LA.

We only stayed two nights in LA. It’s definitely a bit of a daunting city if you don’t know anyone.

Liam and our other buddy Ciaran decided to get a train to Chicago. Liam’s brother was there for the summer playing Gaelic football and had room in his house for them. It was pretty sad to leave the lads especially after traveling for approx two years with Liam and living in London together. We had no idea when we’d see everyone again.

My buddy Des (also known as Dingo Des) and I decided to get a bus to San Francisco and see what all the fuss was about.

Next stop San Francisco.

One important thing I learned from my final leg of my journey is: It’s not where you are that matters, it’s who you’re with. Whoever is beside you and around you makes all the difference in the world.

Chapter 10 - Australia Pre-Olympics 1999/2000 “G’day G’day Mate!”

After an eye opening few months in South East Asia, my buddy Liam and I decided to take a flight to Australia with one last stop before we had to start working again. This time it was Indonesia, we spent two weeks taking it easy on Kuta Beach in Bali with some other backpackers on route to Australia. 

Our English friends Tim & Doug decided to go back to Thailand and meet back up with the girls they had left behind. When we arrived in Sydney, we had planned on meeting up with some of our good friends from back home: eleven single lads from Dublin who went to Australia on a one year working Visa about 8 months before we arrived.

When we actually got to Sydney, they were all still traveling up the Australian East Coast. My friend and I rented out a pretty cool furnished apartment in an area called Newtown (similar to Haight Ashbury in San Francisco or Camden Town in London). It had a pretty chilled out hippie vibe with amazing vintage stores, cool markets and some great bars and restaurants.

I ended up getting a job selling American Express insurance over the phone in a pretty big call center that was full of Irish and English backpackers. We each sat in cubicles like “Dilberts” and wore ear pieces on automatic dial to American Express customers. You had about 10 seconds between each call. The goal was to get as many existing card holders as you could to sign up for a free 30 day trial of American Express Insurance. After the 30 day trial ended they were charged approx $9 - $15 a month, depending on the coverage. It was a numbers game. I guess American Express was banking on most people forgetting to cancel it and make their money that way. I got to meet some really cool Irish and English guys and girls while working there.

Whenever I saw an Irish name come up on the screen, I would play the Irish card and tell them I’m an Irish backpacker and ask them if they would please do me a favor and sign up for a month and then cancel. Lots of people were up for it. All they had to say was “Yes” on a recorder. It didn't require filling out any forms, thank God.

Sometimes, when I got a real idiot on the phone getting abusive, telling me to never call again, instead of hitting the "Never Call Again" option I’d schedule a call for about 10 mins later. 10 mins later you’d hear someone in the call center saying "Oh My God! I just had some really pissed off customer on the phone. Someone called him just 10 minutes ago.” It was hilarious. Some days, I’d have pains in my stomach from laughing so much.

I also got another job bar-tending Friday and Saturday nights in a nightclub in Kings Cross. It worked out perfect. Not only was I saving money not going out to a bar, but I was also earning money working. I used to make the most awful tasting super strong cocktails. Some people loved them and tipped really well, and some would ask me to exchange for “something a bit more drinkable.” Then late one Saturday night, it got raided by the cops for serving after hours and they were closed down for a month and I never went back.

After a few months in Newtown, we decided to move over to Bondi Beach to another apartment right in the middle of all the action and next to the beach. 
The beaches and the water were unbelievable. Hard to believe that you were in a city. Bondi was full of young backpackers from Ireland, England and Scotland on their one year working Visa. 

I only worked for three months at the call center (that’s all our work Visa’s would allow on any one job) and now needed a new job. My buddies had all worked on the building sites and got me in contact with some labor hire agencies. I got a job as a laborer on a pretty big building site where they were building a hotel and luxury apartments. This was just before the Sydney Olympics 2000. The place was screaming out for construction workers. There was construction going on everywhere. Three or four different labor hire agencies used to call our apartment every day looking for more workers. After a few months of laboring, I bought $600 worth of tools off a Welsh guy who was leaving town and chanced my arm at being a carpenter on another building site. It was a good bit more money then laboring. I had met a guy while laboring who said I could work with him and he would basically carry me along. Of course I still worked, but he did all the technical work. I was basically laboring for him and getting carpenters wages from the agency. It worked out great for a few months and all we were doing was putting up sheet rock. Then, he got sick for a week and I was transferred to another site run by an English guy who figured me out after a few days when he asked me to hang a few doors and build a staircase (which I had never done before). Anyway, I got a great run out of it, learned a good bit and got paid more than laboring, so I couldn't complain. I ended up selling the tools for what I had paid for them to some legitimate carpenter from Ireland.

My next job was working on the building of a Buddhist Temple just outside of Sydney. It was a bit of a trek but easy work. I met a really cool guy there from the North of Ireland, Dermy Finn. Dermy was a hardy tough Irish lad that was a hard worker and well up for a laugh. The foreman on our job liked us and we got to work together all the time. We had great chats about growing up and the crazy carry on we both got up to and travelling stories, which were very similar. We became pretty good friends while working together. The Aussie foreman from our job, Pete, was going through a divorce at the time and was always looking for some wing men to go out on the town with him, so of course we obliged. He was a good bit older than us but loved hanging out and hearing our travel stories.

Dermy would always be talking about his friends who were living in San Francisco and a cool festival they would go to every year called the “Burning Man”. 
I had never heard of it. He also mentioned that if I ever went to San Francisco that I should look up his friends. To be honest, I had never ever thought about going to San Francisco. The only thing I knew about San Francisco was from the TV show “The Streets of San Francisco,” which we watched sometimes when I was a kid.

After I had saved up some decent money, a few of us decided to go traveling up the east coast with a neighbor of ours from Dublin. He was a bit older than us, but well up for a laugh. He had an old Hiace van that could fit five lads and their bags comfortably. It was perfect.

We ripped up the East Coast like we were in the Cannonball Race. Some days we drove 1000 kilometers in one day and only saw about ten other cars on the road. It was desolate. We had a blast stopping off in some strange little towns along the way. We hit all the cool beach towns and drove inland to Mount Isa. Then we made our way to Ayers Rock, climbed the famous huge rock and hung around there for a few days.

At this stage, we were on the last leg of our round the world trip. We decided to make our way to Melbourne to fly out from there. Our next stop was New Zealand then Figi & Hawaii.

I learned a lot in Australia while I worked. Something that stuck with me most is: 1. Sales is a complete numbers game (the more calls you make
the more sales you get), and 2. There's no harm in trying (if a job isn't the right fit, you'll know)

Chapter 7 - Respect The Weed

I arrived in Amsterdam on our way back from Egypt in late November 1996. I was with two friends, Linda from Sweden & Joyce a stoner from Australia who we had met in Turkey. A lot of the other guys that were travelling with us had now gone their separate ways. Some had gone home and some went straight to London to find work. Amsterdam was cold, wet and we were broke after all our travelling. We had planned to meet our friend Doug there a few days later. He had to get a different flight as he was over 30 and couldn't use the dodgy student cards to get the cheap flights we got.

We stayed in a hostel in the center of Amsterdam. It was full of young Canadians and Americans who were over for the Cannabis Cup. The hostel smelt like 20 skunks had just sprayed the place down. There were clouds of smoke bellowing around every corner. It was stoner central.

We had some breakfast (scrambled eggs and bread, not toasted) in the smoke filled communal dining area. Breakfast was included in the price of the hostel. The scrambled egg was dished out of a huge pot by some strange looking African dude with one eye and his buddy next to him was handing out two slices of dry bread to everyone in the line. It was like a scene out of a World War II movie.


We then took a stroll around Amsterdam, checked out a few museums etc...and then hit a bar for a few drinks. After that, we decided to check out the Bob Marley Cafe, after hearing some great reports about it from some of the stoners in the hostel. 

I quite fancied myself as a hardcore smoker after smoking some crappy weed in Greece, Turkey, Israel & Egypt. O Boy, was I in for a rude awakening.

The three of us huddled into a corner seat in the packed out Smokey Bob Marley Cafe. I asked Joyce what was the strongest weed she had ever smoked. “Northern Lights,” she said.

So I ordered three juices and a gram of Northern Lights and some rolling papers. I rolled up a pure weed joint and gave it to Joyce to light up. She lit it up and took one toke and passed it to Linda who did the same. Then it came to me and I puffed on it like it was the last joint on earth. We continued to pass the joint around the table and I continued to smoke it like a man possessed.

When the joint was finished, we sat there talking about our plans for getting to London. We decided to make our way to Calais in France and get a ferry to Dover.

Suddenly, I felt a bead of sweat drip down the left side of my face. Then, about a minute later, a waterfall of sweat came gushing down my forehead. And then, a severe dose of paranoia came over me. To put it mildly, I was f#^@*d. I made some crappy excuse and told the girls I had to get a bit of air. “I was a bit warm,” I said. It was below zero and everyone around us was in their duffel coats and scarves.

I made my way out the front door of the cafe thinking everyone was looking at me and sat against the wall outside on the sidewalk. My head was spinning in all angles. Then, I was approached by some Algerian guys trying to sell me drugs. “O God leave me alone.” I said. They didn't know what to make of me. To say the least I was mangled. It took me a good two hours to come back to planet earth. I can safely say that I had a lot more respect for the holy herb after that experience.

I didn't smoke another joint in Holland after that. Doug arrived two days later and we hung about another few days in the bars and then made our way to France by train and took the ferry to Dover in England. We then made our way to London and stayed with some of our Aussie friends we knew from Greece.
I got a job in a kitchen of a restaurant that my good friend Butcher got a head chef job at. It was another easy, mundane job to raise a few dollars before I went back to Ireland for Xmas.

I arrived back in Ireland a week before Xmas. It was great to see my family and friends, but I gotta admit, I was a bit depressed as I didn't want my vacation to end. 

Something I learned from these adventures traveling throughout is that, if you are open to the world, then the world will open doors for you. I never worried about how, I just needed to decide where. Once a goal was picked, I knew I would get there and I enjoyed the journey along the way. It’s a lesson I carry with me today.


Cheers 

Gerry :)

Chapter 6 - A One Month Trip That Turned into A Year

After returning to Ireland from my second stint in Greece, I couldn't sit still. I had to go travelling again, but I needed cash (and I also had to hang around to repeat my exams). This time, I got a job in a local factory packing Microsoft Win 97 boxes and a job in a restaurant 3 nights a week. It was easy money and easy work. This time around, I passed my exams, got my diploma in Legal Studies and was ready for an adventure.
One night in my local bar, I met a neighbor of mine who had also travelled to Greece. He stayed on the Island of Corfu, and asked me if I wanted to travel to Corfu with him by car. He told me that it was amazing and I had to go. To be honest, I just wanted to go travelling and have some fun and none of my friends were up for it at that time, so I thought, "F%@k it, I'll go."
Three of us (my neighbor, his girlfriend and myself) drove from Ireland to Greece. It was a long drive with multiple ferry rides. We ripped through it in about 3.5 days of non-stop driving in a packed out old Volkswagen Scirocco, partying every leg of the journey. This was May 1996.
It turned out to be the quietest town that I had ever been too. Not only were there no tourists, there were hardly any Greeks either.

To say the least, it wasn't the place for a party. But to be fair, it was beautiful. (Back then, as young as I was, I was more interested in the party than the scenery.) After a few days, I went in search of life and ended up in small town called Benitses about 10 miles away. It was a quiet town with a few bars. As luck would have it, I found a little bar called "Idols." It was full of English guys and girls who were also looking for work. "Dave," the owner of the bar, was a complete nut job from Newcastle. The bar was like a human zoo. Half the people had never been away from home before and they were partying like the world was about to end. I was the only Irish guy in there and by the end of the night I was friends with most of the customers. I really clicked with two guys from England, Tim & Doug.
Tim was from Stoke & Doug was from Wolverhampton. They were travelling around Europe in an old camper van that they bought in England for 800 Pounds. They called it "Dave the Van" in honor of their friend Dave who was meant to travel with them but ended up in some trouble and couldn't leave England. These guys were on a different level than most travelers you meet. They were hardy English lads who were up for a party and anything for that matter.
After a few crazy days and nights partying with Tim & Doug, I moved into their camper van. I also decided I wasn't even going to look for work in Corfu. Instead I'd enjoy myself, and that's what I did. Mind you I did end up working one night though. It was when an 18 - 30's party tour bus came through the town we were staying in and the owner of a club asked Tim, Doug and I if we would help pick up the empty bottles in his nightclub. Not only did we pick up the empties, we also picked up the full bottles :)
I talked Tim & Doug into coming to the Island of Ios with me. I knew they'd love it. They were a bit hesitant at first and then they came around. But before we left the Island of Corfu we decided to take a trip to a place called the "Pink Palace" a cheesy 18 - 30's hostel/hotel where backpackers usually stay for about 2-3 nights and party like crazy. It suited us down to the ground. At this stage, there were four of us. One of my best friends from home, "Butcher," had come over to join me. We swooped him up at the airport at about 3am (only 4 hours late, hammered drunk in "Dave the Van") and headed straight for the for Pink Palace. There was 15 English lads and myself crammed into the van, how the van wasn't confiscated or the lads were done for drink driving I have no idea.
After a wild three days at the Pink Palace, we were toasted. It definitely lived up to its reputation as a cheesy party destination: toga parties and drinking games etc..... We decided to make our way to Ios, which was the other side of mainland Greece, a very long drive away.
We arrived in Ios in early June 1996. I knew a lot of people there from previous years. I got some work after a week or so. This time, I was working security in a liquor store with a crazy guy from Manchester who used to deal Acid and Ecstasy to the customers. The liquor store was called "The Mad Dog Off License" the customer used to sit outside and get wasted before they hit up the clubs, all sorts of crazy shit went on outside the Mad Dog. The owner was a pretty wild middle aged Greek woman who I think just employed us to drink and play backgammon with her all night. It was perfect. Drink whatever you wanted, get paid and play backgammon. 
Doug got a job in Disco 69 where I had worked the previous year and Tim never worked .
We spent three months on Ios living in a camper van with no air conditioning. Some nights we'd have up to 20 people partying in the van till the early hours of the morning. The van was a meeting spot for most of our friends on the Island. It used to get so hot inside. We used to buy bottles of ice water and put them under our pillows when we went to sleep to keep us from melting :) 
We'd wake up sweating and hung-over. O Man, It was brutal, but it was fun.
A few of our friends lived way up in the village. It was party central. I remember one time they had a BBQ and a Brazilian friend of ours made some caipirinha (A Brazilian Punch)and poured it into three different buckets, two buckets were pure caipirinha and one was mixed with Acid. They never told anyone till after it was all drunk. You can only imagine how crazy things got. I remember one Irish guy dancing on top of a bar table in the middle of the village six hours after the buckets were emptied in a pair of speedo shorts screaming at the top of his lungs. I seriously thought he had lost it, but he came around before the night was out, thank god.
When the season ended, about ten of us headed to Turkey. Although I didn't have much money, my friend Doug who would sell ice to the Eskimos assured me we'd be fine. We can sell jewelry on the beaches to other tourists he said. Again, I said "F#*k it, I'm in."
After a few days in Turkey, we found a jewelry wholesaler and with the little money we had, we bought some cheap jewelry (Indian and Turkish silver) and sold it out of a backgammon box to other tourists. At first I had a hard time selling to anyone, and then I wouldn't even try selling. I'd just introduce myself to tourists on the beach, offer them a game of backgammon and a joint and tell them my travel story and plans and at the end of the game 80% of them bought something. I wish I kept a journal because I met so many cool people. After a month travelling through Turkey, we decided to check out Israel. We got some cheap flights from Turkey to Israel and ended up in a hostel in downtown Tel Aviv. I got a job laying sprinkler systems in an apartment complex with some guys from New Zealand and Sweden who we were also travelling with us. After we saved some more cash, we travelled to Sinai in Egypt. Sinai was beautiful, super inexpensive and some of the best snorkeling in the world. We detoxed there for a month before sailing up the river Nile on a felucca boat for a week. It was amazing. We used to have to jump off the boat while moving with a rope tied around our waist to have a wash. You'd get sick if you washed in still water because there was so much bacteria in the water. We'd set up camp at night next to the river. We'd have some dinner and then smoke out. It was bliss. Enough of the Middle East, next stop was Amsterdam.
This adventure of my life thought me it's best not to push a hard sale on someone. You're best off building a relationship with someone first, building rapport. Even if it's only 20 minutes over a joint and game of backgammon it's a lesson I still hold close today"
Something I also learned is that. Saying yes, opens up opportunities. It just takes a little courage to make the leap. So long as you keep your eye on the goal, you'll be fine.