Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova

by Neil Skywalker

  At night we would make up and have great sex but it couldn’t be the same as before. My mind was like a raging tornado; I told myself to keep on banging girls all over the world one moment and told myself to settle down the next. If I settled down what would become of my round-the-world trip, my book and my life in the future? Staying with Jenna wouldn’t be fair to Julia, who I think loved me twice as much as Jenna and would almost catch a bullet for me. She has a better job, an athletic model-like body and lived in a second-world country instead of a third-world one. I knew she was almost thirty and wanted to have kids but so did Jenna even though she was only twenty-three at the time.

  When I looked in Jenna’s eyes I melted, but I couldn’t get this raging storm out of my head. I stayed in her room and had nothing to do all day but think and worry. Donna had changed her mind on coming to meet me in Manila; I had fucked it up by not keeping in touch enough with her in the last weeks. If I’d just emailed or texted her every two or three days I wouldn’t have fucked things up so much. I talked to her on the phone and she said she might be able to meet me in Singapore when I had to stay there a few nights before I finally flew to Australia. But that wasn’t the same.

  The last night I spent with Jenna I tried to keep things cool and make it a nice night together. She had taken a day off to stay with me and I had to mess it up again with some jealousy shit. We fought again and I hated myself…

  The three Julias in Russia, all those girls in Cambodia, several one-night stands in other countries, Donna and Lilly in Indonesia and all those girls I banged at my buddy’s house, it became a blur in my mind. Girls who had good jobs, girls who barely had anything, girls who loved me, girls who hated me, the drama and the fights in Cambodia, my phone that kept ringing all day. Jealousy, rage, why am I here? Why do I not have a wife and family back home? What idiot travels around the world for this long? Am I a winner or a loser? What am I running from? I felt angry, I felt powerless…. I felt exactly like I did years before on the weekends when I always went out and couldn’t get a girlfriend. I was too scared to approach or talk to any girls, stood around awkwardly trying to be cool, walked home and kicked garbage cans out of frustration and self-hatred, telling myself I would be better the next week, only to do the same thing all over again. After picking up all these girls, I still felt bad for myself. Tears rolled down my cheeks, Jenna cried too. We fell asleep in each others’ arms.

  We said goodbye the next morning and I went back to Manila to stay a few days, meet some friends and hang out in the guesthouse. I relaxed a bit and started thinking about my trip. I felt better about myself after letting go of all my emotions the days before, but felt very uneasy being alone at night. For the last couple of months I had not been alone much. In fact since Bali I had only slept alone a couple of times in D-Lux’s house; most of the nights I had a girl staying over, either a fuckbuddy or a new one.

  One girl who always stayed in the guesthouse was interested in me. She was in her thirties and I knew her from the times I’d stayed in this guesthouse before. Picking her up was a piece of cake and we went to a love hotel nearby, had sex and that was it. A day later I ran into my first Filipina girl in the guesthouse again and banged her too.

  On one of the last days I met a friend of Carry’s, the girl who lived in the poor area in the city in the south. I had met Yhana there and the three of us had some chicken dinner in a nearby street restaurant. She was pretty and had a nice set of boobs and nicely shaped lips. She wanted to see me in Manila and I agreed to it. She flaked on me the first night and the day later I noticed her sitting in the bar across the street from the guesthouse. I walked over, said what I had to say about her flaking on me and sat down with her. She was there with her “sister”, who was a lady boy, and another girl. Yhana went for my charms.

  We walked along the Manila Bay waterfront and started kissing. She bit me in the lip a couple of times and it really hurt. I told her to stop or I would leave. She stopped doing it for but started biting me again a few minutes later. I gave her a short soft slap in the face, pointed my finger at her and told her again not to do it anymore. She actually got excited by that and we went to a love hotel nearby. She was only nineteen years old but when she dropped her towel after the shower her body looked and felt very saggy, her breasts looked big before but felt like deflated balloons now. Her skin was soft but her legs and arms were flabby.

  She had done a good job hiding all this in her tight dress before. She had probably gained a lot of weight when she was pregnant before and lost it all afterwards. Or maybe she had always been fat and she decided to get skinny afterwards. It felt weird. After a short blowjob she mounted me and I felt absolutely nothing. It was like she was riding me without me being inside. We switched to missionary and again I felt nothing, she was wider than the room we were doing it in. Finishing was nearly impossible like this. I’d already had trouble with it since I had so much sex with so many girls I didn’t feel much for. Doggy style always worked but this time I had to bang so hard that my heart rate went through the roof and I needed to catch my breath for several minutes afterwards. It surprised me that she had actually enjoyed all of it and asked for more.

  How the hell could she have liked it? I felt like I was fucking air when I was inside her, she couldn’t have felt much either. She started getting wild again but my dick was out of service. She jumped on me and began biting me again, telling me to rape her. Wow, this girl was a freak.

  I slapped her around a bit and choked her, and she became wilder and wilder and fought back like a lioness. I was not in the mood to have sex again but wanted to please her anyway; I used my fingers and kept putting more of them inside her all the time until nearly my whole hand disappeared inside her. WTF! When she was finally satisfied, we slept a bit and left the room later. The only thing she said was not to tell her girlfriend what happened. Yhana was beautiful to look at but the worst lay ever. Another mindless fuck with someone I barely knew. I still have most girls on my Facebook but except for Jenna I don’t have much contact with them.

  I had forgotten all the guilt, regret and self-pity I felt in Cebu.

  Nr 40.

  Half way there….

  Chapter Four – Oceania

  Oceania – Australia

  My plan was to go from the Philippines to Australia, then visit New Zealand and carry on to South America. Looking into things, I found that single flights were horribly expensive, especially the one from New Zealand to Argentina or Chile ($2-3,000). It turned out to actually be cheaper to buy a round-the-world ticket. A lot cheaper. I paid $1,700 for this: Singapore to Sydney, Sydney to Auckland, Auckland to Buenos Aires –and even an extra flight include from Buenos Aires to Santiago de Chile. Four flights for less money than just one. The only problem was that I had to decide how long I was going to stay in Australia and New Zealand. I figured twenty-five days each would be enough. The countries were horribly expensive anyway and I didn’t want to spend much money in a western country. South America and hot Latinas were waiting on the other side.

  I flew from Manila to Singapore, stayed there two days, and flew to Sidney. Donna told me that she couldn’t meet me there. This was the second time she’d promised something and called it off later. She then said she’d try to meet up in Sydney and spend some time with me again. It never happened and I lost contact with her not much later, when she told me she was going to move to Perth and stay with one of her boyfriends, and probably marry him. She’s too wild to ever be a long-term relationship option for me, but still I had such a good time with her that she is still on my mind from time to time. But so are many other girls too.

  The Brisbane customs had it in for me: I had to make a short stop there before I flew to Sydney. After a long interview, a study of my passport and ongoing tickets, I was able to convince them I was only planning on doing some sightseeing and would then be moving on to New Zealand. Non-Australians over thirty aren’t allowed to work in Australia, so customs are worried when they see r
ogue backpackers coming into the country who might take on an illegal job there.

  Everything in Sidney, and I mean everything, was expensive. I stayed in a hostel that looked like a backpacker factory. There must have been at least four hundred people there so everything was really impersonal. The ten-person dorm cost twenty–six dollars a night and I spend about ten to fifteen dollars a day on food. The cheapest pack of cigarettes was twelve dollars and a pack of Marlboros cost eighteen dollars.

  Except for the sightseeing I didn’t like the city at all. Sure, the Sydney Opera and the famous bridge are beautiful, and so are a few other things, but it’s just a big city like I’d seen many times before in Europe. The girls there weren’t really lookers and I wasn’t interested in backpackers at all. After all, I’d just come from South East Asia, where life was dirt cheap and girls were very welcoming and caring.

  One of the first nights I went to a club where I had to pay eleven dollars for a small bottle of beer. In the Philippines I could buy almost ten beers in a club for that money. I couldn’t help calculating everything and seeing how impossibly expensive it was for a traveler who didn’t have a job there. One night I pulled some Australian girls into the movie room of the hostel. I kissed and finger-banged a 17-year-old Australian girl there and when I went out to the hallway with her and made out some more, trying to find a place to bang, a drunk English guy just stood there watching us make out, The fucker just stopped walking and looked at us from no more than three meters away. We asked him to leave us alone and he asked why. I told him that he was being creepy and bothering us and he got all aggressive. The girl told him to go away too, and I told him to fuck off and he started shouting and cursing. The girl rolled her eyes and said something like “men” and walked off. I went after her but all this aggressive behavior had turned her off and she went to bed. When I walked back to punch the fucker in the face now that the girl wasn’t there to witness it, he was gone.

  Let me be frank about Australia, I didn’t like it much. Can’t say I had a good time. Maybe I had outgrown staying in a hostel full of twenty-two year olds. Everything cost too much to have a fun time. Staying in a hostel , eating a couple of fast food meals, smoking a few cigarettes and having a beer already busted my budget, let alone going out to a club, paying the entrance fee and having an expensive beer, or taking a taxi or even the damn bus. There were some places with cheaper beer and it wasn’t all bad but I wasn’t in the mood for gaming. For the last one-and-a-half years I had been in Second- or Third-World countries (except Japan and South Korea) and returning to the stressed Western world was hard on me.

  The Blue Mountains were something different. It’s a nature park close to Sydney and it takes a few hours by train to go there. The natural scenery is beautiful and some sights gave stunning views over forests and canyons. It’s a must-do if you’re around Sydney. I did a few hiking trips around the area and met some interesting people along the way.

  I moved on to Melbourne afterwards and met a German guy in the bus on the way there. He was a bit nerdy but I could have good talks and fun with him. There was a guy we called The Schwein on the bus. You kind of had to be there, but this was a huge guy in an old suit with his fingers full of paint, who had some disgusting habits. He would put his seat down and lie half-over his chair so that I, being unfortunate enough to sit right behind, almost got crushed. He was snoring, burping and even farting a few times. He even rinsed his mouth with water and then spit it out on the floor. The guy was a swine.

  I talked a lot with the German guy, and it turned he had even published a book himself, so I told him about my plans to write one. He was enthusiastic about the idea and tried to push me towards it a bit, but I was depressed about my current situation. The whole no-money thing, the unattractiveness of the backpacker girls and the longing for the good times I had living well in South East Asia on little to no money combined to get me down. I despised the western world and hated the thought I had to go back to Europe one day.

  After visiting Melbourne I did a one-day tour with the German guy to the Twelve Apostles, a natural landmark along the Great Ocean Road. We also saw some of the famous koalas from up close. Melbourne is a nice city but it gets boring real fast once you’ve seen the sights. The only thing I really liked there was the AC/DC lane, an alley dedicated to one of my all-time favorite bands. I tried to get with one of the friendly girls from Singapore I’d met on the one day trip but that failed.

  I was running out of time and enthusiasm for exploring Australia anymore, and I just went back to Sydney and stayed in a different area of the city, Kings Cross, the seedy part of town with a few small hostels and lots of strip clubs and bars.

  I stayed in a small hostel there and felt way more at ease but still suffered from some major bouts of depression and approach anxiety. I just couldn’t wait to go to South America and experience some real travelling again.

  The hostel wasn’t an impersonal four-hundred-person backpacker factory like the others in the centre. This was a rowdy place with maybe forty beds and small common areas where people knew each other. We were smashing the bags of Goon every night and had atrocious hangovers the next morning. Goon is a surrogate for wine but it doesn’t even have grapes it in. It’s sold in ten-dollar plastic bags with a tap on them. The plastic bag goes in a carton but as soon as the bag of Goon is half empty people rip the carton apart and take the bag out. A four-liter bag of Goon will get two to three people very shitfaced and I have seen people using the half-full goon bags as pillows. The hostel wasn’t very quiet, let’s say, but it was fun and I could easily have stayed there a while. The only problem was that there weren’t too many good-looking chicks around. There were two (English) twin sisters who had reasonable bodies and could pass the boner test but they had very such bad habits, like getting wasted beyond belief, falling down all the time and once even drunkenly eating everything they could get their hands on, even food that had been lying on the floor for a while. The thought of kissing a girl like that disgusted me.

  By this time I was doing some preparations for my blog and it was at this point that I starting translating my Dutch stories to English ones. Of course the Dutch blog was written for family and friends so I couldn’t write everything down. This made translating difficult and I had to dig deep in my mind to remember all the details. Luckily I have an excellent long-term memory.

  When I got to writing about Australia, though, I had just received some angry comments from ashamed family members about my Cambodia stories, so I only wrote down a ten-sentence story about what happened in Australia. That’s why you are reading a short version of a nearly a month there. I had not written everything down about Australia at the time and the Goon was eating my brain cells away, so my memory fails me here just a bit.

  From Kings Cross I moved to Bondi Beach, a beach famous all over the world. I was staying in a hostel close to the beach and met some people there. I went out with them a few times and watched the rugby games. I even attempted to get myself out of my rut by trying to pick up some local girls, but the thoughts of not having a place to stay and no money for a hotel unconsciously blocked my vibe, and I sucked at both the approach and the following chitchat.

  On one of the last nights I went out with the Canadian girl I’d met at the Cambodian border, who happened to be in Sydney too. Back then I had spent a few days with her but didn’t get further than some making-out and sleeping in the same bed together. She made it clear that it was not going to happen again and said I was a kind of a man-whore for sleeping with so many girls everywhere. Facebook’s a bitch sometimes. I laughed it away, remembering that Jenna sometimes called me a man-whore too. We had a crazy but fun night out anyway, together with a Filipino guy and a drunken annoying Irish guy who we managed to ditch later on.

  New Zealand – Auckland & Pahia

  Moment of Dutch pride to set the record straight: just like Australia, New Zealand was discovered by a Dutch captain and not by the English, who didn’t arrive unt
il nearly two hundred years later. His name was Abel Tasman and both the island Tasmania and the Abel Tasman Sea are named after him. For those who have been curious has to how an English colony caught a weird, un-English name like New Zealand, well, it’s not English. Tasman named it after the Dutch province Zeeland.

  Australia, in the meantime, was originally New Holland, but the Dutch didn’t see much use for a huge country bereft of spices, unlike Indonesia, and left it alone.

  I decided to only visit the North Island because I arrived just after Christchurch, in the south, was hit by a major earthquake. Many people died, and others were left homeless. Not exactly a tourist attraction.

  Auckland was just another big capital to me and didn’t have much in the way of special attractions, other than the Sky Tower and the beautiful skyline in the harbor. The first hostel I stayed in pretty much sucked; the eight-bed dorm was occupied by foreigners working in town and everybody went to bed early every day. One funny thing worth mentioning was this giant guy who asked me how long I was staying in the dorm. “A few days,” I said – and he gave me a new pair of earplugs. The guy snored like a fucking chainsaw – but at least he was aware of it.

  One of the girls staying in the dorm was quite fat and had massive boobs. She was friendly but way below my standards for even thinking about having sex with her. I think she mistake my looking at her big boobs for interest because she came on to me a bit. When that didn’t work she changed her bra right in front of me and a few others, possibly in a last attempt to get my interest. It didn’t work. A similar situation had happened in Hong Kong when I shared a small dorm with a Finnish girl.