Tripping with...
He’s walked the talk on the Camino de Santiago. But when words fail the Aussie actor, he resorts to drawing... with comical results.
061 Frequent flyer Patrick Brammall knows how to master a minibar
What was your typical childhood holiday?
A road trip. I’m from Canberra so we would go to Batemans Bay or Merimbula [on NSW’s South Coast]. Clyde Mountain always seemed massive to me but, as an adult, it isn’t a mountain at all. I remember going to Funland Ulladulla. Again, you go back and think, “This is not quite the fun I remember.”
Have you taken any road trips since?
In 2005, I jumped into a red Ford Econovan, with a bed in the back, and drove from Sydney to Townsville. I thought I’d be gone for months – an intrepid explorer. But after four weeks, I realised I was lonely. I remember going crazy in North Queensland, driving on this dead-straight, unrelenting road. I ejected a Pete Murray CD and smashed it with my hands because I was so hot and tired and angry. Look, that’s no slight to Pete Murray; that’s just where I was at the time.
Do you like a map?
I don’t mind a map. In a new city, I go to the highest point – the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles, for instance – and think, “I know where I am.”
What’s the biggest culture shock you’ve experienced?
In 2000, I went to Shenzhen in mainland China. Seeing live dogs and chickens in cages was an incredible culture shock; also, we were stared at a lot. I was trying to order in a restaurant, pointing to what I thought was pork on the menu, and the waiter didn’t understand. So I tried to draw a pig on his notepad but it looked like a horse and I thought, “I don’t want horse.” I tried to impersonate a pig, by which point everyone in the restaurant was laughing. Who knows what I got?
Have you ever been lost?
I was 18, on a gap year, and I caught a train to visit my friend somewhere in Northern England. I ended up arriving on this deserted platform at midnight. It was black and silent and 1994 so there were no mobile phones. I knocked on the door of a church but they couldn’t help me. I found a phone booth and called my friend then got lost again. Somehow, I stumbled into her street. It’s hard to get lost these days, unless you really try.
Have you ever gone completely off the grid?
In 2016, I walked the Camino de Santiago, an old Catholic pilgrimage. It took me 34 days to walk from the French town of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, over the Pyrénées then across the top of Spain. I’d pay 10 euros for a meal and a bed at little hostels, called albergues. There were gorgeous days, rainy days, sleet. You’d go through rickety little Spanish towns, rolling hills, fields of canola. And all anyone talks about is feet. On the second day, I met an Italian guy who said you should get boots one size bigger because your feet swell; two years earlier, his were too small and his toenail fell off. So I stopped in a town for new boots then got a better pair in a bigger town. At the end, I left them in a Madrid car park because I never wanted to see them again.
When you enter a hotel room, what’s the first thing you do?
I put the entire contents of the minibar in a top cupboard, out of sight. Otherwise, by the end, they’ll be like, “That’s $350, thanks – you greedy man.”
If you were to raid the minibar, what would you like to find?
I love a Snickers. A KitKat never goes astray. And it’s nice to have a little Scotch at the end of the night – a single malt. In some fancypants hotels, where you press a button to close the curtains, the minibar is on a scale and if you pick up a bag of nuts, it will register and you’ll be charged instantly. Do not touch!
Do you have a home away from home?
I’m spending more time in Los Angeles but that’s not my home. I go back to Canberra to visit my folks but I haven’t lived there for years. My girlfriend lives in Sydney but I’ve got stuff in storage in Melbourne. I don’t have a home away from home, because I don’t really have a home.
Does that feel okay?
No, it’s discombobulating. As I age – I’m 41 now – I feel more of a need to nest. That’s one reason I decided to rent in LA, where Australians have a strong tradition of couch surfing. But I haven’t put down roots.
Which destination was a real surprise to you?
Disneyland in Anaheim was the best! It was small and slightly undulating and there were enough water features to keep the place from being too intense. The other surprise, at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, is that it’s entirely alcohol-free – unless you’re a super-celebrity and can go to Club 33, this mythical door in an alleyway. I hung around, hoping to see someone go in, and I saw a lady, dressed to the nines, knocking on the door, clearly thinking she was someone who was able to get into Club 33. She never did. It was an embarrassing moment for her.
How does it hold up against Funland?
Chalk and cheese. Funland works in the rain or the sunshine, as it’s in a warehouse. It has air-hockey tables – which, when you’re six, is incredible – and foosball. Funland will always have a special place in my heart.
“YOU’D GO THROUGH RICKETY LITTLE SPANISH TOWNS, ROLLING HILLS, FIELDS OF CANOLA. AND ALL ANYONE TALKS ABOUT IS FEET.”