Sydney: Australia's Icon

An overnight bus from Byron Bay (with no room for that comfortable sleep across two seats, mind you!), brought me to Sydney where I met up with my English friend Anne. We had first met in Peru in 2008 as we had been in the same 4 day Lares Trek/Machu Picchu tour. She graciously invited me to stay with her in her flat, just minutes away from Bondi Beach....sweet az!! :P We set off that morning along a walk of the Eastern beaches of Sydney (Bondi to Coogee) with Anne's Irish boyfriend Brian, and their two friends CAtherine and Caroline. We lunched at Coogee Beach hotel and then Anne and I attended a birthday party for one of her friends in New Town, where I sampled yet another delicious Aussie BBQ.

The next day was a day at the races for the Sydney Cup!! Picture it: the big oval, beautiful horses paraded around, tiny jockeys, betting forums, food and bar tents, champagne flutes, flashy suits, ruffled dresses, high heels, feathers, and an incognito competition for the biggest and best fascinator that money can buy! (a 'fascinator' is an old-fashioned hat/clip/or decoration that women wear propped on their head. Some can run for hundreds of dollars!) It was an experience to remember and a spectacle where you better try your best to look amazing, like an old day at the races, o prepare to be shunned! I got away with borrowing a red dress and belt from Anne's rommmate Kat, buying black rose-designed tights, black earrings, and a small red fascinator; and rounding the outfit out with my black flats. People commented that my outfit was 'funky and original'....PHEW! Beats being shunned! :P We finished the day with a night at Cargo Bar on Darling Harbour and fireworks!

Morning found Anne and I taking a refreshing swim at Bondi Beach and posing for photos with the beach's famous lifeguards (okay, they may have been volunteer lifeguards, but they dressed the part!) I then transferred to Wake-up Hostel in the CBD because Anne was leaving town for a few days. I went for a long walk around the city, hitting-up famous landmarks such as the Opera Houses, sky tower, and hyde park. That night I was hit full force by an unexplained illness and I had to sweat it out through the sheets.

The next morning I awoke to a horrible smell, disregarded it as I went to take a shower, and then returned to the room to find a hostel staff member throwing a mattress out into the hallway. I put two and two together and was horrified, thinking that that horrible morning smell had been the leftover odor of my night of sweating, then someone had complained, and I had ruined a mattress! Well, fortunately my 'two and two' added up to something other than four because I was wrong: the mattress was being thrown out because someone had peed their bed and THAT was what the lovely aroma was that I had awoken to!....hmmm, whyever was it that I had a craving to return home during this portion of my trip? Hostels....ugh.

This day was ANZAC day, the Austalian rememberance day. A day of honouring and...drinking. I began with another walking tour, this time starting in the quaint suburb of Surrey Hills, with its 2 storey flats squished tall against one another; with swirling challises and fancy fence posts. I was overcome with a craving for a latte, so I took a break at a small, hidden,but very welcoming, cafe called Robo Cog (I would highly recommend this cafe....and unfortunately I have no exact address for it!). After a relaxing sit-down, I set out again in a misty shower of rain, this time to Hyde Park, theh site of Sydney's towering ANZAC memorial. Inside, the mood was somber and I looked over the inner circle of rail to a lower floor displaying a castrated figure of Christ, surrounded by small gold stars with names printed upon them. A volunteer approached me then and handed me a star. I told her, "I don't know any names to write." She smiled, nodded, and suggested "the unknown soldier." I nodded back, wrote my hommage, and tossed the star down. Honouring: check.

Next was, of course, Australia's favorite pasttime: drinking. And I was in luck...my friend Mikael (whom I had also met on my 2008 South America trip, in Ecuador) lives in Melbourne, but was up in the Sydney area for the Anzac weekend. I met up with him and his high school friends at the Alexandria Hotel Pub, the location of their annual Anzac reunion. On an Australian public holiday such as this, there are bound to be 3 things: profuse drinking, rugby/AFL on the big screen, and the beloved game of 2UP! 2UP is only able to be legally playe din pubs on ANZAC day. One person places 2 coins on the stick in their hand, a crowd cretes a perimetre around the tarp on the ground in front of that person, the crowd bets 2 heads or 2 talks with eachother (the person that bets 'heads' holds the money), the coins are tossed up and the winner collects their small fortune (can range for $10 to $100). If the coins land one head and one tails they are tossed again. Pretty basic, eh? The most fair game in the world: an exact 50/50 chance. Interestingly though, these odds still lead to drunken brawls, which is why 2UP is only legally allowed in pubs on ANZAC day and even then only til 6 pm. (Why only ANZAC day? That I don't know.) I walked away $3 poorer, but still felt exhilarated from a small win before my big loss. That's right...my betting budget lasted only 2 tosses. The rest of the night was spent meeting Mikael's kind friends, and catching up with him on Ecuadorian adventures of old.

The next day, some coughs and sniffles still lingered from my sickness, but I was committed to see the Blue Mountains before I headed down to Melbourne the following day. I had high hopes when getting onto the train for the 2 hour ride to Katoomba, but an incessant drizzle and chilly wind had me immediately second-guessing my plan: "Should I just wait on the platform for the next train back to Sydney?", I asked myself. But instead, I tightened the hood of my jacket and stubbornly marched into town. I considered stealthily snapping photos of Blue Mountain postcards, but immediately discarded that idea for fear of being discovered and then being forever jailed in that cloudy and cold village. I ended up biting the bullet and spending a cool $6 on a rain poncho (a clear one with rubber bands at the wrists and a fancy draw-string hood) and umbrella; and set-off into the wet and white uknown, already excited to return to the main street which was overflowing with a plethora of cafes offering warm temptations.

Not 500 metres down the road, as the sideways rain threatened to snap the very existence of my umbrella, I had a revelation: there was no chance in hell that I'd be able to see the Blue Mountains in this weather....I couldn't even see 100 metres down the road! So I grudgingly turned and regretfully conceded defeat to Mother Nature as I trudged back up the hill to the last intriguing cafe I'd seen. I opened the door to the Common Ground Cafe and my mood was instantly transformed: soft guitar music, friendly and attentive staff, a small table of polished wood (big enough for my things and mine alone, which is important when you travel solo and you tend to feel guilty when you occupy a table made for four persons), and a small, hand-painted picture of a bird at lakeside on the panel of wood in front of me. It reminded me of the Preserved Seed Cafe in Chilliwack: homey and inviting like a forest treehouse, with strong missionary undertones. The men served while the women cooked healthy, wholesome, and delicious food (I indulged in the gluten-free blueberry pancakes with yogurt). But alas, my runners were soaked through, and the rain continued to pelt down, oblivious to my plight. Thus I retreated from Katoomba on an earlier than expected train; my only comforts being my IPOD and my dry hat, which was wrapped unceremoniously around my pruned and shivering feet, and in no way did that hat resemble a warm blanket! The train glided back to Sydney under glimpses of an annoying blue sky which peeked through the grey clouds. It would appear that the weather was going to clear, not half an hour since I had given up and left the Blue Mountain area. It was then that I wondered, hopelessly, what life's motives were all about. Life just looked me straight in the eye, smiled a smile of hope, and said, "Life goes on." And with that, I set-off to Melbourne.

Yoga, music, and ......Nimbin.

Next, I set off to Byron Bay in search of my dream of praticing yoga there on the beach. Byron is famous world-wide for its hippie lifestyle and laid-back vibe. It's a shame that the town itself is a bit of a tourist/yuppie trap (but then again...I'M a tourist, so I'll bit my tongue on that point!). However, the place still holds the feel of magic which I had always imagined it to have.



Andrea selflessly offered to drive me to Byron on her day off, which I readily accepted. We explored the town, ate delicious and authentic dumplings and gyoza from a Chinese shop (go figure!) and then continued on to what would be my hostel for the next few days: The Arts Factory (a subsidiary of Nomads). It was raining pretty consistently, but it didn't matter as there was so much to do at the hostel. First, a bushwalk with the crazy, but strangely loveable, Cokcatoo Paul. This guy looked like he'd walked straight out of the wilderness with his bare feet, feathers hanging from his rattail, and his ever-present pet cockatoo (and thus his nickname). He showed us survival skilss and bizarre facts about the environment, even within the hostel grounds. He was the real deal!!



At night, Shane and Willy (whom I'd met on Magnetic Island), Joe and Joss (my new firends from the Arts Factory teepee room...yes, we slept in a gian teepee!), and I watched the (incredibly talented!) talent show. No joke, I would have bought most of these musicians' cds on the spot. Blake Nobel was a particular favorite: he didn't sing, but he drummed his guitar as he strummed it! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzFmgj-_iig This youtube clip was taken during a bluesfest busking competition and I was actually standing right behind the guy that filmed it!) The night then got even better as the crowd from the talent show made its way to the Jungle Hut in the hostel's campsite. The gazebo's 4 corneres housed separate make-shift jam sessions: jim-bays (sp?) in one corner, guitar in another, a tin whistle's melody heard floating above the din of music. A guy and a girl even began playing the plastic rubbish bins! (I felt like I was at a STOMP concert!) And the beautiful feature about this scene was that every separate rhythm and instrument melded into one. I would dance to bongos on one side of the hut which matched the melody of a guitar on the opposite side! The night wore on and the sound grew as if on waves which washed over the crimson glow of the open-air Jungle Hut. In the end, the energy of it overwhelmed me and I retreated to my teepee bed to revel in the unbelievable amount of talen that could be found in one tiny space of the world!


As an example of this, I will now relate a rather embarrassing story to you. One evening as I was lounging on my bed in the teepee, a guitar melody and a harmony of male voices drifted to me. I got up and followed the music as if in a trance. It didn't take me long to discover 2 happy-go-lucky males sitting on the dryers in the laundry room, singing 'Road Trip' and 'Take a Load Off Annie' to pass the time while their clothes dried. I sat on a dryer myself and listened in bliss with 2 other passerbys. AFter a few more tunes and basic introductions and small talk (establishing that the two musicians were from Vancouver Island), a German bystander asked them to play a song of their own. Vince, the one on the row of dryers to the right, offered up "The Costa Rica song?", and his co-musician agreed. As soon as they began playing ["Let's leeeave this place and goooo to Costa Rica..."] I silently judged these two as liars, as I had heard the song before back in Vancouver! This revelation I saved until later during a private chat with Joss, Joe, and Vince where I confronted him with, "Sooo why did you say that you wrote that Costa Rica song? I know you didn't write it cuz I've heard it before." That's when Vince smiled a smile that only an innocent man could smile (and which made my certainty of accusation falter), and said, "Yah, you've heard it because you're from Vancouver and I won a radio contest there with that song. I'm Vince Vaccaro and I wrote it." [Insert "Katie's humiliating epic failure of accusation" here]. I then asked, like a bumbling idiot, "Soo, are you famous?" (whispering the last word like you'd whisper the word 'bomb' on a plane). He replied, "Yes, but only in Vancouver, haha!" ....And I struggled to repress my urge to ask for a photo with him....idiot.
[Here's the music video with Vince for 'Costa Rica': http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deVpimIEvGg]


Moving on to happier, less embarrassing subjects....the next day finally produced beautiful sunshine. I used this good weather to attempt a walk to the nearest Salvation Army with the objective of satisfying my growing urge to accumulate some sort of wardrobe. However, I didn't realize this walk was about 3 kms one way under the blazing sun. And so I gratefully hitch-hiked back in an air-conditioned vehicle (where I was offered a job as a tuk-tuk biker, and regretfully declined), then haphazardly walked through town to the famous lighthouse. In the end, my efforts paid off and the hike was worth the beautiful views from the top of the hill, as well as the stroll back along the picturesque beach, relaxing in the misty airs of Byron Bay. The day culminated with meeting up with the 'crew' (Joss, Joe, Shane, Willie, Amy, and Robin) to head out for a night of debauchery and picnic table dancing at the legendary Cheeky Monkeys.


The next day brought a very unique experience: a day-trip to Nimbin, the pot capital of Oz. I took Happy Coach Tours (highly recommended!), with Joss, Joe, Willy, and Shane, a handful of strangers, and our very 'out-there' and crazy (but again, loveable) tour guide, Taylor. Nimbin proved to be everything it was famous for: a tourist trap town centred completely around weed. Shop names like "Bring-a-Bong", grannies asking you if you'd like some pot cookies, and (my personal favorite), the Nimbin museum, showcasing and documeting the town's history with marijuana. This museum takes about 30 seconds to just walk through its 5 rooms, but literally hours to absorb every detail on its walls, floors, and ceilings. A few decades ago, some Australian students decided that they would rebel the rules and demonstrate for the legal use of marijuana. These demonstrations in Nimbin soon earned attention. The man who started the museum began by gathering material associated with Nimbin and marijuana use, ....and his collection doens't seem to have stopped! Newspaper clippings, religious quotes, famous sayings, a phrase said in passing by the old geezer down the street, psychedelic paintings, VW vans bursting half there bodies out of the walls and floors, how-to-grow-your-own-pot infomercials....and everything in between. It was a cluttered collection of epic proportions with knick knacks from every facet of life because, as one quote read, "Life is the real trip." And so, if your trip brings you to Nimbin, this museum is a must-see.

Byron Bay: you took my breath away. Nimbin: you made me laugh. Thank-you both.

Bris-Vegas!!

I'm not exactly sure how Brisbane earned its nickname of Brisvegas, but that's not to say that this city has nothing to offer! In fact, I found it to be one of the most livable cities that i'd come across in Australia. Perhaps this was due to my fabulous hosts: Natalie Stigwood and John Rose, soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Rose! (woot woot!!)

Nat first obliged with taking me out for a great thai meal and then over to the high school where she works for a taste of normal life (something I often yearn for while travelling): a school play about the plight and perserverance of Australian women through the years; fitting for a production put on by an all-girls school. The play was very entertaining and the calibre of acting was high. I also learned a bit about Oz history....Fair dinkum! :P

Nat and John live in teh West End, and with its bohemian/hippie-ish vibe I felt right at home, like I was back in Kitsilano. I began to really miss home but told myself that I was holding out for that ultimate euphoria of travelilng which was just around the bend; to which I scolded my thinking and revamped this thought: the euphoria of life isn't something you wait for, it is NOW! (thank-you, Eckhart Tolle!)

So I took a ride on one of the super-savy City Cat boats which glide up and down the river; the river which winds its way through the heart of the city, a river which is the lifeblood of Brisbane and its mortal threat (as seen from the legendary floods of this year). However, the aftermath of this catastrophe not a few months later is little to none due to the hard work of Queenslanders. All that I saw that are left as a reminder are quite a few construction sites around the river and, in the West End, a line of plastic bags all tangled in the trees...10 feet off the ground!

I also enjoyed a photography exhibit in QPAC (Queensland Performing Arts Centre) by Reina Irmer titled " A View From the Sixth Row": a collection of photographs from the dress rehearsals of famous musicals, as seen from the view of the audience. An intriguing concept, and I even saw my Lambchops character from FAME! I then cruised through the Modern Art Museum with my friends, Aine and Orla; a museum which we discovered was more like a funky, eclectic playground for adults and kids alike! That night became a menagerie of dining and drinking with Nat and her family, starting with 'conveyer-belt sushi' with delicious lychee-vodka drinks on the fantastic Queen Street, Fat Yak Pale Ale at Jimmy's on the Mall, German blonde low carb beer at the Bavarian Beer Cafe on Riverside (with a spectacular view of the Story Bridge litup a light blue), then across 'Europe' to the Belgian Beer Cafe for a passionfruit lager (mmmmm...delicious burps! haha!). Soon the tiredness set-in, and after surviving on terrigying taxi 'rally race' home, we settled in to sleep.

After a much-needed sleep-in, I sampled my first Australian latte at the much-recommended Alberto's Cafe, and was soon addicted to that creamy goodness in a glass. Tea is mere 'pennies' less than lattes here, so I have given up on hot drink for another...for the time being ;) It was a Saturday morning so I mosied on down the river to the West End markets where I regrettably realized that I did not have enough time to truly relax into the bohemian vibe and sample the tasty treats and musical talent scattered amongst the stalls of trinkets. That nigh tI went ou twith Andrea and Tom (the two 'Brisbanites' I had met on the plane over from Fiji), and some of their friends and family. I was hospitably entertained by Andrea's mom, Jill, a loveable lady, in Cleveland (a suburb of Brisbane), and then the group drove to the ocean in Manly to enjoy an evening picnic of fish and chips, burgers, wine and beer.

The next evening I was a dinner guest at Nat's parents' Queenslander home (a style of house with high ceilings and open windows to allow a continuous breeze through the rooms). Here we enjoyed a REAL Aussie BBQ and I was obliged to coin the cliche phrase of "Let's throw another shrimp on the Barby!!" (who can resist the temptaion??) I was pleasantly surprised by such delicious combinations as prawns, pineapple, and banana on a skewer...who knew?

As Nat and John drove me up to Kangaroo point to look out over the city lights, I knew that the hospitality of my hosts had opened my heart to the vivacity of 'Brisvegas'.

I'm goin to the zoo, zoo, zoo.....

Next greyhound stop: Noosa, the millionaires' playground, the surfer's dream, and the backpacker's hopeless fantasy on a minimal budget. Despite the crowd of expensive vacation/retirement homes lining the banks of the Noosa river, I didn't feel too out of place with my mismatched backpacker garb. I believe that this is due to a deep sense of community which ran through the backbone of Noosa and both impressed me and made me homesick. After my arrival, I opted for an evening jog along the river and was confronted with the Sunday BBQ ritual of families laughing, playing, eating, and drinking. So many families, in fact, that one melded into the next until it felt like one giant poligamist colony! (okay, not really, but it was a funny thought at the time). I was pleasantly surprised, yet again, with the free exercise equipment dotting the path along the river (such a great idea!....please, can we do this in Vancouver? Run, do some chinups, run, do some eliptical, keep jogging.....so great!) and then enjoyed a crisp purple and pink sunset above the mountains and down the length of the river.





The next day I set high goals for my physical fitness (which had slowly ebbed to nothing while on Fraser Island), and began with a yoga session followed by a kayak trip down the river. I was feeling alive and energized as I paddled past the mansions which lined the river banks, turned, and paddled back up the river into....hey! what's this? A breeze!? I soon realized how much a small breeze can affect a river kayak and I found myself counting my strokes aloud to 50, then breaking for a minute, then counting again in order to slowly creep back up the river. I didn't notice at the time (as i was focused on simply making it back) but my back muscles were yelling at me to stop such forceful strokes as they strained against the river water....and, unfortunately, they ocntinued yelling at me for several days :S I finished the day with a walk through the National Park, a visit to an out-of-the-way little cove I found called....well, Little Cover; and finished a very solitary day with a well-deserved chocolate/banana smoothie....to ease the backpain of course ;)





The following day, I continued south to Mooloolaba, from where it was suggested I go to the Steve Irwin/Australia Zoo, and was pleasantly surprised to discover my Irish lads, Damien and JP, staying the night in the same hostel. The Mooloolaba Backpackers hostel was impressive with separate kitchens and washrooms for all 5 floors and a camaraderie among the semi-permanent "renters", most of whom were backpackers who worked as berry pickers on nearby fields, in an attempt to extend their working/holiday visas.





My trip to the Australia Zoo began with catching the official bus for the half hour ride and watching an episode of Crocodile Hunter while on the bus, just to get us in the mood. It was at this time I learned Steve Irwin's philosophy of "Conservation through exciting education", and I saw it realized at the zoo throughout the rest of the day. First things first, I queued up to feed one of the three elephants at the zoo. Seeing as these girls eat literally TONS of food each day, why not let the guests of the zoo have some short, interactive, and supervised feeding time? AFter experiencing the sad and lonely elephants of the Beijing Zoo, each kept in their own small, fenced spaces, it was refreshing to see elephants which could actually be described as looking 'happy'.

The zoo was truly amazing. More like an interactive petting zoo than anything else. I saw emus, koalas, tigers, red pandas, dingos, roos, wallabies, birds, lizards, tasmanian devils, camels, cassowaries, snakes, wombats, and CROCS!!...all very well0maintained as far as my high zoo standards go. I couldn't pet ALL the creatures, of course, but was close enough to feel interactive without interfering with the animal's routines...if that makes any sense :P The croc show was incredible, showcasing the astounding feats of strength and agility of the crocodile (not to mention their hunting skills!) And the heartfelt tributes and rememberance of Steve Irwin throughout the park brought me to tears several times. All in all, the only trial of being at this zoo was travelling solo and trying to find photographers to capture the memories of me at all the exhibits. Not bad, Steve. Not bad at all.

A Gem on the Sunshine Coast

Next came one of my most prized experiences on the trip: 3 days and 2 nights on FRASER ISLAND!! Coming into this, I was of the midnset that I hd to go on this excusrion simply because it was "THE" backpacker experience on the East Coast of austrlia, but after signing up for the Nomads tagalong 4WD tour, I noted the awesome sunny weather, met what would turn out to be my amazing team (Charlie, Zak, Hannah, Laura, and Alex from the UK; and Magnus, that crazy Norwegian man!), and realized that this would be one hell of a trip!

We awoke early on Day 1 for debreifing, organizing supplies, and an informative, but oh-so-outdated 80s safety DVD; then left 3 hours later to catch the 30 minute ferry from Hervey Bay over to the island, which is made up completely of silica sand and boasts 42 lakes....and so much more. After sampling the bumpy roads made of either sand or mud (and we're talkin fly-off-your-seat kind of bumps!), we were thankful for our big ass 4WD jeeps for rutted trails and beach driving. The group of 21, plus our guide Kevin, trailblazed in 4 jeeps to 4 of the 42 lakes:
-Birrabeen (blue) lake: with clear water ebbing to light blue, dark blue, and then green.
-Wabby (green) lake: boasting catfish and located at the bottom of massive sanddunes, and with a green expanse of lush forest on the opposite side.
-Lake Alom (brown lake): which hosts hundreds of tea trees which gives it its orangy shade of color and is inhabited by dozens of small turtles.
-Lake Mckenzie: I could have stayed here for hours! Unbelievably clear! I could open my eyes under the fresh water and see about 10 metres all around me and out into the dark, deep centre of the lake. We had to be careful to not have a lot of sunscreen on before entering the water because it's been known to have been shut down on account of no drainage system to naturally clean the water.

Other spectacular sights included, but was not limited to, 4 wheel driving along miles of beach, massive rainbows above desert-esque sand dunes, the Mahena shipwreck (sunk directly into the beachsand on the eastern shore with waves crashing over its sides), the champagne pools where you could sit waist-deep in seawater pools and feel the waves hit the rocks behind you and the bubbles trickle down like champagne over your back, and a short hike up to Indian Head Point: a cliff overlooking the shark-infested ocean and stretch of beaches.

The diversity of Fraser Island's landscapes was astounding. On top of this, our jeep team melded together as if we were best friends in only 3 days time. We camped together in the Nomads permanent campground, but tended to carouse a little too much in the evenings, which I blame upon our goon and beer supply, and spend very little time in our actual tent, except to sleep maybe 5 or 6 hours in a druken stupor. We cooked together, sang in the car together (Disney classics were a big hit!), watched out for the ever-present wild dingos, ate as many gummys and chips that we could, fell off railings to the ground 2 metres below (an unfortunate tippping accident involving Alex and Hannah), and discovered new Aussie rules to our old favorite card games (for example, the 'Gecko' card in Ring of Fire (aka Sociables) where everyone must immediately put their belly on some solid surface around the room. This was much more fun than you would think!) To top it all off, on the third and final day we floated at a leisurely pace down the crisp, clear, and cold waters of Eli Creek....a MUST while on Fraser Island!! As our little, 3 day pocket of adventure came to a close, we walked away with close friends and life-long memories.

The East Coast....only an introduction to Oz

After leaving Cairns, I headed south to Mission Beach. In actual fact, I would have bypassed this little section of the coast simply because I hadn't heard anything about it; but as chance would have it, I had met a guy in New Zealand named Dave who had worked at Scotty's Hostel in Mission Beach and he had asked me to stopover there and deliver a message to the girls at reception for him. Well, as silly as it sounds, a promise is a promise. So I pulled into Scotty's for only one night.....and then decided to stay for a few more!! I was immediately enchanted by the hostel: a pool, lush grounds, fun bar next door, incredibly nice staff...and all of this AFTER cyclone YASI had ravaged and raped the coastline of the majority of its natural beauty. I would not have even known that such a disaster had occurred there, until I saw before + after photos as well as talked to some of the melancholy locals who griped about the government not giving them the funds to clear the beach or even prevent the trees from dying. The trees could have just been replanted as the roots don't need to cling deep underground......and I agreed with the locals. This is a serious issue for a small area of coastline that basically makes a living off of tourism and is now struggling to survive. Maybe I wasn't getting all of the facts, but it seemed very irresponsible of the government to simply mow the trees along the beach up into mounds along coast and then not pay any more attention to the situation. Again, maybe I'm getting the wrong idea.

Apart from that devastation, Mission Beach was a great place and I even regrettably resisted the offer to stay on as a cleaner for free accomodation. One night a group of us were in the bar and, seeing as we were almost the only ones there, we asked for 80s music and proceeded to play a game of guessing the artist, title, and YEAR of the song. If you got all three correct, then you won a shot from the bar. It was a jolly good time, and then Adam, the bartender, told us that he only had enough money left for one more round of the game. It was then that we realized that he had been buying the shots with HIS OWN MONEY! This is what I'm talking about: the staff went above and far beyond any expectations. This is also where I had my first GOON experience (what a crap hangover that was! And don't attempt to drink while lying down....you'll just end up wearing your alcohol. :S ), and also where there was a successful trapping of a 4 metre python next door to the hostel (yah...you heard me right....4 METRES!!). Mission Beach was full of surprises....especially the news that heavy rains had cancelled greyhound buses thru to Airlie Beach. But things aren't always as they seem. This unforeseen delay actually allowed me to see Magnetic Island (a stop which wasn't originally scheduled), and meet up with some friends whom I'd met up north: Amy and Robin, Shane and Willy; and make some new friends: Aine and Orla, and JP and Damien.

So, as usual, something that seemed like a frustrating annoyance of travelling was actually a blessing. Amy, Robin, and I shared a small (small!) bungalow in the aptly named Bungalow Bay: a hostel with a koala sanctuary on site and thriving ecosystem of bats, birds, wallabies, and any other creature that you were lucky to see while walking out of your bungalow. The beach had a pathetic area for swimming (within the stinger nets) because it was still jellyfish season, so we opted to stay near the glorious pool, complete with poolside hammocks and a rough pool floor that felt like sand. Our Irish pal Willy had a birthday while we were there and we spent the night at Base Hostel bar playing limbo and drinking champagne. The next day we visited the on site koala sanctuary and were confronted with exotic birds, lizards, echidneas, koalas, snakes and crocodiles. It was also here that I learnt that a wild koala is actually more dangerous than a snake!! Those long nails arent just for looks! Drop bears.....apparently not just a legend ;) After the obligatory picture holding a koala, you notice that they really dont have much goin on in that head of theirs! Eating eucalyptus all day to the sum of 3% sugar intake doesnt allow much in the way of an active lifestyle. In fact, while you are holding the koala, you are told to resist the temptation to bounce them like a cuddly baby, simply because the koala will think that you, the tree, is moving in a strange and uncontrollable way, so the koala will dig its talons in a little deeper into your flesh. Man, the things that you dont know about koalas!!

After a night of coconut bowling in the bar....yes, coconut bowling...we got the go-ahead from greyhound to continue on to Airlie Beach....and into the wettest weather that I had encountered on the trip so far! I had planned to do a Whitsunday trip there on the boat Venus. Strangely, the trip on this boat continued to be cancelled due to bad weather; even as other trips continued to venture out onto the highseas. I was confused about this, until I spoke with one of the salespeople for the Venus trip, and they confided that the Venus boat was actually an old, woooden, London riverboat and couldn;t handle anything stormy whatsoever (I actually found out later from another source that the company was in a law suit for taking people out on the stormy seas and almost capsizing!) After hearing this and waiting for 4 days thinking that the boat would be allowed out, I declined paying an extra fee to be upgraded to an actual yacht, and instead swallowed my pride and decided that one day I would have to come back to Oz to do some sort of life-defining scuba trip: Port Douglas, Cape Tribulation, and Whitsundays all in one tidy package. As it was, the weather was horrible in the Whitsundays and this was not how I had envisioned, nor how I had wanted, my Whitsundays trip to be. And so, with the help of Aine, Orla, Fiona, and Vicky, we drowned our sorrows in Jamisons and Jack Daniels at the hostel bar Beaches, amidst an almost steady downpour of rain. After being in a hostel which smelled of alcohol and who knows what else, having to clean up the dirty dishes of roommates I didnt even know, and then seeing a spider the size of the palm of my hand on the wall (and then, to my dismay, I had to sleep in the room the next night by myself....my eyes carefully trained on the hole in the wall where the spider had retired to the previous day), I was quite tickled pink to catch an overnight bus to Agnes Waters with JP and Damien, my Irish lads.

Agnes Waters is a small township which is virtually connected to the adjacent township of 1770. The latter is the place where Captain James Cook first landed in Australia....in the year 1770 (James Cook is well-known for his completely unimaginative way of naming parcels of land that he came upon!) We stayed at the great little hostel of Cool Bananas ($26 a night, and totally worth it, with its large outdoor area, hammocks, and a feeling of being welcome). The lads and myself opted for a surf lesson on our first day there....and unfortunately, it seemed as though everyone else in the area also had the same idea as there were FORTY people in the lesson! However, the surf instructors took it in stride and created a rotation pattern for us....which got quicker as we went along and were promplty tuckered out by the onslaught of waves and simply trying to keep our boards in the correct position. I had tried surfing a few years back in Costa Rica and had sworn that it would be my last time. This was until someone had keenly observed that I had not had a lesson for my first time on a board and that due to this fact I was actually crazy to think that I would enjoy that first experience AND get up on the board! Hmmmm...okay, so I figured that I had better try it again, and I was pleasantly surprised! I got up, stayed up, and rode into the shore (arms in the air in a show of acheivement!). This happened about 5 times in 2 hours.....it may not seem like a lot but its enough to keep you going out into those waves with a feeling of pride and adventure. The person who had suggested that I take a lesson and try surfing again had been right: the few tips that the instructors gave out had been invaluable. Even just knowing to tuck your toes under the end of the board until you stand up made all the difference. Later on that day I went out with Scooteroo: the most bad-ass bunch of scooters (souped-up to look like motorcycles) that you have ever seen! Everyone in the group (again, about 40 people who decided to get out on the open road) wore leather jackets with flames. Most, including myself, were a bit wobbly at first, but once we got out on the roads around Agnes Waters and opened it up to about 70 kms....spedometer rattling all the while, I realized that ¨hey! Im actually in Australia....and Im on a motorcycle!!¨ The feeling was phenomenal and the rush of the warm air against my cheeks while I sat back and watched the greenery of Oz pass by set my very soul on fire. On the return journey back to the Scooteroo yard, it began to downpour; but, as the Scooteroo staff pointed out, we had now seen what it is really like to ride a motorcycle, rain and all. Upon returning to the hostel, elated and soaking wet, I settled in to watch ¨Into the Wild¨, and once again felt that sharp stab of regret that my loved ones at home werent there to share this feeling with me. As the moral of the movie relates, travelling is one of the best experiences there is to discover yourself, but it loses that little bit of magic when you cant share those moments with the ones you love.

Crocodiles, Venomous Snakes, Jumping Spiders....Why am I going to Australia??

Indeed, why is it that I wanted to send myself willingly to the continent known for having the most venomous snakes, and spiders the size of your hand? Where ancient predators, like sharks and crocodiles, lurk just beneath the glare of the water's surface? I don't know....maybe I wanted to conquer my fears, or perhaps just stare them straight in the face before I turned and ran screaming; but on March 25th I flew from the docile, relaxing cradle of the kava from Fiji, to the harsh, ozone-less, threatening-you-with-every-crack-in-the-wall-that-could-hide-an-insect AUSTRALIA! And after I had spent one day in that country of red-sand, the dreaded taipan, and ockers.....I LOVED IT!!! Okay, sorry for the drastic change in mood, but it's true. Australia is yet one more of those countries which we, over in North America, tend to view in the negative light of the media pigeon-hole; and we eat up every newscast and printed word there is. (Okay so maybe it's just me that focused on the pigeon-hole that declared Australia to be up to its ears in dangerous animals) Sure, there are venomous snakes and creepy crawlies, but they're more scared of me than I am of them! (cliche, but true....wouldn't you attack a foreign species that sneaks up on you unknowingly and then begins to scream?) I think my love for Australia first flourished on my two plane rides to get to Cairns from Fiji when I sat beside, first, Andrea and Tom from Brisbane, and then Matt and Chris (also from Brisbane), all of whom dispelled the myths of Australia's most fearsome creatures (drop bears?) and welcomed me unhesitatingly to call on them at any time, should I need the shirt from their back or the last lolly in the cupboard. "Hmmmm," I thought as I dropped down onto the Cairns runway, "maybe I'm not walking into a death trap." I stayed at Northern Greenhouse ($25 a night...a little expensive by Cairns terms, but a great hostel in my books!) right in the centre of town. For my first Oz excursion, I chose to go up to the hippie markets of Kuranda, high above Cairns. I took the skyrail up, stopping at several landings in the rainforest to take guided tours through the bush flanked by enormous trees whose names eluded me; which added to their glorious sense of intrigue. During these guided tours I saw (in order of 'chances of death if I had touched them'): a tree frog, a golden orb spider, and a red belly black snake (not bad for my first day in Oz, eh?). I continued on to see Barron Falls and finally into Kuranda to roam the sundrenched street (only one) and hippie markets scattered throughout the alleys and surrounding parks. The village was dreamy and full of a "Peace, man" kind of feeling. The frozen yogurt from the Original Rainforest Hippie Market was a fantasy of flavour all on its own. I then hopped on the Kurnada Scenic Railway and coasted down the mountains, through tunnels, and around cliffs for the 2 hour trip back to Cairns. Honorable mention goes to the Earth Hour celebration in Cairns that night, where I saw a harp being played alongside a didgeridoo, and more cracked-out aboriginals than you could shake a fist at! (Think Granville street with a dash of Hastings and you'll get that strange street view which I beheld that night). The following day I set out on Capt. Matty's Waterfall Tour. This was a highlight of my stay in Cairns and Capt. Matty (a barefoot, dreadlocked guide who knew everything and anything there was to know about Oz and wildlife [crocs in particular] and dreamed of owning his own pirate ship hostel within the next ten years) made the day one to remember. We first saw a Cathedral Fig tree (reminiscent of the giant mother tree from the movie Avatar.....I seriously thought I'd get the pleasure of seeing one of those giants emerge from the gaps between the vines!), and then went swimming in Lake Eacham ("What are those bubbles? Turtles?" " Nope, just scuba divers"....bizarre), where pythons had been known to curl up in the rafters of the women's toilet....not sure if that was just a punk aussie story to scare the foreigners, but it worked...I held my bladder til the next stop. We encountered leeches, were warned of causiwaries (the large, flightless birds of australia), and found out that 'Kangaroo' is actually indigenous for "I don't know what you're saying." [Side story: The English blokes who first came to Australia went out in the country and discovered these creatures with giant pouches, hopping on two long feet. The foreigners asked the aboriginals, "Hey, what are those animals called?", and everytime they asked, the aboriginals would say, "Kangaroo" with a strange expression on their face, and oftentimes they would even turn and walk away. So the animals went down in the books as 'Kangaroos', even though it was later discovered that this phrase actually means, "I don't know what you're saying. I can't understand you. Go back to wherever you came from and quit messing with our native species." ....okay so I added that last bit, but good story, eh?] We jumped off rocks in Dinner Falls and sat underneath the pounding waters for an impromptu massage. Next, we stopped at Millaa Millaa pub, in the middle of friggin nowhere, and had the pleasure of dining amongst the most red-neck population of alcohol-consuming individuals that I had ever been around. These blokes were true aussie gents, in their t-shirts, short shorts, socks pulled up, and toothless smiles. The pub was nice enough: clean and friendly, so the experience that we came away with was one of comic relief and awestruck giddiness....and a full tummy of beer and hamburger, mmmmmm. We then went on to Milla Milla Falls where the famous commercial for Herbal Essences had been filmed (yes, we girls attempted the famous hair-flip!) I'd never swam underneath a waterfall to discover that sanctuary of stillness where the water falls just overtop of you....as if the force of the river above pushes it so far out that the droplets have no choice but to follow that gushing force of water. You can actually see them start to fall on top of you, and then get whisked out with the rest of the flow, only to land safely two feet beyond you. The effect was mesmorizing, and I thank Capt. Matty for insisting that I go see it; so much so, in fact, that he slung me over his shoulder, walked out waist deep, and plunked me down in the water. Never again did I tell him that I was too cold to go in. :P The tour rounded out with Zillie Falls, Ellinjaa Falls, Crawford's Lookout, and Josephine Falls; all beautiful and breathtaking. After the final waterfall, we had tea, coffee, hot chocolate, and a plethora of sugary goodies awaiting us. Our group was a fantastic one, and we were all sad to see such a great day come to a close. I thought, "If this is what Australia is all about, then BRING IT ON!!" :D