Wanderlust Heaven!

There’s more about Byron Bay than can be said in a blog of infinite length. I won’t even attempt to be comprehensive about my stay in this lovely little spot – but be forewarned that my filtering skills are still pretty weak and this may be a long read…

I first visited Byron about 6 years ago, when I spent the Xmas holidays there with my friend Iain and his friend Bernie. I had never heard of the town before, despite working in Sydney for some time earlier that year. To make a long story short, I had a fun holiday in Byron and have returned 3-4 times over the years. I’ve never seen a place that brings together so seamlessly the well-heeled (Paul Hogan from Crocodile Dundee has/had a home there) and those who can’t afford heels of any sort. It’s both a hippy hangout and an Australian Riviera, and you’re as likely to see a ‘feral’ individual in town from the wooden hinterlands to pick up some basic necessities as you are a Sydneysider tooling around in a Benz. Byron’s popularity is pretty much universal, at least throughout Oz – which explains why real estate prices have skyrocketed and the town’s having a hard time maintaining that old time feeling.

I got into town on a Thursday evening and dropped my pack off at my grotty hostel. This place was particularly unpleasant – paper-thin walls, stained carpets, and filthy bathrooms. Despite my pledge to ‘suck it to the base’ and thrive in any sort of conditions, I felt compelled to switch hostels the next day, and found a much better place. I guess I’m just a bourgeois Jewish kid at the end of the day…

That Thursday night I walked around town, noted the changes that had taken place, and ducked into a few pubs to wet my whistle. One of the livelier places is the Great Northern Hotel, which (as I noted in an earlier posting) is more of a pub than a ‘hotel,’ and as unpretentious as they come. As I stood at the bar nursing a beer, a group of revelers walked in, with one of them wearing a pink pig outfit. I wasn’t sure what they were celebrating, and after an hour of drinking with them I still couldn’t make it out – but they were a joyful group and the fellow in the pig suit only stopped dancing around to sip his beer every now and then. Most of the customers in the pub didn’t look twice at the ‘pig’ – because things like this seem to happen regularly in Byron.

I moved on soon after that, and ended up having a phone call with my brother-in-law Dave, who’s always been good about getting me on the phone despite massive distances and time differences. As I was speaking with Dave I noticed that a guy who was staying at my hostel was lying passed-out drunk against a parked car next to another pub. I recalled seeing him pounding beers at the hostel’s bar quite early in the evening, and admiring his stamina. I planned to give him a hand once I got off the phone with Dave. But as soon as we finished up, it started to pour and I ran inside to wait it out. Once the rain stopped and I emerged, the drunk guy was gone – I imagine the rain woke him up, or perhaps he simply melted away. I never saw him in my ensuing days in Byron. I suppose the rain was probably good for him, and it was certainly good for Oz, which struggles with water supply and could use a year’s worth of rain.

Towards the end of the evening I walked into The Beach Hotel. You guessed it, another pub, although this establishment is actually a real hotel as well, and a very nice one at that. But the pub is sprawling and perhaps the nerve center of Byron Bay. The outdoor tables look onto the beach and surf, there’s nightly live music, never a cover charge, and the mix of people is wondrous. People tend to stay there all day and all night, drinking, eating and socializing. As I was ordering a drink one afternoon a Hell’s Angels type asked the bartender where he could smoke. About 9 hours later, when I came back to the bar for round 2, the biker was still there. For all I know, he’s a wealthy entrepreneur in Sydney and likes to dress down and get hammered in Byron. Anyway, I have to say that The Beach Hotel is probably one of the better all-round bars I’ve seen – particularly on a sunny day or on a night when they’ve got a good band on. Australians may roll their eyes at this rating – perhaps it’s a cliché – or perhaps they’ve known this for many years and don’t want the place to get any more crowded. If you go to Byron, you’ll spend a few hours at this place, for sure. It’s very difficult not to have a good time there.

The only issue I had that night was when I ordered a margarita at The Beach Hotel – and was charged $14 for it. Given that my hostel was only $50, this felt rough – and the wrong way to go given that a Victoria Bitter draft was only $4. The margarita was very good, expertly mixed and all that, but believe me when I say that I sucked and ate every single ($3) ice cube in there!

My final stop that evening was in La La Land. This is a little dance place that has excellent DJs and attracts some funky types. Nice feeling to the place, primal beats coming through at high volume, everyone’s dancing, wearing some eye-popping outfits, and in their own groove. I’m glad it’s still around, it’s a nice way to finish off the night. And you really can’t argue with the name…La La Land. I love it.

My dive trip the next day was cancelled due to bad weather, and I didn’t schedule much else, preferring to sleep late, walk around, and chill. On Sunday I did succumb to the siren call of organized activities and went on ‘Jim’s Alternative Tours.’ This is a bus full of (mostly) backpackers which visits inland towns, most notably the tiny village of Nimbin. Nimbin is Oz’s Woodstock – there was a anti-war protest/Aquarius festival there in 1973, and from all accounts many people never left. I think that almost every single resident smokes pot, and that the majority also sell it. There’s a special little establishment called the ‘Hemp Embassy’ which is a lot like the hash bars of Amsterdam. This was seconded by two Dutch backpackers I was with – they seemed to know how to operate in these sorts of places and pretty soon we were best mates. Let’s just say that the bus ride home was interrupted often, either by munchy-breaks or by loud giggling. When I got back to Byron I went out for a bite (probably my 7th meal of that day), and a couple drinks, before I collapsed for the night. Good fun, as anticipated. The next day when I woke up and showered, I noticed that my little travel bottle of shampoo is the brand ‘Herbal Essences.’ How apt.

I also spent a bit of time in The Arts Factory, which is a backpackers lodge kluged together with a restaurant, pub, and second-run movie cinema. It’s a remarkable place…particularly when you find out that it was once a pig slaughterhouse. When I first visited Byron the restaurant was called ‘The Piggery’ and oddly enough, served only vegetarian fare. It seems they’ve given in, though – it’s now called Buddha Bar (boringly enough) and serves anything you’d like. I think that long-term residents of Byron really feel that the special quirkiness of ‘the old days’ is slowly vanishing under a commercial onslaught…and even I feel that way a bit, from my 4-5 visits over time.

A few other unrelated observations, in no particular order:

• Backpackers (and young people in general) seem heavier and bigger than they were 15-20 years ago – and I’m not talking just about myself. Is this an obvious statement? Probably so. I’m not sure why this might be – is it aggressive marketing of junk food? Natural growth from reducing (Western) disease and hunger? People having more discretionary income? There are certainly more options these days for filling your belly – better food (imagine trying to find a Thai place 20 years ago), 24-hour stores, etc. Even the crappiest hostels seem to have little restaurants and vending machines. When I traveled around Europe way back when, there were times when I couldn’t find anything to eat and just dealt with it. Now, it’s easy to lounge around stuffing cakes and sandwiches into your gullet.
• I’ve started dreaming again while on this trip. I’m not sure when I stopped having/remembering my dreams, but it seems a long while. I discussed this with my step-sister Amanda while in Boston, before the trip, and she told me she dreams and remembers her dreams pretty much every night. I thought that was cool…and wondered what was going on with me. Anyway, I’ve had nightly dreams lately and can recall a good portion of them. I think it’s probably a healthy thing and indicates my mind is being challenged and is “recharging” during the nighttime. I’ll let you know if I have any special dreams – PG-13 rated, natch. I should try to keep this blog ‘family friendly’ – of course that may include the Manson Family…
• Is there a single greatest human characteristic? Perhaps not, but it does strike me that perhaps the most valuable on a daily basis is the ability to compartmentalize. If you can’t do that, any medium-sized problem in any aspect of your life – love, health, finances, work, etc. – can overwhelm the whole deal. I like to think I’m good at compartmentalizing – perhaps a 7 on a 1-10 scale – but I’ve met people who are true masters…and it seems nothing really bothers them. When you factor in the lack of stress, wasted time, etc., these people have it pretty good.
• On the same topic: my other two candidates for ‘greatest characteristic’ are 1) wit and 2) grace. Wit is self-evident. As for grace, it’s perhaps best considered in its absence. I find nothing so disturbing as to watch/hear someone lose their cool. And I’ve spent a lot of time in airports, train stations, in tense business meetings, and so forth – all prime times for someone to lose it and go off. It’s OK to get angry about something you’re passionate about, and no one expects humans to be robots – but I find it deeply unpleasant to watch someone get unhinged in public. You wonder what’s the underlying driver, I suspect there are various frustrations at play which run deep. Perhaps people who fly off the handle regularly lack the ability to compartmentalize. Ah, it feels good to tie up that knot! And thanks for humoring my dime-store philosophies, dear readers.

Finally, a question for you: should I be posting some photos on the blog? Thus far I’ve stuck to the text, out of a sense of ‘purity’ and a greater sense of laziness. But if there is some demand for graphical accompaniment, well then I’ll stick some of my many photos on the blog, at least for the future postings. Drop me a comment – about this topic or any other.

This entry was posted on Friday, June 30th, 2006 at 12:12 am and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.