Wanderlust Heaven!

I’m currently on a bus from Brisbane Airport to Byron Bay – one of the real meccas of hedonism in Oz.  Just passed through perhaps the most soulless part of the continent, though – the Gold Coast.  This is an entirely purpose-built resort – a monstrosity, really – which sprawls for miles and comprises the usual sprawling thingies:  chain hotels, chain restaurants, gaudy residential developments, miniature golf courses, water-slides, and car rental agencies.  One of the towns in the Gold Coast is wonderfully named ‘Surfers Paradise,’ but you’re apt to see many more Japanese families (wearing the latest fashions and looking ever so uncomfortable on the beach) than hardcore surfers.  Anyway, if you come to Oz don’t bother with the Gold Coast – there are so many more worthwhile places to visit – Byron Bay, for one.

I realized today that I’ve made a few strategic timing errors in the past week, and that’s because I’m too wedded to conventional timing.  Last Friday night in Darwin was one example.  I had a 4:15 a.m. bus to catch on Saturday, so Friday night was always going to be a bit of a tricky proposition; I did want to go out and have fun, but didn’t want to screw up the next couple days by getting zero sleep.  So I went out around 8 p.m., hit the sack around midnight, then got up at 3:30 a.m. and made the bus.  As I walked to the station, I noticed that the bars were still going strong and that the streets were far livelier than they were at midnight.  Better thinking would have had me sleeping till 10 or 11 p.m., getting up and going out hard, then getting the bus and catching some more sleep there and on the flight. 

Example #2:  the World Cup match between Oz and Brazil was Sunday night at 1:30 a.m. (thus, Monday a.m.).  Pretty important game for Oz, and emotions were running high.  While I’m not a true-blue soccer fan, I had some interest and wanted to be amongst those who were ‘barracking’ for the Socceroos.  ‘Barracking,’ by the way, means to be for a particular team.  In the States we say ‘root’ for a team, but in Oz ‘root’ has an entirely different (delightfully sexual, of course) meaning.  This time I went out a bit later – around 10:30 p.m., after a nice jog around Cairns city – which incidentally has superb winter weather, I can’t recall ever running in such perfect conditions.  Anyway…I met a few characters, drained a few cups, and had some trouble making it to 1:30 a.m., much less to 3 a.m. when the match was over (and Oz had lost).  I’m definitely getting old, that’s one thing, and in similar situations I need to keep odd hours and be a bit more modest about my capabilities.

The weather in the Far North of Queensland, as mentioned above, is mighty fine this time of year.  If Adam and Eve had weather like this, we would never have gone beyond the peremptory fig leaf.  I’ve never been up here in the winter, only in the summer, when it’s brutally warm and sometimes very wet and humid.  One fellow in Darwin said to me that during “The Wet” you can’t drag a comb through your hair without breaking a sweat.  You also drink a boatload of water – you’d spend a fortune on bottled water except that Aussie tap water seems pretty drinkable.  In fact – Aussies don’t recycle their water, even though Oz is the driest continent and continuously struggles with its water supply.  Stephanie from Adelaide, who’s French, put it rather well – ‘Aussies don’t drink their piss.’  I never quite thought about it that way, but I suppose we Yanks and most others in Europe and elsewhere do ‘drink their piss.’  Makes you all the more willing to shell out for the bottled stuff (water, not piss). 

Cairns is a cool little city.  It was nothing more than a huge sugar plantation until the airport was built around 1980, then the Great Barrier Reef adventure craze got going.  The mountains, Aherton tableland (a big low-lying plateau), and Daintree rainforest are all around it, with some dramatic vistas.  Some years ago I took a cable-car to a bizarre little rainforest town called Kuranda, which actually has a few hundred inhabitants, all of whom apparently prepare sandwiches for visitors and/or work on the cable-car and ‘scenic railway’ (another way to get in there).  And you can spend the night there, I believe there are a couple hostels/hotels, although the mere thought of who’d show up at the pub after dark was enough to get me out of there on the last cable-car.

The Great Barrier Reef is just an hour-long boat ride away, and I’ve been to Cairns several times over the years to go diving and to kick back.  I got my diving license in nearby Port Douglas (see below).  In 2002 I came to Cairns from Japan to see a friend of mine, Seung Minn, who was there on a holiday, and while out in the bars I met a lovely young Japanese woman who was studying English in Cairns.  A few weeks later we went on holiday together around Oz and when she returned to Japan shortly thereafter we were together for a while.  I’ve therefore got many nice memories of Cairns and its offerings…the diving, some excellent seafood restaurants (e.g., Splash!), the pubs, and the resorts.  What Cairns lacks is a beach in the city – all the good spots are a drive to the north.  The city did create a ‘lagoon’ to fill the swimming void, but it’s very weak and I wouldn’t be caught dead dipping into it.  It’s mostly for the kiddies and works out well for them, I suppose.

I went diving on one of the days in Cairns.  The Aussies do a top-notch job with diving and other adventure tours, so my high expectations were met as usual.  Did a couple 40-minute dives with a small, guided group, and the sights were excellent.  Saw a giant turtle, a large wrasse, and a couple of small reef sharks (which are momentarily unnerving to come across).  One of the divers in our group was from Italy, named Emmanuella (?).  She’s studying marine biology in Sicily – which sounds like a good thing to do – and was by far the most excited (and excitable) member of our squad.  This tendency didn’t disappear underwater – somehow she was able to convey her excitement and thoughts with ease, whereas most of us are basically deaf, dumb and nearly blind in the depths.  At one point one of the divers ran through his air quickly and we had to shorten the dive – and I could tell from her hand motions that Emmanuella was pissed off.  I do love the Italians.

A couple other memories from Cairns

·        The Aussie syntax revisited – in some states you can just order a pint, whereas in others you order ‘schooners.’  At least that’s how it seems – schooners aren’t always the same size, sometimes it means 425 ml, sometimes 375 ml (or thereabouts).  Anyway, a pint or schooner is a respectable lad’s glass of beer; a ‘middie’ is a small glass and those don’t seem to last for more than 3-5 minutes.  I don’t know the origin of the word ‘schooner,’ but to me it’s another delightful example of the semi-Western terminology (e.g., ‘reckon’) that you find in Oz.

·        When I was walking back to my guesthouse one night I heard “Baby, I’m a-Want You,” the classic Bread song, coming from a house.  Not sure why that stuck in my mind, but it did.  I felt like popping in and singing the rest of the song with the tenant – or at least till the cops showed up.

After a few days in Cairns, I went up to Port Douglas, which is a fantastic little town an hour north, even closer to all the attractions – rainforest, reef, etc.  Port D was a sleepy little fishing town until the 80’s, when a (now) infamous Aussie businessman named Christopher Skase built the Sheraton Mirage resort and the town became a favorite of ‘southern Australians’ from Sydney and Melbourne.  And while Mr. Skase’s world fell apart and he fled to Spain (where he died a few years ago), the town has remained popular – perhaps because it’s a rare example of a well-made upscale town which has somehow retained its frontier, rascal spirit.  There are only about 5,000 locals, and only one main street (Macrossan Street), but it’s packed with cool little bars and restaurants and shops.  I reckon (!) that Macrossan Street is one of the more colorful streets on the planet.  One of the bars there – the Iron Bar – features cane toad races every evening at 8 p.m.  Cane toads are a massive local pest – introduced by man, of course – and the ‘races’ are worth a peek, although probably not more than once.  The locals don’t bother, they just sit in the front of the bar and make jokes about the tourists in the back.

While the diving is excellent, I reckon (!) the main attraction of Port D is the set of local characters who have a biting wit but who are welcoming at the same time.  On both of my nights in Port D I found myself in lengthy conversations started by the person next to me at the bar – one fellow was the president of the ‘Combined Clubs’ (a sort of local civic league, and which has a surprisingly good little restaurant/bar).  Very likeable guy – full of odd facts, e.g.:  Bill Clinton was in the Central Bar in Port Douglas, playing sax and having a few drinks, when he was told of the 9-11 attacks.  My new friend told me he was standing right where I was when he heard the news, then was quickly trundled out by his Secret Service lugs.

Another fellow works on one of the sailing boats at the marina.  We spent a lot of time discussing his risk of getting consumed by a shark – we ended up agreeing that even if it did happen, it would be an unmatchable experience (particularly if he survived to tell of it).  We then went to another bar to listen to a local band – Port Douglas is full of live music every night of the week. 

I enjoyed myself there so much that I went to see a local real estate agent to inquire about purchasing some property.  One major problem:  foreigners can only buy empty lots or brand-new, never rented properties.  This is highly restrictive, as you might imagine – and Port Douglas is almost completely built out – it’s situated on a narrow peninsula and the newest development is mostly several kilometers out of town.  The realtor took me to see a few lots – not that gripping, particularly when considering that land cost plus the cost of building a new house would easily exceed AU$1 million, and the hassle of building and maintaining a house would drive me insane.  I’d rather invest (and live in) an apartment, so we went to see a couple of new developments which are open to foreign buyers.  There are some sweet places, which are of course costly, and I need to think through the pros and cons in the coming months.  I could see myself spending some time in Port D, it’s got a special feeling and unique lifestyle – let’s see how I feel in a few months after hitting several more unique places.

So, back to the start of this posting – just a reminder, I’m on a bus from Brissy-Byron Bay.  I felt a bit sad leaving Port Douglas earlier today, and already miss it a bit, but any feelings of sadness are well mitigated by the excitement of going to the next amazing place.  I’d be pretty misguided to feel anything besides jazzed to go to Byron Bay, also one of my favorite places (and everybody else’s as well – part of the problem).  If I were going back to the office, I’d be unhappy – but that’s not the case and thus I’m very relaxed about moving on, and on, and on…

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 22nd, 2006 at 10:26 pm 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.