The last time I went to KL, for one night before I flew to Australia, I did not even write a post about it. Similarly, this post will be brief because I did not do much in KL, there is not much to do in KL, and because I have already written a post on KL before.
Because of the cost of flights to KL and to Kolkata I ended up having three nights in KL. I wanted a day or maybe two to take care of some errands but three nights was too long but it gave me time to enjoy some more Malaysian food and to take it easy. I opted for a nicer hostel this time because I wanted wifi because I needed to do stuff online. Not coincidentally the hostel I chose also had AC. Other than use the Internet and soak in the cool air all I did was walk around a bit, eat great food, including a attempted return to the Laundry Kafeteria Arabic place (ended up going to a different Arabic place), some shopping for items I thought would be difficult to get in India, and having some sewing done.
I met a French guy who seemed to want some company and help getting around (it was his first time in Asia) so we spent a couple days together not doing much.
That is pretty much it.
15 September 2010
Gold Coast, Australia
(My 100th blog post.)
As I mentioned before, what exactly "Gold Coast" means is unknown to me. I was in Coolangatta, which is in Queensland and has the twin city of Tweed Heads on the other side of the state line in New South Wales. It is a Kansas City thing going on. Getting to Cooly, as it is often called, was the first transport I have paid for in Australia other than flights and shared fuel costs driving from Melbourne to Brisbane; it was the first non-flight organized transport I took in the country. I was proud of this fact for no special reason. I probably could have hitch hiked from Brisbane to the Gold Coast but I decided it was not worth doing so with all my baggage making it harder to get picked up (at least so I guessed) and the risk of rain. Getting there was easy and not too expensive considering. I took the train and a connected to an inter-city bus. Most travellers in Australia that get around using transport use Greyhound or a competitor Premier, and both are crazy expensive. I was supposed to crash at Jusford's, of the sailing trip from Brisbane to Sydney, but he crapped out on me so I ended up spending the night in a backpackers. The backpackers was an unusual place. At times it seemed completely empty and other times it was happening. I could not figure it out but did not care much either.
I arrived at midday and just walked around town for a bit for the rest of the day. There is a lighthouse that supposedly has good views but the weather was not cooperating so I had mediocre views. The town, well, towns, really, is/are not much. Other than surfing, as far as I can tell and was told, there is nothing there to see or do. The first night some people went up the coast to Surfers Paradise, a party town, but I declined and just hung out in the backpackers talking with people and watching movies.
The following day I checked out of the backpackers. My flight was very early the next morning so my idea was to check out as I did, have the backpackers hold on to my stuff (a common service provided), spend the day doing whatever, hang out at the backpackers at night, sleep either inside if I could figure out a way to do so or outside (it was a little cold but not too bad), and then wake up early and head to the airport, which was only a 10 minite walk. I was sure this would not work out but the worst thing that could happen was that I would have to check back in and pay for the night. This is what I was trying to avoid but if I could not then it would just cost me some money.
So I checked out and went to take advantage of Cooly's surf, which is one of the best in Australia, if not the best, which puts it in the running among the top world-wide. Years ago (I am too lazy to look up when) the government did some work offshore on the sea floor that had the unintended effect of creating excellent surfing conditions. If I understand correctly, basically what the government did was create a bump on the sea floor to help with the water flow and currents to control the movement of sand (a big issue on this part of the coast). This pushes the water upward, exaggerating even small waves into bigger ones. Or I made all that up. Either way, I rented a board and went out.
Again I had poor luck and nobody was catching many good waves including me, still hampered by me limited surfing experience and skills. I caught a few good ones and it was fun. Upon returning to the backpackers and returning the board the real challenge of the day started: employing my plan to avoid paying AU$28 for the night. I had been chummy with a couple of the backpacker employees and did not expect any issue from them or any of the other younger ones. There was an older guy that worked at night that was my only real concern other than the logistics of having my bag accessible and getting outside (if I spent the night inside) in the morning. It turned out to work perfectly and much easier than I expected. There was not problems at all and the older guy even saw that I was sleeping on the couch in the lounge and did not say a word. Plan well executed on my behalf.
In the morning I woke up at 5 and walked to the airport to leave Australia for a brief stop in KL before going to India.
As I mentioned before, what exactly "Gold Coast" means is unknown to me. I was in Coolangatta, which is in Queensland and has the twin city of Tweed Heads on the other side of the state line in New South Wales. It is a Kansas City thing going on. Getting to Cooly, as it is often called, was the first transport I have paid for in Australia other than flights and shared fuel costs driving from Melbourne to Brisbane; it was the first non-flight organized transport I took in the country. I was proud of this fact for no special reason. I probably could have hitch hiked from Brisbane to the Gold Coast but I decided it was not worth doing so with all my baggage making it harder to get picked up (at least so I guessed) and the risk of rain. Getting there was easy and not too expensive considering. I took the train and a connected to an inter-city bus. Most travellers in Australia that get around using transport use Greyhound or a competitor Premier, and both are crazy expensive. I was supposed to crash at Jusford's, of the sailing trip from Brisbane to Sydney, but he crapped out on me so I ended up spending the night in a backpackers. The backpackers was an unusual place. At times it seemed completely empty and other times it was happening. I could not figure it out but did not care much either.
I arrived at midday and just walked around town for a bit for the rest of the day. There is a lighthouse that supposedly has good views but the weather was not cooperating so I had mediocre views. The town, well, towns, really, is/are not much. Other than surfing, as far as I can tell and was told, there is nothing there to see or do. The first night some people went up the coast to Surfers Paradise, a party town, but I declined and just hung out in the backpackers talking with people and watching movies.
The following day I checked out of the backpackers. My flight was very early the next morning so my idea was to check out as I did, have the backpackers hold on to my stuff (a common service provided), spend the day doing whatever, hang out at the backpackers at night, sleep either inside if I could figure out a way to do so or outside (it was a little cold but not too bad), and then wake up early and head to the airport, which was only a 10 minite walk. I was sure this would not work out but the worst thing that could happen was that I would have to check back in and pay for the night. This is what I was trying to avoid but if I could not then it would just cost me some money.
So I checked out and went to take advantage of Cooly's surf, which is one of the best in Australia, if not the best, which puts it in the running among the top world-wide. Years ago (I am too lazy to look up when) the government did some work offshore on the sea floor that had the unintended effect of creating excellent surfing conditions. If I understand correctly, basically what the government did was create a bump on the sea floor to help with the water flow and currents to control the movement of sand (a big issue on this part of the coast). This pushes the water upward, exaggerating even small waves into bigger ones. Or I made all that up. Either way, I rented a board and went out.
Again I had poor luck and nobody was catching many good waves including me, still hampered by me limited surfing experience and skills. I caught a few good ones and it was fun. Upon returning to the backpackers and returning the board the real challenge of the day started: employing my plan to avoid paying AU$28 for the night. I had been chummy with a couple of the backpacker employees and did not expect any issue from them or any of the other younger ones. There was an older guy that worked at night that was my only real concern other than the logistics of having my bag accessible and getting outside (if I spent the night inside) in the morning. It turned out to work perfectly and much easier than I expected. There was not problems at all and the older guy even saw that I was sleeping on the couch in the lounge and did not say a word. Plan well executed on my behalf.
In the morning I woke up at 5 and walked to the airport to leave Australia for a brief stop in KL before going to India.
Brisbane, Australia, Part III
This one is going to be brief because did almost nothing for the few days I was in Brisbane this time. I was once again couch surfing with Vanessa, Gabby, and Kat. I picked up my passport with my new 10-year India visa (excellent) and booked a flight from the Gold Coast, Australia to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and from KL to Kolkata, India. The way the prices of the flights worked out I ended up having a bit more time in Australia and intentionally scheduled a few days in KL to take care of errand-type things.
Once I picked up my passport and booked the flights I had nothing to do. I ended up trying to cook for the first time...in my life. I ended up making curry four times. The first batch was bland but edible and the following three attempts, once I decided to use some spices, had much more taste and, as far as I and those that tried it are concerned, were pretty good. I received some nice compliments and although curry is hard to mess up they were good to hear. It was also good to try something new even if that something is something I probably should have attempted 15 years ago. It was also nice to feed Vanessa for a change since she had cooked for me a few times, even though the curry I made was too spicy for her to enjoy more than a small portion.
That is pretty much all I did for a few days. There was some drama when Vanessa and her roommates learned that the owner of the house, their landlord, was returning so that have to move out in a couple months. Vanessa had lived there for 2.5 years and had grown attached and so did Gabby, Kat, and myself, all of whom had spent considerably less time in the hippy house. There was some more drama when Kat's boyfriend, Josh, broke up with her, but they got back together several hours later. This did make for an entertaining evening though.
Once I picked up my passport and booked the flights I had nothing to do. I ended up trying to cook for the first time...in my life. I ended up making curry four times. The first batch was bland but edible and the following three attempts, once I decided to use some spices, had much more taste and, as far as I and those that tried it are concerned, were pretty good. I received some nice compliments and although curry is hard to mess up they were good to hear. It was also good to try something new even if that something is something I probably should have attempted 15 years ago. It was also nice to feed Vanessa for a change since she had cooked for me a few times, even though the curry I made was too spicy for her to enjoy more than a small portion.
That is pretty much all I did for a few days. There was some drama when Vanessa and her roommates learned that the owner of the house, their landlord, was returning so that have to move out in a couple months. Vanessa had lived there for 2.5 years and had grown attached and so did Gabby, Kat, and myself, all of whom had spent considerably less time in the hippy house. There was some more drama when Kat's boyfriend, Josh, broke up with her, but they got back together several hours later. This did make for an entertaining evening though.
Byron Bay, Australia
Jason gave me a ride from his house back to the highway the day after I slept on his couch. He was headed north for an audition while I was continuing south to Byron Bay. Getting a ride was not much of an issue but I met another interesting character. Again there was no exchange of names, so I am going to go with Mack this time. Mack was a local to the area who grew up outside Byron and lived in the region his entire life. He does not do much of anything. He supports himself by selling various substances across the street from the Woolworth's in Byron Bay. Later I learned that he is known throughout the area for being a reliable, though overpriced, source for these substances. He dropped me off in the middle of town and advised me to stop by his spot if I needed some of the substances he sells or just to chat. Yeah, right, I will be doing that for sure.
The plan in Byron was to work at a backpackers for a week or two in exchange for accommodation while waiting to hear about my India visa (I could check the status online). This plan failed. Not only were none of the backpackers looking to hire anybody, but there was a waiting list of travellers looking for employment just as I was, and the all required a minimum of a 6 week committement. I resigned to paying for a room. This would be only the third time I had paid for accommodation in Australia, excluding packaged tours. So I not happy about doing this but I was felt with little option. (CS is almost non-exist in Byron and the few hosts are swarmed with requests. One has even taken to charging rent.) I did not have my passport to fly far from Brisbane, travelling far by hitching makes getting back in a timely manner to pick up my passport complicated and high risk, spending the entire time in Brisbane would have been too much, and of all the places near Brisbane, Byron Bay and the Gold Coast were the only ones I had any interest in visiting that I had not already. So, a backpackers in Byron Bay it was.
At first I did not like Byron very much. This is partially because I was in a bad mood about having to pay AU$20/night for a bed but also the weather was subpar. Also I found hanging out with people in the backpackers to be a task. Everybody seemed to have their own thing going on and I was a little out of practice in the whole hostel scene. After a couple days of exploring the area (there is some really nice hiking and views) I was almost decided to head back north to either the Gold Coast or possibly back to Burleigh Heads (I was invited to return). Then I realized that I had not yet surfed in Australia and Byron Bay is a good place to do so. I decided to rent a board and go out and leave the following day.
Renting the board was easy and reasonably priced. Unfortunately the surf was terrible and given my novice surfing skills catching a wave was a once-in-30-minute occurance. It boosted my confidence that other people were struggling as well but that did not make it any more fun. Though surfing was still enjoyable it was really frustrating. I was headed out in the afternoon to try surfing on my rented board once again when I started talking to two English guys, brothers that I later learned were twins. The offered me a wetsuit (yes) and said they had an extra board that I could take borrow until they leave in a few days (yes and awesome). With some difficulty I put on the wetsuit and headed out again and again the surf was bad, but I decided now that I had access to a free board that I might was well stay until it was no longer available. In addition, I had adjusted to the backpackers scene an was hanging out with people during the days and nights as I pleased and geting along swimmingly. (I was going to make a bad joke there and write "surfingly" but it was just too bad of a joke.)
Other than the (poor) surfing and walking around I did not do much in Byron other than hang out. I had forgotten about the drinking culture of hostels and was caught a bit offguard and underprepared. I like couch surfing a lot but it was nice to get back to in hostel mode and experience that kind of living again. It ended up being hard to leave Byron Bay despite its unfavorable first impression but once I saw online that my passport was being sent back to Brisbane for me to pick up it was time to leave.
The plan in Byron was to work at a backpackers for a week or two in exchange for accommodation while waiting to hear about my India visa (I could check the status online). This plan failed. Not only were none of the backpackers looking to hire anybody, but there was a waiting list of travellers looking for employment just as I was, and the all required a minimum of a 6 week committement. I resigned to paying for a room. This would be only the third time I had paid for accommodation in Australia, excluding packaged tours. So I not happy about doing this but I was felt with little option. (CS is almost non-exist in Byron and the few hosts are swarmed with requests. One has even taken to charging rent.) I did not have my passport to fly far from Brisbane, travelling far by hitching makes getting back in a timely manner to pick up my passport complicated and high risk, spending the entire time in Brisbane would have been too much, and of all the places near Brisbane, Byron Bay and the Gold Coast were the only ones I had any interest in visiting that I had not already. So, a backpackers in Byron Bay it was.
At first I did not like Byron very much. This is partially because I was in a bad mood about having to pay AU$20/night for a bed but also the weather was subpar. Also I found hanging out with people in the backpackers to be a task. Everybody seemed to have their own thing going on and I was a little out of practice in the whole hostel scene. After a couple days of exploring the area (there is some really nice hiking and views) I was almost decided to head back north to either the Gold Coast or possibly back to Burleigh Heads (I was invited to return). Then I realized that I had not yet surfed in Australia and Byron Bay is a good place to do so. I decided to rent a board and go out and leave the following day.
Renting the board was easy and reasonably priced. Unfortunately the surf was terrible and given my novice surfing skills catching a wave was a once-in-30-minute occurance. It boosted my confidence that other people were struggling as well but that did not make it any more fun. Though surfing was still enjoyable it was really frustrating. I was headed out in the afternoon to try surfing on my rented board once again when I started talking to two English guys, brothers that I later learned were twins. The offered me a wetsuit (yes) and said they had an extra board that I could take borrow until they leave in a few days (yes and awesome). With some difficulty I put on the wetsuit and headed out again and again the surf was bad, but I decided now that I had access to a free board that I might was well stay until it was no longer available. In addition, I had adjusted to the backpackers scene an was hanging out with people during the days and nights as I pleased and geting along swimmingly. (I was going to make a bad joke there and write "surfingly" but it was just too bad of a joke.)
Other than the (poor) surfing and walking around I did not do much in Byron other than hang out. I had forgotten about the drinking culture of hostels and was caught a bit offguard and underprepared. I like couch surfing a lot but it was nice to get back to in hostel mode and experience that kind of living again. It ended up being hard to leave Byron Bay despite its unfavorable first impression but once I saw online that my passport was being sent back to Brisbane for me to pick up it was time to leave.
Burleigh Heads, Australia
Not the title you were expecting, huh?
Once again I was hitch hiking. I got a ride from outside Brisband heading south. Byron Bay is only less than 2-3 hours away so making it in one day was not a concern. I got a ride from a guy named Jason, who is a street performer of sorts. He does all that kind of stuff (juggling, the tall unicycle, etc) on the streets but is also hired out for private events sometimes as the entertainment. He was a nice and interesting guy to talk with. He was only going as far as the Gold Coast, which is about an hour south from where I started. He offered me to sleep in his place for the night. I was planning on visiting the Gold Coast anyway on my way back north from Byron Bay so I figured doing so now instead was fine.
Jason did not live exactly in the the Gold Coast. Actually, he may have, the definition of "Gold Coast" in Australia is something that I do not completely understand. He lived with two roommates, and one of their mothers, in a town called Burleigh Heads, which is only 7km south of Surfers Paradise and 15km north of Coolangatta (which, to my understanding, is one of two twin towns that make up the Gold Coast). Burleigh Heads is not visited by many tourists because of the draws of those towns near by, plus Brisbane a bit more north and Byron Bay a bit more south. It is kind of stuck in between several different, bigger draws leaving it a kind of black sheep.
Jason's two roommates were also street performers that were part of a form group made up by the two of them and one of their girlfriends. They seemed to be more motivated than Jason as they had formed a legal company for their group, had a website and youtube videos, and professional photographs. In fact, when I was there they were packing up a car with all their equipment so that one of the group members could drive it to waaay south over the course of a few days where he would be joined by the other two members who were flying. I cannot imagine Jason going to such lengths for a gig. The roommates were cool and one of them and I got along well right away and talked a good amount.
An aside: the mother of one of the roommates was there because she had gotten evicted out of her place and decided to move closer to her son and was living there while trying to find a job in the area. She was kind of out of place in a house full of street performers but she seemed happy with her son's life decisions and was pretty cool in her own right.
Jason offered me the house bicycle to explore the town, which is pretty small. Going around was nice and an effective way to explore. There is not a ton to see or do in Burleigh Heads but it is pleasant still. There is a hike in a park that I could not do because I had the bike, which are not allowed, and no lock. In the end, going around town only took a few hours, including time getting lost, but was good.
I was certainly glad I decided to take Jason up on his offer to crash at his place for the night. In addition to seeing a place I probably would not have seen otherwise, and a nice place too, it was an experience that I am pleased to have under my belt.
Once again I was hitch hiking. I got a ride from outside Brisband heading south. Byron Bay is only less than 2-3 hours away so making it in one day was not a concern. I got a ride from a guy named Jason, who is a street performer of sorts. He does all that kind of stuff (juggling, the tall unicycle, etc) on the streets but is also hired out for private events sometimes as the entertainment. He was a nice and interesting guy to talk with. He was only going as far as the Gold Coast, which is about an hour south from where I started. He offered me to sleep in his place for the night. I was planning on visiting the Gold Coast anyway on my way back north from Byron Bay so I figured doing so now instead was fine.
Jason did not live exactly in the the Gold Coast. Actually, he may have, the definition of "Gold Coast" in Australia is something that I do not completely understand. He lived with two roommates, and one of their mothers, in a town called Burleigh Heads, which is only 7km south of Surfers Paradise and 15km north of Coolangatta (which, to my understanding, is one of two twin towns that make up the Gold Coast). Burleigh Heads is not visited by many tourists because of the draws of those towns near by, plus Brisbane a bit more north and Byron Bay a bit more south. It is kind of stuck in between several different, bigger draws leaving it a kind of black sheep.
Jason's two roommates were also street performers that were part of a form group made up by the two of them and one of their girlfriends. They seemed to be more motivated than Jason as they had formed a legal company for their group, had a website and youtube videos, and professional photographs. In fact, when I was there they were packing up a car with all their equipment so that one of the group members could drive it to waaay south over the course of a few days where he would be joined by the other two members who were flying. I cannot imagine Jason going to such lengths for a gig. The roommates were cool and one of them and I got along well right away and talked a good amount.
An aside: the mother of one of the roommates was there because she had gotten evicted out of her place and decided to move closer to her son and was living there while trying to find a job in the area. She was kind of out of place in a house full of street performers but she seemed happy with her son's life decisions and was pretty cool in her own right.
Jason offered me the house bicycle to explore the town, which is pretty small. Going around was nice and an effective way to explore. There is not a ton to see or do in Burleigh Heads but it is pleasant still. There is a hike in a park that I could not do because I had the bike, which are not allowed, and no lock. In the end, going around town only took a few hours, including time getting lost, but was good.
I was certainly glad I decided to take Jason up on his offer to crash at his place for the night. In addition to seeing a place I probably would not have seen otherwise, and a nice place too, it was an experience that I am pleased to have under my belt.
Brisbane, Australia, Part II
Before I actually made it to Brisbane I had my first negative flying experience. Before I started travelling I did not do much flying so it was not such an oddity that I had real no complaints with any airlines or airports. The closest thing to a negative experience I had before was a flight being delayed a few hours. Inconveient but not really a big deal, especially because it was for work, to get me to Indiana, a day before I really needed to be there. Actually, you can file that under "positive." The flight from Proserpine to Brisbane, however was pretty bad. First the Prossy (as Proserpine is called by Aussies who abv all) airport is a joke. Whatever, though, I have seen some small and/or bad airports before. As soon as the plane took off I, and probably everybody else, knew something was wrong. I was almost all the way in the back of the plane so the sound was faint where I was but there was a noise that was not normal. After a short time airborne the PA switched on with the captain saying that the front wheel thing hit something upon take off, probably a bird, and could not retract appropriately. Meaning, it was hanging outside the plane instead of inside it. Because of this we did not get any speed or altitude. He said we were going to land in Mackay, which is only about 1.5 drive from where we took off and figure something out from there. We ended up landing in Mackay in about the time it would have taken us to drive there which was also at about the time we were supposed to land in Brisbane. Everybody existed the plane and took a seat inside the terminal.
And we waited and waited. Occasionally somebody would come on the PA telling us that they would tell us something when they had something to tell us. Seriously, they told us that several times. We did get confirmation, however, that the captain's guess that we hit a bird was right. Eventually we got some information that we actually cared about: the airline, JetStar, could not find enough accommodation for everybody for the night in Mackay. Mackay is a mining town and during the week every place is completely booked out. It is empty on the weekends as everybody goes to a place that sucks less. So they were coming up with other ideas. Then we got the news that they were having trouble finding a mechanic to fix the problem, which apparently was more complicated than removing a dead bird. Then we got the news that the other area where a plane is occasionally stored for such incidents is being repaved so there is no plane there. Then we got the news that JetStar was going to send a plane from Brisbane, where we were supposed to have arrived hours ago, that would either land where we were, in Mackay, or where we departed from, Proserpine. If it was to land in Prossy, that means we would be bused back to Prossy only to board a plane again, exactly as we had done 4ish hours before, to once again fly to Brisbane (hopefully).
At this point two things happened. One, I borrowed the phone of the girl sitting next to me to tell my would-be couch surfing host in Brisbane, that I had plans to meet at a restuarant, that I had already been scheduled to surf at twice before but had to cancel for various reasons, that I had guaranteed I would actually surf at this time, that I would not make it, at least not that day. Two, the guy that that I had been talking with decided that JetStar would for sure send the plane to where we were, Mackay, because it made sense, so he was going to go to a bar in town (no food or beverage serving place was open in the airport) and start drinking, leaving his number with the JetStar counter with instructions to call him when they knew when the plane would arrive in Mackay. He invited me and another girl with, but we declined. I did so because I had less confidence in JetStar's competence and ability to employ logic. A few minutes later the PA came on again saying that the plan would in fact land in Proserpine and we would be bused back there leaving at 10:45PM. We had landed in Mackay near 7:30. Luckily the guy had not yet got in the cab that he called and returned to his seat.
To its credit, JetStar did spring for pizza, and even though it was Pizza Hut, tasted great. The timing was less than ideal as the pizza arrive at about 10:20. Whatever, I gorged myself and was happy to do so. There were three buses and the one I got on was driven by a girl that looked 17 years old.
We got (back) to Proserpine, checked back in, boarded the plane, and took off...at 1:30AM. We arrived in Brisbane near 3AM, after all public transportation had shut down. JetStar, however, did us the favor of calling a bunch of cabs for us that would cost AU$45 to get in the city. No thanks. I found a sweet place to sleep in the airport, made sure my stuff was secure, and got some sleep. The airport activity was happening long before I woke up. I heard it but decided that I want to sleep more. I did not care. Not only did I want more sleep but the place I found to sleep was great. Once I woke up, I brushed my teeth and headed to the metro thing to get a ticket to get into the city. The fare for this trip is AU$15, which is a huge amount of money for what it is and the company knows it. However, this leg of the metro is not operated by the town, it is a private company that knows that they only other options are walking the 18km (about 12 miles), taking the shuttle that is also operates at the same price, and the AU$45 taxi. In other words, it can charge basically whatver it wants as long as its less that AU$45. I was seriously considering the walking/hitching option but decided it was not worth the time before I want to get into the city in a timely manner.
The reason I wanted to make sure I got into town in a reasonable amount of time is the main reason I was returning to Brisbane all together, other than to retrieve my big bag that I had left with a friend: to apply for my visa for India at the office there since I could not do so online. The office opens at 8:30 and I was the first person there and got served at 8:15. The guy there was tremendous at his job and was patient with all of my frustrations and questions, of which I had plenty. Once in the office, applying took almost no time at all whereas I could not figure out how to do so online in several hours. All the paperwork was submitted and I just had to wait 10-15 working days until my passport, hopefully containing a visa, returned from Canberra, Australia's little-known capital and location of the India High Commission. After all this, I finally headed to my couch surfing host's place.
My host, Vanessa, was not home but thankfully one of her roommates, Kat, was and let me in. Applying for my India visa was really the only thing I had planned to do in Brisbane other than walk around the city a bit and pick up my bag. I had 2-3 weeks until my passport, hopefully with a visa, was returned and until then I just planned on hanging out a bit in Brisbane and going south to Byron Bay for a bit. A little about my hosts: Vanessa is in university, spends much of her free time volunteering, spent time in China, Vietnam, and Cambodia, and is learning Spanish for her plans to go to South America in 2011. I learned later that first day that she talks, often loudly, in her sleep. Gabby, another roommate, is also in university, and speaks a bit of Spanish already and is helping Vanessa along. She is leaving for Mexico in November 2010, I think to study but I may remember that wrong. Kat, who let me in, is the most difficult to describe. She is kind of punk and kind of rebellious, but not really. She is into music (we had overlapping interests and bonded over hating Nickelback) and frowns upon Vanessa and Gabby's music tastes. The "hippy house" they live in is in a suburb of Brisbane called Beenleigh, which is about 40km (28.5 miles) outside of the center of Brisbane but there is a train that runs regularly making transport easy, though not particularly cheap. The rent the house and have no "bond," which I assume is what I call a deposit, so they treat it as such. They do not intentionally destroy anything, but do neglect it a bit. They paint all over the walls with hand prints and the like. It is a cool place and I enjoyed spending time there.
There is not much to do in Brisbane. It seems, and I have been told this assessment is accurate, that it is a town better fit for living in than visiting. In terms of tourism there is not much, but spending years there has its rewards. After a couple of days of exploring Brisbane and doing nothing I decided it was time to head south to Byron Bay.
(Yes, I am aware that most of this post was not actually about Brisbane. Whatever.)
And we waited and waited. Occasionally somebody would come on the PA telling us that they would tell us something when they had something to tell us. Seriously, they told us that several times. We did get confirmation, however, that the captain's guess that we hit a bird was right. Eventually we got some information that we actually cared about: the airline, JetStar, could not find enough accommodation for everybody for the night in Mackay. Mackay is a mining town and during the week every place is completely booked out. It is empty on the weekends as everybody goes to a place that sucks less. So they were coming up with other ideas. Then we got the news that they were having trouble finding a mechanic to fix the problem, which apparently was more complicated than removing a dead bird. Then we got the news that the other area where a plane is occasionally stored for such incidents is being repaved so there is no plane there. Then we got the news that JetStar was going to send a plane from Brisbane, where we were supposed to have arrived hours ago, that would either land where we were, in Mackay, or where we departed from, Proserpine. If it was to land in Prossy, that means we would be bused back to Prossy only to board a plane again, exactly as we had done 4ish hours before, to once again fly to Brisbane (hopefully).
At this point two things happened. One, I borrowed the phone of the girl sitting next to me to tell my would-be couch surfing host in Brisbane, that I had plans to meet at a restuarant, that I had already been scheduled to surf at twice before but had to cancel for various reasons, that I had guaranteed I would actually surf at this time, that I would not make it, at least not that day. Two, the guy that that I had been talking with decided that JetStar would for sure send the plane to where we were, Mackay, because it made sense, so he was going to go to a bar in town (no food or beverage serving place was open in the airport) and start drinking, leaving his number with the JetStar counter with instructions to call him when they knew when the plane would arrive in Mackay. He invited me and another girl with, but we declined. I did so because I had less confidence in JetStar's competence and ability to employ logic. A few minutes later the PA came on again saying that the plan would in fact land in Proserpine and we would be bused back there leaving at 10:45PM. We had landed in Mackay near 7:30. Luckily the guy had not yet got in the cab that he called and returned to his seat.
To its credit, JetStar did spring for pizza, and even though it was Pizza Hut, tasted great. The timing was less than ideal as the pizza arrive at about 10:20. Whatever, I gorged myself and was happy to do so. There were three buses and the one I got on was driven by a girl that looked 17 years old.
We got (back) to Proserpine, checked back in, boarded the plane, and took off...at 1:30AM. We arrived in Brisbane near 3AM, after all public transportation had shut down. JetStar, however, did us the favor of calling a bunch of cabs for us that would cost AU$45 to get in the city. No thanks. I found a sweet place to sleep in the airport, made sure my stuff was secure, and got some sleep. The airport activity was happening long before I woke up. I heard it but decided that I want to sleep more. I did not care. Not only did I want more sleep but the place I found to sleep was great. Once I woke up, I brushed my teeth and headed to the metro thing to get a ticket to get into the city. The fare for this trip is AU$15, which is a huge amount of money for what it is and the company knows it. However, this leg of the metro is not operated by the town, it is a private company that knows that they only other options are walking the 18km (about 12 miles), taking the shuttle that is also operates at the same price, and the AU$45 taxi. In other words, it can charge basically whatver it wants as long as its less that AU$45. I was seriously considering the walking/hitching option but decided it was not worth the time before I want to get into the city in a timely manner.
The reason I wanted to make sure I got into town in a reasonable amount of time is the main reason I was returning to Brisbane all together, other than to retrieve my big bag that I had left with a friend: to apply for my visa for India at the office there since I could not do so online. The office opens at 8:30 and I was the first person there and got served at 8:15. The guy there was tremendous at his job and was patient with all of my frustrations and questions, of which I had plenty. Once in the office, applying took almost no time at all whereas I could not figure out how to do so online in several hours. All the paperwork was submitted and I just had to wait 10-15 working days until my passport, hopefully containing a visa, returned from Canberra, Australia's little-known capital and location of the India High Commission. After all this, I finally headed to my couch surfing host's place.
My host, Vanessa, was not home but thankfully one of her roommates, Kat, was and let me in. Applying for my India visa was really the only thing I had planned to do in Brisbane other than walk around the city a bit and pick up my bag. I had 2-3 weeks until my passport, hopefully with a visa, was returned and until then I just planned on hanging out a bit in Brisbane and going south to Byron Bay for a bit. A little about my hosts: Vanessa is in university, spends much of her free time volunteering, spent time in China, Vietnam, and Cambodia, and is learning Spanish for her plans to go to South America in 2011. I learned later that first day that she talks, often loudly, in her sleep. Gabby, another roommate, is also in university, and speaks a bit of Spanish already and is helping Vanessa along. She is leaving for Mexico in November 2010, I think to study but I may remember that wrong. Kat, who let me in, is the most difficult to describe. She is kind of punk and kind of rebellious, but not really. She is into music (we had overlapping interests and bonded over hating Nickelback) and frowns upon Vanessa and Gabby's music tastes. The "hippy house" they live in is in a suburb of Brisbane called Beenleigh, which is about 40km (28.5 miles) outside of the center of Brisbane but there is a train that runs regularly making transport easy, though not particularly cheap. The rent the house and have no "bond," which I assume is what I call a deposit, so they treat it as such. They do not intentionally destroy anything, but do neglect it a bit. They paint all over the walls with hand prints and the like. It is a cool place and I enjoyed spending time there.
There is not much to do in Brisbane. It seems, and I have been told this assessment is accurate, that it is a town better fit for living in than visiting. In terms of tourism there is not much, but spending years there has its rewards. After a couple of days of exploring Brisbane and doing nothing I decided it was time to head south to Byron Bay.
(Yes, I am aware that most of this post was not actually about Brisbane. Whatever.)
Airlie Beach/Whitsundays, Australia
I got out of the car and headed for McDonald's, or more accurately, the free wifi at McDonald's. I sent a couch surfing request to a host in Airlie Beach that had declined my request, but said that I should stop by his office for a coffee. I (correctly) interpreted this as a test so that he can see if he wants to host me. I logged into CS, sent a quick message to him that I had arrived in Airlie and was headed to his office and would be there just as soon as I could find it. Finding it took some time because I am terrible at those things. I arrived, introduced myself to John and his couch surfer/assistant/employee/volunteer Steph. He offered me some water.
At this point, over the previous 36ish hours I had consumed one alcoholic cider, about 1/3 of a loaf of bread, less the portion that had been partially eaten by some animal, and some gummy bears.
After some talking I asked John directly if I could couch surf at his place and he said yes. Here is where I need to explain John's couch. His couch could much more accurately be described as a boat, because he lives on a boat. He maintains an office in the marina (where Steph slept most of the time) and he sleeps on the boat. Couch surfing with John not only means you are sleeping on a boat, which is cool enough, but it also means that he will take you sailing around the Whitsundays if you are there long enough and/or catch him at a time when he is going out. I was lucky enough to do so. The typical trip to the Whitsundays for a backpacker is a 2 day/2 day arrangement that costs about AU$300-350. John took me out basically for the cost of some food and some beer (though the beer is expensive, it is not AU$300 expensive).
John is an interesting character. He speaks very rapidly and appears constantly busy. He works for himself in IT, maintaining several tourism websites and does freelance work for businesses in the area. He does well and always seems to be working. Steph points out that he does not sleep because of his workload. However, I noticed that he takes a nap in the afternoon just about everyday for a couple hours and, though he does wake up early in the morning, he, as best as I can tell, gets plenty of sleep. That said, I was only there for about a week and Steph had been there for months so her sample size is larger but I saw what I saw, plus it does not really matter. Steph is German and into media, mostly videography. She is kind of couch surfing with John but also does a lot of work for him. They made no arrangement for monetary compensation, just accommodation, though John sometimes pays her. She is travelling in Australia hoping to make a documentary on the Aborigines and is trying to accumulate the appropriate equipment and funds to do so. We ended up hanging out a lot together as other than the sailing there is almost nothing to do in Airlie Beach and I ended up staying for an extra couple of days because the cost of a flight to Brisbane plummeted and John said doing so was not a problem.
The only significant negative about doing my Whitsundays trip with John was that I had no control or input over where we went. When he goes out he is generally doing so with a purpose and sails to where it makes sense for him, not to where I, a tourist, wants to go. So, though I went to the Whitsundays, I did not go to the main tourist draw of Whitehaven Beach. I did get to go to and see things that most tourists do not get to do so it is a trade off. I simply say that it means now I have an excuse to go back.
Airlie Beach is not much of a town. In fact, it kind of sucks. If the Whitsundays where elsewhere nobody would ever go near the place. Fortunately of it, the Whitsundays, which is among the most beautiful places in the world, is just off its shores and it is the lucky heir to an endless stream of tourists. The Whitsundays, however, is stunning. John says he lives where he lives because he thinks it is paradise and sure looks like it could be.
While not sailing around the Whitsundays, I tried to help out around John's business. Mostly this meant keeping Steph company while she did things and holding stuff but Steph was legitimately appreciative and said directly that her days went by quicker when in my company. (Go me.)
On my last night there a not serious but not mild storm was due to come in. John was planning on joining Steph in the office for the night and said I could sleep in the van he has instead of the boat. I said whatever he thought was best was fine with me, but when Steph said she wanted to sleep in the boat, John and I both thought it best that I went out on the boat as well. John does not dock the boat in the marina. He anchors it a bit off shore to avoid paying the huge marina docking fee. To get to the boat you use what he calls a dingy, which might be what it is actually called but I had never heard it called this. The dingy is a raft that is propelled by a motor. Simple. Steph and I walked to the dingy in some light rain. When we reached the dingy the rain had picked up a bit so we took cover in one of the boats nearby to let the rain die down before we set off. We waited and when the rain slowed he headed out. About a minute after we started moving the rain picked up again, this time harder. And then harder still. Then we remembered that by accident John had anchored further off shore than he normally does meaning not only would be have to traverse more water than usual and expected but that actually finding the boat among the dozens of boats out there would be more difficult that normal. Steph, at the helm, found the boat without issue though we were still soaked by the time we got there. She tied the dingy to the boat and then we went inside. I got myself one of the beers that was left over from the Whitsundays excursion, we put on some music, and started chatting with Stevie Wonder and the rain in the background. After a little bit Steph noticed the dingy was gone. "Gone?" I questioned, taking a swig. "Yes, gone. As in, gone," she replied. I put the beer down and stepped out into the rain where Steph was to see the dingy floating away. Knowing it was not the right thing to do, I made the snap decision to dive in and try to retrieve it. In a storm you are not supposed to leave the boat, but, in truth the storm really was not that bad and I know I can tread water for a really long time, and I figured that if I did manage to get the dingy back John would be super appreciative. Also, even if I did not get it back, it would be a decent story. I stripped down to my boxers and jumped in. As soon as I started off I could tell the dingy was moving faster than me. The only chance I had is that if the wind or something else slowed it down or carried back the other way. I kept going for a bit but it became apparent I had no chance and turned around. The water was not that cold at all (I was cold later once I got out of the water) and doing this was pretty cool and I was happy with my decision to try to get it back. After swimming back I learned of the other drama afoot.
Apparently while I was in the water a boat that was anchored close to ours nearly hit us. By "nearly" I mean within a foot, according to Steph. A collision of boats would be exponentially worse than a missing dingy. The occupants of the other boat had noticed how close our boat was and got out to yell at Steph, who was waiting outside watching me swim. I am not sure exactly how it happened because I was elsewhere, but I believe Steph explained that our boat was not that one that was moving (which we determined was true even though she just made it up at the time) and why she was outside in the first place. The other boat, possibly in an act of apology, said they would try to get our dingy back. Once I got aboard again they made sure I was OK, and then set off. We knew the odds of them getting it were low but at that point we had no option. Steph had called John about the near-collision and missing dingy. He was displeased that she did not tie up the dingy as she was supposed to (hoist it off the water) and displeased that I got in the water to try to get it back (dangerous) but more than relieved that there was no collision. After a bit the other boat flashed its lights, which we took to mean they were giving up and anchoring over where they were to avoid another incident.
We went back inside. Steph, who was trying to eat nothing but fruit, vegetables, and nuts for six weeks broke into some crackers or cookies or something. I stripped off my boxers and tied a towel around my waist (I had no other clothes on the boat) and assumed drinking my beer again. Stepth was pretty stressed; she said that even though up until now her time with John had been nothing but positive this is the kind of thing that could turn the whole thing sour. Its true, but of course I could not admit so out loud. I reminded her that John did not seem to upset on the phone, which she had told me, and was more relieved that there was no collision than anything. Then we saw a flashing light again. It was the boat returning...with the dingy. Steph was ecstatic. We thanked them and hoisted the dingy as far off the water as we could. Steph happily called John again. I got another beer. We talked a bit more and then went to sleep.
Then next day I went to the nearby town of Proserpine to catch a flight to Brisbane.
At this point, over the previous 36ish hours I had consumed one alcoholic cider, about 1/3 of a loaf of bread, less the portion that had been partially eaten by some animal, and some gummy bears.
After some talking I asked John directly if I could couch surf at his place and he said yes. Here is where I need to explain John's couch. His couch could much more accurately be described as a boat, because he lives on a boat. He maintains an office in the marina (where Steph slept most of the time) and he sleeps on the boat. Couch surfing with John not only means you are sleeping on a boat, which is cool enough, but it also means that he will take you sailing around the Whitsundays if you are there long enough and/or catch him at a time when he is going out. I was lucky enough to do so. The typical trip to the Whitsundays for a backpacker is a 2 day/2 day arrangement that costs about AU$300-350. John took me out basically for the cost of some food and some beer (though the beer is expensive, it is not AU$300 expensive).
John is an interesting character. He speaks very rapidly and appears constantly busy. He works for himself in IT, maintaining several tourism websites and does freelance work for businesses in the area. He does well and always seems to be working. Steph points out that he does not sleep because of his workload. However, I noticed that he takes a nap in the afternoon just about everyday for a couple hours and, though he does wake up early in the morning, he, as best as I can tell, gets plenty of sleep. That said, I was only there for about a week and Steph had been there for months so her sample size is larger but I saw what I saw, plus it does not really matter. Steph is German and into media, mostly videography. She is kind of couch surfing with John but also does a lot of work for him. They made no arrangement for monetary compensation, just accommodation, though John sometimes pays her. She is travelling in Australia hoping to make a documentary on the Aborigines and is trying to accumulate the appropriate equipment and funds to do so. We ended up hanging out a lot together as other than the sailing there is almost nothing to do in Airlie Beach and I ended up staying for an extra couple of days because the cost of a flight to Brisbane plummeted and John said doing so was not a problem.
The only significant negative about doing my Whitsundays trip with John was that I had no control or input over where we went. When he goes out he is generally doing so with a purpose and sails to where it makes sense for him, not to where I, a tourist, wants to go. So, though I went to the Whitsundays, I did not go to the main tourist draw of Whitehaven Beach. I did get to go to and see things that most tourists do not get to do so it is a trade off. I simply say that it means now I have an excuse to go back.
Airlie Beach is not much of a town. In fact, it kind of sucks. If the Whitsundays where elsewhere nobody would ever go near the place. Fortunately of it, the Whitsundays, which is among the most beautiful places in the world, is just off its shores and it is the lucky heir to an endless stream of tourists. The Whitsundays, however, is stunning. John says he lives where he lives because he thinks it is paradise and sure looks like it could be.
While not sailing around the Whitsundays, I tried to help out around John's business. Mostly this meant keeping Steph company while she did things and holding stuff but Steph was legitimately appreciative and said directly that her days went by quicker when in my company. (Go me.)
On my last night there a not serious but not mild storm was due to come in. John was planning on joining Steph in the office for the night and said I could sleep in the van he has instead of the boat. I said whatever he thought was best was fine with me, but when Steph said she wanted to sleep in the boat, John and I both thought it best that I went out on the boat as well. John does not dock the boat in the marina. He anchors it a bit off shore to avoid paying the huge marina docking fee. To get to the boat you use what he calls a dingy, which might be what it is actually called but I had never heard it called this. The dingy is a raft that is propelled by a motor. Simple. Steph and I walked to the dingy in some light rain. When we reached the dingy the rain had picked up a bit so we took cover in one of the boats nearby to let the rain die down before we set off. We waited and when the rain slowed he headed out. About a minute after we started moving the rain picked up again, this time harder. And then harder still. Then we remembered that by accident John had anchored further off shore than he normally does meaning not only would be have to traverse more water than usual and expected but that actually finding the boat among the dozens of boats out there would be more difficult that normal. Steph, at the helm, found the boat without issue though we were still soaked by the time we got there. She tied the dingy to the boat and then we went inside. I got myself one of the beers that was left over from the Whitsundays excursion, we put on some music, and started chatting with Stevie Wonder and the rain in the background. After a little bit Steph noticed the dingy was gone. "Gone?" I questioned, taking a swig. "Yes, gone. As in, gone," she replied. I put the beer down and stepped out into the rain where Steph was to see the dingy floating away. Knowing it was not the right thing to do, I made the snap decision to dive in and try to retrieve it. In a storm you are not supposed to leave the boat, but, in truth the storm really was not that bad and I know I can tread water for a really long time, and I figured that if I did manage to get the dingy back John would be super appreciative. Also, even if I did not get it back, it would be a decent story. I stripped down to my boxers and jumped in. As soon as I started off I could tell the dingy was moving faster than me. The only chance I had is that if the wind or something else slowed it down or carried back the other way. I kept going for a bit but it became apparent I had no chance and turned around. The water was not that cold at all (I was cold later once I got out of the water) and doing this was pretty cool and I was happy with my decision to try to get it back. After swimming back I learned of the other drama afoot.
Apparently while I was in the water a boat that was anchored close to ours nearly hit us. By "nearly" I mean within a foot, according to Steph. A collision of boats would be exponentially worse than a missing dingy. The occupants of the other boat had noticed how close our boat was and got out to yell at Steph, who was waiting outside watching me swim. I am not sure exactly how it happened because I was elsewhere, but I believe Steph explained that our boat was not that one that was moving (which we determined was true even though she just made it up at the time) and why she was outside in the first place. The other boat, possibly in an act of apology, said they would try to get our dingy back. Once I got aboard again they made sure I was OK, and then set off. We knew the odds of them getting it were low but at that point we had no option. Steph had called John about the near-collision and missing dingy. He was displeased that she did not tie up the dingy as she was supposed to (hoist it off the water) and displeased that I got in the water to try to get it back (dangerous) but more than relieved that there was no collision. After a bit the other boat flashed its lights, which we took to mean they were giving up and anchoring over where they were to avoid another incident.
We went back inside. Steph, who was trying to eat nothing but fruit, vegetables, and nuts for six weeks broke into some crackers or cookies or something. I stripped off my boxers and tied a towel around my waist (I had no other clothes on the boat) and assumed drinking my beer again. Stepth was pretty stressed; she said that even though up until now her time with John had been nothing but positive this is the kind of thing that could turn the whole thing sour. Its true, but of course I could not admit so out loud. I reminded her that John did not seem to upset on the phone, which she had told me, and was more relieved that there was no collision than anything. Then we saw a flashing light again. It was the boat returning...with the dingy. Steph was ecstatic. We thanked them and hoisted the dingy as far off the water as we could. Steph happily called John again. I got another beer. We talked a bit more and then went to sleep.
Then next day I went to the nearby town of Proserpine to catch a flight to Brisbane.
Getting to Airlie Beach/Whitsundays, Australia
Hitch hiking from Cairns to Airlie Beach is the first real hitching I have attempted. I have picked up short rides here and there but nothing like this. The closest I had done was getting from the highway to Hervey Bay but that is not even close. This was a much longer distance and, to me at least, was real hitch hiking. Given my novice status, I did not know what I was doing other than some advice from people I have met that have done a lot of hitching (very valuable information), some information I have read, and common sense. That last sentence is not supposed to sound like I was getting myself into trouble or any danger, intentionally or otherwise. I was confident I was not and would not put myself in harm's way. What I did mean by that sentence is that I was travelling without much food and no water but it would be a bit until I realized this.
I first got a ride from just outside of Cairns (to which I walked) to the main highway from some guy and his son. Then I got a ride heading south. My hope was to get to Airlie Beach that day but it became clear that I was not going to make it that far. The ride I got going south was from an Australian who had been living out of his van some some time and was headed south to for a job interview (his employment history was spotty. I gathered his last job was a "security officer" which really meant he was a bouncer, which was funny because he was about my size). He was only going about half the way to Airlie, to Townsville, where he was going to camp for the night. From there I tried to get a ride going all the way to Airlie but everybody that pulled over would only take me as far as Townsville. So I asked around in the campsite if anybody was headed south the following day.
As my luck would have it, just about everybody was going north and the people that were going south did not have room or were going such a short distance that it would not have been worthwhile for me to accept their ride. I managed to find one older guy that was travelling alone that said he could take me part of the way and from where I could get another ride. I accepted and we arranged to meet the following morning. I want mention some observations about this campsite that I noticed while trying to find a ride. First, this place was packed. There must have been about 100 people there. Second, I could not believe the percentage of its population that was above the age of 40. Probably only myself, the guy that drove me there, and two or three backpacker couples were under 40, plus the kids of some adults. If I had to estimate I would guess that more than 50% of the people were above 50. And just about everybody was Australian. I think just me and the two backpacker couples were the only non-Aussies. This was cool to me. I wonder if there is a similar distribution in campsites in the States.
In this campsite is where my lack of food became apparent. I had not really be hungry all day probably because I was too preoccupied with getting a ride to notice that I had not eaten all day. As I mentioned, my food supply was limited: I had about a third of a loaf of bread and some gummy bears. The guy that gave me a ride gave me a cider so I also had that. I finished the gummy bears and had about 2/3 of the loaf that remained planning on eating the rest for breakfast. It occurred to me that I could have asked the guy to give me a lift to get some food and I know he would have done so but I figured not only had a brought this upon myself but I have eaten much less over much longer periods of time when food was much more readily available so I decided just to stick it out. I set up my tent, set my alarm, and went to sleep.
I awoke in plenty of time to pack up and meet my ride. After I had all my stuff ready to go I sat down to enjoy my 1/9 of a loaf of bread for breakfast when I discovered that some animal had gotten to it during the night. At this point I was pretty damn hungry so I tore off the parts of the slices of bread that had been touched/bitten and ate the remainder slowly as I could while walking over to find my ride. I have forgotten his name also but we got along well but I am going to call him Bob for simplicity. Bob is in his 60s, his wife had passed away a few years back and he was going up and down the coast visiting friends and family, including his kids. Bob hails from Tasmania, which is the island off the southeast tip of Australia and is considered one of the most beautiful places in the country. I told him I planned on visiting Tasmania when I returned to Australia and he said doing so was a good idea and that most tourist do not bother, which is a mistake.
I got the feeling that Bob was very happy to have me as company. He ended up driving me about an hour past where he originally said he would, justifying doing so out loud by saying he would have just down it the next day so why not help me out. We got to a junction of two highways where he was going to go left to visit an old friend and I needed to go right. He pulled over, gave me his address in Tasmania telling me to let him know when I make it down there, we said our goodbyes, and he headed off. I walked for about 10 seconds before I was picked up again by some woman, who I am going to call Bobette because I cannot remember her name either. Bobette just bought the van she picked up in from Townsville and was driving really, really far south over a couple days. I just needed a lift for 1-1.5 hours but she clearly was happy to have the company. Bobette had several teeth missing, wore age-inappropriate clothing, and was too honest with a stranger she had just picked up off the side of a highway. Maybe she looked at it like a time to say whatever to somebody that she would never see again. I do not know. The ride was filled with uncomfortable silences and when she let me out I wished her, and the two kids she left unattended at home, well.
From where Bobette dropped me off I was in another situation like I was in trying to get to Hervey Bay. Airlie Beach was on the shore, off the main highway. Unlike Hervey, I was not on the main route this time. It took a long time to get a ride; I started scouting camping sites while walking and not getting picked up. Finally somebody stopped. This guy (we never exchanged names) works for the tourism industry in the area and was happy to help out a tourist. His car was air conditioned and heavenly. We chatted a bit and I got some questions answered about the tourism industry in Australia and the area. (I am often curious about, for example, what percentage of the national or local economy comes from tourism, particularly in places where it seems tourism is to prevalent.) He dropped me off on the main drag and told me to go to some bar that night and say hello to his daughter, Lucy.
I first got a ride from just outside of Cairns (to which I walked) to the main highway from some guy and his son. Then I got a ride heading south. My hope was to get to Airlie Beach that day but it became clear that I was not going to make it that far. The ride I got going south was from an Australian who had been living out of his van some some time and was headed south to for a job interview (his employment history was spotty. I gathered his last job was a "security officer" which really meant he was a bouncer, which was funny because he was about my size). He was only going about half the way to Airlie, to Townsville, where he was going to camp for the night. From there I tried to get a ride going all the way to Airlie but everybody that pulled over would only take me as far as Townsville. So I asked around in the campsite if anybody was headed south the following day.
As my luck would have it, just about everybody was going north and the people that were going south did not have room or were going such a short distance that it would not have been worthwhile for me to accept their ride. I managed to find one older guy that was travelling alone that said he could take me part of the way and from where I could get another ride. I accepted and we arranged to meet the following morning. I want mention some observations about this campsite that I noticed while trying to find a ride. First, this place was packed. There must have been about 100 people there. Second, I could not believe the percentage of its population that was above the age of 40. Probably only myself, the guy that drove me there, and two or three backpacker couples were under 40, plus the kids of some adults. If I had to estimate I would guess that more than 50% of the people were above 50. And just about everybody was Australian. I think just me and the two backpacker couples were the only non-Aussies. This was cool to me. I wonder if there is a similar distribution in campsites in the States.
In this campsite is where my lack of food became apparent. I had not really be hungry all day probably because I was too preoccupied with getting a ride to notice that I had not eaten all day. As I mentioned, my food supply was limited: I had about a third of a loaf of bread and some gummy bears. The guy that gave me a ride gave me a cider so I also had that. I finished the gummy bears and had about 2/3 of the loaf that remained planning on eating the rest for breakfast. It occurred to me that I could have asked the guy to give me a lift to get some food and I know he would have done so but I figured not only had a brought this upon myself but I have eaten much less over much longer periods of time when food was much more readily available so I decided just to stick it out. I set up my tent, set my alarm, and went to sleep.
I awoke in plenty of time to pack up and meet my ride. After I had all my stuff ready to go I sat down to enjoy my 1/9 of a loaf of bread for breakfast when I discovered that some animal had gotten to it during the night. At this point I was pretty damn hungry so I tore off the parts of the slices of bread that had been touched/bitten and ate the remainder slowly as I could while walking over to find my ride. I have forgotten his name also but we got along well but I am going to call him Bob for simplicity. Bob is in his 60s, his wife had passed away a few years back and he was going up and down the coast visiting friends and family, including his kids. Bob hails from Tasmania, which is the island off the southeast tip of Australia and is considered one of the most beautiful places in the country. I told him I planned on visiting Tasmania when I returned to Australia and he said doing so was a good idea and that most tourist do not bother, which is a mistake.
I got the feeling that Bob was very happy to have me as company. He ended up driving me about an hour past where he originally said he would, justifying doing so out loud by saying he would have just down it the next day so why not help me out. We got to a junction of two highways where he was going to go left to visit an old friend and I needed to go right. He pulled over, gave me his address in Tasmania telling me to let him know when I make it down there, we said our goodbyes, and he headed off. I walked for about 10 seconds before I was picked up again by some woman, who I am going to call Bobette because I cannot remember her name either. Bobette just bought the van she picked up in from Townsville and was driving really, really far south over a couple days. I just needed a lift for 1-1.5 hours but she clearly was happy to have the company. Bobette had several teeth missing, wore age-inappropriate clothing, and was too honest with a stranger she had just picked up off the side of a highway. Maybe she looked at it like a time to say whatever to somebody that she would never see again. I do not know. The ride was filled with uncomfortable silences and when she let me out I wished her, and the two kids she left unattended at home, well.
From where Bobette dropped me off I was in another situation like I was in trying to get to Hervey Bay. Airlie Beach was on the shore, off the main highway. Unlike Hervey, I was not on the main route this time. It took a long time to get a ride; I started scouting camping sites while walking and not getting picked up. Finally somebody stopped. This guy (we never exchanged names) works for the tourism industry in the area and was happy to help out a tourist. His car was air conditioned and heavenly. We chatted a bit and I got some questions answered about the tourism industry in Australia and the area. (I am often curious about, for example, what percentage of the national or local economy comes from tourism, particularly in places where it seems tourism is to prevalent.) He dropped me off on the main drag and told me to go to some bar that night and say hello to his daughter, Lucy.
Cairns, Australia
We arrived in Sydney in plenty of time for my flight, which was a concern, so I ended up sleeping on the boat one additional night. Mike the engineer had booked a flight at about the same time as me so we shared a taxi to the airport. The flight was good. I had a couch surfing host arranged in Cairns but not a way to get from the airport to his place. I arrived at the airport and tried to find a way into town because that was close enough to walk from to the host's place while the airport was not. I got on some shuttle bus that would take me into town and figured out where I should get off that would be the closest to his place. Once I got off the shuttle I stopped in the nearest business to get my bearings. The business that I stopped at? A drug rehabilitation center. The long, dark haired girl with an unusual face, and looked like she has done a lot of drugs in her life gave me some excellent directions with the help of the phone book. I walked and made my way to my host's place and into my first negative couch surfing experience.
Right away I could tell my host, David, was a little off. I did not think much of it at first because, first of all, lots of people are weird, and second, there is a stereotype of the east coast of Australia that the more north you go, the weirder people get, and cairns is the northern-most town in the east coast (there is more north, and plenty to see, just no more towns). He tells me right away that we went to the airport to try to pick me up, which was nice of him, however, we never arranged this and neither of us knew what the other person looked like so the odds of it working out were slim to nil. Still, it was a nice gesture. Then he went to get himself another beer and handed me one as well. It was early in the afternoon but I did not have plans for the rest of the day and did not want to be rude so I accepted (plus it was a beer). It was clear the beer he had just finished was not his first. We started talking a bit and he just got more and more strange but still a nice enough guy. Should not be a problem, I thought, I have dealt with plenty of eccentricities in my life and during my travels.
His home is what is called a "Queenslander" or a "Classic Queenslander," Queensland being the state of Australia that Cairns is in. This homes are elevated off the ground so that what could be the second floor is the first, and almost always, only floor. The area below this is covered by the home and often used for storage, kind of like how Americans use a garage. This was/is done because, apparently, flooding is common enough to make this design logical, though I have doubts this is true nowadays. Inside, his home is pretty cool and this makes him less strange but confuses me because, after all, he clearly is strange and the inside of his home should be likewise. He has an English couple staying there as well except they are not couch surfing, they are paying rent. Omar, is in his late twenties and a fitness instructor. I have seen only a few people in my lifetime that are more fit than him and, according to him, he is far from his peak fitness level. His girlfriend, whose name I have forgotten and barely knew at the time, must have been in her forties and, well, was not a fitness instructor. I immediately assumed he was her instructor and the rest happened. I am confident I am right but never got confirmation. Omar was a pretty cool guy, softspoken, confident, seemed smart, and interesting, with plenty of stories. His girl friend was none of those things.
I was in Cairns to put my newly minted Advanced diving skills to work for me in the Great Barrier Reef. Before finding which tour I was going to hire I spent a day exploring Cairns, which is a medicore place. Its main draw, other than the Reef, is that it serves as a hotbed of adventure activities. Normally I am all about these but I decided to spread them out a bit and just do the Reef while here. One thing that put me off is that every business in Cairns seems catered to tourists. This can be helpful but it gives me the feeling that there is nothing real about the place; that it is just fabricated to serve tourists and has nothing to offer itself. I am confident this is not true because Cairns is the fastest growing town on the east coast and, I think, in Australia, and all of that growth cannot just be tourists so there has to be some full-time residents, but it is still the impression I got.
As you would probably guess, the diving in the Reef is not cheap. Because of this I planned on doing a simple day trip, which would include three dives. After a bit more research I found that if I did a live aboard for 2 days/1 night I could get six dives, in a better location, and at a comparably good value. The day trips were about AU$250 and the live aboards were AU$360, or, on a per dive basis, AU$83.33/dive and AU$60/dive. AU$60 for a dive, almost any where in the world, is a pretty good deal, not to mention it also included the cost of my meals while on the boat and was not just anywhere but in the Great Barrier Reef. In addition, I calculated how much I had spent to date in Australia and compared it to my budget and I was doing quite well in that department. All of these factors added up to me electing to the 2 day/1 night live aboard trip. The trip was set to depart in a couple days.
Once I decided this, I asked my host if was OK if I left some stuff at his place while aboard and came back to surf one more night before heading off. He said it was OK as long as I was OK with sleeping in a bunk bed outside, underneth his home in the covered area, because he was expecting another couch surfer, a "Spanish bird," as he always called her, who was pregnant, the following day. Of course that is fine by me. The next day, before the Spanish Bird was due to arrive I went to visit the Botanical Gardens nearly by. They were nice and made for a good few hours of walking around. Once I returned, after the Spanish Bird was supposed to arrive, I asked if she had turned up. David was visibly agitated, even more so than usual. He told me he told her to leave (he phrased it a little differently) and that she was not welcome to stay there. I asked if it was OK that I still stay there and he said yes. I could not get exactly why he did this out of him but for the next several hours he was constantly cursing couch surfers and after a certain point I had had enough of it and decided to leave. I packed up my stuff and told him that I felt like I was making him uncomfortable, uneasy, and prying in his space. He offered no objection to me leaving simply saying, "OK" and then going about his business. Omar watched the interaction and said afterward that it was very strange and kind of rude of David to act as he did. Omar was also concerned about me and what I would do but I had a plan.
While all this was going on I had been in contact with another host in Cairns, Frank, a 52-year-old, gay, HIV positive, nudist, whose couch I had requested but the dates did not work out. We had arranged to meet for a drink that night if I was in town when he would be eating. I had no real intention of going but it turned out to come in handy. With my stuff I left David's and started walking into town to try to find the restuarant Frank was dining at. After some trouble, I finally located it, "it" being a gay-only backpackers and restuarant that serves a special on beef roast on this particular day of the week. I found Frank in the restuarant, sitting alone, eating. I introduced myself and he was happy to see me. Straight away I gave him a breif summary of what had happened and asked, directly, if I could couch surf at his place for the two nights until my tour begins. He was delighted and said yes and that tonight was going to be the first night in long time without a couch surfer and he was going to miss the company. I was relieved that I had found another couch and that while skeptical of couch surfing with a 52-year-old, gay, HIV positive, nudist, Frank was extremely nice and was clearly not going to force me or anybody else to do anything they did not want to do. From his profile and CS messages between the two of us I had already learned that he does ask his surfers to either go nude themselves, as he does, or wear a sarong in addition to being accepting of his, the host's, Frank's, nudity. I told him that I did not think I could bring myself to go nude but would be fine with the sarong and his lifestyle.
Once we reached his home I learned that Frank has altered his life on numerous levels to better accomodate couch surfers. He sectioned off part of his garage to make a bedroom for them and, in doing so, made the garage part of the garage smaller so he traded in his car for a Smart car that would fit into the remaining space. Frank is one of the most polite people I have ever encountered to that point that it is sometimes frustrating. He is passive and quiet and indirect. He likes routine to a point that makes me (well, me before I started travelling) look spontaneous. I would wager that he has a minor case of OCD. Meeting him was a pleasure and he did me an enormous favor by letting me surf at his place on such short notice and his positive qualities far outweigh his negatives, if you even want to call those traits negative. Frank records foreign films on DVDs like nobody else I know and part of his routine is watching one per night. We watched on that night about a gay French couple that was not bad but was more strange and awkward than anything else. (The following night we watched an Israeli film called "Lemon Tree" that was better than expected and well done.)
The following day I returned to the Botanical Gardens area because just north of it is a area that has two good treks. I borrowed Frank's bicycle to ride there. While on the walk I met and ended up walking with a 64-year-old guy named Patty. He does these treks (the red and blue arrow treks) every day partially because he has little else to do. He was an interesting guy and it was nice to have somebody to walk and talk with. He pretended to be upset with me for pushing him harder than he would otherwise but once it was over admitted that when he does the walk again tomorrow he will keep today in mind.
The next day I was headed out to the Reef and as Frank was expecting another couch surfer he would not be able to host me upon my return. I woke up around 5AM to give myself enough time to catch a bus toward the marina and then walk the remainind distance to the boat that would be my home for the next two days. Said boat was modest, nothing fancy in the least and was, to be honest, a little disappointing. It was fine, of course, I guess I just had different expectations. It has become the norm that any tour I do in Australia is filled with French and this was no different. (The French are everywhere in Australia; it is amazing, and annoying. Then Germans. Then English.) About half the passengers were French and other than myself, only two other people were from English speaking contries, a couple from England. Only about half of the boat staff spoke English as their first language. The staff was pretty cool, cooler than most the passengers anyway. The food was good but I suspect just about all the meat was low quality pork. (The exception being the salmon that we caught [awesome].)
None of that matter, though, because the diving was outstanding. I have not done many dives, I think only nine before this trip, but five of these six dives were the best five I have done and it is not as if the other dives I have done were in bad dive sites. The odd dive out was the night dive because we got a little unluckly with the marine life and night dives tend to not be my favorite anyway. In other words, the diving was sweet and it was AU$360 well spent. Of course, I forgot my dive log book in Brisbane so I was not able to log the dives but that really is not too important. There is no way that I will not return to the Great Barrier Reef to do more diving at some point in my life. It truly is a wonder of the world.
Upon returning to land I booked a backpackers for a night. This was only my second paid night's accommodation in Australia. I took a shower, got some dinner, and tinkered with my plan to hitch hike to Airlie Beach the following morning.
Right away I could tell my host, David, was a little off. I did not think much of it at first because, first of all, lots of people are weird, and second, there is a stereotype of the east coast of Australia that the more north you go, the weirder people get, and cairns is the northern-most town in the east coast (there is more north, and plenty to see, just no more towns). He tells me right away that we went to the airport to try to pick me up, which was nice of him, however, we never arranged this and neither of us knew what the other person looked like so the odds of it working out were slim to nil. Still, it was a nice gesture. Then he went to get himself another beer and handed me one as well. It was early in the afternoon but I did not have plans for the rest of the day and did not want to be rude so I accepted (plus it was a beer). It was clear the beer he had just finished was not his first. We started talking a bit and he just got more and more strange but still a nice enough guy. Should not be a problem, I thought, I have dealt with plenty of eccentricities in my life and during my travels.
His home is what is called a "Queenslander" or a "Classic Queenslander," Queensland being the state of Australia that Cairns is in. This homes are elevated off the ground so that what could be the second floor is the first, and almost always, only floor. The area below this is covered by the home and often used for storage, kind of like how Americans use a garage. This was/is done because, apparently, flooding is common enough to make this design logical, though I have doubts this is true nowadays. Inside, his home is pretty cool and this makes him less strange but confuses me because, after all, he clearly is strange and the inside of his home should be likewise. He has an English couple staying there as well except they are not couch surfing, they are paying rent. Omar, is in his late twenties and a fitness instructor. I have seen only a few people in my lifetime that are more fit than him and, according to him, he is far from his peak fitness level. His girlfriend, whose name I have forgotten and barely knew at the time, must have been in her forties and, well, was not a fitness instructor. I immediately assumed he was her instructor and the rest happened. I am confident I am right but never got confirmation. Omar was a pretty cool guy, softspoken, confident, seemed smart, and interesting, with plenty of stories. His girl friend was none of those things.
I was in Cairns to put my newly minted Advanced diving skills to work for me in the Great Barrier Reef. Before finding which tour I was going to hire I spent a day exploring Cairns, which is a medicore place. Its main draw, other than the Reef, is that it serves as a hotbed of adventure activities. Normally I am all about these but I decided to spread them out a bit and just do the Reef while here. One thing that put me off is that every business in Cairns seems catered to tourists. This can be helpful but it gives me the feeling that there is nothing real about the place; that it is just fabricated to serve tourists and has nothing to offer itself. I am confident this is not true because Cairns is the fastest growing town on the east coast and, I think, in Australia, and all of that growth cannot just be tourists so there has to be some full-time residents, but it is still the impression I got.
As you would probably guess, the diving in the Reef is not cheap. Because of this I planned on doing a simple day trip, which would include three dives. After a bit more research I found that if I did a live aboard for 2 days/1 night I could get six dives, in a better location, and at a comparably good value. The day trips were about AU$250 and the live aboards were AU$360, or, on a per dive basis, AU$83.33/dive and AU$60/dive. AU$60 for a dive, almost any where in the world, is a pretty good deal, not to mention it also included the cost of my meals while on the boat and was not just anywhere but in the Great Barrier Reef. In addition, I calculated how much I had spent to date in Australia and compared it to my budget and I was doing quite well in that department. All of these factors added up to me electing to the 2 day/1 night live aboard trip. The trip was set to depart in a couple days.
Once I decided this, I asked my host if was OK if I left some stuff at his place while aboard and came back to surf one more night before heading off. He said it was OK as long as I was OK with sleeping in a bunk bed outside, underneth his home in the covered area, because he was expecting another couch surfer, a "Spanish bird," as he always called her, who was pregnant, the following day. Of course that is fine by me. The next day, before the Spanish Bird was due to arrive I went to visit the Botanical Gardens nearly by. They were nice and made for a good few hours of walking around. Once I returned, after the Spanish Bird was supposed to arrive, I asked if she had turned up. David was visibly agitated, even more so than usual. He told me he told her to leave (he phrased it a little differently) and that she was not welcome to stay there. I asked if it was OK that I still stay there and he said yes. I could not get exactly why he did this out of him but for the next several hours he was constantly cursing couch surfers and after a certain point I had had enough of it and decided to leave. I packed up my stuff and told him that I felt like I was making him uncomfortable, uneasy, and prying in his space. He offered no objection to me leaving simply saying, "OK" and then going about his business. Omar watched the interaction and said afterward that it was very strange and kind of rude of David to act as he did. Omar was also concerned about me and what I would do but I had a plan.
While all this was going on I had been in contact with another host in Cairns, Frank, a 52-year-old, gay, HIV positive, nudist, whose couch I had requested but the dates did not work out. We had arranged to meet for a drink that night if I was in town when he would be eating. I had no real intention of going but it turned out to come in handy. With my stuff I left David's and started walking into town to try to find the restuarant Frank was dining at. After some trouble, I finally located it, "it" being a gay-only backpackers and restuarant that serves a special on beef roast on this particular day of the week. I found Frank in the restuarant, sitting alone, eating. I introduced myself and he was happy to see me. Straight away I gave him a breif summary of what had happened and asked, directly, if I could couch surf at his place for the two nights until my tour begins. He was delighted and said yes and that tonight was going to be the first night in long time without a couch surfer and he was going to miss the company. I was relieved that I had found another couch and that while skeptical of couch surfing with a 52-year-old, gay, HIV positive, nudist, Frank was extremely nice and was clearly not going to force me or anybody else to do anything they did not want to do. From his profile and CS messages between the two of us I had already learned that he does ask his surfers to either go nude themselves, as he does, or wear a sarong in addition to being accepting of his, the host's, Frank's, nudity. I told him that I did not think I could bring myself to go nude but would be fine with the sarong and his lifestyle.
Once we reached his home I learned that Frank has altered his life on numerous levels to better accomodate couch surfers. He sectioned off part of his garage to make a bedroom for them and, in doing so, made the garage part of the garage smaller so he traded in his car for a Smart car that would fit into the remaining space. Frank is one of the most polite people I have ever encountered to that point that it is sometimes frustrating. He is passive and quiet and indirect. He likes routine to a point that makes me (well, me before I started travelling) look spontaneous. I would wager that he has a minor case of OCD. Meeting him was a pleasure and he did me an enormous favor by letting me surf at his place on such short notice and his positive qualities far outweigh his negatives, if you even want to call those traits negative. Frank records foreign films on DVDs like nobody else I know and part of his routine is watching one per night. We watched on that night about a gay French couple that was not bad but was more strange and awkward than anything else. (The following night we watched an Israeli film called "Lemon Tree" that was better than expected and well done.)
The following day I returned to the Botanical Gardens area because just north of it is a area that has two good treks. I borrowed Frank's bicycle to ride there. While on the walk I met and ended up walking with a 64-year-old guy named Patty. He does these treks (the red and blue arrow treks) every day partially because he has little else to do. He was an interesting guy and it was nice to have somebody to walk and talk with. He pretended to be upset with me for pushing him harder than he would otherwise but once it was over admitted that when he does the walk again tomorrow he will keep today in mind.
The next day I was headed out to the Reef and as Frank was expecting another couch surfer he would not be able to host me upon my return. I woke up around 5AM to give myself enough time to catch a bus toward the marina and then walk the remainind distance to the boat that would be my home for the next two days. Said boat was modest, nothing fancy in the least and was, to be honest, a little disappointing. It was fine, of course, I guess I just had different expectations. It has become the norm that any tour I do in Australia is filled with French and this was no different. (The French are everywhere in Australia; it is amazing, and annoying. Then Germans. Then English.) About half the passengers were French and other than myself, only two other people were from English speaking contries, a couple from England. Only about half of the boat staff spoke English as their first language. The staff was pretty cool, cooler than most the passengers anyway. The food was good but I suspect just about all the meat was low quality pork. (The exception being the salmon that we caught [awesome].)
None of that matter, though, because the diving was outstanding. I have not done many dives, I think only nine before this trip, but five of these six dives were the best five I have done and it is not as if the other dives I have done were in bad dive sites. The odd dive out was the night dive because we got a little unluckly with the marine life and night dives tend to not be my favorite anyway. In other words, the diving was sweet and it was AU$360 well spent. Of course, I forgot my dive log book in Brisbane so I was not able to log the dives but that really is not too important. There is no way that I will not return to the Great Barrier Reef to do more diving at some point in my life. It truly is a wonder of the world.
Upon returning to land I booked a backpackers for a night. This was only my second paid night's accommodation in Australia. I took a shower, got some dinner, and tinkered with my plan to hitch hike to Airlie Beach the following morning.
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