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.)