Noosa was too mellow. The only exciting part was teaching German Judith and Nora how to surf... there was an electric storm and we stopped only when the lightning neared 7 miles! Our next reservation wasn\'t for a few days but we had to jet. Rode a bus to Byron Bay and spent 3 nights, then traveled back up the coast to Surfer\'s Paradise and the infamous Schoolies.
Province by province, every Australian high school finishes within a 4 week window. Graduates loose control in a holiday that smashes our Spring Break. It\'s called Schoolies, and the recent grads party like triathlete ravers swarming whole towns in week long belligerence. The most popular destination is Surfer\'s Paradise just south of Brisbane in the Gold Coast. The city becomes totally overwrought with fiery late teens and we visited on 2008s busiest weekend- 100,000 students came solely to party themselves into oblivion. To give you an idea, add the party populations of Cancun and Rosarito to Ft. Lauderdale then realize the impossibility of comprehending such an experience and let your imagination exaggerate the situation... ridiculous immature anarchy, a 4 day return to early fraternity life. Though we felt totally out of place amongst the youngins, we plunged right in beside the fastest and swam straight to the whirling mayhem. Party buses, stupid outfits, heavy drinking, numerous nightclubs, sparse sleep... total waste of time but whatever! Haha it was insane experiencing the naive masses and a bit nostalgic as well. 4 nights taxed our brain-stems so we blasted back to Byron Bay for the realness.
Can you spot Brado?
Byron Bay is a world of its own; an organic hotbed of good energy and optimism; frowning is impossible. We stayed at the jungle set hippie compound called Arts Factory. I use the word hippie for a several reasons. First, there\'s a huge camping area that exactly embodies how one might imagine the 70s: open jam sessions of didgeridoo, acoustic guitar, bongo, and of course some sort of vocals like humming, singing, or yelping, and every passerby is welcome to join; omnipresent scent of marijuana; wall to wall tents; nature nature nature; heaps of people scribbling into journals... you get it. Second, native wild animals are befriended by everyone. A red-headed wild turkey will bobble right up and ask your name; water dragons, some 3ft long, are always around; adorable Australian opossums race tree-branches; bright birds soar during the day and big bats at night, and everyone sees all with warm gleaming eyes and some even mutter \"How\'s it going there fella?\" and \"Are you hungry there friend?\" Third, 2 huge double-decker buses are there converted into living quarters. From roof to wheel-well they\'re covered in exuberant psychedelic murals, paintings of nature and warm love and good will in the brightest hues of magenta, green, and yellow. Grandiose installations of sheer joy, glee and life.
Our return run of the place was legendary. We crashed in the largest dorm called \'Space Room\' with 10 other people and there were countless graffiti aliens adorning each interior wall. Among our roommates was the wildest duo of Canadian girls, Kris and Mandy. They were hilarious and among the very few travelers we\'ve met crazier than us. Then, there were Katie and Anna from England. During the day I spent time with them while Bradon chilled with the Kris and Mandy, it just worked out that way, and at night the 6 of us would gather round rickety picnic tables under an opening in the jungle canopy and we\'d drink wine and laugh and talk about absolutely nothing, and every night a new bunch would join our table and add to the ruckus.
Katie and Anna befriended a girl who was camping with a quartet of German fellows who were Arts Factory\'s gnarliest potheads. Good spirited guys but absolute s-t-o-n-e-r-s. One morning, we all went out to breakfast. Baby toys were sprawled out in the corner of the cafe. One of the skinnier Germans picked up a padded purple jack-in-the-box. He didn\'t realize what it was, picked it up in sheer curiosity, and he cranked the handle round so POP went the lid. Skin pale his eyes grew and glazed, jaw dropped in bewilderment. I asked him what he was thinking but all he could do was giggle.
After breakfast we wandered to the beach but surf was garbage and wind screamed sand in our faces, but everyone flopped in the water and had a ball. After, we retreated to the grassy hillside and the Germans fired up a joint for \"nice warmy.\"
That night it rained torrents. For an hour lightning fired a square mile of the lodge. Everyone stayed indoors while Katie and I ran out into the howl and danced and jumped under electric skies. Every few minutes CRACK an electric octopus would manifest and violently explore the underbellies of big black clouds in a way that made me imagine it was actually tickling the vast dark beasts, each tentacle frozen mid touch and a terrific BOOM echoing all the while. Her and I were together overwhelmed in that nerve-racking excitement felt as youths entering haunted houses or doing other such innocent exciting things. The rain was so loud!
The rest of our time consisted of similar such things. Wonderful place and certainly one of Oz\'s best towns. Our last day I toured Nimbin.
Nimbin was once a rural ghost town. Then, in 1973, the local students needed a location for 'Aquarius Festival'. Nimbin was chosen and the festival ended up being Australia's Woodstock equivalent in attendance, theme, and historical significance. Many decided to stay and Australia's epicenter of radicalism was born. Today, the town's small size (there's only 1 street and it's less than a mile) and remoteness (45 minutes from the nearest real city) make it too expensive to police. So there's a common understanding between the townsfolk and the feds: a few cops are stationed there, just enough to have a presence, the people stay quiet and the government accepts the fact that everyone's high all the time.
A rickety bus picked me up at Arts Factory 10am. The driver blasted chilled-out music and drove into the countryside. At the 40 minute mark he pulled over, stood up and gave a run down of the day: spend an hour in Nimbin, bus-tour of the countryside for 40 minutes, all-you-can-eat barbecue in the forest, swim in a lagoon, go home. Then he recited a short preface on marijuana tolerance.
One trip there was a hilarious guy from Ireland. On the way up he was shouting and singing and getting everyone excited. He was very confident in himself and everything else. He ate 3 weed-brownies, 1 weed-cookie, and drank 2 beers all in Nimbin. On the bus-tour he grew pale and ran to the driver crying to be let off.
"Why?"
He whispered "I'm dying."
"What? What are you talking about."
"I'm serious I'm dying please pull over. I'm dying."
"You'll be OK buddy there's a bag of oranges under the back seat. Eat and you'll be fine."
At the barbeque Irish complained of a stomach ache and walked up to several picnicking families. The driver pulled him away and inquired why he approached them.
"I explained my day and asked for oranges."
"OK buddy lets get you to sleep."
Driver brought Irish back to the bus and set him down in the back seat, beneath which was a cooler storing all the food for the next stop. Driver checked the cooler and discovered the bag of oranges gone. He quarried Irish. Poor bastard believed with all his sad stoned heart that citrus would save his soul and thereby ate 23 oranges. Everyone on the bus cracked up and understood. Driver sat back down and brought us to Nimbin.
Right when I hit the street locals offered marijuana. Nobody whispered but out right yelled "HEY BRO! WANT SOME CHRONIC?" from like 10 ft away. Don't worry mom I said "No thank you" to all of 'em, but on the bus I befriended a group of Schoolies and they were looking for edibles.
A local said "Cool! Find the old lady wearing a purple headband!"
And we found her at this tie dye shop and they asked her for space cakes. She was at least 70 but spoke the smooth awareness of an experienced dealer, and she smiled muttering "Now now, I made these ones with cinnamon and banana so enjoy but be careful darlings they're pretty strong so only eat a small pinch off the corner okay." So they had just that and were completely floored within 20 minutes.
We found a milkshake place and floated around the town for the next hour, then we hopped back on bus and everyone just sat there laughing at nothing. We flew through rain-forest hills for 30 minutes blasting an amazing sound-system, the best mellow songs like Dave Mathews, Oasis, Bob Marley, Chili Peppers, Incubus, etc. Then we went to an all-you-can-eat-barbecue on this lake in the rain-forest and the Aussies munched more cake. With bellies full we drove through verdant hills again blasting tunes, then found a wonderful waterfall. Everyone jumped off giggling totally baked and what not. We lounged there for a while then returned to Byron as the red sun fell behind the hills.
The next morning Brado and I rode up to Brisbane, spent the night clubbing with 11 Swedes then flew to Bali in the morning. On the flight I conjured a return visit and promised to do it all again.
Ratings & Reactions Australia [1-10:Terrible-Terrific]
Language Barrier: N/A... great accent and slang
Locals: Hilarious and kind- 9
Women: HOT HOT HOT- 9
Food: Ehhhh- 7
Nightlife: These kids know how to party- 8.5
Top 3 highlights:
1)Frasier Island
2)Whitsundays
3)Arts Factory in Byron Bay
Unique Things to Australia:
1)Kangaroo Burgers
2)Bag Wine that contains "egg and fish products" and can also be used as a pillow...huh?
3)Short shorts on grown men; something we won't miss!
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