Yesterday, we spotted our first bluebottle jelly fish on the beach. A strong northwesterly wind blowing for a few days blew loads of these beauties into our waters, with their white bubble heads and long dark blue stinging tentacles. I was actually already heading out for a run instead of a swim when I saw a ton of them washed up and the sign that read "Blue Bottles in the Water!" This did little to deter the real beach-diehards, or perhaps just the non-sign-readers.
This morning, we went to the Thursday morning Farmers Market. Largely populated by small organic farmers, there were some amazing products present. We breakfasted on a chocolate brioche (YUM) roll from a local bakery's stand, and an amazing array of samples - an incredible blue cheese from a local dairy, a bite plate of fresh made guacamole and babaganous, cane juice freshly squeezed through a machine that looked like a mulcher, and other delicious bites and munchables. Still feeling fairly flat broke but adventerous, we scouted the best deal bins and bought an enormous ripe Japanese cucumber, some fresh tomatoes, and a lovely green head of fresh spinach. All of which will make for a really exciting quiche, or scramble eggs, depending on our our stove-top quiche skills turn out.
All of which is incidental at the moment, because we have pizza leftover from work last night in the fridge, strongly calling our names. Ciao for now, it's lunchtime!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Farwalk
In which we walk far.
~It was Monday morning. Apartment day. We got up at a reasonable hour, not too early nor too late, had some brekky (oats and fruit), grabbed a copy of The Echo (the local paper) and sat on the patch of floor of the hostel nearest the wall sockets to recharge our electronics with a map, the paper, a telephone, a pen and a sheet of scratch paper. We called a zillion listings, looking for room shares, house shares, independent units, and most covetedly, studio apartments in our price range and within walking/easy biking distance to the town and the beach. After an hour or two we had two places to go visit and a bunch of call-backs coming. We set out for the Far Walk, having no idea just how far it would be and woefully under-provisioned.
*First stop, a house share in, as we were to learn, the middle of nowhere.
~The guy sounded very nice on the phone. "Sure thing," he said, "I'm not home but feel free to go have a look. It's just two kilometers past The Arts Factory."
The Arts Factory, let it be said, is a very cool hostel. Situated largely on boardwalks erected over The Cumbebin Swamp Preserve and consisting of a building of rooms and suites, dormer tents that are semipermenant structures, and a fend-for-yourself tent camping area with a shared pavilion kitchen, an swimming pool, small beach volleyball court, and water dragons hanging out everywhere, and sharing the grounds with a brewery and a cinema, it's a pretty sweet locale. Unfortunately, the rooms are seriously out of sight for our budgets, and Ben's not thrilled about the idea of living in a tent. I have a bit of a romance with the idea, but I secretly suspect he might be right. I also suspect we may be hanging out there some for the brewery's awesome happy hours anyway.
~So there we were, a few minutes walking from our place to the Arts Factory, and setting out a few kilometers beyond on a narrowish paved road with a two foot wide dirt and gravel track on either side for bicycles, pedestrians, and as we discovered, five foot snakes.
* The incident went a bit like this: We were walking along, Karen was a couple of steps ahead of me, and I was musing pleasantly to myself. "This really is lovely walk. Look at that tree. I have never seen a butterfly
that color before. Hmmm, a snake. @&%$@# "FULL REVESRE! EVERYMAN FOR HIMSELF! Wait. Grab the sister. HARD A PORT! However, all of this took place instantaneously in my head and all the heads up Karen got was my hand yanking her back.
~Hmm, very interesting internal monologue. All I remember was a very calm, "Whoa, hold up, there's a snake." Having been in a walking reverie of my own, I jumped about as far up in the air as the snake was long. Having scuttled a safe distance back, we stood and observed what we were pretty certain was a python. He waved his head about at the road a bit, apparently looking left and right to determine whether or not it was safe to pass. Our standing and gawking attracted the attention of a passing driver and cyclist who agreed that yes, it was a *$&@(*$&@ big snake. The python eventually decided that it would find a less busy crosswalk and slithered back into the swamp.
~And so, snakey interlude concluded, we continued the Far Walk, still having no idea how far we would be going.
* The walk really was gorgeous though, we had seemingly endless swamp and trees on both sides of the road that some poor bugger apparently had the misfortune to build and, after a while, the few shifted into rolling plains and horse enclosures. Were we busy taking this in and having a really charming time while, well more than two kilometers later, we were still walking.
~And walking.
*And walking.
~And walking.
~"It must be soon now."
*Any minute.
~AAAANNNNNNNNY minute now.....
While walking, we saw a pretty wood carving:
~It was Monday morning. Apartment day. We got up at a reasonable hour, not too early nor too late, had some brekky (oats and fruit), grabbed a copy of The Echo (the local paper) and sat on the patch of floor of the hostel nearest the wall sockets to recharge our electronics with a map, the paper, a telephone, a pen and a sheet of scratch paper. We called a zillion listings, looking for room shares, house shares, independent units, and most covetedly, studio apartments in our price range and within walking/easy biking distance to the town and the beach. After an hour or two we had two places to go visit and a bunch of call-backs coming. We set out for the Far Walk, having no idea just how far it would be and woefully under-provisioned.
*First stop, a house share in, as we were to learn, the middle of nowhere.
~The guy sounded very nice on the phone. "Sure thing," he said, "I'm not home but feel free to go have a look. It's just two kilometers past The Arts Factory."
The Arts Factory, let it be said, is a very cool hostel. Situated largely on boardwalks erected over The Cumbebin Swamp Preserve and consisting of a building of rooms and suites, dormer tents that are semipermenant structures, and a fend-for-yourself tent camping area with a shared pavilion kitchen, an swimming pool, small beach volleyball court, and water dragons hanging out everywhere, and sharing the grounds with a brewery and a cinema, it's a pretty sweet locale. Unfortunately, the rooms are seriously out of sight for our budgets, and Ben's not thrilled about the idea of living in a tent. I have a bit of a romance with the idea, but I secretly suspect he might be right. I also suspect we may be hanging out there some for the brewery's awesome happy hours anyway.
~So there we were, a few minutes walking from our place to the Arts Factory, and setting out a few kilometers beyond on a narrowish paved road with a two foot wide dirt and gravel track on either side for bicycles, pedestrians, and as we discovered, five foot snakes.
* The incident went a bit like this: We were walking along, Karen was a couple of steps ahead of me, and I was musing pleasantly to myself. "This really is lovely walk. Look at that tree. I have never seen a butterfly
that color before. Hmmm, a snake. @&%$@# "FULL REVESRE! EVERYMAN FOR HIMSELF! Wait. Grab the sister. HARD A PORT! However, all of this took place instantaneously in my head and all the heads up Karen got was my hand yanking her back.
~Hmm, very interesting internal monologue. All I remember was a very calm, "Whoa, hold up, there's a snake." Having been in a walking reverie of my own, I jumped about as far up in the air as the snake was long. Having scuttled a safe distance back, we stood and observed what we were pretty certain was a python. He waved his head about at the road a bit, apparently looking left and right to determine whether or not it was safe to pass. Our standing and gawking attracted the attention of a passing driver and cyclist who agreed that yes, it was a *$&@(*$&@ big snake. The python eventually decided that it would find a less busy crosswalk and slithered back into the swamp.
 |
| WARNING: Objects in photo may be WAY WAY WAY bigger than they appear! This photo was taken from a RESPECTFUL distance |
~And so, snakey interlude concluded, we continued the Far Walk, still having no idea how far we would be going.
* The walk really was gorgeous though, we had seemingly endless swamp and trees on both sides of the road that some poor bugger apparently had the misfortune to build and, after a while, the few shifted into rolling plains and horse enclosures. Were we busy taking this in and having a really charming time while, well more than two kilometers later, we were still walking.
~And walking.
*And walking.
~And walking.
~"It must be soon now."
*Any minute.
~AAAANNNNNNNNY minute now.....
While walking, we saw a pretty wood carving:
... Some nice flowers....
A beautiful great big viney tree...
* ...and a sign outside some guy's pasture that simply states "Trespassers will be recycled."
~ Signs handwritten in red spraypaint should always be heeded.
~Eventually, we found the place. Nice house, great views over fields behind and rainforest before, good layout. Not the place for us. We finally managed to arrive at the front door through sheer unwillingness to give up after coming so far. Honestly, on a bicycle, it really wouldn't be that bad. But in the dark, in the rain, in any sort of a hurry, under really any conditions other than, "Shall we go have a pleasant afternoon jaunt up Mount Kilimanjaro?" it would be a Very Far Walk, and just too far to happily commute on foot every day. And so we returned through the swamp, still in good spirits.
~Sometime around our return arrival at the Arts Factory, we got a callback from the real estate agent about a studio apartment closer to town. Enthusiastic, we continued our pursuit, although my flipflops had begun to make a vaguely squeaky protesting noise.
* After a we got back to town, we promptly walked through it and headed out the other side. Before long, we came to a whole foods produce store along the roadside. We went in just to see what it was and stayed because we realized that we really were very hungry.
*Lunch on avocado, peach, pear, and some kind of chocolate/date bar = totally delicious.
~True story. So we went on, fortified, and saw the studio apartment in our price range. Which was a very lovely sardine can with a surprisingly awesome jet-whirlpool tub filled bathroom and a very very tiny main room with a sink and a plugged in stoverange as a microwave. Nice enough and workable as a spot for one person with furniture and appliances or, you know, a blowup mattress of some kind, and a very nice scooter/moped/high powered golf cart, it was too dark, too closed in, too unprovisioned and too far to be the right place for us. So the hunt went on. We actually got a call back at the studio place about a homeshare in town, and trucked it back that way.
~The neighborhood was gorgeous. The home was lovely. The people very nice - we'd actually met one of them in town earlier without knowing it! We'd have had had a room to ourselves plus a half kitchen in another large room, places to hang our clothes, nice big beds to ourselves with no rickety ladders, hammocks galore, an easy commute into town, a shared full kitchen, only one bathroom in the house, but that'd be okay, and best of all, paying less monthly rent than a month's stay at the hostel. We really hoped it would work out, and were promised a call back.
~And, mysteriously, sometime in the intervening day, we changed our minds. It still wasn't the right spot for us - we'd have really been sharing a home with other people, and lovely as they and the home were, we found ourselves really charmed with the lifestyle here.
* Yep, the Main Beach Backpacker hostel is the place for us. So we had a good day. We got to know the town some more, figured out a little better what we want in housing and what we don't and, having walked a solid ten miles in the Australian heat while still having fun, we reaffirmed what we already knew, that we really do like hanging out together.
A Candle in the Evening - Sunday
*Alright, so it was a really big candle.
~Sacrilege! It was way more than "a really big candle." It was a beacon in the darkness, an earthly manifestation of starlight, a night guardian keeping a constant vigil over...
*Ooh, ooh, let me try! A paragon of illumination, an earth-tethered sun, a magnificence of radiance...
~It was very cool.
~We hiked up to the lighthouse to watch the stars. We actually did this entirely accidentally, having eaten dinner later than we'd planned and set off after for a bit of a walk. (Read: three hour hike over beach and the Ever Ascending Stair and winding path through the rainforest.) It was getting on in the hour, and a ways down the beach, I realized it was going to get dark while we were up there. "Drat," I said, "shoulda brought the flashlights." Upon which, Ben produced two.
~And so we climbed through the waning day, and ascended the Ever Ascending Stair (with slightly less panting than the first time we'd done the climb), and crossed the second beach and onward and upward to the lighthouse. As we walked, night fell over the rainforest.
*A rainforest at night is a majestic thing. Misty coolness drifts through the trees, faint sounds of wildlife are heard all around, and a look into the trees grants one a view of darkness...
~and lots of rustling sounds that might or might not be swamp wallabies!
*...AHEM, darkness swirling about trunks and underbrush. It was all quite serene apart from one slightly startling moment in which we were beset upon by a water dragon.
~A flipping huge water dragon, but they're harmless so that's not the point. The point is, we were walking along the cliff-y bit of the rainforest path which affords amazing views over the sea, and being in love with the sea and it being sunset and all, Ben was walking ahead with the flashlight in the failing light and I wasn't exactly looking where I was going. All of a sudden out of my peripheral vision I see Ben jump back a step (on top of my foot, no less!)...
*Dreadfully sorry old bean.
~... no worries. And swing his flashlight up like a lightsaber or something, while making an exclamation of lizardy displeasure. Which started my heart thundering like a jackhammer, knowing as we do that practically everything in this country is toothy, venomous, or poisonous, and the worst part is Ben was standing on my foot right in front of me, and he being less than opaque I STILL couldn't see what it was! And so there we were, standing on top of each other on a path in a beautiful rainforest, Ben startled and me shouting "What is it?! What is it!?!"
The eastern water dragon didn't seem to particularly mind.
*Point is, having a foot and half lizard jump out at you adds a bit of excitement to the evening.
~Meantime, the stars had started to come out, and there was the slightest sliver of a moon rising above the trees. The path went on up to the lighthouse. As we cleared the trees, the stars gleamed overhead in dazzling array. A ring of low clouds hovered around the sea and bay, but overhead was clear, and the skies so bright we seemed to be looking more at the bright spaces between the stars than the celestial bodies themselves. The lighthouse it self stood white and towering, majestic in the darkness. By day, the external architecture resembles a very small white castle, like a picture of a fairy tale book, pretty and a little bit whimsical. By night, it becomes a white stone sentry, the giant lens turning in the tower casts a brilliant white flood of light out in opposing beams of light that sweep over the sea and bay, rhythmically turning.
* The beam is incredible. Even standing on the beach more than a mile away, it is dazzling. Also, speaking of excellent lighting effects, when you stand at the base of lighthouse and look over the carpet of trees, the over-spill from the lens creates a watered pattern on huge swath of the foliage. It's just a cool experience being next a lighthouse at night. All the world is darkness with pockets of life being denoted by their own individual lights. Out a sea there are a few boats close to shore and a couple points of light far out on the horizon that mark the presence of huge ocean going vessels. Of Byron and its two nearby towns, all that can be seen are clusters of house lights and street lamps. And over it all the stars shine above and the lighthouse casts its endlessly revolving beam.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Dinner
... in which the sum of our ideas is by far greater than its parts.
*Now our dinner is perhaps not the most fascinating of subjects and we have been warned about the dangers of naval gazing while blogging. Well sir, I say that comes down to the quality of one's naval.
~ Ben, how MUCH cider did you drink?
* Ummm... just a bottle and a half.
~We only bought one.
*Ah.
~ Today, we largely took the day off. We got up reasonably late (around 830), had a leisurely breakfast, showered, did a few useful things, and reconvened for knocking off for the afternoon. And thus we found ourselves wandering around downtown exploring the town as newbies in town not wearing interview clothes and carrying resumes for the first time since... well, since we got here, I think. It was entirely pleasant. There were many interesting shops, an artists market, and so forth. But let us arrive expeditiously at the matter of dinner.
In which we had an excellent idea.
*The conversation: Me- "It's getting to be dinnertime."
Karen - "Yep. What do you want?"
Me - "We could do fruit and cheese"
Karen - "We could..."
Me - "But?"
Karen - "I have the munchies."
Me - "Kebabs and cider?"
Karen - "Much better."
~ He's leaving out that kebabs and cider were totally my idea, but having a serious case of the munchies (it's only due to his willpower that we escaped the grocery store with yogurt, fruit, cheese, and milk instead of timtams, doritos, and soda) I left the dinner decisions up to Ben. However, with a wisdom beyond his young years, Ben realized the excellence of the fruit and cheese PLUS kebabs and cider plan, and such it was that our kiwis, tasty cheese (yes, they really do sell Australian cheese in tasty and extra tasty), and other groceries marched to the liquor store for some apple cider then across the street to buy a doner kebab to split.
~ An aside about Australian cheese: It actually is tasty. Like, really, really, tasty. Tastier than American cheese. Yes, Brendan, we are willing to concede at this point that Australian food does have an absurd amount of flavor. Kraft here is GOOD.
~ An aside about Kebabs - a "doner" kebab is a shaved meat mix of lamb and beef. Also known as crack meat, it happily satisfies the dinner needs, munchies, and soul food desires of a large section of the world.
*This meal, coupled with Huey Lewis and News...
~Nooo, it was Frank Sinatra over dinner. It's Huey Lewis now, and over the post-dinner hands of gin rummy.
*This meal, coupled with excellent music, made for a perfect first Saturday in Byron celebration.
~ As if we needed a reason. We were actually going to do dinner on the beach, coupled with a long, healthful walk. However, it started raining between the liquor store and the kebab place. This seemed like sufficient reason to return with our delectables to the hostel to recharge Plucky (our netbook) over dinner and gin rummy until it is juiced up enough to go somewhere comfy and watch a movie.
*Tarzan here we come!
~Oooooeeeeaaaaahhhhooooeeeyyyaaahhhhhhhh!!!
* (in a conspiratorial whisper) Tarzan's war cry, in case that got lost in translation
~Shut up, you, that was a perfect recreation.
*In short, Strongbow is good cider.
PS - The sum total of our dinner dishes:: one Swiss army knife. Awesome.
PPS - And for dessert, some drunk guy just came around offering a box of chocolate candies in a box that said "Malteses" and which appeared to be Whoppers. Retrospectively, I'm pretty sure they were chocolate dipped dog kibbles.
*Now our dinner is perhaps not the most fascinating of subjects and we have been warned about the dangers of naval gazing while blogging. Well sir, I say that comes down to the quality of one's naval.
~ Ben, how MUCH cider did you drink?
* Ummm... just a bottle and a half.
~We only bought one.
*Ah.
~ Today, we largely took the day off. We got up reasonably late (around 830), had a leisurely breakfast, showered, did a few useful things, and reconvened for knocking off for the afternoon. And thus we found ourselves wandering around downtown exploring the town as newbies in town not wearing interview clothes and carrying resumes for the first time since... well, since we got here, I think. It was entirely pleasant. There were many interesting shops, an artists market, and so forth. But let us arrive expeditiously at the matter of dinner.
In which we had an excellent idea.
*The conversation: Me- "It's getting to be dinnertime."
Karen - "Yep. What do you want?"
Me - "We could do fruit and cheese"
Karen - "We could..."
Me - "But?"
Karen - "I have the munchies."
Me - "Kebabs and cider?"
Karen - "Much better."
~ He's leaving out that kebabs and cider were totally my idea, but having a serious case of the munchies (it's only due to his willpower that we escaped the grocery store with yogurt, fruit, cheese, and milk instead of timtams, doritos, and soda) I left the dinner decisions up to Ben. However, with a wisdom beyond his young years, Ben realized the excellence of the fruit and cheese PLUS kebabs and cider plan, and such it was that our kiwis, tasty cheese (yes, they really do sell Australian cheese in tasty and extra tasty), and other groceries marched to the liquor store for some apple cider then across the street to buy a doner kebab to split.
~ An aside about Australian cheese: It actually is tasty. Like, really, really, tasty. Tastier than American cheese. Yes, Brendan, we are willing to concede at this point that Australian food does have an absurd amount of flavor. Kraft here is GOOD.
~ An aside about Kebabs - a "doner" kebab is a shaved meat mix of lamb and beef. Also known as crack meat, it happily satisfies the dinner needs, munchies, and soul food desires of a large section of the world.
*This meal, coupled with Huey Lewis and News...
~Nooo, it was Frank Sinatra over dinner. It's Huey Lewis now, and over the post-dinner hands of gin rummy.
*This meal, coupled with excellent music, made for a perfect first Saturday in Byron celebration.
*Tarzan here we come!
~Oooooeeeeaaaaahhhhooooeeeyyyaaahhhhhhhh!!!
* (in a conspiratorial whisper) Tarzan's war cry, in case that got lost in translation
~Shut up, you, that was a perfect recreation.
*In short, Strongbow is good cider.
PS - The sum total of our dinner dishes:: one Swiss army knife. Awesome.
PPS - And for dessert, some drunk guy just came around offering a box of chocolate candies in a box that said "Malteses" and which appeared to be Whoppers. Retrospectively, I'm pretty sure they were chocolate dipped dog kibbles.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Friday
Today was a good day.
Begin with a hike to the lighthouse lookout with my brother. We went up last night, and dear god the sunset. The most amazing views of the sea. Also, turns out Byron Bay is nestled squarely utterly completely smack dab in the middle of rainforesty trees on all sides. I knew there were rainforest national parks close by - the scale of the thing had escaped me. While up there Thursday night, we'd noticed a little cafe, and resolved to go back and apply for jobs. And so, this morning at seven am we were awake and readying for the hour+ hike up the hill. (Brekky was, sadly, out of the question, as the hostel locks the fridges at night to defend our munchables from the munchies of our less sober compatriots.)
The hike was gorgeous. The views of the sea from the headland is hard to describe. It's late (ish) and I'm pleasantly sleepy from running around all day, so I won't try, and will instead post pictures soon. The cafe was not hiring, but the climb was still excellent.
We returned to the hostel for a much-needed breakfast (nothing like walking a long stretch of beach and climbing a zillion stairs for three hours to give you an appetite) of oatmeal, Greek and vanilla bean yogurt, and apples, the breakfast of champions and our morning mainstay this last week.
After brekky, I ran up to the print center to run off another thirty resumes. Ben and I had both handed out individually and independently (except for the lighthouse trip) twenty five resumes in the last twenty four hours. Another thirty, I thought, ought to do the trick. I'd found a cheaper way to print, anyway, at the local print shop instead of the chain place. I was only intending to stop back in at the gelato place and talk to the manager (I think it sounds like fun to work in an ice cream shop), but I found myself and my snazzy new manilla folder stopping in every inviting looking doorway. After a series of refusals which lead my steps to the gelato shop and past and back again, and after a few promising scribbles made on an accepted resume, a few kind but flat refusals of the "really, save your paper" variety, I stood outside the door of a pizza shop waiting to introduce myself. A girl from inside stepped out and introduced herself and shook my hand before going back to work. A man said goodmorning to me while helping another man push a cart up the sidewalk, looked me over quickly and said, "You are here looking for a job." I said, with a touch of relief, "Yes, yes I am." He told me to take a seat across the way and wait a minute. I can't begin to describe how happy that made me. The last few days of job hunting have been not unpleasant in the least. Everyone has been friendly, the hoofing it around town pretty, and it's a great way to get the lay of the land in a new place. But still, I kept having to remind myself that it was unreasonable to expect to find an immediate 'yes' in a small town full of young people looking for work. Getting even that much of a nibble was a thrill. The upshot - in a few days, I have a working interview.
I returned to the hostel walking on air to change out of interview clothes into a swim suit, shorts, a t-shirt and flipflops to go back to the dive shop for my third day of volunteering. Yesterday I got to run around doing useful things, but missed the boat (literally), which was actually fine by me - I was doing something interesting, and I wanted to spend the afternoon running around applying for work anyway. Today, I returned and pretty quickly found myself scheduled on the boat. The pace picked up a little as the previous dive run returned and there were things to do, as well as the excitement of the crew going on about twenty-meter visibility and manta rays and sea turtles and sharks just hanging out by the rocks. I (and the other crew already on the go list) couldn't believe my luck, while the last two stand-by crew battled it out in rock paper scissors for a spot.
The boat bounced in the waves as we raced out to sea, the waves much higher than the Tuesday run. We arrived at the rocks unscathed (although already more than kind of damp), geared up, and jumped in. The visibility was pretty unreal. Not moments after beginning to swim, we came across the first manta ray. All told, two manta rays, a sea turtle who hung around and came up for air in our midst and played and swam among the rock formations, a woebegone shark (the first one I've seen! pointed out by a snorkeler with great eyes - she noticed everything!) tucked away between two rock ledges on the sea floor, two leopard sharks (one smaller, one quite large), a pipe fish, a pineapple fish, and scores of others big and small, some colorful, some shiny, and some darker and schooling in swaths. The manta rays seemed totally comfortable with our presence, and swam just feet beneath us, passing and hovering, their enormous black and white wings graceful in the blue, faces gentle and exploring.
Seeing a sea turtle so close, so unconcerned with human presence... right, good, easy. Like breathing in air, or falling in love, and somehow almost unremarkable, as though obviously that is how the world and life should be, and everything else is vaguely illusory.
Anyway, so that was good.
After wrapping up at the dive shop I ran back to the hostel to meet Ben, just back in from his run on the beach. We gathered up our smellies for a much-needed load of laundry and dropped it in the washer before heading to the beach.
The day had remained cloudy, and a heavy wind coming in from the bay made the air cool, and the water seem warmer. But it also kicked up a massive surf, white and turquoise and foaming, with a current running through it stronger than anything I'd ever stood in. We played in the waves for a while, but quickly getting biffed around by the surf and spray, combined with the lifeguards packing it in for the day, called us back in to warm showers and clean laundry.
The showers were lovely, but the dryers in use and the hostel kitchen slammed. We retreated to one of the common rooms, a lounge populated by large beaten up sofas and a pool table, to blog. The internet didn't reach that far, but a few fellow hostellers were watching Friends on the large screen TV, and being tired and comfortable, we needed little further enticement to chill until eventually the call of dinner pulled us from our complacency.
Let me say, Australian beef is delicious, even before they added the herbs. When you fry it in a pan and add it to peas and egg noodles with OLD BAY (Ben deserves a MAJOR shout out here for packing the emergency rations tin, over my objections since we'd inadvertently bought the travel size of the low-sodium version and I'd incorrectly believed it was sacrilegious to mess with the formula), it becomes the dinner of champions and kings. It's hours since dinner now and I'm still flying high on carb-y meat-y spices-of-home happiness. Over dinner we returned to the excellent couches, our first real vegging out since arriving, and watched more Friends, followed by the beginning of a poorly synched pirated version of Sherlock Holmes with Italian subtitles someone had put up on the TV.
Dinner concluded, and one of the best movies of the year lacking something while fuzzy and jumpy and partly in Italian, we returned to the Land of the Wireless to blog.
In short - lighthouse pretty, breakfast tasty, job hunt successful, snorkeling awesome, beach playing fun, dinner amazing, chilling with my brother - unbeatable.
Life is good.
Begin with a hike to the lighthouse lookout with my brother. We went up last night, and dear god the sunset. The most amazing views of the sea. Also, turns out Byron Bay is nestled squarely utterly completely smack dab in the middle of rainforesty trees on all sides. I knew there were rainforest national parks close by - the scale of the thing had escaped me. While up there Thursday night, we'd noticed a little cafe, and resolved to go back and apply for jobs. And so, this morning at seven am we were awake and readying for the hour+ hike up the hill. (Brekky was, sadly, out of the question, as the hostel locks the fridges at night to defend our munchables from the munchies of our less sober compatriots.)
The hike was gorgeous. The views of the sea from the headland is hard to describe. It's late (ish) and I'm pleasantly sleepy from running around all day, so I won't try, and will instead post pictures soon. The cafe was not hiring, but the climb was still excellent.
We returned to the hostel for a much-needed breakfast (nothing like walking a long stretch of beach and climbing a zillion stairs for three hours to give you an appetite) of oatmeal, Greek and vanilla bean yogurt, and apples, the breakfast of champions and our morning mainstay this last week.
After brekky, I ran up to the print center to run off another thirty resumes. Ben and I had both handed out individually and independently (except for the lighthouse trip) twenty five resumes in the last twenty four hours. Another thirty, I thought, ought to do the trick. I'd found a cheaper way to print, anyway, at the local print shop instead of the chain place. I was only intending to stop back in at the gelato place and talk to the manager (I think it sounds like fun to work in an ice cream shop), but I found myself and my snazzy new manilla folder stopping in every inviting looking doorway. After a series of refusals which lead my steps to the gelato shop and past and back again, and after a few promising scribbles made on an accepted resume, a few kind but flat refusals of the "really, save your paper" variety, I stood outside the door of a pizza shop waiting to introduce myself. A girl from inside stepped out and introduced herself and shook my hand before going back to work. A man said goodmorning to me while helping another man push a cart up the sidewalk, looked me over quickly and said, "You are here looking for a job." I said, with a touch of relief, "Yes, yes I am." He told me to take a seat across the way and wait a minute. I can't begin to describe how happy that made me. The last few days of job hunting have been not unpleasant in the least. Everyone has been friendly, the hoofing it around town pretty, and it's a great way to get the lay of the land in a new place. But still, I kept having to remind myself that it was unreasonable to expect to find an immediate 'yes' in a small town full of young people looking for work. Getting even that much of a nibble was a thrill. The upshot - in a few days, I have a working interview.
I returned to the hostel walking on air to change out of interview clothes into a swim suit, shorts, a t-shirt and flipflops to go back to the dive shop for my third day of volunteering. Yesterday I got to run around doing useful things, but missed the boat (literally), which was actually fine by me - I was doing something interesting, and I wanted to spend the afternoon running around applying for work anyway. Today, I returned and pretty quickly found myself scheduled on the boat. The pace picked up a little as the previous dive run returned and there were things to do, as well as the excitement of the crew going on about twenty-meter visibility and manta rays and sea turtles and sharks just hanging out by the rocks. I (and the other crew already on the go list) couldn't believe my luck, while the last two stand-by crew battled it out in rock paper scissors for a spot.
The boat bounced in the waves as we raced out to sea, the waves much higher than the Tuesday run. We arrived at the rocks unscathed (although already more than kind of damp), geared up, and jumped in. The visibility was pretty unreal. Not moments after beginning to swim, we came across the first manta ray. All told, two manta rays, a sea turtle who hung around and came up for air in our midst and played and swam among the rock formations, a woebegone shark (the first one I've seen! pointed out by a snorkeler with great eyes - she noticed everything!) tucked away between two rock ledges on the sea floor, two leopard sharks (one smaller, one quite large), a pipe fish, a pineapple fish, and scores of others big and small, some colorful, some shiny, and some darker and schooling in swaths. The manta rays seemed totally comfortable with our presence, and swam just feet beneath us, passing and hovering, their enormous black and white wings graceful in the blue, faces gentle and exploring.
Seeing a sea turtle so close, so unconcerned with human presence... right, good, easy. Like breathing in air, or falling in love, and somehow almost unremarkable, as though obviously that is how the world and life should be, and everything else is vaguely illusory.
Anyway, so that was good.
After wrapping up at the dive shop I ran back to the hostel to meet Ben, just back in from his run on the beach. We gathered up our smellies for a much-needed load of laundry and dropped it in the washer before heading to the beach.
The day had remained cloudy, and a heavy wind coming in from the bay made the air cool, and the water seem warmer. But it also kicked up a massive surf, white and turquoise and foaming, with a current running through it stronger than anything I'd ever stood in. We played in the waves for a while, but quickly getting biffed around by the surf and spray, combined with the lifeguards packing it in for the day, called us back in to warm showers and clean laundry.
The showers were lovely, but the dryers in use and the hostel kitchen slammed. We retreated to one of the common rooms, a lounge populated by large beaten up sofas and a pool table, to blog. The internet didn't reach that far, but a few fellow hostellers were watching Friends on the large screen TV, and being tired and comfortable, we needed little further enticement to chill until eventually the call of dinner pulled us from our complacency.
Let me say, Australian beef is delicious, even before they added the herbs. When you fry it in a pan and add it to peas and egg noodles with OLD BAY (Ben deserves a MAJOR shout out here for packing the emergency rations tin, over my objections since we'd inadvertently bought the travel size of the low-sodium version and I'd incorrectly believed it was sacrilegious to mess with the formula), it becomes the dinner of champions and kings. It's hours since dinner now and I'm still flying high on carb-y meat-y spices-of-home happiness. Over dinner we returned to the excellent couches, our first real vegging out since arriving, and watched more Friends, followed by the beginning of a poorly synched pirated version of Sherlock Holmes with Italian subtitles someone had put up on the TV.
Dinner concluded, and one of the best movies of the year lacking something while fuzzy and jumpy and partly in Italian, we returned to the Land of the Wireless to blog.
In short - lighthouse pretty, breakfast tasty, job hunt successful, snorkeling awesome, beach playing fun, dinner amazing, chilling with my brother - unbeatable.
Life is good.
The Pools
* A couple of days ago I found that if you go far enough down the beach you reach a series of rock formations. During high tide they are mostly covered and, when the get tide goes out, a myriad of sea creatures become trapped in pools which form in the bowls and cracks of the stones. I had only briefly viewed them before, and now I was resolved to explore them in depth. Setting off among the boulders and stony walls, I looked for hidden pools with the mentality that something wonderful might be found anywhere. It was just such a mindset that took me to the top of a rock plateau where I thought a pool would be unlikely to form. In the middle of it, surrounded by solid rock, was a column of water that looked for all the world like someone had bored a ways into the stone then filled it with water. As soon as I looked into there was a great commotion of activity as dozens of creatures scattered for the protection of the plant covered walls. No matter how hard I looked I could not see where any of they had gone though I was certain that I had glanced over some, their camouflage hiding them from my view. However, much to the gratification of my inquisitive nature, some residents of the pools were not so stealthy. For fifteen minutes I sat and watched, first intrigued then amused, as a group of fish played Australian rules football with an unfortunate crustacean. For anyone who does not properly know what Australian rules football is, good news, I'm right there with you. All I say to enlighten you is that it is a very popular sport here where two teams of extremely fit and energetic men try to move a soccer ball-like object across a field by seemingly any means possible and with total disregard for the safety or well being of their collegues. Imagine a cross between football, rugby, and soccer. The aquatic version went something like this: "Big spikey-gill fish takes the shrimp down the line! Interception by zebra stripe! THE SHRIMP HAS CHANGED HANDS! Its heading towards the opposite side of the field... Look at the body shot! The shrimp's been grabbed by a third party! Is that legal? DOESN'T MATTER, WHAT A GAME! Eventually I moved to a different section of the rocks and continued on my way. For the next forty minutes or so I dodged waves, clambered over rocks, and saw crabs, fish, snails, and anemone/cucumber things I could not identify. At length I was turned back towards home by the rising tide, but that's alright. It just means that I have something to explore tomorrow.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Thursday - Caught up!
In which there is early morning job hunting in the rain with my awesome waterproof shoes and very cheerful umbrella, volunteering at the dive shop, an awesome run on the beach (in which was seen sea snails and many birds, including the apparently feral roosters and the blue-headed bird I loved from the Baltimore Aquarium), an L.S.D - "Soy Dandelion Latte" at the Fresh Cafe while catching up some much-behind blogging, and a hike to the lighthouse - to which I'm running right now. Ta ta!
WEDNESDAY - SNORKELING!
I did it! Two days in Byron Bay, and I made it to the Julian Rocks Marine Preserve, snorkeling (free in exchange for free labor, no less!)! More coming later, sparknotes for now - SEA TURTLE first few minutes in the water, LEOPARD SHARK AND MANTA RAY moments after that, zillions of fish and and MORE leopard sharks following! Tons of sea birds, tons of awesome, totally overwhelming, and some very cool new people, and I think some new friends.
BYRON
Well folks, we are here. It's Thursday now, which means impossibly somehow we have spent four days in Byron Bay already.
First, let me say that it is beautiful.
We arrived Monday morning, having caught a bus connection from the CountryLink train in a tiny town called Casino at three am Monday, which pulled into Byron Bay at just after five. Ben and I walked through a ghost town just barely coming to life by early morning light, seeing signs and shops and posters and street art that all promised a hippie beach town with a relaxed attitude toward life and a sense of fun. It seemed pretty quiet, with no one on the main street except the bus load of sleepy backpackers who unloaded at the bus stop in front of the closed vistors center. With nothing better to do and itching to see the sea, we hoofed it with our backpacks and bags to the beach, asking directions from the one hostel whose front desk was open two hours early, a guy doing some other guys a favor by opening up to rent them bikes at a stupid hour of the morning. It was only a few minute walk to the shore. We pretty quickly came up on an overlook with a bench, set down our stuff to keep it out of the damp sand (apparently it had rained the night before) and pulled out our provisions - a dinner roll kept from the dinner on the train the night before (we'd shared a chicken schnitzel, which was surprisingly tasty - either we were much hungrier than we'd been giving ourselves credit for, or train food is shockingly good given the three foot square footage of their kitchen galley), and a jar of peanut butter sent with us by our cousin. We had not yet manged to peanutbutter our bread when my brother said, "Hey, I think I saw something aquatic out there."
We looked out, and spotted dolphins. There was a whole pod, feeding just offshore. Oh, yes. This was going to be a good place. The sun came up over the lighthouse on the most easterly point in Australia, and we breakfasted with the dolphins.
After the dolphins had moved on, the sun had come up, and we'd eaten our breakfast, we headed back into town, down the main street, and quickly ran across the Why Not, an open cafe with wireless internet. I ordered a mocha, which turned out to be very dark chocolate, very little sugar, and very high quality coffee, and we googled the addresses and phone numbers of hostels. No one was answering their phones - it was still only about six or seven AM - and this is a very small town, so we decided just to hoof it. We walked from place to place, and at I think only our third stop got a good vibe with a price we could live with at the YHA. We couldn't check in until ten, so we dropped most of our stuff in the storage locker, and went back to walk around and explore the town. We found lots of cafes, bars, and restaurants, lots of hippie shops, some souvenier shops, some clothing shops, a few specialty food shops, and a very excellent hat shop where I bought a large brimmed straw hat with fun beadwork for fifteen dollars - after nearly roasting my face on the beach a few days before, I'd resolved to buy the first sunshade hat I found and liked in a reasonable price range. So far, the day was quite the success.
Byron Bay was coming alive, and everywhere surfers and employees were waking up and heading out of doors, to open businesses and man the beach. We wandered along the beach for a while ourselves, rolling up our long pants (bus seats are horrifically itchy in shorts) and taking off our lace-up shoes (while AC can be nice, I'll never understand why mass transit has to be so cold). It was nearly check-in time, and we were quite hungry, so we went back to the hostel via Subway. I know, I know, starting at a US chain restaruant in a new place, but hear me out - footlong seafood sub on honey oat bread with avocado for seven dollars. Seriously, dude, beat that.
We returned to the YHA, satisfied with lunch, and moved into our room, a sleeps-five that was as yet empty, noting along the way the nice looking in-ground pool with a lounging area and the pool table. Everywhere were exciting posters promising diving, snorkeling, sea turtles, kayaking, dolphins, hot air ballooning, surfing, and various other adventures.
As we unpacked, mercifully brushed our teeth, and put the sheets on the beds, we acquired a roommate, Alex from England. Alex was on a tour round the world, having just been in Brazil and Argentina, and heading from Australia to Thailand and on through Asia. We pulled together our beach stuff, put on a gallon of sunscreen each, borrowed boogie boards from the front desk, and returned to the sea. The sun was bright and hot, the water was clear and aqua marine and turquoise, the surf was up, and beyond the surf a few kilometers out to sea was the Julian Rocks Marine Preserve, the rock formation visible above water. According to Aboriginal legend, the rocks are a wrecked canoe, split by the spear of a jealous husband sinking the craft of a philandering wife and her lover. Below the waves out there were the photos and video I'd been oogling online of leopard and woebeone sharks, manta rays, sea turtles, and zillions of rock reef fish. We played in the waves, and I promised myself I would be out there soon. I watched boats go by, and kayaks go out with jealousy and promise, and the waves kicked up and the surf was white and blue and perfect.
After several hours, the space of which felt like only a few minutes, bus-lag insanity set it. I can't really explain it. It was too perfect and I was too tired - I felt like I'd stepped into a poster - nice, but nothing I could interact with. The town was perfect, but quiet, the surf was immaculate, but kept dropping me, a very novice boogie boarder, on my head. My contacts were bothering me from salt and sand and being up all night. The marine preserve seemed untouchably far. I turned to Ben and said, "This is awesome, and it may just be the bus-lag talking, but I think I want to keep going North. I feel Queensland calling my name." Surely, if I just kept going, I would stumble upon a paradise that fell open at my feet. He looked at me with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. Being the wiser of us two he said, "Okay, we can think about it. But I think I could be happy here."
I gave myself a shake. I don't know how to explain it - it was a strange sensation, trying for so long and so hard to get somewhere, and arriving not being sure it was what you'd been looking for. Ben seemed pretty sure this was a good place, pretty sure he wanted to stay. He was my travelling buddy, we both had to be happy, I told myself, and our funds would only let us search for the perfect place for so long before we set out to look for work in earnest. I also intellectually knew there was the very real possibility it was a caffiene and sleep deprivation and sensory overload induced madness. We decided to seek out dinner and worry about making decisions later. Realizing we'd been in the surf for far longer than I'd originally supposed made me even more doubtful of my fears that I'd come this far, but maybe not quite far enough.
We went up the street to the Woolworths, a grocery chain we've been seeing everywhere in Australia so far, and did our very first grocery shop ever as traveling buddies - sausages, oats, apples, pears, Greek yogurt, juices, milk, a loaf of whole grain bread, green beans, tomato sauce, neon green plastic bowls (which would serve multiple functions excellently), and a silver plastic very sturdy cutlery set box. Awesome.
Let me take a very valuable moment for an aside about tomato sauce. I love it. I'm not cray about ketchup at home - it's okay, but nothing thrilling. I have no brand preferences, and feel very take it or leave it about it, except on eggs where I personally strongly feel that it is tabboo, and hot dogs where it is necessary. Tomato sauce is awesome. It's less viscous than ketchup, more tomatoey, less vinegary, and has this totally delightful underflavor of cloves.
We went back to the hostel kitchen, made a few friends over cooking dinner, cooked up our sausages in a skillet and boiled up the green beans. Putting the greenbeans in our green plastic bowls, our sausage sandwiches on top like steam lids, Rosella-brand tomato sauce bottle in one hand and beach towel in the other, we headed back to the surf and sand.
Sitting on the beach, eating our meal together, watching the sun set orange and red over the many-blue sea, the wind blowing in my hair, I was suddenly home. All my fears were gone (for the moment), and life was perfect. Nothing like a little sandy grit in your sandwich to make life come perfectly crystal clear. My god, we agreed, this was a beautiful place. We decided we'd try to stay.
We returned to the hostel, happier and calmer and well fed, for a dunk in the pool and a game of pool. We fell asleep early that night, and (apparently, as we were told the following morning) slept through an ENORMOUS storm. If the storm we were treated to the following night was any indication, the storms here are massive and awesome. But we'd been awake since the day before, and heard nary a raindrop.
Our first day in Byron Bay was complete.
Anyway, I'd love to keep writing here, but I have run. I promised Ben I'd meet him in about half an hour almost forty minutes ago so we can finally make the hike up to the lighthouse, and watch the sea from the most easterly point in Australia. I promise I'll be a little better about keeping up on this blog and keeping up with family and friends who I haven't spoken to in ages - it's been dawn to dusk and beyond exploration here in my life nonstop the last two weeks, but I think I'm beginning to find a place and a pace and niche, and hope to be in even better touch as I make this place my own.
Meantime, love to you all from Byron Bay, a place I'm beginning to consider one of the most beautiful and perfect in the world.
First, let me say that it is beautiful.
We arrived Monday morning, having caught a bus connection from the CountryLink train in a tiny town called Casino at three am Monday, which pulled into Byron Bay at just after five. Ben and I walked through a ghost town just barely coming to life by early morning light, seeing signs and shops and posters and street art that all promised a hippie beach town with a relaxed attitude toward life and a sense of fun. It seemed pretty quiet, with no one on the main street except the bus load of sleepy backpackers who unloaded at the bus stop in front of the closed vistors center. With nothing better to do and itching to see the sea, we hoofed it with our backpacks and bags to the beach, asking directions from the one hostel whose front desk was open two hours early, a guy doing some other guys a favor by opening up to rent them bikes at a stupid hour of the morning. It was only a few minute walk to the shore. We pretty quickly came up on an overlook with a bench, set down our stuff to keep it out of the damp sand (apparently it had rained the night before) and pulled out our provisions - a dinner roll kept from the dinner on the train the night before (we'd shared a chicken schnitzel, which was surprisingly tasty - either we were much hungrier than we'd been giving ourselves credit for, or train food is shockingly good given the three foot square footage of their kitchen galley), and a jar of peanut butter sent with us by our cousin. We had not yet manged to peanutbutter our bread when my brother said, "Hey, I think I saw something aquatic out there."
We looked out, and spotted dolphins. There was a whole pod, feeding just offshore. Oh, yes. This was going to be a good place. The sun came up over the lighthouse on the most easterly point in Australia, and we breakfasted with the dolphins.
After the dolphins had moved on, the sun had come up, and we'd eaten our breakfast, we headed back into town, down the main street, and quickly ran across the Why Not, an open cafe with wireless internet. I ordered a mocha, which turned out to be very dark chocolate, very little sugar, and very high quality coffee, and we googled the addresses and phone numbers of hostels. No one was answering their phones - it was still only about six or seven AM - and this is a very small town, so we decided just to hoof it. We walked from place to place, and at I think only our third stop got a good vibe with a price we could live with at the YHA. We couldn't check in until ten, so we dropped most of our stuff in the storage locker, and went back to walk around and explore the town. We found lots of cafes, bars, and restaurants, lots of hippie shops, some souvenier shops, some clothing shops, a few specialty food shops, and a very excellent hat shop where I bought a large brimmed straw hat with fun beadwork for fifteen dollars - after nearly roasting my face on the beach a few days before, I'd resolved to buy the first sunshade hat I found and liked in a reasonable price range. So far, the day was quite the success.
Byron Bay was coming alive, and everywhere surfers and employees were waking up and heading out of doors, to open businesses and man the beach. We wandered along the beach for a while ourselves, rolling up our long pants (bus seats are horrifically itchy in shorts) and taking off our lace-up shoes (while AC can be nice, I'll never understand why mass transit has to be so cold). It was nearly check-in time, and we were quite hungry, so we went back to the hostel via Subway. I know, I know, starting at a US chain restaruant in a new place, but hear me out - footlong seafood sub on honey oat bread with avocado for seven dollars. Seriously, dude, beat that.
We returned to the YHA, satisfied with lunch, and moved into our room, a sleeps-five that was as yet empty, noting along the way the nice looking in-ground pool with a lounging area and the pool table. Everywhere were exciting posters promising diving, snorkeling, sea turtles, kayaking, dolphins, hot air ballooning, surfing, and various other adventures.
As we unpacked, mercifully brushed our teeth, and put the sheets on the beds, we acquired a roommate, Alex from England. Alex was on a tour round the world, having just been in Brazil and Argentina, and heading from Australia to Thailand and on through Asia. We pulled together our beach stuff, put on a gallon of sunscreen each, borrowed boogie boards from the front desk, and returned to the sea. The sun was bright and hot, the water was clear and aqua marine and turquoise, the surf was up, and beyond the surf a few kilometers out to sea was the Julian Rocks Marine Preserve, the rock formation visible above water. According to Aboriginal legend, the rocks are a wrecked canoe, split by the spear of a jealous husband sinking the craft of a philandering wife and her lover. Below the waves out there were the photos and video I'd been oogling online of leopard and woebeone sharks, manta rays, sea turtles, and zillions of rock reef fish. We played in the waves, and I promised myself I would be out there soon. I watched boats go by, and kayaks go out with jealousy and promise, and the waves kicked up and the surf was white and blue and perfect.
After several hours, the space of which felt like only a few minutes, bus-lag insanity set it. I can't really explain it. It was too perfect and I was too tired - I felt like I'd stepped into a poster - nice, but nothing I could interact with. The town was perfect, but quiet, the surf was immaculate, but kept dropping me, a very novice boogie boarder, on my head. My contacts were bothering me from salt and sand and being up all night. The marine preserve seemed untouchably far. I turned to Ben and said, "This is awesome, and it may just be the bus-lag talking, but I think I want to keep going North. I feel Queensland calling my name." Surely, if I just kept going, I would stumble upon a paradise that fell open at my feet. He looked at me with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. Being the wiser of us two he said, "Okay, we can think about it. But I think I could be happy here."
I gave myself a shake. I don't know how to explain it - it was a strange sensation, trying for so long and so hard to get somewhere, and arriving not being sure it was what you'd been looking for. Ben seemed pretty sure this was a good place, pretty sure he wanted to stay. He was my travelling buddy, we both had to be happy, I told myself, and our funds would only let us search for the perfect place for so long before we set out to look for work in earnest. I also intellectually knew there was the very real possibility it was a caffiene and sleep deprivation and sensory overload induced madness. We decided to seek out dinner and worry about making decisions later. Realizing we'd been in the surf for far longer than I'd originally supposed made me even more doubtful of my fears that I'd come this far, but maybe not quite far enough.
We went up the street to the Woolworths, a grocery chain we've been seeing everywhere in Australia so far, and did our very first grocery shop ever as traveling buddies - sausages, oats, apples, pears, Greek yogurt, juices, milk, a loaf of whole grain bread, green beans, tomato sauce, neon green plastic bowls (which would serve multiple functions excellently), and a silver plastic very sturdy cutlery set box. Awesome.
Let me take a very valuable moment for an aside about tomato sauce. I love it. I'm not cray about ketchup at home - it's okay, but nothing thrilling. I have no brand preferences, and feel very take it or leave it about it, except on eggs where I personally strongly feel that it is tabboo, and hot dogs where it is necessary. Tomato sauce is awesome. It's less viscous than ketchup, more tomatoey, less vinegary, and has this totally delightful underflavor of cloves.
We went back to the hostel kitchen, made a few friends over cooking dinner, cooked up our sausages in a skillet and boiled up the green beans. Putting the greenbeans in our green plastic bowls, our sausage sandwiches on top like steam lids, Rosella-brand tomato sauce bottle in one hand and beach towel in the other, we headed back to the surf and sand.
Sitting on the beach, eating our meal together, watching the sun set orange and red over the many-blue sea, the wind blowing in my hair, I was suddenly home. All my fears were gone (for the moment), and life was perfect. Nothing like a little sandy grit in your sandwich to make life come perfectly crystal clear. My god, we agreed, this was a beautiful place. We decided we'd try to stay.
We returned to the hostel, happier and calmer and well fed, for a dunk in the pool and a game of pool. We fell asleep early that night, and (apparently, as we were told the following morning) slept through an ENORMOUS storm. If the storm we were treated to the following night was any indication, the storms here are massive and awesome. But we'd been awake since the day before, and heard nary a raindrop.
Our first day in Byron Bay was complete.
Anyway, I'd love to keep writing here, but I have run. I promised Ben I'd meet him in about half an hour almost forty minutes ago so we can finally make the hike up to the lighthouse, and watch the sea from the most easterly point in Australia. I promise I'll be a little better about keeping up on this blog and keeping up with family and friends who I haven't spoken to in ages - it's been dawn to dusk and beyond exploration here in my life nonstop the last two weeks, but I think I'm beginning to find a place and a pace and niche, and hope to be in even better touch as I make this place my own.
Meantime, love to you all from Byron Bay, a place I'm beginning to consider one of the most beautiful and perfect in the world.
Golf: At Which We are Terrible (Thurs. Feb 16th)
Post and photos of having fun and failing (playing inadvertent put-put on a real course) up soon!
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Katoomba, NSW
~ 7:03 am: Just finished watching a sunrise from my cousin's place in Tregear so beautiful and so perfect at moments it looked like an idea of a sunrise, actual egg-yolk on the horizon rays of creamy gold light streaking up to the sky through a fluffy pile of pink and purple clouds, the moon hanging opposite in the blue morning sky. The birds are still a marvel to me, a whole new symphony of morning. Lots of Australian magpies, a few morning doves I recognizes, lots of little twittering black and white birds I've got no guesses about yet, and white parrots and/or sulphur crested cockatoos (I can't tell them apart from the air yet).
~ Today: KATOOMBA! A place in the Blue Mountains (so called for the blue color they get from the eucalypts, or so I hear.)
~ We breakfasted and headed into the mountains. The drive from Tregear was only an hour or two, and pretty soon the views from the car turned into vistas as we climbed into the mountains. Driving into the town, Katoomba feels very much like a very small town perched on top of the world. Streets seem to give way to sheer air and views as long as the eye can follow in every direction. We headed to the park visitor's center, where a platform extends from the parking area over the valley, and on a clear day (which we very luckily had) the sweeping view shows miles and miles of rainforest and rock features.
~ Ben and I scampered down a path that took us to the Three Sisters rock formation. The Three Sisters is the European's version - apparently, according to the sign, the Aboriginal version of the story is the Seven Sisters, and relates to the Seven Sisters/Pleiades constellation. The path was pretty, and not terribly long considering how far away the Sisters looked from the overlook.
~ And so, it was pretty. From there we jumped back in the car and Yvonne drove to the entrance to the Scenic World park (I know, I know, the name is a little on the nose, but trust me, the park's interface with the Blue Mountains is amazing). Scenic World hosts the central hub for a Skyway cable car across the mountain pass, a Railway that was repurposed from Katoomba's mining days and drops screaming visitors straight down through the rainforest growth at a fifty degree angle (while playing John William's theme from Indiana Jones, of course), and a Cableway tram that pulls you back up the mountain for a much needed spot of lunch. At the end of the Skyway is a hike down to a waterfall and a path along the river until it turns into a much longer waterfall all the way down to the valley floor below, and at the end of the Railway is a boardwalk through the rainforest.
~ Impossibly, these three completely distinct tour rides are all staffed by a man named Andy. Andy is fantastic. He apparently speaks every language known to man, and greets each passenger individually and with a degree of enthusiasm that seems disproportionate to the number of people he must greet every day. He asks around where everyone is from, does an excellent running commentary of the sights visible from the various skyways (repeating himself in whatever combination of languages is required for the minutes-long trip), and congratulating those passengers who were scared to step foot off the ledge.
* He was awesome and really did seem to be everywhere at once. He took us on the first cable car across a huge valley with a beautiful waterfall...
~ Today: KATOOMBA! A place in the Blue Mountains (so called for the blue color they get from the eucalypts, or so I hear.)
~ We breakfasted and headed into the mountains. The drive from Tregear was only an hour or two, and pretty soon the views from the car turned into vistas as we climbed into the mountains. Driving into the town, Katoomba feels very much like a very small town perched on top of the world. Streets seem to give way to sheer air and views as long as the eye can follow in every direction. We headed to the park visitor's center, where a platform extends from the parking area over the valley, and on a clear day (which we very luckily had) the sweeping view shows miles and miles of rainforest and rock features.
~ Ben and I scampered down a path that took us to the Three Sisters rock formation. The Three Sisters is the European's version - apparently, according to the sign, the Aboriginal version of the story is the Seven Sisters, and relates to the Seven Sisters/Pleiades constellation. The path was pretty, and not terribly long considering how far away the Sisters looked from the overlook.
 |
| A Sister. |
 |
| Back up the cliff! |
 |
| The rock of the Sisters up close |
 |
| The Secret Stair! |
~ And so, it was pretty. From there we jumped back in the car and Yvonne drove to the entrance to the Scenic World park (I know, I know, the name is a little on the nose, but trust me, the park's interface with the Blue Mountains is amazing). Scenic World hosts the central hub for a Skyway cable car across the mountain pass, a Railway that was repurposed from Katoomba's mining days and drops screaming visitors straight down through the rainforest growth at a fifty degree angle (while playing John William's theme from Indiana Jones, of course), and a Cableway tram that pulls you back up the mountain for a much needed spot of lunch. At the end of the Skyway is a hike down to a waterfall and a path along the river until it turns into a much longer waterfall all the way down to the valley floor below, and at the end of the Railway is a boardwalk through the rainforest.
~ Impossibly, these three completely distinct tour rides are all staffed by a man named Andy. Andy is fantastic. He apparently speaks every language known to man, and greets each passenger individually and with a degree of enthusiasm that seems disproportionate to the number of people he must greet every day. He asks around where everyone is from, does an excellent running commentary of the sights visible from the various skyways (repeating himself in whatever combination of languages is required for the minutes-long trip), and congratulating those passengers who were scared to step foot off the ledge.
* He was awesome and really did seem to be everywhere at once. He took us on the first cable car across a huge valley with a beautiful waterfall...
...where we had a lovely nature hike. Andy turned up again on the Cableway (on different side of the park) to take our cousins back to the visitor center, and we ran into him during our own assent. Actually, once we reached the top of the Cableway, Andy suggested that we wait until everyone left, get the premier standing room by the massive window of the cable car and ride it back down again just for the view. Boy was he right. Descending into a rain forest by cable car is an unforgettable experience. Which brings me to the rain forest itself. It has been a lifelong ambition of mine to one day walk in rain forest and it was everything I hoped it might be. Cool and just a little damp, there was green and plants I did not recognize everywhere. Also, there was some man made beauty interspersed with nature's own. Intermittently placed in the trees along the elevated wooden walkway we were on were works of art and sculpture. The were each done in such a way that they accentuated the vast and untamed nature that surrounded them. The only other man made items that we passed were pieces of ancient debris from the nearby mine that was cool enough for the builders of the park to leave there. One such example was a wheel which used to be part of pulley that visitors could reach out and spin from the walkway. Even though the mine has not operated since the eighteen hundreds and has not been serviced since, the wheel spins flawlessly with just brush of the finger. But the Germans made it so what did you expect? After a lengthy and wonderful walk through the trees, we decided it was time to rejoin our family, and not a moment too soon. Just a we reached the cable car overhang a huge rainstorm of... well, rain forest proportions hit. It cleared briefly as we took the Cableway up and back down to forest floor and we were treated to a view of mist swirling around the tree covered hills and valleys that seemed to stretch on forever. After a short hike, during which we stayed mercifully dry (a two hour car ride with wet pants is nothing to scoff at) we made it to the railway overhang. In less than a minute, the skies opened again with rain and hail this time. As the railway platform is well above the forest floor, we watched rain and hail pouring into the trees from a birds eye view.
~It was awesome. Truly, magnificently awesome. The hail (bigger than a pea, smaller than a marble, and oodles of it) pounded on the tin roof of the platform storm shelter, rain came down in buckets and sheets of droplets so fat they were nearly the size of the hail pellets themselves. The wind pushing the clouds through the mountains continually opened pockets of visibility through the mist and steam and dark gray storm clouds, and closed them up again. The storm lightened enough that the Railway began running again, and a remarkably, mercifully dry car arrived down the tracks. The Rail cars were completely open on the side with the exception of a thin white chain that sort of indicated that you might not want to step out or hold small children or handbags out over the side while the steep descent and ascent were in progress. We scrambled into the front car and watched the rainforest drop away.
~ We arrived back on the top platform just in time for the second wave of the hailstorm to hit. We rejoined our cousins on the cafe platform on top of the world and the skies continued to pour. For a time. In in the space of a few short minutes, the storm cleared again, and for good. The sun returned to warm the now very cool afternoon. As we returned to the carpark, wowed and happy and still remarkably dry, the mists continued to rise over the mountains.
Featherdale Wildlife Park (Feb 17)
*Featherdale Wildlife Park is fantastic! Though this Australia so you can probably expect all of our posts to begin with ....is fantastic! Placed conveniently close to the house of relatives, it is a sanctuary of a myriad of Australian animals, both iconic and otherwise.
~ Agreed. After our first Australian Early Morning Run, and a delicious breakfast of jamon serrano and tomato on toast, we went with our cousins to the park. Upon entering, you are issued a Passport of Animals which dually serves as a park map. The entry way exhibit is already very cool. There are large aviary enclosures housing a colorful assortment of Australian birds enticing your eye to follow their aerial antics and loud calls, so it is that you manage to walk across a teeny bridge and through a gate into the park without really looking where you are going. Which lasts promptly until you are confronted by a wallaby.
Much of the park's enclosures are completely free ranging, with fencing for the exhibits that loosely indicates to the more domesticated of the avian inhabitants where they ought to come back for dinner each night, and open roaming areas for groups of the wallabys, kangaroos, and a few very insistent emus, one of whom nearly took Ben's hand off.
* Ok, so here how the story goes. When you get to the Kangaroo enclosure you enter a largeish plot of land through a gate which closes behind you and immediately confronted with a dozen kangaroos that hopping or lounging about. As a guy coming from Maryland, it is an exceptionally cool experience to able walk up to a free ranging Kangaroo. After admiring them for a while Manuel got us each a ice cream cone full of some kind of dry grass feed and invited us to feed the roos. Those guys are so cute. When I knelt down and held out the cone in front of one he took a couple of inquisitive whiffs then stuck his face in and started munching happily away. However, the sudden appearance of snack caught the attention of one of the emus which also shared the enclosure and it started to walk my way. That's when the trouble started. When VERY large bird was standing next to me I thought "Hey, now worries. He's just curious, like a big pigeon." Nope. SHOOOMMWHACK His beak (roughly the size of my hand) shot in and out of the cone I was holding with a speed I usually associate with striking snakes. "Well, that was unsettling." SHOOOMMWHACK "OK, backing up. Nice birdy." By this point I was entertained but had stood up and resolved to give the cone to the nearest Kangaroo I saw. Seeing a freindly and hopeful looking fellow, I knelt and handed him the cone. Once again, they are so cute. He took the cone in his two little hands and started contentedly on the cone. One last time, SHOOOMWHACK and GULP. The emu had come up alongside the roo, snatched the cone from his hands and eaten the cone in one giant swallow. So, in summary, Kangaroos=cute, emus= decisive.
~ It looked like this:
~ From my perspective, very funny. We also saw...
 |
| Wallabies, sittin' on a log. There was a little refuge area they could duck under a single pole to access in case any tourists were being too annoying. These guys seemed pretty chilled out on their perch. |
 |
| Tawny Frogmouths! I'd only ever seen one before, in captivity and half a world away. Here was one sitting out in the open, inches away from the footpath. Then I looked up and saw about six of them just behind this guy. |
 |
| Red kangaroos and Grey kangaroos. Go on, guess which is which. I'll bet you're right! |
 |
| Fairy Penguins! Surprisingly small and blue, native inhabitants of the Great Australian Bight, and totally adorably named. *Australia has penguins!? New plan, assume Australia has everything. |
Also, echindas (adorable), wombats (absurd), rock tailed wallabies (VERY speedy!), a chicken-like bird with a totally ridiculous hair-do, and a crocodile and a taipan. This now concludes our entire Australian, or indeed worldwide, viewing quotas for taipan, the most dangerous snake in the world. It was asleep, behind glass, and safely out of reach. May it and it's kin stay that way.
~ And so, after a totally mesmerizing and wonderful day at the Featherdale Wildlife Park, our cousins took us on to the Panther's Club for lunch. Battered fried barramundi fish and chips with Queensland's own XXXX beer. Could any afternoon be better?
~ From Featherdale, we went to check out the Australian Whitewater Kayaking Course, just because it seemed like a cool thing to see. We all parked, and Ben and I went exploring. As we walked around, we kept thinking, "WHOA everyone here is in REALLY amazing shape! Clearly, we have found the seriously fit section of Australia." And then we saw the sign on the board that said it was the Australian Whitewater Kayaking Open that day. So we sat for a while and watched the runs. Those guys made it look easy; a great show. We watched until just watching made us hungry, and reunited with our cousins to go to their daughter and son-in-laws place to return the borrowed grandchild and have pizza.
~ I have this to say: Dominoes in Australia is different, and awesome. For starters, the meat selection choices are way more exciting than at home. Secondly, the crusts are thinner, less doughy, more crusty. Excellent. And best of all, one of the pizzas has BBQ sauce as a base, in place of marinara. Just genius. And in such fashion, we passed another completely lovely evening with a wing of our Australian family.
Touchdown! (written Feb 7&9th - Wednesday never happened!)
Tuesday Feb 7th:
730 am - blueberry oatmeal
1 pm - planned departure for BWI
1:50 pm - ACTUAL depature for BWI
BWI Airport Security: shockingly quick, despite a line the length of the Mississippi Rive
Seating: Roomy (cheers for economy plus)
Moon: full & blood orange, changing to mandarin gold
TAKEOFF!
Estimated flight time: 5 hours 16 minutes
Sunset from the plane: Incredibly beautiful. Stacked layers of color saturation turning into swaths of red and gray like a beta fish's tail
* "One of the marvels of modern science. You can pee at 30,000 feet."
Dinner and a show - we'd packed peanut butter banana sandwiches on multigrain bread (delicious) and watched "The Big Bang Theory."
Inflight Movie: "The Three Musketeers."
My only question: "WHY are they ninjas?"
The tunes: Rockin'
Eventually the clouds broke up and we flew over the Rockies. The full moon reflected on the snowy mountains, illuminating the ranges, single points of light scattered through the snowy darkness indicating homes and outposts in the vastness.
Gin Rummy Scores: suffice it to say I won
1:15 am EST - arrival in LAX. The cloud cover over LA glowed orange with the lights of the city by night.
Wolfgang Puck's in LAX for a midnight snack.
TAKEOFF (again)
being sleepy, we slept through the beginning of the flight. By the time I looked out the window again, all that was below was a vast blue ocean lit by the moon. In the words of Joss Whedon, if you looked too long you could "go bibbledy over it."
We slept again. And woke up. And fell asleep again. And watched a movie or seven. (The half of "The Big Year" I saw was GREAT)
Don't we look pretty after a zillion hours of flying??
730 am - blueberry oatmeal
1 pm - planned departure for BWI
1:50 pm - ACTUAL depature for BWI
BWI Airport Security: shockingly quick, despite a line the length of the Mississippi Rive
Seating: Roomy (cheers for economy plus)
Moon: full & blood orange, changing to mandarin gold
TAKEOFF!
Estimated flight time: 5 hours 16 minutes
Sunset from the plane: Incredibly beautiful. Stacked layers of color saturation turning into swaths of red and gray like a beta fish's tail
* "One of the marvels of modern science. You can pee at 30,000 feet."
Dinner and a show - we'd packed peanut butter banana sandwiches on multigrain bread (delicious) and watched "The Big Bang Theory."
Inflight Movie: "The Three Musketeers."
My only question: "WHY are they ninjas?"
The tunes: Rockin'
Eventually the clouds broke up and we flew over the Rockies. The full moon reflected on the snowy mountains, illuminating the ranges, single points of light scattered through the snowy darkness indicating homes and outposts in the vastness.
Gin Rummy Scores: suffice it to say I won
1:15 am EST - arrival in LAX. The cloud cover over LA glowed orange with the lights of the city by night.
Wolfgang Puck's in LAX for a midnight snack.
TAKEOFF (again)
being sleepy, we slept through the beginning of the flight. By the time I looked out the window again, all that was below was a vast blue ocean lit by the moon. In the words of Joss Whedon, if you looked too long you could "go bibbledy over it."
We slept again. And woke up. And fell asleep again. And watched a movie or seven. (The half of "The Big Year" I saw was GREAT)
 |
| Our first sunrise over the Pacific! |
Indiana Backe, filling out his customs intake form.
Australian Customs: Super friendly! None of this carrying a big gun nonsense. More like, "Nothing illegal? Get on with you then!"
Our cousins meeting us at the airport: AWESOME!
Australian Customs: Super friendly! None of this carrying a big gun nonsense. More like, "Nothing illegal? Get on with you then!"
Our cousins meeting us at the airport: AWESOME!
Friday, February 10, 2012
Something Seems Fishy Here (and other good life skills for living at the beach) - Feb 5th
We've decided catching cleaning and cooking our own fish is going to be an excellent plan for fresh protein. That neither of us has caught a fish in ages or ever cleaned one was just a minor detail. So we called our local friendly Giant fishmonger and procured a wild caught Chesapeake Bay rockfish.
Cleaning the fish went something like this:
EEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
But it was successful, anyway. (Despite Ben being slightly impaled on a spike)
Very "The Godfather," isn't it?
EEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
But it was successful, anyway. (Despite Ben being slightly impaled on a spike)
And eventually, this guy turned into a delicious lemon-pepper baked rockfish with mango-avocado salsa. Yummm.
We're all set to go! Bring on the beach!
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Bon Voyage Party! Feb. 4th
Party Prep!
Snowy Grill Master!
 |
| Wintertime Shenanigans |
 |
| The Party Pineapple |
 |
| A Snowy Maryland Send Off |
 |
| A Lantern for Luck |
(Written) Feb 3, 2012, PM.
Well, I’ve just finished my last day of work. Ben wrapped up
earlier this week. We’re officially homeless and unemployed, or, as I like to
think of it, Rangers. (You know, not all who wander are lost…) We’re ready to
step out the front door and set out to see the world.
I’m panicking a little.
Just a bit, mind you. Mostly I’m excited. Really, really,
thrilled to the point of jumping out of my skin excited. But just starting to
feel a bit butterflies-around-the-edges scared. I know, for me, the point of no
return was when I decided to go. And I know I effectively quit my jobs when I
gave notice a month ago. They’ve been great jobs, and I’ve enjoyed them. And
like a nut, I’m choosing to leave. The ties that bind, even when they’re good,
hold you to the ground. And I know for sure it’s time to fly.
But I’m getting a little scared, like a cartoon character
who’s just run off the edge of a cliff and continued running on air with absolute confidence,
right up until he looked down the wrinkled length of his coyote nose and
noticed the dizzying drop. In these first post-job hours, I’m teetering with wild
abandon between feeling happy, calm, this is good, and feeling like a flailing wily cartoon canid.
So I did the only sensible thing a girl can do, and changed
out of work clothes into running shoes and took my dog for a run.
(My dog. A ten year old terrier named Loki, after the
Norse trickster god. He was going to be coming along and chasing kangaroos
until the cows came home, but the continent of Australia doesn’t have rabies and they’re quite particular about keeping it that way. My noble
parents are dog-sitting until Loki can rejoin the team for the next adventure.)
I found myself feeling light and happy, running into the
sunset, and blogging away in my head. I was making changes, tweaking, editing,
writing up new adventures to be had, and ran back merrily to mentally continue
the adventure.
And then I couldn’t log into blogger.
Apparently, in the excitement over coming up with awesome
blog names and passwords, Ben and I had neglected to write down our password.
And being totally, completely, utterly calm like I am, I started wigging out. I
tried every combination of password reset options available, until blogger told
me they’d review it and get back to me in three to five days.
At which point I started wigging out aloud loud about how I
desperately wanted to upload posts and despairing as to how could we possibly begin the
adventure without access to our trip log, and Ben, ever sanguine and seeing
through the completely impenetrable fog of the massive problem, pointed out
that we could just record our posts on the desktop and post them whenever we
got access back. And, very tactfully and wisely not making any insinuation
about a possible connection between my recent job-leaving and flailing-coyote
impression, asked if I wanted to join him for a couple of miles.
God, yes.
So I went for a second run (relax, it was only four miles
in all), and saw the rest of the sunset down, and realized just maybe we could
probably leave for Australia even if we can’t put our posts up right away.
Work is done. This entire career chapter of my life has
closed, with an excellently clear and ringing final note. It has been lovely,
FUSION Mind-Body-Spirit and Ojas Wellness Center. I’ll miss you both terribly.
But it’s time, and I’m ready, ready, ready to run.
I think my inner cartoon coyote has found her parachute.
Falling becomes flying when you spread your wings.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)