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.