Buddha Bar

*Our very favorite place for frothy drinkables.

~Yessir, home of the $3 Schooner of Byron Bay Premium Ale Happy Hour from 4-6 pm every day, and host of the Wednesday Open Mic Nights.

*The Buddha Bar is a large indoor/outdoor bar attached to a very nice hostel/resort/brewery/theater/spa/backpacker tent city called the Arts factory. Right from the entrance you know the place is going to be cool. Walking in from Skinners Shoot Rd

~Over the grassy, disused railroad tracks behind the Woolies

* you come to tan-brick path and follow it past  massive twelve foot tall pillars of stone , beyond a mass of well kept but still pleasantly wild vegetation, and right into the inner bar.

~The entrance to the bar lies just beyond doorways which lead to the spa and cinema. Up three steps, and promisingly nestled just behind the indoor tables are huge steely cisterns of local brew. Through the interior, which is booth seating and very nice, but why on earth would you sit inside when the stone patio out back beckons, you walk by a double door to the left which leads to a very cool stage show room. The bar passes on your right, and of course you stop for a schooner of happy hour, frothy foam at its finest, and head out backHuge statues and carvings of various Buddhas are nestled into the slightly tiered rock patio, tall bar tables and stools liberally scattered among picnic tables, a huge tree festooned with a string of multicolored track lights, cavernous tin roofing that covers part of the patio closest to the building, the few steps descend to a stage. . It’s wild out there. Literally. While waiting for the open mic to start last week, a girl was having dinner at one of the round bar tables when a kookaburra the size of her head divebombed her plate, stole her steak with its beak, and flew off to the leafy canopy of the enveloping trees to happily dine on her dinner. The bar patrons, after ensuring for a moment that the very skinny girl who had leapt from her seat was all right, cheered the bird. Wildlife dinner theater at its finest. This lasts until dark, at which point the tables are turned. Literally. For in the leafy canopy that hangs over the Buddha Bar, a huge colony of fruit bats come to roost. Flying Foxes, as these fruit bats are, are ENORMOUS, red furred heads and necks (that do indeed look quite foxy) give way to black leathery five-foot-wingspans. They land in the trees by the dozens and begin a very messy meal indeed. Ben and I decided, sitting under a rain of damp green boluses, that it was definitely bits of fruit they’d bitten off and begun to chew that had been stolen away by gravity and brought down upon our heads, and definitely not bat guano. This decision was arrived at not so much through certainty, although it is probable, but because the disgustingness of the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. Luckily we’d finished our beers by this point, and repurposed the cardboard coasters for brushing off the table every few minutes, and the chess went on.

*Recently we have made a weekly habit of coming for the happy hour and playing chess until the open mic starts at eight.  The stage they have set is wondrous. It is wooden stage with a matching overhang and is surrounded by the branches of nearby trees which stretch over and around it. Hanging from it ceiling are three round flower-like lamps which change color at a sedate pace and glow with deep blues, purples, and forest greens. The actual music which takes place on the stage is equally grand. Everything from harp music, to blues, to pop, to mandolins. It’s all there and the music loving crowd cheers for them all.     

~It does indeed draw quite the cast of musical characters. Given the nature of Byron Bay, the entire eclectic crowd are top-notch performers, ranging from amateur-good to professional, and no two acts are alike. There’s a fair sprinkling of hippie classics, performed by classic hippies. One of the first acts we saw was by a tall, lean woman wearing panel-striped corduroy pants with a pleasantly husky voice, strong guitar skills, who did a number, and then leaned into the microphone and said, “And this is my anti-war song.” She sang about being a woman, and how peace began with her. Utterly authentic and talented, it was an original number that sang the song of an entire generation. Last night, a Latin American woman (who cried when Ben sang “The Impossible Dream” from “the Man of La Mancha”) got up and wrapped her body around her guitar and said fiercely that her song went out to all those who’d been in prison, because yeah, she was a jailbird herself. She sang the blues, and it was how the blues were meant to be sung. She sang her own blues, defiant and hopeful and strong. As a performer, she was arresting. After she finished her set, she stood up laughing, betraying nerves that hadn’t shown even in shadow a moment before. She brought the house down.

*They were all amazing. I think my favorite act was the final one in yesterday’s performance. It was a little Argentinian guy playing the mandolin and he had a great sound. It was not big or powerful but was completely his and just a joy to listen to. Another chap I would be remiss not to mention is the master of ceremonies. He is a local named Mario and absolutely the right pick for the job. At the beginning of each night he gets introduces the open mic night, collects names of the people who wish to perform, and does a couple of numbers to warm up the crowd before the first singers go on.  And the itself crowd is phenomenal. They are so much fun to sing for. Made of other performers and bar patrons they are incredibly supportive and appreciative of whatever people decide to do.  These last couple of weeks I have been performing show tunes from White Christmas and Man of La Mancha and have had a grand old time doing it.

~And he’s been AMAZING. You should hear the hush that falls over the bar after the first few bars of acapella in Ben’s showstopping voice hits the air. Almost everyone who plays at open mic uses a guitar, although there’s a smattering of other instruments. No one else does acapella. And while (almost) all of the performers are stellar quality, Ben’s voice is something special. And these music-lovers know it. The first night he sang, Mario took the microphone and gave one of the highest complements Byron Bay knows how; “Wow! How different was that? Let’s give him a big hand, Ben from Maryland, everyone!” The second night Ben sang, last night, a guy up to him after, and introduced himself as a local musician. He said he comes to play every week and listens for pitch quality, and that performances as pitch-perfect as Ben’s last night “are just scary.” He told us to stick around, since Ben was very likely to be one of the night’s prize-money winners. As his sister, I’m very proud. As just me, going to The Arts Factory weekly for the cheap beer and great music, it’s just good listening. My little bro’ done great.

*Mario has a certain amount of glee when it comes to his weekly role of giving out the prize money. A great musician himself, he takes seems to take pleasure in acknowledging other performers. And I got my first Australian paycheck!  There is something special about the Arts Factory. It is set in a beautiful tropical forest and the people who go there are special breed of travelers and adventurers. I am already looking forward to next week.      

~Ditto! I have to beat this kid at chess. We’re zero and… um, well, who’s counting, anyway?