Last time I was just leaving Noosa, headed for the beautiful Byron Bay. Hippies galore, Byron is one of the most laidback, chill towns I have ever visited. Although it has recently become quite touristy, it still has that vibe of long, flowy skirts, earth-friendly movements, peace, love, happiness, really rockin' acoustic music (Ben Harper has a second home here), herb shops and the ultimate surfer's paradise. Not impressed with my hostel, I called about moving to another, one that had been written up as a quiet guesthouse, much like the one I stayed at in Noosa. To my surprise, the woman on the other end informed me that although she had recently shut down the hostel due to the party mentality of so many backpackers, I sounded like a nice girl and it was my lucky day because she had a studio apartment available to rent. I was so excited, yet disappointed to hear that she wanted $350 per week. A lone traveller, I sadly declined the offer, telling Veronica that I could not afford anything over $150. To which she replied, "Done. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 11." The next day, in her red BMW convertible, Veronica pulled up to my hostel in a flash, driving me only two blocks further to a gorgeous stand-alone house that housed my beautiful studio apartment, only a few blocks from the beach. I cannot even describe to you what staying in a studio apartment is like after spending two months living in the bunk bed of a dormitory room with ten other people. This new "palace" as I called it was complete with a sprawling living area, a beautiful kitchen, my very own bathroom and even my own beautiful balcony that spanned the entire front of the house. I marvelled at my luck, thinking backpackers would kill to stay in a place like this at such an amazing price. I had hit the jackpot!
The next couple of days were spent exploring the gorgeous area with its purple jacarandas in full bloom, hiking up to the famous lighthouse, running through the national parks that joined one beautiful beach to the next, looking out to sea as I sipped wine at the famous Beach Hotel, and spending many evenings listening to some of the best live music I have ever heard.
Recommended by friends, I took a tour out to Nimbin, a hippie village that was founded as a result of the Aquarius Festival of 1973. Comparable only to Woodstock, the Aquarius Festival was held by university students who wanted to promote the idea of free love. The thousands who flocked to the area were enticed by its fertile lands and cheap real estate, deciding to establish roots and create their own little village of sorts. Present-day Nimbin is hard to describe--on one hand, it is a small yet progressive farm town, complete with its own power company that has been rewarded for its innovations in things such as push-pedal generators and solar-powered grills. On the other, it is a laidback hippie haven, with what it claims as the world's official Hemp Embassy. Only here can you find endless petitions for the legalization of marijuana, including posters with Barack Obama's personal endorsements, a psychedelic and colorful museum of the town and its history with easy-going townies smoking out of their giant bongs in back, and ladies in colorful frocks chasing after tourists trying to sell them magical cookies. What better way to describe it than the small town equivalent of Amsterdam?
After the tour of Nimbin, we drove back amongst beautifully green, lush rolling hills and endless fields of macadamia trees. Did you know that macadamia nuts are native to this region of Australia? Me neither. Nor did I think I really even liked macadamias...but damn, do they ever know how to use them to make some delicious pastries!
Back in Byron, I met up with some friends from up the coast. After deciding to leave for Sydney that Sunday, I suggested to Veronica that they move into the studio and she happily agreed. As a thank you, Tom and Kate, my friends from England, decided to hire a surf board and teach me how to surf! So we headed out onto one of the country's most famous little inlets to surf, Watego's Bay. Here, Tom instructed me how to paddle, how to move in the water and finally how to stand. Rather than practice on the beach like most amateurs, Tom insisted we get right in the water, where he waited for a good wave, holding the board steady for me, screaming, "Ok, NOW!! Paddle! Paddle!! Paddle!!!!" The first few times were, as they would say, a bloody failure. But about round four, I felt the water underneath me, steadied myself, and STOOD UP!!!!!!! This is unheard of for first-timers so I left the water, exhausted yet beaming with pride. A nice cold beer afterwards (my personal favorite here--the pale ale "Little Creatures") and I was ready to say goodbye to Byron Bay...not because I wanted to leave, but because the piggy bank was, and IS, very very empty.
So off to Sydney I went, not by bus...yet in the station wagon of a girl I had found online offering rides (don't worry, this is common here!). Was I perhaps slightly worried when she picked me up from Byron in her white beater, painted ever so wonderfully with Pink Floyd's famous logo for the 'Dark Side of the Moon' album on both sides? No, not nearly as much as I was terrified by the hundreds of dolls she had in the dash, lined up along the side of the car, or later by the one that was chuckling underneath all of her luggage as I sat alone in the backseat, wondering where on earth that Chucky noise was coming from and would I make it out alive.
But I survived. And here I am again in Sydney...desperate for a job and some money to replenish the funds that I so quickly depleted on my amazing journey. Perhaps I will continue to save through Christmas, in hopes of planning yet another trip...I'm thinking New Zealand!
