We ended up flying to Brisbane. There was, we were assured by greyhound (surprise, surprise), no other way to get south of Airlie Beach. So we coughed up $100 in return for an incredibly short, and incredibly freezing flight. Literally teeth chattering. It was horrible. The airports at least provided some amusement. The Whitsundays Coast was stuffed with backpackers, all in a similar predicament. One was burnt so badly that her back had blistered all over. There was an audible wince from onlookers when she swung her backpack on. There was also a fantastic array of very long and straggly beards (mostly men), and an awesome security man who sadly swabbed us for explosive residue while telling stories of how he used to be a captain on the high seas.
Brisbane airport was a bit different. We had to stop off in a cafe to use their WIFI and figure out where the hell we were going. Booking a hostel through the tiny screen of a smartphone is no piece of cake. Gradually, we realised that all the other occupants of the cafe were men, putting back an impressive amount of VB and talking about their construction machinery with proud, very loud, voices. We looked a little out of place - me in a neon pink t-shirt and straw trilby proudly wielding a Jackie Collins...
On arrival at the hostel we had booked, we found to our horror that the computer had utterly screwed up, and had only booked a room for one person, on three consecutive nights, in the middle of February. The receptionist chewed gum and ignored our explanation that something had gone wrong. Because its perfectly normal for three girls to turn up with bags to confirm their booking for one of them in two weeks time??? We ended up jumping at the chance to move down the road. When the reception area smells of pee, you dont want to see the rooms...
Settled in, then headed off to the South Bank in search of the Friday night market. On the way, came upon an impromptu concert/filming in front of the concert hall. A random array of musicians (they would have us believe, by dressing some in tails and evening dresses, and some in hawaiian shirts and flip flops) would wander into shot from different directions and join in the playing. Was a great distraction, and looked fantastic, under the Brisbane version of the London Eye. We continued on past the Nepalese Peace Pagoda to the market, where we bought sorbet and corn on the cob. Not to eat at the same time. Clearly. The handful of stalls were nice and varied. We laughed over more kangaroo bollocks, ran past the tarot cards in terror, and came over all nostalgic next to the Winnie the Pooh themed jewellery. Looking up, we noticed a totally random figure on a bicycle, suspended above it all. Nice touch...? Bit creepy. Took us a while to figure out whether it was a statue or an actual person.
Past the beach (manmade) and over the bridge just before sunset, we walked through the botanic gardens to get back to the hostel. The bats were out in force. So were the mosquitoes. In hindsight, walking next to swampy terrain as the sunsets was not the best way to avoid getting bitten...
Dined on Pho and dumplings at the Vietnamese down the road, which had the most friendly and welcoming manager I have ever met. Randomly meeting fantastic people is becoming a bit of a motif of this trip. Back at the hostel, you couldnt brush your teeth for girls pushing to see in the mirror as they curled their hair. Still smarting slightly from a comment on the boat in the Whitsundays (one of the guys wanted to dress up as a pirate and couldnt believe none of us had any makeup with us at all...) we looked on aghast. These damn city types...
Brisbane airport was a bit different. We had to stop off in a cafe to use their WIFI and figure out where the hell we were going. Booking a hostel through the tiny screen of a smartphone is no piece of cake. Gradually, we realised that all the other occupants of the cafe were men, putting back an impressive amount of VB and talking about their construction machinery with proud, very loud, voices. We looked a little out of place - me in a neon pink t-shirt and straw trilby proudly wielding a Jackie Collins...
On arrival at the hostel we had booked, we found to our horror that the computer had utterly screwed up, and had only booked a room for one person, on three consecutive nights, in the middle of February. The receptionist chewed gum and ignored our explanation that something had gone wrong. Because its perfectly normal for three girls to turn up with bags to confirm their booking for one of them in two weeks time??? We ended up jumping at the chance to move down the road. When the reception area smells of pee, you dont want to see the rooms...
Ran into this guy in the street
Settled in, then headed off to the South Bank in search of the Friday night market. On the way, came upon an impromptu concert/filming in front of the concert hall. A random array of musicians (they would have us believe, by dressing some in tails and evening dresses, and some in hawaiian shirts and flip flops) would wander into shot from different directions and join in the playing. Was a great distraction, and looked fantastic, under the Brisbane version of the London Eye. We continued on past the Nepalese Peace Pagoda to the market, where we bought sorbet and corn on the cob. Not to eat at the same time. Clearly. The handful of stalls were nice and varied. We laughed over more kangaroo bollocks, ran past the tarot cards in terror, and came over all nostalgic next to the Winnie the Pooh themed jewellery. Looking up, we noticed a totally random figure on a bicycle, suspended above it all. Nice touch...? Bit creepy. Took us a while to figure out whether it was a statue or an actual person.
Past the beach (manmade) and over the bridge just before sunset, we walked through the botanic gardens to get back to the hostel. The bats were out in force. So were the mosquitoes. In hindsight, walking next to swampy terrain as the sunsets was not the best way to avoid getting bitten...
Dined on Pho and dumplings at the Vietnamese down the road, which had the most friendly and welcoming manager I have ever met. Randomly meeting fantastic people is becoming a bit of a motif of this trip. Back at the hostel, you couldnt brush your teeth for girls pushing to see in the mirror as they curled their hair. Still smarting slightly from a comment on the boat in the Whitsundays (one of the guys wanted to dress up as a pirate and couldnt believe none of us had any makeup with us at all...) we looked on aghast. These damn city types...
No comments:
Post a Comment