Byron Bay to the Gold Coast

In retrospect, my time with Simon at Byron Bay and the Gold Coast could have been shortened by a day or two and spent in Cairns instead, the reasons for that will have to wait as I am playing catch-up with my writing. Hindsight is always perfectly clear. I did enjoy my time with a fellow American and friend, but the Gold Coast would probably rate at the bottom of places I visited so far around Australia. We stayed at a Hilton property called Conrad Jupiter’s, a resort Casino (yes, just like the ones in Vegas, only smaller, less sophisticated, and a tad more trashy). It is essentially a destination hotel for the blue rinse crowd (read retired English and Aussie types) and Asian tourists – not that I have anything wrong with either group. I am only trying to be a keen observer and report on things as I interpret and witness. Surely, outside the hotel would be better, I reasoned, based upon the time Simon and I spent driving around looking for Conrad Jupiter’. The suburb of Broadband Beach, where we were staying, appeared more promising for activities and nightlife than did Byron Bay when we first arrived there. However, after only an hour or so out of the hotel that first night, Simon and I both independently felt that the place mimicked a place like Ocean City Maryland, Atlantic City, or some other over-crowded touristy beach on the American East Coast. In general, I find nothing wrong with that kind of spot, as it appeals to thousands and thousands of people, but it is just not my scene. To put it into perspective, Simon and I counted probably nearly ten men sporting fresh mullet haircuts and just about every young lady (walking around the beach town streets) appeared to be dressed for a summer prom – little, overly-tight dresses and very high-heeled pumps). I felt I was in an overly hetero-sex-charged 80s movie with some random families making cameos for no apparent reason? To defend the locals (and local Australian visitors from more remote parts near the Gold Coast), it was a Friday night, so the fancy dress may be a weekend party night costume situation?

We managed to find one bar/restaurant that had a good vibe – sort of a LA type feel or a place that could actually thrive in Sydney – so we made our way in to grab a drink and some food for Simon. I had decided the time had come for me to start watching my caloric intake again after over a week of eating everything and not working out, had turned my body – typically, a regular, efficient robot, into an irregular, rusty old machine. So, I ordered a bottle of white wine only (that’s healthy, right) while Simon ordered a gin & tonic (and ended up disappointed at it again) and the salmon dinner they offered. At this bar/restaurant, we enjoyed the craziness of a bachelorette party raging inside, some oddly matched daters seated near us, the antics of the people in the smoking section out in front of the bar, and of course, the amazing show performed by unaware passersby who strolled in front of our side-walk table. Good, food, drink, conversation, and people-watching rescued what both Simon and I judged our least favorite stop so far on either of our trips.

The next day, I rose early to take on the day. I was determined that our time in the Gold Coast would be fruitful and enjoyable, in spite of our early judgment to the contrary. I decided the night before to go to Starbucks in the morning to use their cheap Internet connection with my notebook. Then, Simon and I would try out the beach that we had walked on the night prior since at least the beach looked extremely promising – long, with tremendous amount of sandy real estate at the shore. Surely, daytime at the beach would be nice. I left Simon to sleep and headed off on the 15 minute walk to Starbucks. After ordering a venti dark drip (and wonderfully realizing that they understood me for the first time in the country), I gained a table spot out front near the sidewalk. After several failed attempts at connecting to the Internet, I gave up. Something at their end was not allowing me to gain access? The gals working the counter could not provide assistance as the wireless Internet here operates as a separate company. Undeterred, I worked on my blog (for a later cut and paste job), and did some people-watching while I waited for Simon to join me. About an hour later, Simon came round. He enjoyed his cup of coffee and I finished my writing.

Hungry now, Simon wanted breaky (that’s breakfast for the American readers), so we walked around looking for a suitable establishment. Finally, just near the beach, I spotted a place that served breakfast and had wireless Internet service. $10 later for the connection, I was on-line and Simon and I had ordered food. By this point, the whole bringing my lap-top and using free wireless idea was not panning out to be any easier or cheaper than just using the Internet cafes like I did a couple months ago when I traveled Eastern Europe. I have been paying $5-25 dollars for an hour/day for wireless connections since I landed in the country and it is beginning to annoy me. So far, only McDonald's provides free Internet for their customers, but they are Nazis about blocking websites they feel are inappropriate. I for one don’t need McDonald's telling me what is and is not acceptable for me to access via the Internet.

A short walk across the street following breaky, landed Simon and me on the sandy paradise of one of the longest beaches in the world. I could not see the end or start of the beach in either direction – appearing to go on for miles and miles. We tossed our stuff down on the beach (I again forgot my towel). Simon plopped onto the towel he had taken from the hotel and got himself situated on the sand. I decided to wander – a beach full of people to experience always gets me on my feet. I had sprayed my body up and down with my misty sun-block, so I was confident about walking up and down until something or someone caught my attention. Sure enough, a group of four very large, well-built, Aussie men attempting to launch a type of boat, did just that. These guys were the life-guard types I expected to see in Sydney at Manly Beach or Bondi Beach – each, more perfectly chiseled than the next. And, it was as if a casting director had hand-selected each of them to ensure ethnic diversity, one appeared to be a Scandinavian blond, another looked like a nice mix of Asian meets mid-western US, another a type of Latin influenced white, and the fourth a blend of perhaps Aboriginal and European of some extract. All wore very small Speedos of different colors, and wore them so well that it was distracting to the boat launching I was attempting to watch. I have no idea what the boat was, but it looked like a very large, open at the top, kayak vessel. On the boat were very large oars. Watching the guys fight the ocean in an attempt to get on board was quite the show. These guys had forty pounds of muscle on me, so I neglected to even ask if they wanted my help, plus I would have had no idea what to do. So, I just stood there and watched the process unfold, remaining appreciative for the little gifts I receive as I make my way through my days. The two larger guys held the front of the boat at they put it into the waves at the shoreline and the other two guys got deeper into the water at the back of the boat and attempted to both hold the boat steady, while attempting to jump inside, grab the oars and heartily pull the oars against the waves to draw the boat into the waves and into the ocean from the beach. I watched as they attempted three unsuccessful times. The waves were strong and knocked the guys around a lot each time. What I thought was funny was that when they were in the water the guys each pulled up the backs of their Speedos and tucked the material into their butt cracks, leaving their ass checks exposed. I am guessing this is because the waves can get into the fabric and pull the entire thing off, so they do this as a preventative measure? I did not really care about the reason because I was so fascinated by the ritual. I cursed a few times that I did not have my camera, nor did I have Simon to document the authenticity of this experience. A few times during the attempts, one or two of the guys looked over at me strangely, probably wondering why I was watching their boat launch. I did not flinch or move. I wanted to see if they could get the boat in the water and it was a truly interesting process, the man-show part of it just added icing to the distraction on the beach. After thirty minutes and four or so tries, the guys pulled the boat out of the water and back onto the beach. At this point, an older guy (read, my age) arrived to assist. The guys lifted the boat from the back and poured out the water that had gotten inside during their previous attempts. I was beginning to understand the process at this point. The strong men carried the boat back to the shore. The fifth guy held the front of the boat as the big guys got back into position, butt cheeks exposed. This time, there was success. The two back guys jumped it and pulled the oars. Quickly, the front two jumped in and pulled strongly. The boat lurched into the waves. The fifth guy then jumped on board. The beauty of these strong young men pulling the oars against the waves was very stunning – man against nature for sure. Within a few minutes, the guys were so far out into the ocean, that I lost track of them. Now alone on the shore, I continued to wander.
That night, I tried my attempt at the blackjack tables after Simon and I put about $30 into the penny slots and lost. As my luck would have it, I won about three hundred bucks. Then, I managed to give a bunch of it back later, thinking I would continue to win. Around 1 AM, I headed back to bed. Simon had already gone off to sleep.

The next day, my last in the Gold Coast, Simon and I decided to return to the beach or a repeat performance. Sadly, we did not see the boat guys again and had to settle for sun and sand. I walked around again, and returned to Simon an hour later to find that the sand had almost covered him while I was away on the beach. He woke, dusted off the fine sand and informed me that he was heading back to the hotel, to the relaxation of the pool. I stayed on the beach, fell asleep, then returned to the hotel around 3 PM. Simon and I hung out and talked for a couple of hours before I needed to leave. I took the shuttle to the airport at Brisbane for my flight to Cairns around 5 PM, leaving Simon alone to travel the next day to Brisbane and beyond until Brett joins him in a week.