Been a lazy sod and not written for almost a month - disgraceful, eh? But whereas previously I'd have been through a country or two in this amount of time, here in Oz I am just being very relaxed (ie, lazy sod) and doing almost nothing to write about.
So much for the plans of getting a job and settling down here for a few months. After all of a week jobhunting, I decided that chances would be better in the new year, and to hop over to New Zealand to visit my relatives for Christmas instead. So arsed around happily for my remaining time in Sydney, and went to pack my bags the night before I was due to leave only to find that my passport had disappeared. Terminally. Turned the flat upside-down several times hunting for it - I knew I'd seen it a few days previously when I was derubbishing my rucksack - and hadn't taken it out of the flat since - but no joy. I can only think it fell into the rubbish bag and is currently nestled on a dump somewhere in Sydney. So much for that plan. Changed the flights, so I'm now exiting Brisbane on 22 December (by which time my new passport better have arrived), and returning to Cairns on 2 February, which I figured would give me incentive to get off my ass and move around the country a bit, and I'm now mid-Brisbane, where another friend has the joy of hosting me a while. Wonderful things, friends. Kate - my college friend in Sydney - was warned I'd be staying a few days, and it was 3 weeks before they got rid of me (Thank You, Kate!). At least Zoe - my London-based native-Brisbane friend - knows I've got a flight booked - assuming I don't lose the ticket this time... (Thank You, Zoe!)
So, this Oz place... it is Big. And Clean. And people don't Jaywalk. And they are - as previously mentioned - Friendly and Helpful. The architecture is nice, 20's to 40's styles mostly, and every house is different, which is a blessed change from London, where I spent far too long swamped in miles upon miles of identical terraced houses - even after a year of living in Ilford, I would still walk past my house if I wasn't concentrating. There's lots of odd wildlife, even in the cities - swarms of flying foxes over motorways, psychedelic parrots bouncing around the suburbs, giant lizards scuttling out unnervingly from underfoot in parks. The weather has improved to being - intermittently, at least - mostly what you expect from Oz: I have done the Bondi-beach-in-blazing-sunshine thing at last (twas smaller than expected, as was the Opera House. I did my best to not take any pictures of the Opera House, by the way - I tried, I really did - but couldn't help it in the end. Is there a course you can go on which shows you how to avoid taking the obvious pictures?). And, of course, Oz has Pubs and Clubs and a Scene, which are what I ended up inspecting in some detail.
The advantage of staying with Kate (and Katie, and Katherine - her flatmates, not alter egos) was that they were Irish, and as such, capable of appreciating the fine and subtle differences between one pub and the next, and hence the necessity of exploring many. And given the country's intelligent licensing laws, which mean that lots of pubs are open 24-7, there was plenty of opportunity to do so - though they kept pleading work the next day and crying off early. So I explored alone quite a bit, which was no great trauma after doing same for the last few months. Various Pseudo-Irish pubs - they're identical the world over - and the Proper-Ozzie local, home of cheaper beer, larger windows and lighter interior than a typical Irish or English equivalent, but with the very Australian addition of a room dedicated to 'Pokies', the one-arm-bandits of which you'll find at least a dozen in every pub of every type here. And the usual fashionable places, which use the same degree of variety and individuality everywhere. And the Scene, which is rather harder to find than the London version, there being no female-centred cafes or pubs, but various women-only nights spread between various locations. The gay scene, as usual, is far easier to find, with a variety of pubs and clubs along Oxford Street: drag shows and karaoke seem to be more common here than London, and the clubs tend to dance music rather than kitsch, but otherwise, little enough change. So met various people to head out with and danced myself into a blur for several nights through to dawn. Just as well, really: my friends all warned me about the Sydney Stone - all Irish people coming to Sydney put on about a stone with the vast quantities of cheap food and drink available; I noticed that my weight varied by as much as 2 kilos between one day and the next (or maybe the electronic scales was dodgy. I became quite obsessive about weighing myself, not having had a scales for well over a year now). The few lesbian nights that I found were not remarkably different to the London ones - one relatively posh'n'nice place with everyone looking rather dressed-up; one dark'n'dodgy basement place where people didn't look as if they needed to dress down; one rather empty pool competition night (I must remember to play before I drink in future) with the rather more brash'n'loud sporty set. So much for that. And, while I'm on the subject, Zoe's brought me to the Brisbane places - well, one party, one barbeque, and one pub: it all seems very full of domestic bliss and gorgeous houses (why do I live in London where I have to live in a midden?).
Otherwise. Finally got myself out of Sydney and got the bus up to Brisbane, stopping off in Byron Bay en route. Byron Bay is what was the alternative hippy place to live, and very popular with backpackers though now rather more commercial than in former days apparently. But still masses of alternative stuff - remedies, courses, shops etc - advertised and available all around, and I might even end up going back there since it seems to be an excellent place for things like hangliding, canyoning, surfing and all the adrenaline sports that I love. Nice town: laid back atmosphere. And just an afternoon in Nimblin (I'd planned on overnighting there, but the buses didn't work out). It's a strange little place: solid hippy and new-agers without the commercial aspects of Byron bay: a tiny village with massive murals on all shopfronts and benevolently smiling locals who offer you hash everywhere you go. They don't believe in alcohol there - there's only one place that sells it - but hash is smoked freely in all the munchie-filled cafes that line the street. There is one museum, a weirdly and wonderfully decorated series of rooms assembled by a variety of stoned locals; which is very good indeed if you're stoned, though I'm not sure why it calls itself a museum.. one room is created as the inside of a volcano, where you sit at glowing lava level, looking up through layers of fossilized dinosaurs and monsters to the night sky... and yeah, the grass was very good indeed (when in Rome..).
And finally to Brisbane. Lovely place again: I particularly like the fake beach they have next to the river in the centre of the city, where you can lie on white sand or swim in blue waters while looking up at the mirrored skyscrapers of the commercial area. The houses are gorgeous: typical Queenslanders are built on stilts with verandas all around, with massive rooms for your party, barbie or whatever. Yesterday was tourist day - went to the botanic park and upriver on the local catamarans, which form an essential part of public transport. Today, after I write this up, I gotta go to the natural history museum - according to the Rough Guide, there's a fossil of a giant prehistoric snake there which was 60 meters long (now that is big) - and its name is montypythonis???? - it can't be true, but I've gotta go find out.
Watch this space. But don't hold your breath while doing so.