Before you get mad at me for taking a month to post an update… I just need you to know I’ve been in Australia for six months today! So you can’t be mad at me. Because it’s a cool and special day for me. When I was first looking into this whole working holiday thing I was just going to do six months. Can you imagine if I was going home now? Because I sure can’t. I’m still way too bad at blogging to go home.
ANYWAY, let’s get into the east coast. East Coast? Do I capitalize it? I think grammatically I shouldn’t capitalize it but emotionally I want to? Okay yeah fuck it- I’m just gonna capitalize it. So let’s get into the East Coast!! It was a wild month. I’m going to split it into at least two posts. In the beginning I was so sick and incredibly miserable. That’s gonna be this post. Get excited! By the time we left Brisbane, though, I was a new woman. I like to think cuddling a koala at the Australia Zoo cured me. #tagyourspoilers #spoileralert
THAT GODDAMNED OVERNIGHT BUS
Is it supposed to be goddamn or goddamned? I tried to google this one and honestly just got more confused. If you see anything incorrect in my writing, just assume I saw it, thought about it, but didn’t care enough to actually make it right.
So the adventure began with an overnight bus from Sydney to Byron Bay. I started off in Sydney feeling a little sick. A minor cough. Things got much worse on the bus. I bought some deeply overpriced cold/flu medicine at a gas station during our first meal break. You know that level of sick where everything you eat just tastes like straight ass and makes you gag a little with every bite? That was me trying to force down some gas station chicken nuggets. I really and truly cannot recommend gas station chicken nuggets, even if you’re operating at peak physical performance. But I especially cannot recommend them when you’re ailed with whatever the fuck kind of demon bug I had.
If you can even believe it, things managed to get worse when the toilet on the bus flooded. And I don’t mean like a cute “aw the toilet flooded hehe.” Like there was vomit and shit-water all over that bitch. The bus driver was just as shocked and horrified as I was, so I feel confident in saying this was exceptionally disgusting- even for the budget version of Australian Greyhound. Grossness aside, the toilet not working was a big problem for me because I was drinking an obscene amount of water, as one does when they’re sick. I had to pee so bad by the time we got to our next meal break, I really and truly thought I would pee my pants or get a UTI or maybe both.
BYRON BAY? MORE LIKE DEAR GOD PLEASE RELEASE ME FROM THIS MISERY
We got to Byron Bay at 9AM. I don’t know if many of you know this, but check-in for most hostels is around 2PM. No one really had the strength to explore so we just laid on the beach and took a nap in the sun for a few hours. Our room was ready a little early (thank god) and we all crashed in our bunks immediately and slept until nighttime. And then we slept some more. I wish I was exaggerating when I say I was so sick in Byron I couldn’t leave my bunk for the entirety of our three days there. I could barely eat. I could barely stand up long enough to shower. My fever sweat drenched most of the clothes I brought. It was a dark time. I just laid in bed and watched Our Planet on Netflix and got really emotional because animals are so cute and we’re destroying their planet and there’s still time to save it (according to David Attenborough) but we WON’T because we’re the WORST (according to me).
This is pretty much entirely unrelated to Byron Bay but I need to speak my truth since we’re talking about the environment: paper straws are fucking disgusting. If you don’t want to use plastic straws- that’s cool. I get it. Save the turtles. But maybe just don’t use a straw at all? Because I don’t want a straw that disintegrates in my frozen margarita and hinders my ability to drink my frozen margarita. Paper straws do the exact opposite of what a straw should do and I think someone should work on a better alternative. And don’t tell me reusable straws are the future, because that shit is also gross. There’s no way I’m effectively cleaning that straw. It’s like when you tried to put any non-water liquid in your Camelback bottle with that little nub. You know, the kind that everyone had a few years ago? That straw and nub never felt clean again. I don’t care how well you thought you washed it. It was tainted. So I need scientists or entrepreneurs or scientist-hyphen-entrepreneurs to do better. Thank you.
Anyway, yeah, I was super sick. But I don’t really think I missed much. It’s a beach and a lighthouse, y’know? Everyone is so laid back and chilled out. I overheard a hostel employee describe his day as “beautiful” because he bought six bags of hemp seeds. This seems like a good and random place to mention I was traveling with my dear friend, Canadian Sarah, and her best friend from home, Canadian Mary. I might have already mentioned that in an earlier post. Guess what, though? I’m not gonna go look. Cheers.
By the time we left for Gold Coast, I was through the hell of actively being sick and entering the hell of recovering from being sick. Since I don’t have any actual pictures of Byron Bay, here’s a snap of me being sick in bed that I sent to my mom for pity.
SURFER’S PARADISE? MORE LIKE SOPHIE’S OPPOSITE OF PARADISE
Surfer’s Paradise is the name of the main touristy/beach-y/resorty-y suburb in Gold Coast. (Suburb just means neighborhood in Australia, not outside of the city like in America.) I googled that just now, for you guys. Don’t say I never did anything for you. It’s known for being a tacky, trashy party city. To give this some vague context, Britain has a version of Jersey Shore called Geordie Shore. It’s set in Newcastle, because apparently that’s the trashy Jersey-equivalent in England? Don’t ask me where Geordie comes from, I’m not some kind of expert on British culture. It’s all whack. The show is honestly shocking compared to the US version. Like, they’re way more lax about TV regulations and shit. If you’re interested in watching, I think MTV has a ton of clips online. Anyway, they do a season in Australia and they go to the Gold Coast to be drunk and trashy with some Aussies. So if you’re wondering about the vibe of Surfer’s Paradise, think Jersey/Geordie Shore.
With that in mind, I was pretty gutted when I realized I shouldn’t/couldn’t drink yet. I still went out with Canadian Sarah and Canadian Mary, because I’d rather be the only sober person in the club than miss a night out. Probably an unhealthy outlook… but, hey! You’re only in Surfer’s Paradise once! We went with our hostel both nights, because we appreciate free entry and free drinks. It was alright. A tacky club’s a tacky club, I guess. They didn’t devote enough space to the dance areas, though. Why are VIP areas are always so big? They should be called VBP. Very BORING Person. Because they’re never actually having fun and they’re taking up too much space. If I ever become the type of person who splashes out to be VIP anything, please bully me mercilessly.
Canadian Sarah and Canadian Mary signed up for a surf lesson. (Yes, I am going to refer to them as Canadian Sarah and Canadian Mary for this entire thing. I don’t want you to ever forget they’re Canadian. They don’t want you to ever forget they’re Canadian. Don’t call them American. Because they’re not.) I didn’t participate in the lesson because I was still too weak for physical activity. And also, as we all know, the ocean terrifies me. It would be a few more weeks until I mustered up the courage to step foot in it. So they learned to surf and I sat on the beach and listened to a podcast. It was pissing down rain for the first half so the instructor let me wear his raincoat. I forget his name… but here’s a big shoutout to Unnamed Surf Instructor.
There’s a big lookout tower thing that we went up too. It was cool but maybe not worth the $27 we paid. Maybe I’m just ungrateful because I struggled to stand up long enough to admire the view. It did have nice views of high-rise condos and the beach, I guess.
The morning before we left Surfer’s we had a few hours to spend on the beach before our bus to Brisbane. Soaked up some rays. Responsibly, of course. Sunscreen was involved. It was a cute beach. Not the best but it got the job done. Plenty of screaming kids.
BRISBANE WAS OK THINGS ARE LOOKING UP
An important thing to note if you ever take the bus to Brisbane: the transportation depot (and a lot of hostels) (including the one we stayed in) are in a kind of random part of the city. We were only there for two nights so I can’t tell you why it was random or how to get to the better parts of the city… but it was pretty grim around our hostel. On our first night we saw on google maps the closest restaurant was a maccas. Eight minute walk. Easy enough, right? Of course not. It took us at least 30 minutes. At least. Google wanted us to walk on the side of a busy highway that didn’t even have a sidewalk?? We could literally see the golden arches in the distance, our sweet salvation, but we couldn’t figure out how to get there. I’m getting mad all over again trying to write about it. Anyway, we finally wandered through some dark streets and made it to maccas in one piece. Then Canadian Mary, who also happens to be vegetarian, tried her first filet-o-fish. She wasn’t a fan. Overall it was a bad first few hours in Brisbane.
For me personally, I started warming up to Brisbane later that night when we went out in Fortitude Valley. It was a mess. And I don’t mean us. We weren’t a mess. For once. We barely drank because we were in such sour moods from our maccas adventure. But Fortitude Valley was (is) a beautiful, beautiful mess. It’s this suburb in Brisbane that’s just entirely bars, pubs, clubs, late night food spots, bottle shops. It was so lively. I saw a couple sitting on the sidewalk drinking goon from the bag. And no one batted an eye.
The next day is when my East Coast really began. We went to the Australia Zoo. Aka the Steve Irwin zoo. It’s a bit of a trek with a 2-hour train ride to Beerwah from Brisbane, and then a 10-minute shuttle to the zoo from the Beerwah train station. It’s also a little pricey with admission around $60. But it is so worth it. I cannot stress enough how worth it it is. Queensland is one of only two states in Australia where you can hold a koala. And before you get all PETA on me about how bad that is for the koalas… it’s strictly regulated by the state. A koala can work a maximum cumulative 30 minutes a day, and never more than two days in a row. And they don’t use wild or rehabilitated koalas. These koalas have been bred in captivity and don’t get nearly as stressed around humans. The keepers we talked to emphasized that if a koala doesn’t like being held for photos, that koala will not be held for photos.
So YEAH. I got my koala photo. And it was everything I’ve ever dreamed of. They’re so much softer than I thought they’d be. In case you guys forgot koalas eat their mother’s shit to get the right stomach bacteria to digest eucalyptus… KOALAS EAT THEIR MOTHER’S SHIT TO GET THE RIGHT STOMACH BACTERIA TO DIGEST EUCALYPTUS. That’s my favorite koala fact. It’s 2019, everyone knows they have chlamydia. Not enough people know they eat literal shit. At the Australia Zoo I also learned that koalas have cartilage butts so they can comfortably sit in trees all day. God I love them.
We saw the croc show at the Crocoseum. Teri and Robert Irwin hosted. (!!!) I’m not sure how often they put it on, but everyone at admissions acted like we were lucky to catch them so it felt special even if it wasn’t really. It was honestly sick. I learned a lot about crocs like for example to be scared of them. Teri Irwin is such a badass, though. This is her feeding Monty.
Another highlight: we saw a wombat in like a harness/leash being walked around the park. I had no idea wombats were so big? I didn’t really care much for wombats when I thought they were small, but now I know how big they are and I love them. They look so silly. They also have cartilage butts, but theirs are to fight off predators. They can literally kill dingoes with their cartilage butts. Amazing.
The Australia Zoo is just such a vibe. Some of the decorations and exhibits are from when Steve Irwin was alive, and some of it has been updated to celebrate his legacy. So it’s a blend of like nostalgia and hope? I dunno. It’s cool. I bought a lot of tacky souvenirs. As is tradition.
I can’t believe I squeezed that much content out of basically nothing happening. I’m stressed just thinking about writing about the rest of the month. Not to be dramatic, but how am I supposed to sum up all these low-key life-changing experiences?? Whatever- I guess we’ll all find out soon enough, hey. Tune in next week (or whenever I can get my shit together to post a part 2) for NOOSA!!! Words can’t describe my love for Noosa. Our collective love for Noosa.
reina snophia 