Melbourne-Brisbane-Surfer's Paradise-Byron Bay-Brisbane

Lauren, Anna and myself caught an evening flight to Brisbane. Thankfully before we left there was time for one last trip to the bakery on Fitzroy Street for our final chocolate croissant (honestly that place is legendary, open 24 hours a day its there for your breakfast, lunch, dinner, mid-evening snack and after-drinking snack needs!). After a few tense moments when we thought we had missed the airport shuttle bus and had a mad dash across the road to hail it down before it left us behind, we made it to the airport. We then realised we had precisely 10 minutes before check-in closed, but thankfully in spite of a home alone style dash to the check-in desk, there was no queue. The flight was uneventful and we landed in Brisbane at 9pm. Pretty exhausted after an eventful evening the evening before, we collapsed into bed.

The next morning we were awoken by the sounds of that traditional Aussie instrument, oh yes the bagpipes... The ANZAC day parade (kind of like our Rememberance Sunday) was happening outside and of course everything was closed as the Aussies take Public Holidays very seriously. Typically this meant we were left unable to obtain any food from the supermarket. A mooch about Brisbane followed and confirmed my suspisions that indeed this was another city, much the same as Sydney or Melbourne, only 10 degrees warmer and quite a lot smaller.

By the end of the day I had started to feel quite ill and although I dragged myself out of bed for a steak dinner, not even the promise of a prolific amount of army boys in the bar downstairs could drag me away from an early night. Despite my extreme fatigue I spent the whole night sweating and hallucinating that I was back in Melbourne, without actually sleeping. I had planned to check out of Base and head to another hostel, but because I was feeling so bad it wasn't possible. To make matters worse, Anna and Lauren headed off to the Gold Coast, leaving me to sweat alone. I spent near enough the entire day in bed, eventually dragging myself out of bed to go to Woolworths, which I walked around in a complete daze. I treated myself to a chocolate muffin but (this proves quite the extent of my illness), I couldn't eat it as my throat was so sore. I was left in little doubt that it was the return of the dreaded tonsilitis.

Unfortunately being ill in a hostel is not much fun and without having your mum to moan to and to make you cups of tea you're left with little choice but to man up (or go to Bunnings, buy some wood, build a bridge and get over it... as people hear like to say!). Everyone seemed to think I'd simply had a heavy one the night before! After a couple of days and a pack of antibiotics I was beginning to feel better. My mood was also greatly improved by the news from mum that Grandma was giving me some money so finding a job was not so urgent and I could actually continue travelling with my friends. I was joined in Brisbane by Svenja and we made the journey to Surfer's Paradise together on the train.

It wouldn't be far from the truth to say that Surfer's Paradise is probably the town Margate aspires to be. Its sheer array of gentlemen's clubs, gold bikini-clad promo girls and mega casinos certainly give the impression of a tacky playboy paradise rather than that of surfers. Of course unlike the damp drizzle of Margate, this seaside town can boast of 300 days of sunshine a year. Unlike the fat chavs throwing chips at seafulls in Margate, the vast majority of people are Australia's 'beautiful people' (i.e. lots of lipo and dodgy hair extensions, think WAGs and chavs that win the lottery), although the seagulls still do get fed by the odd idiotic Japanese tourist. But Surfer's trump card is quite clearly the mile upon mile of white golden sand beaches, literally as far as the eye can see.

Unfortunately a lack of planning laws has seen Surfer's inundated with high rise buildings, which shade the beach from 3pm every day. Still it felt amazing to be back on a beach and feeling the warmth of the sun again. Lauren and I decided it would be rude not to sample the delights of the nightlife that this party town has to offer. So we (together with some of Lauren's friends from home and a random guy from our room) headed out for a night on the tiles. We tactically decided to head out early in an attempt to avoid entry fees, but we failed miserably and had to pay $15 just to get in. Despite being expensive, it was actually a good night out.

From Surfer's Lauren and Svenja left us and headed to Noose, further up the coast as their time in Oz was coming to an end. It was however my time to head to Byron Bay. Ahhhh Byron Bay... most definitely my favourite place in Australia so far. Its beautiful, chilled out and full of surfers. Exactly what I had in mind of a beach time in Australia. The general vibe here is meant to be hippy, in that the majority of people walk around barefoot and everywhere there are signs for alternative medicine and aura readings. As I stepped out of my hostel on the first morning, I was passed by a crazed aged hippy in long skirts riding a microscooter. It really is a place where anything goes. However, Byron is also remarkably main stream. Besides the organic farmer's market (Amy would love this place) is a giant Woolworths supermarket. In amongst the alternative nic-nac shops (mum would love this place) are everyday highstreet shops. But this mix gives it a great charm and the beach really is so beautiful.

I arrived on Monday morning by Greyhound bus to my hostel, Nomads. God the hostel was so nice after some of the skank-holes I've stayed in, but at $35 a night, it doesn't come cheap. Thankfully I'd picked up a voucher for a free night making it slightly better value. I managed to bagsy a double bed in my ensuite room with balcony (flashpackers!) and waited for some room mates to join me... and they didn't for the first four nights! It was so weird having a room to myself for the first time in months.

That evening I was joined by Caren and Anna, who managed to take over 7 hours driving from Brisbane in Andy's (an idiotic German) campervan, despite it being a 3 hour journey. The next day began with more drizzle, which left us doing little but seeking refuge in the infamous Cheeky Monkey's club that evening (where much disgusting wine was consumed, jenga was played, dancing on the tables was encouraged, and 'chatting' to randomers occurred), the rain eventually cleared up and we could work on regaining our tans. Despite it being well into autumn here, the weather is still a very pleasant 25 degrees.

One morning we even made it up at 5am to see the sun ride at the lighthouse (a la the pic at the top) and the most easternly point of Australia. Andy very kindly offered to drive us, but sadly the strain of 7 passengers proved a little too much for his 26-year-old campervan and it broke half-way. We deftly abandoned ship and climbed the rest of the way, moaning about the cold. Despite Caren's worries that the sun wouldn't be rising today (I actually had to assure her it does every day...), our patience was rewarded and it was a beautiful sight (although the overweight aussie women running around the lighthouse were not). Despite Andy's prayers that the van would start, it did not. What followed next was a group of girls attempts to turn the campervan around on a dangerous corner to go down the wrong way of the one-way hill... It really was quite an amusing sight and I particularly enjoyed the aussies that stopped and felt the need to point out to the stupid foreigners 'You're going the wrong way mate'. Eventually however it did start and whilst most of the group were made to walk back, I cheekily grabbed a seat (its a long way!). We arrived back in the bay with the van spluttering and backfiring many times, Uncle Buck style, creating more attention than our old car with the broken fan belt. We passed some police, but thankfully they were too busy carrying breakfast from the coffee shop to notice!

After a few more pleasant days relaxing in Byron, I finally booked my trips up the cosat and my bus ticket with Grandma's money :). Although I wanted to spend longer in Byron, the hostel was just too expensive and it was time to move on. So Anna and I reluctantly booked our bus to Brisbane to contemplate our next move.