A brief photo summery tooo....

So. I broke my camera waaaaay back in august. it was a tragic day.
The good news is I just got a new camera, a sweeeet camera, the canon
G10!! But i did manage to get some pics of the last little while
from tech-saavy friends. so here ya go!

xx

Splendour in the Grass, my first weekend back in Byron in August.

Yah, it actually got cold at night in august. Cramming around the woodstove, escaping the chill of the night and our tents, became a nightly tradition.

Just another day at the pass.

Field Picnic funtimes! Loveliest Ladies in the world.

Byron's weekly farmers market.

Halloween!!!!!! bzzzzzzzzzz....

Jim's Alternative Tour takes a pit stop at Minyon Falls

Roman visits: we have fun.

A summary of some kind.

So, again, apologies for my long absence from you all in this virtual medium. I know I said I woudln't try to cover the past few months.... but I lied..... here goes!

When I first arrived back, I was full of determination to find work, but the highly contagious byron-bay-lifestyle and the slow-season-lack-of-work meant it was a few weeks before I started working for accommodation, and at least a month before I started earning money.

My first job here was as daytime shuttle driver for the hostel I live at, replacing a friend who was going away for 6 weeks on an east coast adventure. Work started at 7am, my first trip up the the bus station at 7.20, and then a work day that combined driving, working, and lots of bus-station hijinx with drivers from other hostels as my co-conspirators. It was hard work - a day that lasted until 9pm, with a deceptive/useless 3hour break in the middle of the day. The end of the day usually saw me exhausted and incredibly grumpy; not one ounce of friendly disposition left for even my friends, let alone any guests. I'd eat a quick dinner and collapse in my room. It was 3days a week, so it left me plenty of time for other pursuits. Like a second job!

My other part time job saw me employed as a server at "Cardamon Pod", a restaurant run by Hare Krishnas! *Hare hare, hare krishna krishna rama, rama hare...* The food was delicious and much too greasy, mostly indian, and prepared in the Hare Krishna way. My coworkers were all lovely lovely people, some devotees, some not, like myself. Best of all, it got me out of the factory, and gave me a bit of supplemental income.

So i did this for a while, about 6 weeks. Enjoyed it massively, but started to feel overwhelmed as the town became more crowded with the high-season approaching. Luckily, Jimmy came back form his trip, putting me out of bus driver work, straight into reception work! Which is what I have been doing since then. Much better suited to my patient, bubbly personality, though I've earned much much less income since then. Oh well. I have to remind myself that I'm here to have interesting & varied experiences, not just to work and save money.

Working so much, however, has meant that I've had not alot of time for much else; no surfing, and much less musical practice than I'd hoped. But now I have a month of completely empty days to make up for it! I'm going to buy a surf board this week, and hope to fill my days surfing, biking, singing and playing my uke, cooking, lounging at the beach, and sleeping in occasionally.

Speaking of. Leisure calls.

all my love!! Definitely don't miss the cold and snow, but miss you all terribly.
xoxo

claire

Insert generic apology for blog absence here...

Hello Daaaaaah-lings!

It's December 7th, and I've been back here in oz for a full 4 months. I've been putting off updating this gosh darned thing largely because the more time passed, the greater a feat updating you all on my life seemed. An impossibly large task in fact. Where to start?! And how could I ever communicate to you all the joys of the tiny moments that fill my days here in Byron, that make this experience a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts?

This past Monday at our weekly talent show, the solution to my procrastination fell into my lap when a good friend of mine, Ben, did a prose reading. What he wrote touched me so much, as it so beautifully and succinctly expresses everything I would have tried to tell you about what it has been like to live here at the Arts Factory, and in Byron Bay. So you have my apologies for not providing my own version, but I'm thrilled to be able to share what he wrote with you all. I'll fill in my own details in entries to come.


lots of love and hugs,

claire

ps, many thanks to Ben for allowing me to mooch off his much time invested in writing this.

Listening to my intuition is a skill I’m finally learning and reacting to it requires a certain amount of selfish conviction that doesn’t come naturally to me. Since leaving Asia and the shroud of kindness that is wrapped around you by the beautiful people who live there, my soul has been longing for love and friendship. Stubbornly I refused to yield to these desires and shut them away. I regarded them as a weakness and insecurity and didn’t want them to dictate the path I chose to follow. Slowly I came to realize that neglecting myself in this way would only compound the problem, and if I am to continue to travel and follow my dreams I must take care of myself in every way.

At the Arts Factory I had found a calm bay in which I could weather the storm of emotions I was feeling. I found smiles, compassion and a loving atmosphere quite unlike anywhere I had ever been. My confused heart was distracted and I began to rebuild.

I fight to push my arm through the hole designed for my face as the alarm lady informs me of the time. Trapped inside I jerk my body across the tent and with a single finger I manage to prod the button which brings silence again.

Some successful sun reaches me through the canopy and the only sounds are those that come from the birds. Splendid relentless repetitive noise, I’m curious to know if they ever hyperventilate – perhaps that’s why they make so much effort, not a communication thing at all, but a way to get high?
My work boots weave about the guys and pegs, my hat ducks and bobs among the rope and tarp and I negotiate my path through the shanty jungle village to the mainland. This is my favorite time of day, its where I find my solitude. I cherish the silence. I watch the Water Dragons absorbing patches of morning heat and Bush Turkeys chasing each other about the lakeside. I see blue sky behind the montage of green leaves and conclude it too early for a breeze. I’m still staggered by how much rain we get here and this fine morning comes as a splendid holiday from the tropical wet. I hope it lasts long enough to dry the damp smell from our tents.

Positioning myself in full sunlight I eat cornflakes and banana at a table on the balcony. It’s Monday. I remember the weekend and piece each fragment together, enjoying the memories and deciding to stay until Christmas. Halloween, five weeks into my life at the factory was the first time I had been drunk here, and I consider if drinking together builds bonds between people that can’t be built sober? Instilling a sense of comradary? If this is true, perhaps I should drink more?

Byron’s monthly market never fails to impress me, I always find something new, be it food or jewelry or music, and luckily for me it only happens once a month because any more frequent and I could kiss my savings goodbye in favor of a big belly and multicoloured wardrobe.

Exactly this time last year, at the beginning of my journey I was here with my Mother, Lucie and Daryl, visiting Charlie and Shaun; our first taste of Byron. Feeling nostalgic I sit and watch a band called Oka. The reminiscence I’m lost in floods me with emotion and a tear falls onto the grass. Memories arrive of the last time I saw them, like a slideshow one after another, after another, and I try to land in them, be there again. More visions arrive, of friends of weddings, of other brief moments and before I know it I’m hugging the tent-pole like a lost child. Out come the accumulated pain and frustration, angst and worry, sorrow and loneliness. I’ve not cried like this for two and a half years and it feels so good; purging and cleansing. I feel a hand on my shoulder reach up and hold it there. It seems my sobbing has been shaking the whole tent and has not been as discrete as I was hoping. It is quintessentially Byron to have a stranger hold your hand as you cry. I half expected the arm to reach over and hug me, but it didn’t.
Walking home with a wonderfully clear head, I consider why crying is viewed as such a weakness when it seems to have the most amazing healing properties. By the time I reach reception I feel like a new man, well my old self again, at least, and begin looking for some fellow lunatics.

The Beach Hotel is full of Friends and we dominate the floor as if the show is especially for us. Grants dancing wins him a kiss with Lisa Hunt and a strained back and everyone loves him for his barmyness. Our collective eventually dissipates and some of us guiltily patronize Dominoes for $4 pizza, before ambling back for a chat and a smoke.

I check my watch and discover I am, as usual, late. My boss is weak and fond of sulking and especially dislikes my punctuality. I try to win his mood with a massive smile and a cheery greeting. Today’s task, as was yesterdays, and probably tomorrows is moving heavy objects from one side of the building site to the other. I feel grossly over-qualified and as I begin the menial job my eyes must turn glassy as I drift and fade from real life, losing myself in daydreams, ambitions and memories.

Into my left ear, a famous Dylan rift, and as I journey through the campsite more music welcomes me home; drums, percussion, and more guitars. I can feel the nervous excitement in the air, tonight is the most important night of the week for some, perhaps even the main reason some stay? Mara arrives at my tent and plays a couple songs she has in mind, then bounces off to find wine. I just sit, in my recycled lounge-shack, enjoying the atmosphere, loving my life and appreciating how happy I am here.

I feel nervous as I find a patch of blanket to sit on. I don’t know why I’m nervous, I just am, and as we pass beers and joints the atmosphere finds its own unique and loopy medium. It must be so difficult to remain composed in front of this many eyes. I imagine myself under those lights and wish I had something to offer. I feel that squeeze in my stomach the rises to my throat, just thinking about being there ruins me, there must be 300 people watching?

Every Act is outstanding and I feel proud of my friends. We all dance to Cockatoo Paul as he wraps up his show and the short term visitors look bewildered by our zeal. The atmosphere relaxes and the evening is underway. Now I have to decide how functional I want to be at work tomorrow, because there ain’t no turning back… I feel old as I pause to consider the repercussions and laugh at myself for being so easily persuaded, what harm would one more do?

I live with a lovely community at the Arts Factory and plan to stay here until after Christmas, when which, there is only one other place in the world I would rather be – Cold rainy beautiful and homely Devon. But not this year. Between New Year and April I am still undecided but it will depend on how much money I have saved. My future travels require an obscene amount of money, all of which needs to be earned.

- Ben Bushell, Byron Bay, December 2008

Neeeew Yoooork Ciiiity & RickyG

I awoke early saturday morning after a blurry karaoke&goodbye filled night, and a mere 2 hours sleep, ready to furiously pack my bag and set off in a car with my sister and my brother's girlfriend for my very first ever trip to NYC. (Yes, that's right my lovelies, I am 27, live in montreal, work in a creative profession, and have never been to NYC. It's a mystery to me too.)Also, this was not simply a departure to NY, but a departure from Montreal; over the next three weeks i'll be in Montreal for a grand total of another 2.5 days before I leave for Australia where I will stay for up to 12 months.. The reality of my departure is setting in fast!

The 7 hour road trip teaches me 3 things. First, my laptop battery is nearing the end of its life, and making a driving playlist/CD is a task best finished *before* climbing into the backseat of the car. Second, indulging in truck-stop junk food is wildly tempting and promises to satisfy a bizarre culinary guilty-pleasure related somehow to a childhood of eating *good* food, but is never as enjoyable as my imagination promise. Third, most of the 'cheese' used at Taco Bell is of the kraft slices variety. ick.

We cross the bridge into NYC at 5pm. The city looms as we approach, and the drive thru is an odd experience of finally seeing in person the urban landscape so familiar to me already through pop culture. Wide, car-filled streets with tall buildings and packed sidewalks. Lovely building facades with fire escapes unceremoniously tacked on top. Occasional square of greenspace overflowing with active New Yorkers of all ages enjoying the sun, heat, and company. A few minutes later in central Manhattan we are greeted by a friendly woman named Ximena whose apartment we are renting for three days. As she 'gives us the tour', she serves us homemade lemonade and then takes us up to a rooftop party with an incredible view of the city skyline. That evening we dine at Schiller's where I gorge on a delicious cuban sandwich and marvel at the lettering (numbering?) on the bottles that line the wall. We then drive over to brooklyn and spend the night getting strikes & gutterballs at "The Gutter", a great bowling alley with good beer, 70s furniture and a cozy bar. We cap off the night back in Manhattan with some typical new york pizza, and discuss how post-drinking eateries seem to be a great equalizer, bringing all kinds of people together at the end of the night, united by their love of greasy hangover-preventing snacks, sitting elbow to elbow devouring different-but-similar slices of pizza.

Sunday we get up less-than-bright-and-early for an eagerly awaited brunch/lunch at Cafe Habana on Prince Street. The food is great, the highlight being the Grilled Cornonthecob covered with Queso Blanco, chili powder and lime. We think we see Perez Hilton, but are disappointed a quick blackberry-internet-picture-check later. After a wander through the designer markets and a subway trip, we find ourselves basking in the sun with about 1000 other sunbathers in central park, in 'sheep field'. We then groggily stroll over to the MOMA where we finish the days activities off with a rushed-1h-before-closing survey of art and design from 1870-1940. Seeing Les Desmoiselles D'Avignon in person is pretty overwhelming! I take in 1940-present in about 5 minutes as the guards corral us towards down-only-escalators 5 minutes before closing. Tired, we head back to the apartment, making a quick stop at Wholefoods for some hor d'oeuvres and a bottle of Rose which we happily devour back on the rooftop, watching a pale pink sun set over the NYC skyline. Dinner is Indian, drinks are at a half empty club, and the night finishes happily with cider and lemondrop shots on yet another improvised rooftop terrace (read: kitchen chairs on tarpaper) this time in Brooklyn. We get to bed around 4, simultaneously excited for and dreading another full day in NY.

Not surprisingly, monday sees us rising late, and we don't make it out till at least 11. We basically spend the afternoon doing lots of rushed shopping, including gawking at haute couture and anticipating celebrity spottings in SOHO. (no dice.) Another rushed museum visit, the Guggenheim this time, is discussed, but rejected thanks to everyone's mutual need to retreat to the apartment for a nap! A few hours later, we are off to see Ricky Gervais do a standup act at Madison Square Gardens. The spectacle is exciting, the act is hilarious, only slightly marred for me by the fact that i've seen about 70% of the show already on DVD a week earlier. But this allows me to discover first-hand how excellent an actor Gervais is, with his rehearsed-but-convincingly-spontaneous style. We take in Times Square, a spectacle best seen at night to be sure. I wind my way through crowds perched on the curb watching baseball on a screen overhead, passionate couples arguing loudly, long lines of caricaturists with thier prey, and other tourists like myself tripping over each other as we look nowhere but up and/or through our cameras. To finish off the night, we head to Jamon for some lovely Rioja and tasty Spanish tapas. The quail en escabeche disappears much too quickly, as does the pickled sardines and the freshly cut serrano ham. Inspired, I vow to actively embark on an education in wine appreciation. About 7 years too late, but better late than never.

And with that vow ends my first trip to New York City. Tuesday morning we're up early for our flight, and after minimal security checks (i did have to take off my shoes) we're on a plane back to Canada. Next stop: Manitoba; Winnipeg, then Neepawa, for tons of family catch-up, lots of tea, BBQed food and soft-serve ice cream, the Neepawa 125th homecoming / lily festival, and a re-grounding in half of my confused cultural background - the prarie.

staying, going, staying, going...

Its has been just over 6 weeks since I have been back in montreal, and I'm just about to leave for parts of canada. After a short North American expedition I'm off, straight back to Australia and Byron Bay, just in time for the Splendour in the Grass music festival, where 18 000 people invade that small town for a weekend of rock madness. Sadly I have no tickets. But I've been assured the perimeter fences are a minor obstacle ...

I'm excited to go back, but I'll admit that my excitement is heavily overshadowed at the moment by the contentment I feel being back in Montreal. The city is alive, humming with the movement of people who are trying to make the most of these warm summer days before winter threatens us with its gaunt, autumn-colored fingers. So many old friendships in need of re-cementing, new friendships to hurriedly make a foundation for before I leave. So, dare I say it, I feel sad to leave Montreal. Sad to the point of fantasizing about staying a bit longer... I know what that would mean, tho. It starts with a Job, followed up by an apartment, then suddenly it feels *impossible* to leave again. At the moment I have the benefit of a very temporary living situation to help me stay focused (I'm unemployed and sleeping on a foam mattress on the floor at my sister's apartment - it has smurf sheets for heavens sake. Ok, maybe that's a perk...)

One of the exciting things about being back in Montreal was rediscovering the city i've known for so long, the city that is a part of me to the point of becoming invisible. It was invisible. When I lived there, the city was a totally ubiquitous part of my daily life. But now it suddenly exists again, and I'm dying to consciously rediscover my favorite parts of Montreal, so I can share them with others and appreciate them more fully. But to be honest, I'm beginning to think it's naive to believe you can ever see with any distance or impartiality anything you are/were once so close to. Maybe you can suspend partiality, as you 'suspend disbelief' when you watch a movie, but it's still a different creature from having fresh, naive eyes.

Since I had some free time on my hands, I decided to volunteer with the Montreal Fringe Festival a little bit, which was alot of fun, and I highly recommend it to anyone. I mostly worked the beer tent, which is a great job; it lets you socialize with guests and other volunteers and watch performances while you work. Being involved in the fringe reminded me of being at the Arts Factory a bit; it's a condensed, brief, emotionally intense experience of meeting people, forming bonds, some of which you know wont last past the fest, but you can pretend nonetheless.... And then some will, and you will be pleasantly surprised. I saw a few shows, including Degrassi! The Musical, which was a fun reminder of all the things I loved about that show, and Blastback Babyzap - a great sketchcomedy show from some truly brilliant actors. Ok, I may know these guys personally. But hear my honest, unbiased review: it rocked.

My transience has continued - combine couch surfing with not working and unusual amounts of going out drinking & dancing, and I feel like I'm still on the road! On the road, yet in a very familiar place. Familiar, and yet unfamiliar, since I've been experiencing the city in a truly different way than ever before in my life. It's been bizarre to say the least. But as a result of this 'continual travel', homesickness is starting to set in. (wondered when this would happen!) I'm starting to miss having a sense of connection with a place - an anchor. Being unanchored is a liberating feeling that goes hand in hand with an opportunity for some great personal discovery. It's great, until you start to feel like you're just... drifting. I guess it's time to refocus, to brush the dust off my shoes and bag and hit the road again. What luck, as I'm just about to exactly that.

Byron Bay to Montreal- a temporary end, a chapter summary

Wow! So, it's been a while since i've last posted. That partly has to do with the fact that I hadn't changed spots, I stayed in Byron Bay for the last six or seven weeks! Being there felt right, and I just couldn't leave.

Which brings me to this: I have news, my lovelies. The reason I stayed in Byron so long is because I decided that three months in Australia is just obscenely too short, so after a short stint back home, I'm returning to Oz on a (up to) 12month working visa! Traveling without working is expensive stuff and only viable for a few months MAX, so this time I'm going to be working as I go, which is actually extremely common amongst backpackers in Australia, and not that hard to do. Basically, I feel that I have learnt so much from my experience so far, and It's not the moment to cut that experience short. Staying for longer will be the best thing I can do for myself right now, and although I'm nervous as all hell, I am also really excited.

My plan at the moment is to return to oz and spend a few months back at the arts factory working a REAL job, then when the weather gets a bit nicer I will start doing some trips up the coast. I hope this time around to make it out to more places in oz; ayers rock and the outback, western australia, and maybe I will also spend a few months in Melbourne, the city I loved soo much (my substitute montreal, but with a better climate...)

My last few weeks at the arts factory were pretty great. I continued to do my nightime bus shifts. The last one by far had the be the best, with the drunk guy who could barely walk or talk or recognize his surroundings, but he tried to kiss me and get my phone number anyways. I had to forcibly remove him from the bus!!

Life at the arts factory had started to get more settled in those last few weeks, with fewer drinking binge nights; what there were seemed to be relegated to weekends, almost like normal people. ... scary .... It brought up a whole new set of thoughts and feeling about travelling. I wondered if staying at the AF so long was a sign that I was regressing back into those oh-so-comfortable-&-familiar stable-life patterns. But then I reminded myself that I worked 12hours a week and was living in a tent. ... ... Being able to make REAL friends for a change was really nice, and I know I will really value some of those friendships for a long time, if not forever. However, at moments being around so many people in such a social environment also made me feel more lonely; funny how being surrounded by people can highlight any feelings of distance and alienation you feel in a new/temporary/transient environment.

So, for the moment, and I do stress moment, I'm back in Montreal! Planning the next period of my life. Trying to shelve some aspects of my life of the past before heading out again. Thinking alot about my travel experiences in this new at-home-northern-hemisphere-urban-living light. Sorting out the feelings I have about leaving people behind everywhere I go, and about the people I am leaving behind. Trying to let go of past experiences and move on to new ones. trying to not travel for travel's sake, but travel cause I actually want to, where & when I want to. Packing up my life, literally! Trying to find a way to pack up stuff I'll need for a year - backpack? suitcase? Searching high and lo to find plane tickets galore! Asia? hmm... Dealing with living in my teen-years bedroom in my parent's house. (yay.) And sleeping in till noon, staying up till 3am. (LOVE being jetlagged. Oh yah.)

And since I'm so bored, you might soon be subjected to a post or two about the moderately neurotic post-travel-pre-travel debates raging in my mind.

hugs& kisses to all, I miss you Arts Factory lovelies!

more byron and terrifying times

I may have to re-think this blog; does it still count as a travel blog if you have three or more entries from the same tiny town? Does staying here for so long still count as traveling? I'm gonna say Yes, even if just to reassure myself that I'm not falling back into my entrenched normal-life habits, and an ever present desire to settle down somewhere... hmm... I also maintain that continued hostel-living also gives me 'traveller' status. It's my logic. don't argue.

Also, true to traveller-form, I have continued to push out and past my normal boundaries, trying all kinds of 'terrifying' things.

Terrifying thing #1 - I did a 10m high jump off a cliff into the water at a local 'quarry'. Before jumping, my biggest worry was that I would hit the water at an angle and wind up with a big bruise. And as luck would have it, that's exactly what happened. Despite my sore butt, it was still a blast, and I think almost even better thanks to my 'injury'; ie seeing that my worst-case-scenario fear wasnt such a big deal after all.

Terrifying thing #2 - I performed in the hostel's weekly talent show! Me and another guest named Phil cracked out a version of Joni Mitchell's "Case of you" about two hours before the show started. Neither of us have really performed in front of people before (I maintain that Karaoke doesn't count...) Performing was so much fun, I think I'm a tad addicted to it now, I just might do something next week!!

Since I've spent so much time here in Byron, I decided to start doing a little work-for-accomodation in the form of driving the hostel's nightly shuttle bus. It brings guests into town, and runs every 7 minutes till 4am. The motivation in offering this service, however, has much more to do with reducing complaints from the neighbors about loud, drunken backpackers roaming their streets at 3am, rather than some well thought out business strategy. Of all the accom work, this job is considered one of the best, since you only do it twice a week ( 2 x 6h shift) and it doesn't really take up much usable time (10pm- 4am.) Plus, how many jobs let you crank out your own tunes, mock your 'clients', and have a friend sit with you as you work? I've even taken to photographing people as they stream thru my litte bus-world, helps the time pass, provides some really interesting souvenirs of this job... And a final perk of the job: the snacks I get given from stoners doing 'pie runs' in the middle of the night (aka nipping into town to the all-night bakery for some munchie-induced snacking) I'd have to give the rum ball and hedgehog two thumbs up, and the asperagus-corn-cheese pie is NOT to be missed! .

Which brings me to terrifying thing #3: I have learned to drive a manual! I kid you not, people, it has actually happened. Opportunity presented itself when the automatic bus almost ran out of fuel one night and resulted in a friend offering to teach me on his own van. (he's crazy, I know.) And I'm not kidding when I call this one terrifying: my first reaction was to run screaming. I had a hard enough time learning how to drive in the first place when I was 19; somehow I managed to make turning corners into a huge feat. BUT, a 2 hour lesson later i had almost mastered hill-starts, and then drove the manual bus that night for my 6 hour shift, almost without incident. I only stalled, hmm... 10 times maybe? And almost NO bunny hops. Ok, a few. many. shut up. At least I learned!!

The surf goes on, though my body is giving out bit by bit. Or at least it was until I discovered that occasional breaks from surfing, or a one-on-one-off schedule are more suitable for my extremely out of shape and unathletic self. My surf-induced cuts and grazes have been saved from becoming sea ulcers thanks to some self-maintenance-education from local surfers and chemists. But hey, i've graduated off the softboards, also know as 'boats', and my paddling is improving a hell of alot, so I'm pretty fuckin' happy!

hugs and kisses to all of you from byron, missing you lots.

Transforming from Tourist to Traveller in Byron Bay

So as all trips should, my trip has taken me down some very unexpected roads.

Road number one: I've become stuck in Byron bay.
No, i haven't run out of money, I've just fallen in love with this sleepy/crazyy town, as well as the hostel I'm staying at. I've decided to abandon the obsession with sight seeing and scrap a few of my plans in order to stay here to focus on what really is the best part of travel, meeting people and having totally unexpected experiences thanks to the new friendships you form. And to really cement my status as a short-term long-termer, I've moved into a tent on the hostel's camping area. Yes, I am a bottom-dweller, and proud of it. I'm in a huge, 8 person tent, with one other person, an awesome gal named Sid from LA. It's more like luxury camping - or it would be if it weren't for the fact that it has been raining torrentially for about 5 days STRAIGHT. But other than the unpleasant dampness of all my clothing, Sid and I are staying high and dry. Well, not actually high, contrary to Byron Bay clichés. You know what I mean.

Finally, it seems that Karma has delivered some traveling Tibetan Monks into my lap here at the Arts Factory, a serendipitous addition to this 'spiritual' journey. We'll see what I discover from them over the next few days!

Road number two: Surfing. I'm a complete convert.
I've spent my whole life saying how I'm not an athletic person, I don't like sports, it's just not me. But taking up surfing has changed my mind completely, and that in itself is one of life's real joys. My first lesson was such a blast, and an amazing ego boost. I stunned myself with my ability to actually get up on the board, as well as overcome the fact that I cannot, CANNOT breath out of my nose underwater (people, I have to hold my nose every time I fall off the board. its embarrassing) and live with inhaling ridiculous amounts of seawater every time I take a nose dive. (often.) Anyways. Lessons 2, 3, and 4 were a WHOLE different story. Suddenly I had to actually catch my OWN waves rather than have someone hold onto my board and push me into the wave at the exactly the right moment. I had to figure out timing, learn how and when to paddle into the wave, and discover that my arms are about as strong as two pieces of spaghetti. Basically, learning to surf feels like battling against everything; the waves, the rip, the undertow, the board, and hardest of all, your own physical and mental weaknesses. But after 30 minutes of discouraging struggle, almost on the point of giving up, you finally catch a wave, ride it to shore, and actually manage to steer the board a bit: Hallelujah, you've hit the jackpot of positive emotions. I think the best part has been learning that I can push right through the discouragement, the disappointment, the frustration, the exhaustion, and come out the other end a happy, enthusiastic ball of energy, ready for anything.

On a side note, my tan is coming along miserably. That may have something to do with the fact that I haven't exactly been laying around at the beach, which really is bad for you anyways. But a growing cluster of freckles seems to be gracing my cheeks and nose, and damn it, I like it.

Oh, and last but not least, I just HAVE to brag about this: I won the pub trivia two weeks in a row. (heance the triumphant picture of me with my week one team.) And I had a completely different team each time. Booyah!

Pictures:

Top - the view from my tent.

Middle - tons of byron friends! top to bottum: my trivia team week one, dancing with dan, sam and camilla at coco's, me and jill and cheeky's, and sid and tom hangin out at the hostel.

Bottum - playing scrabble with Sid in the tent. We both crashed at about 10pm right after this game, how sad are we?! Sid won, by the way.

WWOOFing it up in Murwillumbah

Say that 5 times fast. Or even once. I still can't pronounce it.

When I was back in Canada, I decided that WWOOFing would be a great thing to include as part of this travel experience. I've always been curious about the farming lifestyle, and have been getting really sick of my desk job lately. So I figured; no time like the present to see if this life is for me!

Some of you may be asking yourself what WWOOFing is. It's an acronym that stands for "Willing Workers On Organic Farms." To quote the international WWOOF website;

It started in the UK in 1971, and has since become an international movement that is helping people share more sustainable ways of living. WWOOF is an exchange - in return for volunteer help WWOOF hosts offer food, accommodation and opportunities to learn about organic lifestyles. WWOOF organisations link individuals wanting to volunteer on organic farms or smallholdings with people who are looking for volunteer help.

I paid my 60$ to join WWOOF Australia for one year, received my book of australia's WWOOF hosts in the mail 2 weeks later, off I set on my trip with my book in my backpack.

Finding a farm to work on was fairly easy. While in Byron I decided now was the time, so I picked out a few interesting farms from the 'area' to contact. 10 emails later, I was in contact with my Hosts, and a day later was sleeping in the 'WWOOFer' room on their farm!

My hosts are a lovely family of EIGHT! They have 6 children whose ages range between 25 - 10. The farm is basically a self-sustaining operation; they grow veggies and fruit, keep cows, sheep, ducks, geese, turkies, and chickens; all for their own consumption. The only product they market are their Freerange Organic Eggs.

On my first day I was put right to work weeding, hoeing, then planting a new veggie patch. I've never been a gardener, but I must say - looking over the little patch I had taken from rainforest-overgrowth to food-producing-earth made me feel pretty satisfied! Especially the seed planting. One package has SO many seeds, and each tiny little wonder will (theoretically) grow into a large, food producing plant! Amazing.

The afternoon saw me doing some simple woodwork/construction on the Tardis - yes, that Tardis, my Hosts were building as a guest accommodation just beside the main house. I was glad to be of help with that project, and I have come to realize that knowing how to cut freehand curves with a jigsaw isn't the most common skill in the world.

I've also collected eggs from uncooperative chickens, taken a shot at milking the cow - very badly, cleaned out chicken sheds to make fresh compost, weeded, weeded and then weeded some more, made dinner for 10 people - twice - including dessert, done housework and normal chores, and generally learned alot about how the place operates.

One thing that I love here is how nothing is wasted. Once a week a couple family members head out to the local "Brumbys" bakery at closing, and help them empty all the leftover bread into garbage bags. The family picks out and keeps the good stuff for themselves, and the rest becomes chicken / animal feed. Then the animal droppings are made into compost which feeds the veggie patch, and any plate scraps go right back into the cycle as chicken feed. Dried grass and wood-project-shavings become chicken nesting material, and the weeds I pull out of the garden are fed to the cows and rabbits. On top of that the family is very resourceful, making good use of garage-sales to stock their home and workshop.

I also love how productive the family is. The kids are expected to help out, ALOT, every day. In fact, the kids are the ones who make dinner every night. Last sunday I watched a 21 year old girl made a full roast dinner complete with roast lamb, chicken, roasted potatoes and carrots, stuffing-from-scratch, perfect yorkshire puddings, and gravy - and she hardly broke a sweat. The youngest son, a hyperactive boy of 10, makes coffee for his parents in the afternoon every day and brings it out to them on the terrace. The boys help thier dad with various projects, fix the family cars, and do other various chores. There is hardly a spare moment in this house, at least until after dinner at 8pm when they settle in for a bit of TV, reading, or personal time. I find I have lost the patience for TV since I've been here (a miracle!!) I had a day off alone at the house, which I was really looking forwards to, but I wound up doing some cleaning because I was bored and unfocused! I am pretty tired, but a person could get used to this amount of productivity in their life!

All in all, a wonderful experience so far; not really what I expected, as all the best experiences are.

Pictures:
Top Set - the farm, aint it lovely?
Set two - me collecting and weighing eggs to determine thier 'size'
Set Three - The garden I weeded, hoed, and planted (yay!!) then one of the workshop arteas, and the TARDIS
Set Four - Pavlova (yuuum), My first aussie BBQ, and the paella meal I cooked for the family one night.

RELAX: It's Byron Bay

After 3 weeks of travel, all in urban centers, Byron Bay was a pretty drastic change.

Byron Bay is a very small town about 1.5 hours drive south of Brisbane on the "Gold Coast" of Australia, population: 5,609. Add tourists, and the number probably doubles. Okay okay, maybe triples. It is a hugely popular tourist destination, particularly amongst backpackers, probably because it has great beaches, surfing, snorkling and diving, and a disproportionately high number of residents who live 'alternative lifestyles'. Basically, it's a really relaxed and laid back place that transforms into sheer backpacker chaos at night.

My first few days there, I went around the main strip a bunch of times, did some shopping, went to the beach, enjoyed the pool and facilities at the Hostel, went out for dinner, for drinks, for dancing. Then I started to get bored. I wondered if a week was too much for Byron, and I started to feel listless. Then miraculously another few days later, my body and mind must have slowed down to the Byron pace (was it the yoga class I did?) and I didn't feel bored, I just felt happy. I had learned to ride the Byron Wave, go with the flow, enjoy the sun and waves, and not really plan anything. A great feeling! Mind you, it explains why so many people get to Byron, and then don't get any further....

My Hostel, the Arts Factory Lodge, is what a hippy commune would look like if it were conceived of as a business. They clearly target an 'alternative' clientele, with accommodation choices that include a 10 person teepee, a double decker bus, lagoon-side-'cabins', and a camping area where you can pitch your tent. The Buddah Bar offers music/drinks/food every night, and the on-site movie theatre has blacklights and couches instead of seats. Every morning the volleyball court becomes a Staff-Poi lesson area, and you can also take didgeridoo lessons. At all times, the parking lot is FILLED with camper-vans. This place is quintessential Byron Bay, and once you've slowed down enough to enjoy it, it's a blast.

But, Byron is a backpacker haven, which means it really caters to backpackers and tourists. The main strip, which you can walk the length of in about 10 minutes, has a disproportionate number of travel shops (each with someone outside trying to lull you in with offers of free internet.) There are surf shops where tourists can buy their first pair of boarding shorts, clothing stores selling a huge variety of batik dresses and thai-fisherman-pants, pharmacies for a cheap bottle of water, pie shops for a midday or late night snack, and many bars and clubs.

Curious thing about the nightlife: at midnight most of the bars basically close, and your choice of venue is reduced to three places that are open till 3. In order from most to least classy: LaLaLand, Coocamungas, and Cheeky Monkeys, the last of the three being renowned for the weekly wet tshirt contest, and the 'dancing on the tables' (more like table-shaped steel stages) that takes place within. Sigh. Really cheesy, but hey - its good for a fun time. Except, the bouncers are power-tripping assholes. But hey, what else is new?

Finally, I've officially started abandoning some of my belongings. Meh, that top wasn't very flattering anyways.


Discoveries...

- do YOU know what an esky is?

- Sea kayaking is a blast, and also a dangerous weapon when 'catching a wave'.

- Surfing is SO MUCH FUN! And it's not nearly as hard to stand up on the board as you think it is. Especially with the giant foam boards you learn on.

- Food may be expensive, but the cost of organic food is almost prohibitive!

- You can sing any song to a standard reggae tune.

- Goannas are pretty big, and kinda scary, but basically harmless.

- Night swimming is lovely. But dangerous, apparently. Don't try it at home, kids.

- "Into the wild" is a great movie, and an ever better one if you are traveling or are looking for inspiration to travel.

- Too many sleepless nights WILL catch up with you eventually. *cough cough HACK*

- I can talk to other Canadians more easily than to people from other places in the world. I guess we really do have some common traits...

week three: melbourne

Ahh, Melbourne. Lovely, wonderful Melbourne.

My second week in Australia was a vast improvement over the first. Perhaps I was finally adjusted to the time change and the climate, perhaps I was starting to live a more moderate backpacker lifestyle. Or, and I'm leaning this way, perhaps Melbourne is just a fabulous city full of fabulous people!

Designers, beware: if you come to Melbourne, you may never want to leave. For Melbourne is to australia what Montreal is to Canada; the 'cultural capital'. Full of galleries artists and art students, home to a centrally located and reputable design center, and a thriving design community.

In fact, the city's personality bore a striking resemblance to Montreal's. The population of each city is about identical at 3.5 mil, each city is the smaller sibling of the country's BIG city that is relatively close, geographically speaking (Mtl > To = 5hour drive Syd > Melb = 9hours) and yet NOT the capital city, which would be Canberra. (and Canberra, I'm told, is a small purpose built city - much like our very own Ottawa.) AKA, Melbourne has a superiority complex that is actually a veiled inferiority complex. The city has a main natural feature (the yarra river) that is bordered by many natural parks as it runs through various parts of the city. Finally, Melbourne is home to an avid community of sports fans supporting the local faves: cricket and aussie-rules. (read: go habs go!)

The city feels very modern. Because it is a relatively young city; founded in 1835 with rapid growth due to the goldrush in 1850s, you can clearly see evidence of urban planning in the wide streets, open spaces, and post-1900s architecture that is amazingly well preserved (argh, damn that warm climate!). This is one 'modern' city, complete with trams: love the trams!! I visited the Ian Potter National Gallery of Victoria, housing a great Sydney Nolan temporary exhibit, then - upon recommendation from a boookshop employee in fitzroy - I explored the side alleys just opposite the gallery to discover a stunning display of various styles of graffiti art.

I was staying in Fitzroy, an area full of cool pubs/bars/clubs, retro & designer boutiques, galleries, bookstores, and OF CORSE, young aussie hipsters. My hostel was The Nunnery, a very relaxed place with beautiful old architectural detailing both inside and out, and a slightly older crowd, which made me feel a bit more at home.

Again, met some great people. Aofie, Hazel, and Denise, my hilarious Irish roomies who ruined the next 9 months of Coronation street for me, (Oh heavens, the plot twists!! You won't believe!!!) Then brits Emma and Rachel, who took me in as one of their own. David, the smooth french roommate (ahh, not that smooth, ladies.) Random locals who hit on us at bars with a bizarre mix of bravado and indifference. The feisty irish gal we met at Bar Open, Sonya (seen in the image at R carrying away aofie). The canadian girl we also met at Bar Open who tried to convince me, somewhat successfully, that facebook is a CIA initiative designed to create a detailed database of the worlds youth, complete with lists of their friends and pictures of their vacations. Hmmm.

If you're ever in Melbourne, do check out a bar in St Kilda (somewhat snooty beach area) called The Esplanade Hotel, aka, "The Espy". It's a big old hotel converted into a big bar with 4 stages that are ALL occupied as of 6pm every night. Bored of drum beats? Check out the soul band in the next room! Also, beautiful view of the sunset on the water for a post-beach schooner of beer.

Okok, I know this is getting long, but I just have so much to say about Melbourne!!

Discoveries...

- I have a weakness for cute sundresses and clothing sales (duh) and an as of recently undiscovered talent for packing. (It still closes!!)

- The famous tiny penguins can be seen at Phillips Island, a trip I do recommend, but can ALSO be seen at the pier in St Kilda for 60$ less. AKA, for free. Dont use flash photography, it may kill the penguins. I just used an uber sensitive camera, I swear to god.

- EVERYONE thinks you speak french or ARE french if you come from Montreal / Quebec. I'm not quite sure why this surprises me, but it does.

- Feeding wallabies (in the pic) and kangaroos is awesome, but watch those roos cause they're greedy buggers with sharp-ish nails on their hands.

- Beware the dreaded drop-bear. LOL.

- Watching hundreds of fruit bats fly 10 feet above your head at sunset is wild.

- Do YOU know what a capsicum is?

- Timtams are sooo good, but a curiously messy, melty cookie for such a warm climate.

Smiley

Last night, a memory from sydney came back to me and I thought: I have to share this before I forget it and it is lost forever.

One beautiful day I was walking into downtown sydney from Kings Cross with a fellow traveller, and some older man with a very friendly demeanor started walking along side us, and said to my friend "Your shoelaces are untied." She looks down at her thongs (read: flip flops) and we all have a good laugh.

A couple days later I'm walking along the same street by myself, and he comes along and does the same 'intro', then walks with me for about 10 minutes sharing with me his favorites jokes and his secret to happiness.

He tells me that when he was young, just after WWII he somehow lost his parents and became homeless, and has been ever since, but he's always kept his spirits up, and has always been happy. He tells me you just have to be positive, not take things too seriously, and tell jokes because they make people happy. I think his name was Smiley; he had it on his belt buckle. He took great pride in his name and his buckle.  

Sadly I can only rememebr two of his jokes: 

-"Hey mate, how are you going?"
-"Im putting one foot in front of the other!"

-"Hey mate, y'alright?"
-"Nah, I'm half left."
(I like that one quite a bit.)


Talk about travel experiences giving you a sense of perspective.

Week two: Sydney

My first week in australia was a bit of a whirl-wind experience. Between adjusting to jetlag, frequent hangovers, solo travel, and communal living (shared dorms in hostels), i hardly wound up having enough time to really explore the city! I did make it to Manly beach, Bondi beach, walked around the botanical gardens, saw the opera house (inside and out), shopped in the downtown core, strolled thru chinatown, and thru 'the rocks', and hung out at my hostel, the Pink House, in Kings Cross ("the red light district", but a pretty tame one.)

I would say the highlight of this part of my trip was two things.

First, making friends. I'll admit, I was ridiculously nervous about this. I actually had to call up all my courage the first time I stepped out into the pink-house-terrace in order to befriend complete strangers. But it turned out to be so easy! There were many long-termers at the Pink House, who were friendly enough but tended to stay in their groups. It was the short term stay-ers who were easiest to talk to, we seem to be the most willing to make that oh-so-annoying yet oh-so-neccesary travel small talk.

Travel small-talk is much like regular small-talk, only the questions are as follows;
Where are you from?
How long are you in australia / sydney?
Where have you been so far?
Where are you going next?

This will be followed by a series of questions related to how you answer those first four, such as: Oh, you've been to Adelaide! Where did you stay? and so on and so forth. And, much like normal life small-talk, it has become incredibly tedious to me already. But, a necessary evil.

The second best part of my week in Sydney was the Mardi Gras parade. Its name is a bit of a misnomer; it doesn't actually take place on or near fat tuesday, it's actually Sydney's pride parade! Like how the pride parade used to be in Montreal, it's quite a big parade, and since it is legal to drink in public in most places in Australia, it's teeming with drunk people of all ages wearing colourful clothes, wigs, elaborate costumes, or hardly anything at all! And of corse, part 2 was enhanced by part 1; the new friends with whom I was witnessing this wild event. And these people are some of the best people I have met so far on this trip; Rob (toronto), Becky and Matt (living in england), and Jo and Amenha (england, the ones in the wigs...).

One thing I quickly began to realize; I am unlikely to meet that many australians on this trip. But I WILL meet a ton of people from england, ireland, and then to a lesser extent germany, france, scotland, scandanavian countries, USA, japan...

Discoveries...
Food is crazy expensive, but you can get these wicked little sushi rolls for like 2-3$ a pop on any block. This is PERFECT traveller food; relatively healthy, cheap, filling, and you can eat it on the go!

Food may be expensive, but this is only due to the fact that most of the food comes from within Australia, and the people working on the farms and in the entire system are paid QUITE WELL. I heard min wage here is something like 12$. A local in Byron Bay told me that Australia doesn't have a huge poor working class like you see in North America. Take that, land of the free!!

Back to sushi: SUSHI TRAIN! Restaurants that have a continual conveyer belt of sushi going in a circle, you pick a plate or two or three, and after eating, you pay according to a color coordination system (blue plates = 2.50, green ones 3.00 and so on...)

Kinokuniya! THE MOST AWESOME BOOKSTORE EVER! So many awesome design, art, and architecture books, and then a whole Japanese books section, which is perfect for my love of japanese craft books, and definitely warrants a revisit before I leave back to Canada... so very, very rad.

Why did I bring running shoes?!! And two pairs of Jeans?! It's bloody hot in this country! Tops, shorts, and 'thongs' are all you need. and one nice pair of shoes for going out. Not kidding, this place has a stricter dress code than all of Montreal.

Australian women, at least in Sydney, are very well dressed, wear alot of dresses, and put me and my backpacker wardrobe to SHAME. So, teehee, I bought some clothes, which miraculously fit into my already-full backpack.

Week One: Vancouver

What a pleasant shock it was to arrive in vancouver, where it was sunny and warm for my entire visit. The very first thing I noticed was the mountains - i know, they're kindof hard to miss, but I was amazed by the incredible beauty and presence of the mountains which are SO close, right beside the city! I can see why vancouver residents are so into nature-based activities. When you wake up every day to the sight of those mountains, it's probably hard to resist the urge to escape to that dewey, grand wilderness.


The second thing I noticed was that my backpack was really heavy, and my bony hips were being rubbed sore. Damn it.

I was staying in a lovely old house in a richer part of town, and had the friendliest hosts! It was a bit bizarre, however, to stay with people; I felt compelled to inform them of my timetable (if I even had one...), my plans, etc. Not exactly the travel-independence I was looking forwards to. But it had its upsides; becoming a pseduo-regular at a local cafe that serves the yummiest italian lunches, having like-mided people to watch the oscars with, getting the local insider knowledge of the best cheap sushi place in town... the list goes on.

It was in vancouver that I spent a bit of time thinking about my philosophy of what-is-art after a conversation on that topic with one of my hosts, Michel. I told him that art, to me, is something that allows you to experience someone else's view of the world as if it were your own - it must open your eyes to a new perspective, one that you never before had even contemplated the existence of. Later that day as I walked around a lovely residential area in west-vancouver, I realized that travel is exactly the same thing. Does that make travel art? Lucky that I happen to be reading Alain de Botton's "The Art of Travel." Perhaps it will give me some answers.

The first post!

Hi Everyone!! Welcome to my travel blog! I hope to use this blog every time I travel so that I can record and share my experiences with you, my adoring fans, teeheee. FOR, as someone quoted to me recently, and it turned out to be from the excellent film "Into the wild", Happiness is only real when shared.

Now, first things first: my apologies for taking so long. Well, I'm not really sorry, but you get my apologies anyways cause that's what we Canadians do so well. I am officially 32 days - just over one month - into my trip; thats one third of my total trip and I'm only starting my blog now. To be honest, I was just going to scrap the idea altogether, but I have a fellow traveler named Kieran to thank for motivating me to actually put finger to keyboard and start the damn thing. And even then, its been a week since our conversation! Ah well. Such is life.

Still I had a choice: start from today as if those 4 weeks never happened, or try to go back and recapture the more interesting details of that time for posterity's sake? Against my better judgement, I am going to do the latter. So bear with me, and trust me, I will get to my current farming life soon enough.

So! Enjoy! Feel free to comment. Things like "I hate you, its freezing here" and "I'm so jealous!" are great, they help me keep perspective. Or also "Holy cow, you are long winded, be more concise!" works fine too, one can always use a little constructive criticism as one learns to blog. Finally, "Claire, we love you and miss you, please come home!" is best of all, since I do miss you all terribly, and a little virtual love and hugs never hurt anyone.

Hugs and kisses to all. Keep your stick on the ice.