Monday, January 5, 2015

Byron and Back Again

The first person I met when I arrived in Australia was more stoned than the regular clientele of Medusa’s favourite Amsterdam coffee shop. We played a game on his phone and he defeated me mercilessly despite my temperance. Then our brief friendship came to an end. “Duuuude,” he drawled. “This was sick, dude, but I’d better go. I need to meet my dealer.” His phone buzzed gently. The lock screen was a leaf of sweet Mary Jane.

I was reminded of this encounter when I arrived in Byron Bay. The stereotypical image, once a mere doodle in my mind, is filled in at the edges and becomes as colourful as a sun-tanned tattoo. I had never seen a dreadlocked mullet before going to Byron, but now I’d hardly give it a second glance. Most people are barefoot, but the hair wraps and tie dye make up for any lack of sole covering. On my final day, the white rastas got out their ukuleles and bongos, dreadlocks enveloped in Santa hats, and performed an acoustic Christmas Carol concert on the grass.

Byron Bay offers more than just people-watching. Surfing, sea-kayaking, diving, and snorkelling are all on the to-do list, though I ticked off only the last. At Julian Rocks I met a sea turtle and watched it dine on jellyfish, but stayed far away from the rays lurking on the seabed. I burnt myself at Belongil Beach, the quieter, nicer beach about a kilometer from the town. A slow, hot walk to the Cape Byron Lighthouse and Australia’s easterly point, passing as many beaches as it does, could fill a day. At the lighthouse I scribbled a windswept postcard to my friends at Yarra, and at the easterly point a school of dolphins frolicked in the glittering waves.


I’ve spoken a lot about the residence I’ve been living at while studying in Australia. It’s been the source of most of the friendships I’ve made while here, and certainly the ones I know I’ll keep when I’m gone. Res life isn’t for everyone, but if you don’t mind a messy kitchen, thrive in a busy, loud environment, and like to be surrounded by people, it’s for you. (Tip: this year, floor 1 was the noisiest, floor 2 was the friendliest, and floor 3 – mine – was the most peaceful.)
Take a look for yourself with our handy resident-made virtual tour.





"Why are you eating her ice cream? Is stealing her food some weird revenge?" "Well, they do say revenge is a dish best served cold."

 “I’ve been through a lot. Even my scars have scars.”

“But the German for Ovulation is Eisprung. That means ‘egg jump’.  So the egg jumps between the fallopian tubes, back and forth, and the sperm shoots it. Like Space Invaders. Right?”

 “Empower: for women. The new fragrance by Chappell.”

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