3rd Block from the Sun

Growing up, I learned to associate vacation with relaxation, so I have trouble putting a name to whatever it is I’ve been doing for the last five months. My time in Australia though, has been a bridge between hectic adventure and a “proper” vacation.

Three blocks from the shore of Surfers Paradise, on the corner of Wharf Road and the Gold Coast Highway, is the SP Backpackers Resort. Designed like a motel, the rooms surround a courtyard that acts as a tennis court, volleyball court, and basketball court all at different times of the day. In one corner are a pool and sauna, and in the opposite are a communal kitchen and bar. It’s probably the nicest and one of the cheapest hostels I’ve found in the last several months. Oh, and if you don’t want to leave? Just sign on with the hostel to do a couple hours of chores a day with your Working Holiday Visa and stay until you’re sick of the beach life (or your visa expires).

As usual, I arrived before check-in despite waiting an obscene amount of time in the heat for a town bus that cost $9.20. I dropped my stuff off at the hostel and followed the sand south to Broadbeach. I had never seen waves so big before. Every so often, one came and engulfed half of the shore! For breakfast, I stopped in at the Oasis Shopping Centre for an All-Day Breakfast. A cute brunette, Brooke, rang up and brought me my order of toast, eggs, bacon, tomato, and a hash brown. It was good to eat properly again.

Later, returning to the hostel, I met two of my roommates: Will and Rory, both Englishmen. While abroad, it is typically Australians who dominate the hostels, so I was interested to find that the majority of travellers in Australia are either English or Canadian (though I’ve met few Canadians thus far). I joined the two of them for a session of bodyboarding after the waves had been downgraded from a red flag. Never before had I experienced the rush of a wave carrying me more than 100 metres! I had to steer my body left and right to avoid hitting people who were jumping in the waves. Rory and I even gave each other props as one particularly good wave carried us side-by-side.

We returned to the room to meet a third Englishman, Nick. All of us chipped in on a large batch of chicken legs and couscous that Will and Rory cooked up.  I ate from my Pyrex bowl from Italy that I’ve started to refer to as a monk’s bowl. Nick and I did clean up duty as thanks.

That evening, the four of us went to the bottle shop and each pitched in for a two-four (there’s a mix of slang for you). I’m proud to say this Canadian showed up those Englishmen on the count as we sat talking on the beach. At one point, we were surprised by the sudden appearance of a rustic moon which broke out of the clouds and reflected off of the black ocean. At 10 p.m. we took the courtesy shuttle into town and, with three stamps and a bracelet, we were admitted to Sin City. We all clinked our first free rum and cokes and then went our separate ways. I went to the men’s room where a sleek wall-length waterfall acted as a urinal. It was certainly one of the nicer places I’ve ever taken a leak. After about 20 minutes (if that), I left the club. It wasn’t my scene, but the beers on the beach made for a good night.

Next morning, I grabbed my things and headed down to Broadbeach. I had breakfast with Brooke again and she seemed to recognize me and my cowboy hat. I spent some time in the sun and jumped in the water for a quick cool down.  The heat – although not worse than a good Canadian summer day – was enough to put me under a tree just off of the beach. The unfortunate thing about falling asleep in the shade is that you don’t usually wake up in the shade. I rose to some terribly burnt shins which kept me hobbling indoors for the next two days.

During those few days, I returned to my usual breakfast spot, but Brooke wasn’t working. In the afternoons I walked over to the Pacific Fair Shopping Centre to get internet access and I watched three movies at the Birch Carroll & Coyle. It was a strange, but relaxing experience for someone who’s never been to the movies alone and especially so because the theatre was fairly empty each time. I really enjoyed The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and an advanced screening of The Wolf of Wall Street. A nice short-cut blonde got me into the show despite not being a member of the cinemas, likely because of my Canadian accent. 47 Ronin was a waste of money, though I suppose it kept me inside and occupied for a few hours.

Noticing that I had regressed to my default and was keeping to myself again, I asked Nick to join me for some Wok in a Box. There, I got to know more about him and his life, and convinced him to join me for a surfing lesson the next day.

My original plan was to take four days of surfing lessons, but for whatever reason, I made excuses and put it off. On my last full day, Nick and I went up the coast to learn the basics. It was a good two-hour lesson and we both managed to stand up a few times. The rush wasn’t as great as bodyboarding because the large waves kept pushing me over. Nevertheless, I saw the potential and would love to surf again!

When we returned to the “resort,” Will was shooting hoops, so I joined him. Hoops turned into tossing a disk with Ryan, a Michigan man, which then turned into a volleyball game. Going into the third game of a best-of-three, I served the last few points, finishing with the mandatory jump serve. Winners got a free beer from the clubhouse bar and that’s where the night ended for me; not a bad way to finish my stay in Surfers Paradise!