My first real day in Australia started early to say the least. Awake at 6 am not knowing which was is up Jackie and I prepared for the day, anxiously awaiting the free breakfast included in so many hostels' packages, and were ready to hit the road. Not sure where to exactly - we were game for anything, as the weather had seemed to clear up, at least a bit. Of course front desk bottle ginger and and front desk natural ginger quickly extinguished those dreams, explaining that roads all over Queensland were shut down due to the cyclone that was apparently not yet done with us. So, I did what any god-fearing American woman would do - I carb'd up and immediately purchased WiFi so I could play on my phone.
We quickly claimed prime real estate, located in the corner of a L shaped couch that has for sure seen better, if not more hygienic days, right next to the only functioning outlet in the lobby of Bunk Backpackers. This is where we set up shop for a couple early morning hours of work, web surfing and watching post adolescents discover who they are through travel and sexual experimentation right before our very eyes. Feeling I had gotten my fill of culture in what could only be called a communal living room we noticed the clouds had parted, and were not sure for how long, so we booked it out of there with a map in hand determined to see what Brisbane had to offer.
A very helpful woman at the front desk had made note of some points of interest, so Jackie and I set forth on foot to tackle each circle on the map.
Walking straight down Ann Road led us to Queen's Street Mall, which is apparently the hot spot for shopping in Brisbane. It resembles the K street mall in Sacramento with heftier price tags and more tourist trappings, but it was nice weather so we were happy to peer into the windows of stores meant to attract juniors in high school with a penchant for spandex - little did they know that camo skirt and crop top had my name written all over it! Unfortunately, being at the start of this expensive sojourn, no shopping was taking place, so we quickly moved down to the water, crossing over Victoria Bridge toward South Bank. We had seen South Bank via car the day before - but once the rain subsided it became apparent that Brisbane is not a ghost town of puddles and broken tree branches, people actually do live here.
Due to the weather the Queensland Museum Art Gallery closed, but the Science museum, featuring dinosaurs and fashion designers (strange, right?) was open, and free, so Jackie and I took a look around before heading to Boundary and Vulture, which had been described as an 'alternative' neighborhood. Turns out alternative simply means you can find patchouli perfume and gluten free menu options. More Aussie fashions lined the street, calling out my name, but I persevered and instead headed to the Roma Street Parkland, which had been suggested over the Botanic Gardens.
A sweet little park in the middle of the city, Roma Street Parkland is situated just above some judicial buildings and offers a Stairway of Knowledge that I felt needed to be mounted, as I can use all the help I can get these days. Strangely enough, the stairway consisted of only a handful of steps, so I am not sure if that means I did not ascertain the hearty amount of knowledge of which I am in need, or if each step is concentrated, like the frozen cans of orange juice you keep in the freezer. Regardless we wandered around the quiet park in the balmy afternoon, only to make our way back to hostel, with a quick stop to pick up the latest 1% sugar Mango Slurpee featured at any of the 100 million 7/11s located in this fine glorified town.
Back at the hostel Jackie made friends with some Dutch boys while I slipped into emo mode, deciding to go on a run in the rain to clear my head and tone my ass. Not sure either worked, but when I returned Jackie's posse had expanded to a group of adoring men, one of whom was an American from California who was not only attractive - but Caucasian. Crazy, I know. Luckily not too far into the conversation I announced I don't like white people (trust me, out of context it makes WAY less sense) to which Amsterdamer #1 replied - Go Obama! Oh, there are moments I am so proud to be an American. Especially the type that makes ridiculous declarations in mixed company.
Having shot something shortly before skipping town, my night consisted of editing film and watching the equivalent of the spinning ball of death on my computer screen, trying to will the images to upload more quickly with the spotty, yet overpriced WiFi offered in the hostel lobby. Unsuccessful, I made my way upstairs and quickly fell asleep, only to be awoken by Jackie coming home from a hostel outing and then again at 4am - man, this jet lag really is a bitch!
With limited funds, temperamental weather and closed roads, there really is no telling where we will head next!
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