If heaven exists – it looks like an Australian sunset. I
have been witness to the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen on this trip,
and taking off from Cairns airport at 6:45pm this evening was no exception. Not
usually having the window, I got a front row seat to the painted colors
glowing and melting into one another, masked only by the most delicate
scattering of white fluffy clouds precariously placed on the ever changing
canvas. When you see something this naturally mesmerizing it makes you think
that there must still be beauty in the world, despite all of the hate, malice
and broken dreams.
I will admit that my departure from Cairns was bittersweet,
as it has by far been the best part of my journey so far. Arriving just a few
days ago it seemed like a nice enough town and I knew that the reason for being
here was to have my virgin run as a scuba diver in the famous Great Barrier
Reef. It seemed almost perfunctory to have booked the extra ticket up here and
I saw myself fulfilling a responsibility to my time in Australia and, most importantly, to myself. What I got instead was the opportunity to meet some
great people, experience some authentic culture and pet a sea turtle – which I
only later found out is illegal – so don’t tell.
I spent the majority of Saturday night in my bottom bunk, pant less.
This sounds like I must have had a rousing good time, but the true reason is
that Jackie was washing my pants as they had been worn to bed every night for a
month with her load and instead of throwing on some haphazard evening ensemble and
spending $7 on a jug of beer at the local Irish pub, I read in my bed and
chatted with my roommates – who I fell a little bit in love with individually
as well as a whole.
Logan is a 19 year old ginger from Boston, at that stage in
life where you’re so desperate to grow up yet not at a place where you fully
understand what that means (perhaps you never fully do) was located across the room from me. We talked about
music and being away from home for the first time. I felt a big sisterly
affection for him and marveled at his craftsmanship when fashioning a bong out
of a Coke bottle and a pen. He was reading On
The Road for the first time, which made me feel ancient in the most
endearing way.
Chris is a 28 year old from Liverpool who's Liverpuddlian
accent is so thick and energy so frantic it can be difficult to keep up. He
quit his job in finance to travel for a bit, scuba dive and perhaps change his
direction in life. He cooked some incredible meals, none of which I sampled but
all of which I salivated over, while we were here and he casually mentioned
maybe pursuing something in the culinary arts. I certainly hope if our paths
cross again he will have done so. Last night he identified himself as a nice
guy, and I have every reason to believe he truly is.
James, also from England is 26 and loveable in a Dick Van
Dyke sort of way. For anyone who knows me, they understand what an immense
compliment this is. He broke off his engagement and quit his job to do laundry
at a hotel by night in Cairns and romance a local by day. I have heard her
voice behind the curtain he hangs to create an adult fort on his bunk – but her
identity is still a mystery. You could feel the warmth held within him almost
ooze out of his pores.
The kindness and generosity these three boys shared with me
over our brief time living together will not soon be forgotten. Now onto the
good stuff…
We had booked a tour with Silver Swift for a Sunday
adventure into the Great Barrier Reef. The boat took off at 8:30am and, being
the punctuality freak I am, we were on the dock and ready to go by 7:45. With
some ill given advice I had opted not to bring my land camera on the trip with
me and instead just stuck to the underwater device I had rented from a local
shop that comes replete with first aid kit inspired carrying case. We spent the
first hour of the boat ride inside, watching an informational video and
listening to fun facts about diving for the first timers and generally inexperienced. Being in a
moving boat for that long was making me a little queasy, but I took deep
breaths and attempted to focus on the task at hand – a task and it’s inherent
dangers that were described so throughoughly and with such great detail that I
thought it faily certain I would pop a lung or blow an ear drum or better yet –
die on the ocean floor in Queensland. At least it would make a pretty grave.
Our first dive site had arrived in no time and we were given
small groups and instructors – very much like a field trip for adults. A very
expensive field trip for adults. Jackie and I had signed up for 2 dives and
we were designated the first two sites with the third being our opportunity for
snorkeling. Our group was comprised of the two of us and a married couple from
Utah who had left 2 kids at home for a couple of weeks down under. The wife was
visibly nervous and the husband visibaly attentive – it was actually sweet to
watch. Our instructor options were between a seemingly smart ass man rocking a
gold chain across his chest or an adorable blonde who looks as though she
stepped directly out of a Roxy ad. Gold Chain it was – score!
Marcos was our instructor for the day and despite his
lackluster dental work, I could not help but be at least partially intoxicated
by his charm. The last time I had encountered a scuba instructor – on a boat in
Hawaii when I was 17 – I felt similarly smitten and I believe it may be a mix
of the personality types attractied to such professions coupled with the personality
types needed for the tourism industry. Silly foreigner I may be – but it was
fun to flirt with a man for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.
On the first dive we were instructed to all link arms, mine being with my covert ops travel mate decked out in full regalia, having opted for the hood attached to our warm water wetsuits,
creating a mess of flippers and tanks clinking together. My assumption would be
that this is to see if we can in fact swim and gauge our comfort in the water.
Luckily we all seemed to pass that test because once we arrived at the second
location we were unleashed – if only slightly – and navigation became
considerably easier. It was at the second location that we met with a fish as
large as a lab who evidently likes the tourists and essentially poses for
photos with them. It was also the first location I was able to bring my camera
out on and tried by best to manage a leaking mask, a mouth piece that was
taking all of my strength to hold onto with my teeth, and a camera constantly
getting caught up in my gear. Luckily Marcos, my instructor/boyfriend for the
day had made me take off my hoops that I so desperately wanted to dive with
because that may have been just too much going on.
We had been told at the start of the day that there was the
potential for a third dive (and a third charge) and when it
became apparent that there was in fact that opportunity I couldn’t have
possibly said no. We signed up for a third dive and dug into the lunch buffet,
drying off and warming up before our next adventure under the sea. And I say
under the sea because you can almost hear Sebastian singing ''The Little Mermaid' soundtrack when looking
at this whole other world that exists deep in the ocean. And lets face it, everything
is better with a soundtrack. My father had told me this would be the most
exotic place I had ever seen and although I may not agree with that statement,
when you see schools of fish flitting about and coral stacked up like natural
hotels for sea critters you do think you’re someplace unlike home. The third
location was by far the coolest and Kubrick-like with deeper drop offs and more
vibrant neon colors splattered about in the form of fish, coral and
unidentifiable gooey creatures. We met with a friendly sea turtle, a big black
sea dildo (or cucumber for those of you over the age of 14) and a pretty
chilled out jellyfish – a nickname my pretend boyfriend had given to me for
some unknown reason that very day. I would like to think it is because I am
beautiful, graceful and can sting the hell out of you. But I may be
romanticizing a bit there. It was during the third dive that I felt I finally
got the rhytum of my breathing down and the pace at which to flip my flippers
and just as I was feeling the ease of the groove – it was time to go up.
Back on the boat we were presented with certificates of
completion for our first dive and the sun finally came out to warm us as we
headed back to Cairns. This was also yet another opportunity for me to tell my
sob story to yet another unsuspecting bloke as Marcos and I had a lively debate
about how Australians are assholes and for what seemed like out of the blue to
me, he asked if I had had my heart broken. I of course answered yes only to
discover he was asking about some sort of Danny Zucco summer romance down here.
I explained in succinct language that I was not 11, and therefore incapable of
having my heart broken by some foolish fling – of which I had not even partaken
in – and then he asked some questions about my ‘partner.’ Only later did I
realize – did he think I was a lesbian? Lets hope not, or I may have lost my
game entirely.
I love to run in humid climates and I wanted to take
advantage of the evening so after deboarding and bidding adieu to my latest paramour (in my head) I went home, changed and went for a run on the promenade. I
have no music on my iphone without internet so I have had to go silent these
past weeks and just yesterday I realize why professional runners do so. You
really find your own natural pace when not paying attention to those of Rihanna or
Ke$ha – two girls I hate to look at but love to listen to. I was gone for the
twilight hour and got to watch the silvery blue mountains disappear into the
black night as the fog rolled in was quieting - even while running.
When I was a little girl my mother had told me a story about how when she was young, she would look out at a valley in the night sky and imagine a jewelry box, lined with black velvet and housing sparkling gold and jewels of every tone. I think about this from time to time when I see a line of red lights or twinkling solitaire in the darkness. Last night the sky was velvet and the jewels were alive.
A long day of limited oxygen, sun and a run resulting in so
much sweat I may as well have gone swimming and I was exhausted. I ate crackers
in my bed as Jacks dug into our roommate’s Burn-Flavored Doritos and hummus and
it was off to a sound sleep.
The next morning I was, of course, up and at ‘em first for
the free breakfast and free WiFi in Hostel Melrose Place, with a large pool and sitting area in the center of the room and a scene for sure. I was waiting for Amanda to be thrown into the pool at any moment. We had to decide between rainforest and beach
for our last day and thinking perhaps New Zealand provided more of the former,
we caught the 110 bus to Palm Cove or what I like to call Highway to Hades bus. Cairns is hot – and humid – and when
you’re on a bus with no air conditioning for an hour and poorly bathed people are flanking you on each side, and the sun is beating down on you, the results can be deadly. Just about to take what I thought would be my last
breath, the amiable driver dropped us off at the long stretch of beach lined
with palm trees and rich hippie eateries.
Never having dried off since my shower I figured a dip in
the tepid waves would do me good. I was having lovely moments of solitude with
the ocean until a man came running out to Jackie, sitting erectly along the
shore, to inform her that the bay there is infested with deadly jellyfish the
size of your fingernail and that her stupid American accomplice should get the
F out of the water. Australia had been so welcoming thus far, why would I have been surprised.
I got out.
We laid in the shade and read for a while longer before
heading back into the city to catch our bus to the airport and, in turn a Tiger
flight to Melbourne. The flight was full of crying babies and smelly Europeans
so it is pretty awesome. Tonight will be another restful night in the Hostel
Melbourne Airport where temperatures reach sub zero late at night and tomorrow – New Zealand.
