In-between days

Saturday, 01/09/2012 - 78 A.D. 

September…a new month...new experiences? It’s Autumn back home, it’s Spring over here, and everything’s topsy-turvy.

The Full Moon Party must have left plenty of people with mighty hangovers because the guy whose job it was to do breakfast did not get up. This left plenty of hungry hostellers hanging around the kitchen with confused looks. It was Tim who discovered the state of affairs via a rather annoyed German guy. When Tim casually wondered if there happened to be any tea around with which to make a cuppa, the guy replied with impeccable Teutonic logic, “There is no breakfast, therefore there is no tea.” Apparently some other guy had been roused to go and “do breakfast” which basically involves going down the shops for some cereal. It’s a bit of a joke really, leaving these things up to zonked-out drunken kids who couldn’t organise a p*ss-up in a brewery…well, maybe they could organise that, but not much else. When I later went down to check on things, there was a packet of weet-bix on the counter. Yep, an ‘A’ was missing from the name, and definitely something else, because they tasted bloody horrible, mate!

It was back to the old routine of checking out of hostels before 10 a.m., leaving our luggage in the secure room and catching a bus late in the day. Unfortunately Maori-bloke-sized black jumper had to be sacrificed because I couldn’t zip up my big bag with it in. I won’t shed too much of a tear for Maori-bloke-sized jumper because he was only mobilised to the front line to deal with the New Zealand cold, never as one of the original team for circumnavigating the globe. I then prepared to say goodbye to Reef Backpackers hostel in Cairns forever, choosing to reflect fully on the place at a later date, i.e. when I know the next hostel isn't of the same standards!

One thing I’ve been trying and failing to get a good picture of over the last few days are the local flying foxes, AKA fruitbats. They are the biggest type of bat in the world and they hang out high in the tops of some very large and wizened type of tree that is present all around the town centre. And they make a most unholy racket, both by day and by night. How they don’t crash into each other is a mystery, though I read that they can actually see, unlike most bats. When we first arrived in town by taxi there was a discussion on the radio about whether these creatures should be allowed to remain in Cairns centre or be driven out as if they were vermin. Good luck at getting rid of them, people, just by walking under the branches that they’re clinging to you’re risking a heavy bat sh*t shower! It’s even worse walking under their trees at night, and last night they didn’t half create a creepy spectacle as they flew around in the black sky illuminated by the full moon.

[Can ya tell what it is yet?]

[What about now?]

[What about now?]

Our bus to Townsville did not go until 12.25 a.m., so we had nearly 14 and a half hours with which to amuse ourselves before travel / sleep. After a couple of hours mooching around the shops and a bit of time lazing down by the lagoon with the beautiful people, we were all out of ideas. Cairns is a backpackers' paradise, but if you aren’t into doing the various adventure stuff in the vicinity, and it’s too early to go on a drunken bender, there isn’t a great deal to do in the town. 

Now, sitting in Domino’s Pizza with another six hours still to kill, we’re wondering if we’ve got it wrong this time. The system seemed to work well in America, i.e. saving a bit of accommodation money by sleeping overnight between cities, but right now it feels like we’re wasting time, and that’s not good. Relaxing is one thing, but we didn’t come on this trip to simply exist from day to day without doing things in-between. There are people at the hostel who do that – one guy (didn’t get his name, didn’t really want to) must have spent 12 hours a day sitting in the lounge or on his bed playing the computer game Doom. As Tim rightly said, “If it’s got to that point then just go home!”

[Doom guy, also leaving today, chose not to look at us the entire time we sat out front.]

If there's one thing I've learned from working at Smedley Hydro then it's that lunch is at 12 o`clock sharp...no, hang on, what I mean is that sometimes you have to alter your strategy. We may have to do the same thing very shortly, as we can't go through any more in-between days like this with nothing to do and no base to do it from. It reminds me of that old joke:

"Doctor, doctor, my brother-in-law think's he's a chicken!"

"Then why don't you have him committed?"

"I would, but I need the eggs."

That didn't really fit, did it? But I just wanted something to round offf the day's post with. And maybe I could do with some eggs right now...they'd taste a whole lot better than Weet-bix, that's for sure!