Monday, January 14, 2008

Mission Beach to Magnetic Island


I arrived at the Cairns bus stop drenched, the sky having vomited for the whole walk from the boat. We teetered down the Bruce Highway with a driver who appeared to be on handfuls of trucker speed. I talked to a Mission Beach local who tells me it is a small place. I would end up standing behind her at IGA the next day. "See?"

I was picked up at the bus stop, which is marked by a massive cassowry sculpture....if you've never seen a 30 foot turkey before...well, you'll live. My hostel pickup driver was named Franz and he had a maniacal laugh. "It rains long this week but still girls come, so good for me". Germans.

My two days in Mission Beach rotate between pool time, food time and work time (I am still on the blackberry and dealing with small-scale eathquakes back home). Scotty's Beach House is decent enough for a hostel and fulfills my biggest need; ice cold air conditioning. It seems to be a hub for young males in heat. The hostel restaurant is famous for kangaroo. I can only report that it tastes like kangaroo. I hang around mostly with the 22 year old night watchmen, who does not take his job too seriously. He seems to alternate between drinking too much beer and drinking too much Southern Comfort. I find it endearing when he accidently crushes his glass in his hand, just before nearly vomiting on freshly arriving guests. I think more people should stagger on the job.

I left Mission Beach after two full nights of sleep, although the last was briefly interrupted by a neighbor skull-fucking his girlfriend, intent on driving her straight through my wall and into the North Pacific. Eventually a four hour bus ride and a ferry transport found me on Magnetic Island.

Base Backpacker is exactly the beachhouse I would like to have one day. The community areas are among the best I have seen, although the rooms positively crunch the four bunk beds. It was a gazillion degrees and humid. Air conditioners here are simply ornaments - the rooms leak air and allow the mozzies (mosquitos) to freely enter and bloodsuck. Still, the overall vibe makes these things somewhat easy to overlook, as does two Jaeger Bombs and a generous dose of Deet.

I wish that I could say that I discovered the mysteries of the world on Maggie, but really I just gazed at hot guys by the pool and in the showers. I, of course, met many people and received some great advice on some of the places I am headed. But mostly, perv city. I attempted to learn Ring Of Fire, the latest drinking game. It was created by drunk people, for drunk people and only makes sense when fuuuuuuuucked up. It is a perilous game because everyone pours drips of their booze into a middle cup, which is drunk by the person who breaks the ring. It is a horrible sight to see someone drink a cocktail of thai whiskey, australian beer and malt beverage. Beginner's luck saved me this time.

Over and over I meet people who are in the lurches of life. The answer for them all seems to be travelling, which is why I feel at home out here. I have deeper conversations with strangers than I do my best friends. I cannot figure out what this means. Do I need new friends? Or do I just need to get through this? And what the fuck is "this"?

Taking the ferry back to mainland now. Then a plane.

Headed south.

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