Tuesday, 5 July 2011

byron bay

The last few days a bloke from Sheffield in Tasmania has been walking his alpaca around the streets. The odd thing is that it does not seem odd.

Byron Bay does get to you. Like few other places you find yourself contemplating doing and being stuff that is ‘rainbow’ oriented. As we walked along the beach this afternoon a woman crossed ahead of us in a loose white top and white pants. She looked like she should have been in Noosa. Byron Bay has a way of moulding people and sorting people.

There are more metres of dreadlocks per metre of human hair than any other place I know, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Most people who come here and stay beyond a transient night or two find themselves seeking to ‘release their inner child’ … try some things that normally get dismissed. A few of our (50 something) friends went skateboarding today. Brad and his son take their bongo drums and guitar down to the beach as we sit on the deck. They wander too far along for the sound to carry to us, but I  can still hear the rhythms from last year. Every man and his dog, including us, wants to experience the surf from on a board.

So here we are in this iconic little town.

My shoulders are a bit sore. And I can feel the effects of the sun and salt on my face. Zac and Jan have just gone misere (500 bid) two hands in a row to collective groans around the table. Zac loves bidding misere and he usually get it. Junk food gets pushed around the table to avoid the cards. One packet of junk gets finished and on cue Johanna asks if there is more …

Maria and Johanna agree that next time they must be due for a decent hand. I try to crack a punny joke. No one gets it.

So here we are. Together, doing nothing much. And doing what matters most.