Surfers Paradise, Gold Coast.Gold Coast, QLD - The Gold Coast has been my home for the past four years, ever since I arrived in 2002 one windy afternoon after three weeks driving across the country from our home in Perth, Western Australia.
Initially I was going to spend a couple of months here, surfing and working part time, before heading down to the bright lights of Sydney to find a proper job as a journalist.
Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at, I stayed on. I surfed my brains out, moved into a great sharehouse on the hill above Burleigh Point and even found work as a journo and then in PR.
Some of my favourite parts of the Gold Coast include the incredibly easy-going way of life. Everyone drives and parking is free or cheap. Beach parking, unlike Sydney, is still free.
The weather is warm enough to wear shorts and t-shirts year round on all but the coldest winter days. I’m usually surfing in board shorts by late September and only need a springsuit from late May.
Pubs, cafes and restaurants have some of the cheapest food and best service available in Australia. The focus on tourism has inadvertently been a bonus for the locals, who can get a table overlooking the beach for the cost of a $5 roast and a $2.70 schooner at one of the many surf clubs or cafes along the beach.
I’ve also enjoyed being able to get away from the Goldie when the humidity, glitz and tourists get too much. Shooting across the NSW border and chasing uncrowded waves through the Northern Rivers region takes just 30 minutes. The hinterland and its rainforests are just 40 minutes west.
And the bad bits? Easy. The crowds at any point break on the Gold Coast. The nasty, dog-eat dog vibe at The Superbank.
The herd mentality of the Coast’s party set, who pump up bars and clubs just as quickly as they desert them. The club owners who hike up door charges and drink prices when their venues get jumping and scratch their heads when the hipsters stop coming.
The vacuous conversations at parties with people blasted on sun, salt and booze and who care only for clothing labels and their mobile phones.
The good people that arrive, bring a cool group together and leave just when it gets fun.
Initially I was going to spend a couple of months here, surfing and working part time, before heading down to the bright lights of Sydney to find a proper job as a journalist.
Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at, I stayed on. I surfed my brains out, moved into a great sharehouse on the hill above Burleigh Point and even found work as a journo and then in PR.
Some of my favourite parts of the Gold Coast include the incredibly easy-going way of life. Everyone drives and parking is free or cheap. Beach parking, unlike Sydney, is still free.
The weather is warm enough to wear shorts and t-shirts year round on all but the coldest winter days. I’m usually surfing in board shorts by late September and only need a springsuit from late May.
Pubs, cafes and restaurants have some of the cheapest food and best service available in Australia. The focus on tourism has inadvertently been a bonus for the locals, who can get a table overlooking the beach for the cost of a $5 roast and a $2.70 schooner at one of the many surf clubs or cafes along the beach.
I’ve also enjoyed being able to get away from the Goldie when the humidity, glitz and tourists get too much. Shooting across the NSW border and chasing uncrowded waves through the Northern Rivers region takes just 30 minutes. The hinterland and its rainforests are just 40 minutes west.
And the bad bits? Easy. The crowds at any point break on the Gold Coast. The nasty, dog-eat dog vibe at The Superbank.
The herd mentality of the Coast’s party set, who pump up bars and clubs just as quickly as they desert them. The club owners who hike up door charges and drink prices when their venues get jumping and scratch their heads when the hipsters stop coming.
The vacuous conversations at parties with people blasted on sun, salt and booze and who care only for clothing labels and their mobile phones.
The good people that arrive, bring a cool group together and leave just when it gets fun.
Labels: Australia
Broadwater at nightGold Coast, QLD - For months it was just a loose set of plans. A pie in the sky idea idea to resign from work, pack up and travel overseas with my backpack.
But now that the time has come – when planning and talking stops and action starts – it all happens surprisingly swiftly. Within a weekend I sold my bed, fridge, TV, desk and Playstation to friends, threw out or packed the rest into plastic tubs for storage, moved out of my pad in the burbs and moved north temporarily into my girlfriend’s high rise apartment in Southport.
Jacq and I will make one more move, to her parents house, next week, before we fly out of Queensland in late September.
This is my first experience with living in an apartment block, despite having lived in the unofficial Australian capital of high rises for so long.
Up here on the 13th floor I feel like I'm more connected with reality, yet also more removed. I wake with the sun and watch from the north facing balcony as the land and sea becomes bright and full of colour in the morning and turn yellow in the afternoon and finally blue black in the evening.
But I'm also too high up to hear the wind through the trees. Rain falls past the horizontal space between balcony and ceiling, but never on or in. Up here we're even too high for ants or mosquitoes to reach.
Labels: Australia
