Biking it up in Brisvegas
DAY: 12
LOCATION: Byron, Brisbane
Levi: I’m amazed you’re leaving Byron
Frankly, I was too. The ocean, the people, the yoga, the food. Three months wouldn’t have been enough, let alone three days. Jenny tempted me to stay the weekend and skip Brisbane, but alas, my bus was booked, my Airbnb paid for, and my breakfast date with Levi’s friend confirmed. I would just have to come back another time. Darn.
Sam taught a flow class in the morning. Her style differed from Jenny’s, a bit more technical, with focus on correct posture. This made sense, considering her dance and fitness background. I especially loved her savansana – she sort of sang us a relaxation mantra, putting me in this delightful hypnotic trance.
After breakfast I made one last trip down to see the water before India and Alex gave me a ride to the bus stop. Parting with the girls was such sweet sorrow, but I knew I’d stay in touch with them.
“Here, take these,” Jenny handed me a pair of flowy patterned cotton pants and a turquoise rayon shawl from the yard sale. “But maybe they’re not your style.”
“Oh no! They’re wonderful, thank you!” I gave her a huge hug. I loved having clothing from friends to remember them by. “Anyway, I’m trying to find my style.”
While it might be shifting more towards Bohemian, my style was definitely not Backpacker, like most of the kids waiting for the bus. They were probably in their late-teens and early 20s, but my god did they look like babies, dwarfed by their enormous shoulder candy. I thought of Cheryl Strayed, pushing herself to every physical and emotional limit along the PCH. Can I find myself with airport lounges and airbnbs? Only one way to find out.
I’d hoped the bus ride would be eventful, maybe feature some of the famed Gold Coast, but after the initial verdant hills surrounding Byron it faded into some pretty dreary suburban highway. Nothing screams exotic like Ikea. The most exciting part was a message from Levi:
Levi: So
Levi: There’s a wedding
Levi: In a castle
Levi: This summer
Levi: In Europe
Levi: Be my date?
I pinched myself. Was this guy for real? A castle? Those feudal symbols of exorbitant excess and oppression? It was like I was being tempted by the devil himself. And it was working.
Me: let me think…
Me: YES
What any of this meant I had no idea. Was I seeing him in a week in Singapore? Would I stay with him in Switzerland? Was I just playing into some silly fantasies about a guy I’d spent a total of nine hours with? You know what they say – can’t teach a love addict new tricks.
The bus arrived in Brisbane, and I refocused my attention on traveling. I Ubered to my next Airbnb in New Farm. My host Brittany greeted me and gave me a rundown. The apartment was super comfortable, with a lovely backdoor patio connected to my room. I felt a little bad I couldn’t eat the welcome milk chocolate bar on the bed, but I felt worse for the cows.
“How about your new president, huh?” Brittany teased.
“Best Reality TV show on earth,” I replied. Even calling it that was some sort of reinforcement of the postmodern paradigm infecting our planet. Each time I stopped and truly thought about The Donald as leader of the so-called free world, I broke down laughing. “We’re all going to be fired.”
Brittany had decidedly liberal politics. I could relate – until this election, I’d voted on Democrat party lines my whole voting career. I still cared about the same social values she did: equality, education, community, protection of the environment. The difference was I’d lost complete faith in government leaders on either side to truly defend these values. The Democratic Party was just as corrupt and responsible for our current situation as the Republicans (and I’m not just talking about the orange dude). It’s a plutocracy, not a democracy.
“Yeah, I didn’t vote for either, although I would’ve voted for Bernie,” I admitted, then promptly steered to a more neutral topic. “Anyway, what should I do in Brisbane?”
She lived in a pretty cool neighborhood, with plenty of options for food and nightlife, and easy access by bike to the whole central part of the city. I walked down yuppie James Street to have lunch at Sol Natural Foods in Fortitude Valley. The street was a tad full of itself, with its own webpage proclaiming it Brisbane’s “foremost retail and lifestyle precinct,” but the pesto pizza was ridic.*
I took Brittany’s suggestion and rode a city bike down to the Brisbane Powerhouse, an old coal energy plant converted into an arts and dining venue. Watching the women enjoy white wine along the river, I wanted a glass. Not in a desperate, skin-crawling, give-me-the-whole-bottle-I-want-to-rage sort of way. Just something to sip and enjoy on a weekend afternoon. It had been almost a year and a half since my last Sauv Blanc, and I missed it. I’d been wondering recently if I hadn’t clung onto the term alcoholic as a way of trying to understand something more complicated. When I’d gone vegan, I’d had the strong feeling I’d been released from a lot of the negative beliefs that had led me to drink heavily in the past. Now I wondered if it wasn’t my perfectionism continuing the all or nothing approach to alcohol…
Whatever the case, I certainly didn’t need wine to have an amazing time. A bicycle was more than enough. Down on the waterfront, cruising above the water and looking out at the city, I can’t even describe the absolute freedom I felt, the interconnectedness, the sense of infinite possibility. Something about biking drops me into the Now every time. It all seemed so still, so peaceful. I couldn’t understand why people nicknamed the city BrisVegas.
Then I got to the Botanical Gardens. For some reason, hardcore hip hop pulsated through the tall trees and grassy lawns. A few people sat on benches or walked the paths, but otherwise the park was pretty much empty. So why was the sound of trap music getting louder and louder as I walked further into the park? Did they just pump it through speakers on Saturdays to get people fired up for the club later?
Nope, it was a music festival. I reached the edge of the fence of the Riverstage venue, and peered in. A sea of backpacker babies, some interested, some bored, listening to a concert. I lasted about two minutes before moving on. It was way too loud and angry, and apparently I’d gotten really old.
I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening alternatively biking and walking the city. I went through the West End and Paddington and Spring Hill, just wandering, with no particular aim or agenda. It was nice, not feeling like I had to do something, I could just exist with my thoughts. Just be. Maybe this sounds boring – I mean, I could’ve been schmoozing at the hottest rooftop bar in Fortitude Valley, or noshing at the best vegan restaurant, or finding some great live concert. But for me, the lack of travel perfectionism felt, well, pretty perfect.
*I know I talk about food a lot, it’s just a thing that happens when you become vegan. Take the flesh and violence off the plate, and your meals become this thing of love and beauty. Don’t believe me? Try it for yourself ;)