Byron Bay, Take Two

Sadly, Byron Bay has fallen off the short list of places we’d like to live because of its crowds. It's too bad because the geography and the climate rank up there near utopia. Byron Bay is like Crested Butte, Santa Cruz, Boulder, Ann Arbor, Sedona, Moab, shall I go on? The shops are hip, the food is organic and the dreads are locked. There are two kinds of people who live in Byron Bay (as there are in its kindred towns)—the rich and the transient. The rich kind push the prices of the breathtaking real estate into the millions. The transient kind wait on the rich kind and on their days off, they surf (which is Byron’s outdoor adventure of choice.) The one thing that both kinds of locals have in common, now that they’re living in paradise, is the desire to shut the door behind them. This type of town is so familiar to me that I almost forgot I don’t live here.

In winta, this part of northern New South Wales can be warm and gorgeously sunny or it can be cold, windy and rainy. Our first day here, Friday, was the former. Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday were the latter.

On Friday, we were at the beach doing our beach-thing. Halfway through the day we took a long walk up steep hills that edge the coast to the most easterly point of Australia and the lighthouse. This is the stuff vacations are made of. We stood three hundred feet above the ocean over-looking the expanse of undulating water out in front of us, the rocky cliffs spilling into the sea below us and the winding coastline running north and south.

Here we saw one of the most spectacular sights I’ve ever seen. I think I mentioned happening upon a few dolphin surfing in Newcastle when Dean and I were walking the beach one day. Well. This time we saw maybe 40 dolphins that’d found a sweet surf spot. A dozen of them would catch a wave at the same time, and fin to fin, ride it, allowing it to carry them forward before it crested over them. Once the wave passed, several of them jumped completely out of the water as though they were saying “Righteous, dude!” Or maybe, “That was mad, mate!” (‘mad’ is Gabe’s new word for groovy, cool, awesome, sweet or phat, depending on your generation.) I suppose since the dolphin couldn’t yell out, they had to jump for joy. The highest one I saw jumped a good 6-8 feet out of the water. In between sets, the dolphins didn’t swim around like dolphins tend to do. Instead, they floated. They came together in a mass and literally just floated. They looked like surfers who sit up on their boards while they ostensibly wait for another set or another burst of energy or, I suppose, until they finish meditating, as the case may be. The dolphins just laid there on the top of the water and let the waves rock them and the current carry them slowly down the coast a bit. Then another set of waves would catch their attention and off they’d ride and jump.

Sadly, we didn’t bring our camera on this particular hike (and we’ve kicked ourselves enough so that you don’t need to waste your energy on that.) But we decided to come back and take pictures another day. Sadly again, the whole area was closed Tuesday morning when we tried to go back because they were spraying for something up there (which can’t be good) so we will never have pictures of this scene to look back on. Instead, we all agreed to work really hard to burn the images into our mind’s eye. I can’t imagine forgetting this one.

After our trip back down to the car, we noticed that Jordan was starting to feel punky so we took ourselves back to our fabulous 2-bedroom apartment, made dinner and called it a night.

Saturday and Sunday we planned to get together with a whole crew of exchange teachers and their families. That was the motivation and the excuse for coming back to this area this particular weekend. We met up with them at the beach and it was cold and promising to rain and Jordan was running a fever and didn’t want to leave my arms. Therefore, we canceled our snorkeling trip but sent Gabe away with another family who had a daughter for him to play with for the day. While Gabe played with his new friend, Mark sat in what was to be the last we’d see of the sun for a few days and read his book, Jordan slept and I went shopping.

Sunday, Jordan was feeling better so we hopped on a tour bus with the other exchange families and headed into the Hinterland, the hills beyond the coast. This area is as breath-takingly beautiful as the coast. The hills rise up from the sea and roll up and down in every direction. They are covered with thick forest and open meadow, farmed land and wild bush. The greens span the color wheel. Individual little homes and tiny towns spot the valleys. Apparently the price of this land has become out of reach for average people as many of the rich and famous are buying it up and building. Such is the way of the world these days, isn’t it?

We spent the morning at the Channon Markets—a huge outdoor display of wares and foods. Apparently, at its origins, it was a hand-made only market. Clearly that policy has gone by the wayside but it was a good way to spend a cloudy and soon to be rainy morning.

The next stop the bus made was a town called Nimbin. Nimbin is a place I won’t soon forget. In the early 70s, this town apparently had a Woodstock-like Festival and hasn’t stopped since. Marijuana is available on every street corner and in several stores.

One woman was purchasing some pot at a store and the cashier made a point of saying, “Now we’re both clear that you aren’t buying this from us. You are merely making a donation of $25.” There is a store called “Bring-a-Bong” and if you go out the back door of the Nimbin Museum, which is a trip in and of itself, you will likely acquire a contact buzz. It was a weird place to bring our kids but the entire scene stayed above their innocent little heads so we didn’t have to do a lot of explaining. I was waiting for questions like, “Mama, what’s a bong?” “What is that smell?” “What are all those people doing in that smoky room?” But they didn’t seem to notice. I’ve tried to think of a town in the US that rivals Nimbin but I can’t come up with one. Apparently the police have a heavy presence here but they don’t arrest anyone unless things get “out of hand,” whatever that might look like. This is a town for people who want to have nothing to do with mainstream society. Not that I blame them, necessarily. But I imagine if the government did, in fact, legalize marijuana, which seems to be Nimbin’s main if not only socio-political focus, the locals would likely find another way to engage in prohibited behavior. Just a guess. I also wondered what university admissions folks think when they see an applicant from Nimbin High School.

From Nimbin, we traveled further through the hinterland stopping at a few other towns and sights. Touring on a bus is a new experience for us. I’m not sure I’d ever seek out spending the whole day with someone else driving me around really slowly again but it was nice for a rainy day with a semi-sick child.

Sunday night we had dinner with the exchange teachers and I had a very interesting conversation with an Irishman who is here on exchange. We were talking about the differences in culture between all of our English-speaking countries, including England. As we know, Ireland has very strained relations with England and so this Irishman has been even more surprised at Australia’s continued umbilical relationship with England. He was significantly more offended by it than I am for obvious reasons but it highlighted for me again in how many ways Australia feels British.

We also had conversations with many other teachers who are having very similar teaching experiences to Mark’s. Their frustrations vary a bit but it seems to boil down to a lack of resources and classroom management issues. The woman who hosted the weekend is an American who is now living in Australia and has been for 13 years. So she has chosen to teach in Australia permanently, a proposition Mark would not be interested in. She says that it isn’t that one system is necessarily better than the other. Her opinion is that there are easy and hard parts about teaching in both systems and that it comes down to what you’re used to. She would prefer to teach in the US for some specific reasons but she has been so turned off by the US’s recent preoccupation with national testing that she’s more than happy to be here avoiding that nightmare. It was a very helpful perspective to include in with all the others Mark is gathering this year.

I keep being reminded of the frog in hot water story. Apparently, if you put a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will jump right out. But if you put a frog in a pot of cold water and slowly turn up the heat to boiling, it will just sit in there and cook. That’s what all these cultural differences remind me of. Coming in from another culture, many things feel like boiling water and we recoil or want to jump out. But when it comes to our native cultures, we don’t always jump into action to change when we notice things aren’t working. I suppose it is the downside to human beings’ adaptability.

Monday was a rainy day, probably the rainiest. We spent the morning at the Crystal Castle. Apparently this area has very strong healing energies and a crystal-rich earth. We spent a few hours walking the outdoor labyrinth (walking being a relative term for the kids), strolling along the path through the rainforest and browsing through the shops that sold crystals and fairies and books and Buddhas and meditation chimes and jewelry. I’m not kidding when I tell you that all four of us felt incredibly relaxed while we were there and for a long time after we left. There seemed to be something in the air there.

The rest of the rainy day was spent inside doing projects and playing games together.

Or sleeping as the case may be.

Tuesday morning we packed up and since we had until late afternoon to explore before our plane ride home, we made our way up the coast to where the weather looked like it might be clearer. We decided to go to Surfer’s Paradise because, well because who wouldn’t want to check out a town called Surfer’s Paradise if you were right there and had time to kill.

Surfer’s Paradise is a conglomeration of the worst of what human beings can do with too much money and some space. This place was as disturbing as the Crystal Castle was peaceful. Infinite numbers of hi-rise resorts poured tourists out onto the streets. These ominous skyscrapers effectively destroyed any chance of a pretty view. The town was packed with people and cars leaving virtually no where to park--and this was on a rainy Tuesday in the middle of winter. The strip along the beach boasted every fast food chain Australia has been stricken with, booths offered tourists the chance of a lifetime to partake in any number of adventure tours and activities and amusements parks. The most disturbing part for me was seeing the people there fall right in step with the mood of the place. Just as the crystal castle people dressed the part in flowing gem-colored dresses, the S.P. people touted silicone implants, high heels with shorts and severely dyed hair. I saw more evidence of eating disorders in S.P. than I’ve seen anywhere else in Australia. We spent the day on the beach, as cool as it was at least there was sun and some uncontaminated space. We got outta there as soon as it was time to get on the plane.

Returning to Newcastle, it was good to be home.

The day to day

We just finished eating our traditional Sunday night pizza dinner, just the four of us, for the second week in a row. Two in a row is a record for us of late. And today, Gabe went to a birthday party, Jordan had a friend over, and Mark and I puttered around the house all day. We don't have many Sundays in Australia like that so I thought I'd write about that too

I just had a few things to write about so I thought I'd get at them before we leave again this weekend for Byron Bay. It's the Queen's birthday, you know, so we have a 3-day weekend (though we've decided she deserves 5 days.) So here are some random and sundry topics...

Mark's school:
When I came out of the grocery store the other day, Mark and the kids were sitting on a bench and Mark was chatting up a retired teacher from this area. She cringed when Mark mentioned that he teaches at Cardiff High School (a common reaction from those in the community who know schools). She said that was one of the tougher schools in the Newcastle area. She completely understood the struggles that Mark has in the classroom with the behavioral issues and though she didn't have any sage advice (save for suggesting he hone his relaxation techniques which isn't a bad suggestion) he said it was really good to talk to someone who understood his struggles. Mark seems to go through some sort of cycle. For a time, he's content to enjoy the bits he enjoys and can leave the rest alone until some bug gets in his bonnet and he gets frustrated that there is no recourse for teachers when the behavior makes it nearly impossible to teach and that frustration leaks into his evenings and weekends. Then he remembers what his priorities are and that he's not here to change a school system and that there are parts to teaching here that he truly enjoys and all is restful for awhile again. Until...and around we go. Someone told us recently that consensus is the kids at Cardiff are great, until you want them to do something. That pretty much sums it up.


Sport:
We have a new after-school activity. Mostly Gabe does but the other three of us join him from time to time. There is a park across the street and next door to this park is a house. In this house is a family who just moved in a month ago. In this family there is an 8-year old boy and a 12-year old girl (both former Waldorf students, coincidentally). With this family, Gabe and the rest of us have begun what may turn out to be a seven-month long extended Australian Rules Football (Footy) game. Footy or AFL is a very weird game. It seems they've taken an assortment of things one can do with a ball and incorporated them all into one game. But it's a fun game if you are looking for a pick-up game in a park. Much more fun than touch-football, in my opinion, but quite odd. We're happy to have this family across the street now so that Gabe doesn't have to suffer in the house after school with just us. (He's getting to that age.)

Whale watching:

Yesterday we had an adventure right here in our own backyard.
Well, Newcastle's backyard. We went out on a boat
onto our very own ocean here on a search for the humpback whales who make their way from Antarctica to Queensland (home of the Great Barrier Reef which is north of New South Wales where we are) every fall to mate and stay warm in the winter. Then those who conceived the year before, have their babies and they all make their way back to Antarctica. Apparently, it all happens in Queensland. This whale watching cruise was just gorgeous even without the whales. It was so good to see this coastline from the ocean.







We got some pictures that I think will remain very special for us for years to come because of the vantage point from which we can now see some of our favorite places in Newcastle.

And the whales were enchanting. We spotted them out where the big ships lay in waiting for their turn to load up with coal. There were two humpbacks and when we first saw them, they were breeching. The captain steered the boat closer to them and I'm not sure who was more happy to see who. We were not allowed, by law, to come closer than 100 meters and we didn't. But they did. They came right up along the side of our boat, probably 15-20 meters away and stayed with us for an hour and a half. We finally had to leave them at the end of our 3-hour cruise. They must have enjoyed our company--must have broken up the trip for them--because they never left our side. After the initial excitement and breath-taking view of these enormous creatures, we all, including the whales, settled into a very peaceful morning of floating along in the sun and breeze with two majestic and gigantic animals rhythmically surfacing and diving, surfacing and diving. I could have stayed in the presence of those two animals for days. It felt like, while they were there, all was right with the world.

















I couldn't and still can't wrap my head around their size. These guys can weigh up to 40 tonnes. 1 tonne is 1000 kilograms. 1 kilogram is 2.2 pounds. Therefore--I'll help you out here--humpback whales can weigh up to 88,000 pounds. That is not a typo. They look the size of the tour buses that go up to Central City but they must weigh as much as four of them. How can something be that large? And how can something so large be so graceful? When I come back for my next life, I want to be a humpback whale. (When Jordan heard me say that she said, "Come back where?" I responded with something like, "Look over there, honey!" We'll save the whole what-happens-when-we-die talk for another day.)







Which is a great segue into some other deep thoughts I've had of late:

I've felt slight bouts of homesickness lately for the first time since we left Colorado. It's not that I miss my house or certain places or specific activities, per se. It's that I miss being "home" in a bigger sense of word. This seems so cliche to me and I had no idea I would feel this but I miss being on American soil, as they say. I miss being connected to my roots. And most of all, I miss my friends (family included). I really miss my friends.

On the other hand, life here feels very normal most of the time, (aside from the fact that we still derive an endless amount of humor from the differences in language. Jordan told me this morning that snapping fingers isn't snapping, it's clicking. Last night when I said I'd take the book back to the library, she told me that it isn't a library but a "li-bree" and that we don't eat strawberries but straw-brees. Mark said that they don't write inventory but in-ven-tree)

Driving on the left side of the road feels normal. I was writing the other day about an American girl getting in her car and for the life of me, I couldn't picture her getting in on the left side of the car. She just kept getting in on the right. And there are some places I drive regularly that I don't have to think about anymore. And if I'm going somewhere new, I can often find my way without once consulting the map.

Watching the sun come up over the ocean most mornings feels normal to me now. When I don't run and therefore, don' t see the sun come up, I experience sunrise-over-the-ocean-deprivation, I think it's called.

I've gotten grocery shopping down to a science now. I've memorized all the strange places they've chosen to put things. Applesauce is not with the fruit it is with the other sauces (like tomato sauce, pronounced toe-mah-toe, otherwise known as ketchup.) Frosting is not by the cake mix, it's by the sugar which is in a different aisle than the flour and a still different aisle than the spices and I know all that. And I never hope to buy bread unless I show up first thing in the morning. If I go shopping in the avo and expect to find bread, shame on me.

This house we are in feels like home. I really love it here. I love that its smallness makes us all pick up our stuff much more frequently than we used to so it is a neater place to live. I love that we are only ever one room away from each other, max. I love the coziness and the familiarity.

On yet another hand, more than five months into our twelve month visit, I'm beginning to think about all the things I'm going to miss when we go. When we thought about what we'd miss leaving Colorado, I just kept reminding myself we'd be back. When I think about what I'll miss here, I can't reassure myself in the same way. I'm sure we'll be back but it will never be the same.

But on the fourth or fifth hand now, I wonder how the second half of our year will unfold. Will it be a time of getting more and more comfortable with all that we've learned so far or will there continue to be new opportunities and new adventures (in addition to the travel, of course) and new friends? Are there things about Newcastle and Australia that we haven't bumped into yet? Or have we pretty much gotten the gist of things and now we just get to live out the lives that we've settled into? I wonder if I should continue to try to cultivate friendships or if I should just allow these people the distance most of them seem to want to keep and focus on the few who've really taken an interest in us.

So there's where it all lays for the moment. You are in our thoughts and hearts. Write/email when you can! Oh, and we had to finalize our return flights recently so we know that we will be coming home on the 25th of December. I think we'll have a party on Saturday, December 27th (though I swear I haven't set the time or planned the menu yet) and you are all enthusiastically invited!