The other bits

What a hopeless travel journal keeper I've been. Now I must fill in the gaps for you all, on the edge of your seats with anticipation of the juicy details of my 5 day vacation. Ha.

All five days were great. Really. Even when I wasn't doing anything I was happy, and when I was doing things I was very happy. I arrived in Byron on the bus from Brisbane, at 11pm on Sunday the 6th. I'd already made my booking at the Arts Factory, which I found in my trusty (ha) Let's Go - Australia travel guide. Just to give you some idea how fucking hopeless this book is, it lists the Coogee Bay Hotel as being on the North Shore. The CBH is one of the biggest backpacker drawcards in the Eastern Suburbs. On the South side of the bridge. So yeah, I trusted this piece of shit right, and I get off the bus, stumble round for a bit, trying to make sense of the very vague directions in the dark, and find myself at the end of a street, at this nice looking place, with kooky sculptures in the backyard, very open and friendly. I head towards the screen door, and look inside. Ah, a common room, I say to myself. The reception must be around here somewhere. Someone's watching TV. I open the screen door, which is unlocked. I look down to my left and say hello to the middle-aged pack-a-day prune sitting in a very comfy-looking armchair. She looks up at me in shock and says "Hello. Who are you?" and then her big stocky husband comes at me from the right, bristling with rage and indignation, ready to bash my head in. And I ask timidly "Isn't this the backpackers...?" True story.

So after finally finding my way to the Arts Factory, feeling very stupid indeed, it turns out they don't have a key for my room. There's already a sense of happily organised chaos. So I sleep in the library, but not before these two nice British fellows come in and watch Spirited Away on their computer. Luckily I really like that movie.

The Arts Factory is a really cool place. It's what I expected a backpackers' hostel to be: a bit rundown, full of young, spunky chicks and dudes from all over, all relaxing and being friendly and shit. The only other two hostels I've ever been in sucked arse, but I think they were pretty standard. The Arts Factory is known for its kooky accommodation options, which include a large double decker bus, an ancient camper van, various shaped tents & cabins, plus your standard dorms. I, however, slept in a very large teepee! Ten people, it was hot and smelly (sweaty shoes I think) but I loved it anyway. My one gripe with the place was the ridiculously expensive ($6/hr) internet access, but when you've got a small lake, and a forest, and many scruffy young lads in their boxers to wake up to, it really wasn't that big a deal.

More to come.