Agnes Water, OZ
A Pervy Perfect Sunday Afternoon
Life is good. Saturday morning as we sat around having our morning coffee, a strategy session was called for the first time in days as Steph'd been out diving. I finally suggested that a Toga Party is a wonderful excuse for a party and suddenly we sprang into planning stages, in a last ditch attempt to persuade Jimmy to postpone her onward travel for the sixth time. What I mean by sixth time is that she'd actually checked out and rechecked into the hostel five previous times. Sadly, Jimmy left, but the party was still on.
Beinke (pronounced Binky) and I headed to the Op Shop (2nd hand shop, like Goodwill) and bought as many sheets as I could find. Around 6.30 we finally settled on a location and I took off with Josh (a kid here in town whose age I can't determine, or if he's really short) to collect fire wood. That done, I had some din and the Toga party began as robes were donned. We made for the beach as has been done on every Saturday night since I've been here, a fire was built, booze was drunk and we had a merry time. Before the muttering that I seem to drink too much, I haven't really been drinking save for Saturday nights here so breathe easy. I'm not much of a drinker though I still remember how.
There was a motley mix on the beach that night, many of the faces that have become so familiar were absent. But there were several new ones, including one Japanese girl whose name turned out to be She Ho. I had an awkward time explaining to her why I found her name so amusing, but she eventually understood me, much to her embarrassment. But come on, She Ho, heh heh heh.
Mark, a rather serious Dutch man staggered back to the fire at one point an our after disappearing (though he firmly maintained it wasn't more than 10 minutes), and declared he was not shit faced, just hammered.
Rain storms gathered and eventually drove the party from the shore, save for a few hearty and drunk souls. I was more on the hearty end, Kirstin was on the drunker end. Some others were on the beach as well, but enclosed in the darkness of a nearly moonless night (it was a first crescent that set not long after dark, third time I've looked to the sky and seen that crescent hanging next to Venus). We drank and stared at the sky that did not fail to disappoint. The rain faded, the clouds cleared, and the stars began to shoot across the sky as we lay next to the sputtering fire enjoying the fine display the sky put on. Kirstin faded in and out and definitely was snoring at one point.
Finally, it was time to go. I grappled the sack of rubbish in one hand, the sack of non rubbish in the other and began the ascent up the hill with Kirstin in tow. Well, sorta. After 30m. I turned back to find her no longer behind. Backtracking, I found her halfway back, passed out on the side of the trail. It was a slow climb. This happened a few other times, the final one being when we finally got back to Vac. I dumped the trash and then returned to find Kirstin missing once again. I got out the torch, and eventually spotted her, ass over tea kettle in someone's campsite. However, I put on the Wham! tape I'd gotten along with the sheets that day, and that perked everyone quite up.
Today, we took a Sunday Afternoon Drive with Greg to a beach about 8k away in a National Park. It's a lovely spot and has few people there (we're in Agnes and it's a 4x4 track). We baked, we basked and we had one of the most pleasant afternoons that one can have.
On the ride back, Steph got that fever that a 4x4 and a dirt track can bring on. Sadly, there was a turtle of a driver ahead of us, which necessitated us taking some breaks, getting some room before hitting the gas. On the first such occasion, belts were fastened and rechecked, prayers were made, and asses were sad in the knowledge of what was to come. Yipppeee Hooo Haaaaa, there's something about speeding at 30k that's just so much fun.
Anyway, such is life as it were. I've taken my second day off from surfing in two weeks now, and the rest feels good, as my belly's finally healing. It's a bit roughed up from the surfboard but looks worse than it is.
Back home Pam is convinced that I may never leave OZ, and Cesar complains that he's ready to hear of other lands. Here, I'm tempted, I have to say. It's such a fun little town and it's in such a transition. Greg told me today that they only got their first police officer in 1998 (they've got 2 now). A year ago, this was a different place, and in five it won't be recognizable again. I would love to watch this place change, watch it grow. We'll see, at any rate, I've got a boat in the Whitsundays waiting, or rather a yacht. Yippee!!
Life is good. Saturday morning as we sat around having our morning coffee, a strategy session was called for the first time in days as Steph'd been out diving. I finally suggested that a Toga Party is a wonderful excuse for a party and suddenly we sprang into planning stages, in a last ditch attempt to persuade Jimmy to postpone her onward travel for the sixth time. What I mean by sixth time is that she'd actually checked out and rechecked into the hostel five previous times. Sadly, Jimmy left, but the party was still on.
Beinke (pronounced Binky) and I headed to the Op Shop (2nd hand shop, like Goodwill) and bought as many sheets as I could find. Around 6.30 we finally settled on a location and I took off with Josh (a kid here in town whose age I can't determine, or if he's really short) to collect fire wood. That done, I had some din and the Toga party began as robes were donned. We made for the beach as has been done on every Saturday night since I've been here, a fire was built, booze was drunk and we had a merry time. Before the muttering that I seem to drink too much, I haven't really been drinking save for Saturday nights here so breathe easy. I'm not much of a drinker though I still remember how.
There was a motley mix on the beach that night, many of the faces that have become so familiar were absent. But there were several new ones, including one Japanese girl whose name turned out to be She Ho. I had an awkward time explaining to her why I found her name so amusing, but she eventually understood me, much to her embarrassment. But come on, She Ho, heh heh heh.
Mark, a rather serious Dutch man staggered back to the fire at one point an our after disappearing (though he firmly maintained it wasn't more than 10 minutes), and declared he was not shit faced, just hammered.
Rain storms gathered and eventually drove the party from the shore, save for a few hearty and drunk souls. I was more on the hearty end, Kirstin was on the drunker end. Some others were on the beach as well, but enclosed in the darkness of a nearly moonless night (it was a first crescent that set not long after dark, third time I've looked to the sky and seen that crescent hanging next to Venus). We drank and stared at the sky that did not fail to disappoint. The rain faded, the clouds cleared, and the stars began to shoot across the sky as we lay next to the sputtering fire enjoying the fine display the sky put on. Kirstin faded in and out and definitely was snoring at one point.
Finally, it was time to go. I grappled the sack of rubbish in one hand, the sack of non rubbish in the other and began the ascent up the hill with Kirstin in tow. Well, sorta. After 30m. I turned back to find her no longer behind. Backtracking, I found her halfway back, passed out on the side of the trail. It was a slow climb. This happened a few other times, the final one being when we finally got back to Vac. I dumped the trash and then returned to find Kirstin missing once again. I got out the torch, and eventually spotted her, ass over tea kettle in someone's campsite. However, I put on the Wham! tape I'd gotten along with the sheets that day, and that perked everyone quite up.
Today, we took a Sunday Afternoon Drive with Greg to a beach about 8k away in a National Park. It's a lovely spot and has few people there (we're in Agnes and it's a 4x4 track). We baked, we basked and we had one of the most pleasant afternoons that one can have.
On the ride back, Steph got that fever that a 4x4 and a dirt track can bring on. Sadly, there was a turtle of a driver ahead of us, which necessitated us taking some breaks, getting some room before hitting the gas. On the first such occasion, belts were fastened and rechecked, prayers were made, and asses were sad in the knowledge of what was to come. Yipppeee Hooo Haaaaa, there's something about speeding at 30k that's just so much fun.
Anyway, such is life as it were. I've taken my second day off from surfing in two weeks now, and the rest feels good, as my belly's finally healing. It's a bit roughed up from the surfboard but looks worse than it is.
Back home Pam is convinced that I may never leave OZ, and Cesar complains that he's ready to hear of other lands. Here, I'm tempted, I have to say. It's such a fun little town and it's in such a transition. Greg told me today that they only got their first police officer in 1998 (they've got 2 now). A year ago, this was a different place, and in five it won't be recognizable again. I would love to watch this place change, watch it grow. We'll see, at any rate, I've got a boat in the Whitsundays waiting, or rather a yacht. Yippee!!
posted by Bob Stein at 11:23 PM
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