Ah... now that's more like it.... in terms of the weather, anyway. After saying good-bye to Norm and Karen, and wishing Karen luck in her new job, I flew up to Cairns on the night of the 14th, booked into the Bohemian Resort. It was a pleasure to trade in the sweater and pants for shorts and flip-flops. Furthermore, the food is a bit cheaper. 16 bucks got me a T-bone steak, salad, and beautiful smile, though I had to cook the meat myself. Didn't find too many bohemians around, instead a lot of quiet travellers of glumly watching "50 First Dates" as it skipped and garbled. Sigh. Decided to walk downtown and see what was up. It turns out the Bohemian Resort is on the outskirts, so the walk to action took about half an hour through strip malls and quietude, a far cry from the raucous environment I'd heard about and was bracing for.
I checked out Johno's Blues Bar based on a tip from Andrew from Cairns in Sydney, and brought the horn. Johno himself is a burnt-out Aussie, part Shane MacGowan and part Paul Hogan who spits when he speaks (if that's what you can call it). Johno was finishing up his set, so I waited around to see what was up. The intermission was Toad Racing, where people place bets on toads racing from the middle of a pen where they unceremoniously dumped, to the the side. Um, maybe I'm a toad-racing snob, but I found it a little underwhelming, and definitely not for the squeamish PETA types. The spectacle was run by a guy with Benny Hill demeanour, dressed in explorer garb complete with pith helmet and knee socks.
Patience paid off (as did lugging and repacking the damn horn everyday), and I ended up playing with a band called the Doyles, led by the Benny Hill guy, although he changed costumes by then.
The next day was sunny and warm, and with no people to know or itinerary to fill, I wandered the Esplanade downtown and got a feel for the place. Cairns is not a beach town. Receding water levels over the last few decades have left it fronted by mudflats which are apparently inhabited by crocs. To make up for this, the city built a huge saltwater lagoon on the seafront, some parts of which have a sandy bottom. I hopped in and did some swimmin', then lazed about and people watched. The town is filled with all types: backpackers, retirees, families with kids.
I moved locations from the Bohemia Resort to Bohemia Central, which is a little closer to downtown and the action, not to mention right around the corner from Johno's. Better digs, $5 dinners which are decent and filling, outdoor bar run by a good guy named Logan. Touched base with my friend Sabrina, who is in Australia for work. She's vacationing in Port Douglas, another resort town about an hour from here. I had to figure out how to get up there, and at the moment was considering taking a high-speed catamaran up the coast.
I also checked out the scuba course I've signed up for, and booked to start Saturday morning. There may be an issue because I'm an asthmatic, and an attack 10 metres underwater would be a problem because I can't just jet to the surface. At first I was bummed about this development, but after some thought, I figured that if I can't do that, I'll snorkel instead. I've spoken to some who have done it already, and say it is amazing.
I spent the night chatting with people in the outdoor bar at Boho Central, and have some good leads on tours. Shouts out to Tasha, Raye, Vicki, Frank and Joe. When I read through the crappy Frommers, it didn't get much into package deals on tours and adventures, and now that I'm here, I realize I can combine several of the things I'd like to do.
As the night wore on, I had a bad jam with some drunk girl and her didjeridoo, as well as contend with Bitter Dan, this weird Christian Bale (American Psycho) look-alike who'd I'd seen boozing it all afternoon. When Drunk Didj Girl put her smoke out on his arm, I changed tables.

The next morning, the 16th, I was awoken by one of my roommates pounding on the door, as she had lost her key. I'm up, I'm up. Then I found I had to switch rooms, so I threw all my stuff in my bag and dragged it to my new room. In the process I realized that I'd lost my contact lenses, as well as that my glasses frames were cracked and in the need of a band-aid, duct tape, or at the very least some crazy glue.
That day saw me contending with being by myself, as well as how I should fill the next three months (and you think YOUR life is hard). Swam in the lagoon, perused the propaganda I'd been picking up all over the place (no recycling here), and adjusted to backpacker life. You know, bought PB&J, noodles and instant coffee; read tabloids about celebs I'd never heard of (but did hear that Brad and Angelina are going through tough times - didn't see THAT coming); learning to look the correct way before crossing the street; trying not to stare (too long) at the topless sunbathers; trying not to take pictures of every palm-tree-against-ocean-backdrop vista I see; and most importantly, keeping my ear to the ground as to what stuff I'd like to be doing. Now that I have some ideas, there is some fun stuff coming my way. Finally, I decided that I would rent a car to go and see Sab, so I went off and booked it.
The contacts turned up. I'd left them on the sink. Wot a dumbass, we ain't in Kansas anymore!
That night, I went back to Johno's, and ended up playing with the man himself. It was pretty fun, especially since I didn't have to sit through toad races in order to do so. The night was marred a bit by seeing this older Aborigine guy get literally thrown out of the bar for being to hammered, which he was. The sad thing was that I was talking to this Aborigine girl at the time. She not only knew the other dude, but got upset because that kind of behaviour gave her a bad name. What could I say.... so I didn't say anything.
Dropped off the horn, and tried in vain to hook up with some people from the hostel. In the process, I went to a couple of different bars and found a college bar atmosphere, wet T-shirt contests, and discovered that when an Aussie says he'll watch your drink, he's lying.