The left is a cairn given by us generous Canucks to the City of Bribane (another potentially dark pic), and the right, well, they're anchors.

I mentioned that Brizzy was a major business centre. Having been on the backpacker trail for about seven weeks by that point, and blissfully unemployed for nine, it was a bit of culture shock to come back into the realm of the career-driven. I would spend mornings bumming around Sab and Jeff's, lazing in their pool or talking little walks while they had to get up and go to work every morning. Many other travellers along the way really had to sweat to find some work in order to afford their instant noodles, yet I was decadently throwing myself into one adventure after another. I started to think about deceleration, you know, when you are driving on the highway, pull into the exit for some small town, and suddenly everyone there seems to be driving achingly slow because you accustomed to travelling (and perceiving and reacting) at 130 kmh. I spent a lot of time sleeping in Brisbane, a couple of 12-hour shifts. I think I needed it, but the sudden return to a normal environment was making me skittish, and kinda useless too. I was feeling this urge to be productive, and kinda jealous of those with some stability in their lives. I know this is supposed to be a vacation, and that it would be what I made it, but when I got to Briz I was just tired of the life, of never knowing anyone, of saying goodbye, of the endless pitchers of free beer slowly going warm.

I started to brainstorm about what I was going to do when I got back, about how my life would be the same or different, about brains, bands, and birds. About whether I would look good with a mullet. One thing very apparent on this trip is that I'm sadly not in my early 20s anymore. People my age settle, partner up, propagate, disappear. Once I was finished with this little departure from reality, where was I going to be, aside from right back at the start? Could I do school again? Was I destined to hang out with folks 10 years younger than me for eternity? Was I going through a midlife crisis, and if so, why so early? Nah, I think "midlife crisis" makes it sounds like there is only one stage of life evaluation, whereas I think there will always be a need for a "directional tune-up", especially with the blind-folded manner in which I tend to do things. Midlife just sounds so...... half-final.

It was in the middle of this mental dog-chasing-tale that I stopped in at a hostel bar near the bus station, wanting to finalize some pictures before I posted them to the blog. I woman came up to my table, and started talking to me about "The Beast", some neo-consevative group being formed in Australia. She starting asking me "Can you believe it? Can YOU believe it?" In her amazement, she was crawling around on the ground, and hugging my leg to punctuate her point. Gee... uh... I guess so!?! After telling her where I was from, she said that she wanted to go to Canada, but couldn't unless someone put a rock on her finger, and she'd be good, she'd be quiet, she could cook, and clean, and stay out of my way.... Seemed like a good deal, but I decided the pix were ready, got up and left. I may be confused and prone to wandering, but I now knew I wasn't desperate.

The Friday morning after our West End/Fortitude Valley escapade, Sab wasn't doing so well, and the fact she made her meeting was a testament to her superhuman will. Of course, immediately post-meeting, she made the 7-minute walk home from work, and hit the sack. As for me, I got to sleep in, and then decided I needed to be active to take my mind off my existentialist angst. Encouraged by my friend Kelly back home, I headed across the Story Bridge to the Kangaroo Point area, and I signed up for abseiling( the Aussie term for rappelling) with a company called Riverlife. The cliffs were 23m tall, not so special from below but a lot more repectable once dangling over the side by a rope. It was 30 bucks for a 90 minute session, and it turns out my group was full of kids. This means that one at a time, each kid had to be reclad correctly in their equipment, and then be gently coaxed once at the edge and paralyzed with fear. C'mon kid. I was feeling my 90 minutes ebbing away. Was I only going to get one go? Two? No way man, so I started shoving kids out of the way until a really tough 8 year old gave me the evil eye. ;) Everyone got two turns, but I ran to the top and snagged a third go. How old am I? The third run was awesome, descending the cliff in hops and feeling the burn of the rope through my leather glove.
There you go Kel!

Alas, my 90 minutes were soon up, and I had to head back to the ranch, see if Sab could handle solid food, and then get packed. Friends of Sab and Jeff had invited them up to their house in the Sunshine Coast for the weekend, and as their adoptive teenage son, I was going too.