Sydney to Cairns – Part Four

Brisbane lay about two hours away from Surfers Paradise. A testing final drive for Dave and Theresa brought us to the capital of Queensland. I liked the place already on first glance. It was incredibly hilly (at least compared to Perth). The bridges and river paint a fascinating panorama from any angle. Our hostel had a fantastic rooftop pool.

After sampling the city’s Hog’s Breath franchise over dinner, I headed out for a quiet drink with Cheese, Caz, Laura and Alex. The bar we stumbled upon changed our holiday forever. If a place can be said to be hallowed, enchanted and throw open the doors of humankind’s perception, then this was it. It boasted pansexual bar staff, interesting clientele, and a new and thrilling delight that answered our many prayers. I speak, of course, of a karaoke machine.

That quiet drink turned into a full-on jamboree, as is the wonder of such spontaneous nights out. We jostled for position on the karaoke with two rosy-cheeked girls in dresses, who seemed eager to provide the assembled punters with the world’s least compelling Mariah Carey tribute act.

Dave and Alex performed a number of tunes together and were clearly seasoned professionals at this kind of thing. One of the plump girls bravely upped the stakes and gave ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ a go. This was an error. My impromptu rap to ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ inspired one stranger who was watching to whoop excitedly and mime doggy sex in front of the stage. I’ve never seen anyone do that in public before. It’s surely the ultimate hip-hop accolade.

I rose early in the morning to watch the World Cup final in the hostel’s TV room. The score was locked at 0-0 and I managed to watch fifteen minutes before heading back to bed. My friends all slept. The buzz of football’s big party passed our time zone completely by.

Later in the morning we dropped off both the vans at the rental depot and bid them a sad farewell. They had carried us all the way from Sydney with only one problematic headlight bulb to trouble us.

Then we set forth on foot to see the city, still guided by the Sat Nav. Needless to say it threw us a couple of curveballs, but we found our way round pretty easily. There were many grand streets, skyscrapers and river views. Brisbane is not everyone’s cup of tea, but in my opinion it is up there with Sydney and Melbourne in terms of culture. I do like a city with hills in it.

Some of us went to Starbucks to meet Caz’s friend Mikaela and Theresa’s friend Paul. Meanwhile I went with Alex, Katie and Dave to the Brisbane Art Gallery and saw an exhibition by renowned sculptor Ron Mueck. He specialises in producing realistic human figures in unflinching detail, a lot of them naked. You wonder what stories lay behind these fascinating characters. The day certainly inspired me to take more of an interest in art.

After rejoining the rest of the group we of course proceeded to drink heavily into the night. I got so badly drunk I was put in a taxi by my friends, but I still managed to find my way back to the hostel and update my Facebook status with the following pearl of wisdom: “Brisbane is ace as tits. Fact.” And so to bed.

We had another day to kill in Brisbane so we visited the artificial beach and lagoon down by the river. It lived up to our demanding Blackpool standards. Presumably they had shipped in the finest-quality sand from the Bahamas at great expense, such is the logic of these schemes. Some of us hadn’t seen the art gallery yesterday so we took another stroll over there to breathe in more culture. “If it’s free, give it me.” I was enjoying all this art.

That night was my final night with the group and we made an occasion of it, introducing the people who missed it to our new karaoke bar find. Everyone took to the stage with a frenzy. The plump girls were there holding court next to the DJ and our presence was welcomed by the other regulars.

Within a span of time that felt like the blinking of an eye, the nine of us were uproariously drunk and showing the world how ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ should (not) be sung. When I left at 2am the others were still there partying. Was I learning a degree of self-control in my old age? Probably not.

So came the breakfast of farewells. Lindsay and Theresa I would meet in Perth in a few weeks. The rest I would not see for several months. The last ten days had been a roller-coaster ride of travelling, resuming old friendships and forming new ones. For some reason it just felt great to hear lots of northern accents again. The rest of the group would now return to Melbourne before most of them flew home. I chose not to choose Melbourne. I chose something else.