Hanging In There

That about sums up how my life is going currently, not in a bad connotation but getting by, meeting people and having fun, all under the wettest weather recorded in these parts. These parts by the way being Nimbin NSW, a hostel run by my burner friend Wildduck (Doug) called Rainbow Retreat (http://www.rainbowretreat.net/). Kind of ahead of myself though, Hope you all had a great Christmas that wasn't too fraught and a New Year that wasn't too disappointing. Missed you guys.

Christmas with Jess and her family was perfect, it was such a difference to back home which meant comparisons were at a minimum. Last night in Sydney we blagged our way into the posh bar at the top of the tower for a spectacular view that went past slowly, very slowly but felt quite elegant really. Road trip with Jess and Chris brought us to a tidy little hostel where we had a particularly fine session in a microbrewery on route, crashed the hostels staff Christmas night out. Not sure how many days consecutive drinking this is by now but the end is not nearly in site. Just the right atmosphere of family, alcohol, covert smoking and food. Chuck (Jess's Granda) roped me into a just-hit-myself-in-the-head-with-a-boomerang ruse, which I know I am never going to hear the end of but did make me feel right at home.

Hitchhiking. Interesting. It is never a good sign when your driver points out the tree, or more accurately what is left of a tree where he wrote off his last car. Door to door service though and Doug instantly welcomed me in. He has had some seriously epic events happen to him and my heart just went out to him. The setup here supports the more "alternative" traveller with the option for sleeping in a beach hut, gypsy wagon, tree house, tree hut and in my case a storage shed. People come and go, but less go really after the rain started. Like my god am I in Nam tropical rain. Which is yet to stop, roads and bridges flooding, people stranded, phone lines out. Isolated by circumstance truly.

2 Stories stand out, well 3 each is an example of how things have gone since I got here:

1) Sound Lounge- A more dodgy than not smoking cafe where we stopped into after a successful mission to the laundrette; which will culminate in me rolling on the bed in a pile of warm dry clothes. Small hairy englishman starts some chat, he helps out there so we are chatting away quite pub fashion. He starts to tell me his story how he ended up in Nimbin. Basically he was breeding some posh birds, they all got robbed and the police knew about it and covered it up. He revealed that conspiracy and then went onto expose more cover ups higher in the police the hierarchy, which ended in them trying to kill him. However because he was taught by some aborignal people he was able to kill the guy with a boomerang, true story. So he is in hiding in Nimbin but he thinks he has been spotted so he is hiding out in the Sound Lounge. He has more to tell, I'm gonna crack his story out of him on my next visit.

2) Hogmanay - New Years Eve was more wet and cold than any I have ever experienced in Scotland. Night started in the chill space with a fire, watching Eddie your average crooked sort of a fella do more buckets than a whole underage party. Hooked up with some burners who got me to the pub in town, was just starting coming on wasted and there is this little Kiwi dude asking a whole barrage of questions. Distracted him with my el-wire glowing mushroom/ skull T-shirt, not the only time it saved me that night. Pub shuts at 11pm and we hear there is a band at the YHA Hostel, so obviously we are keen, having not spent the last 3 hours outside. Very wet, very dark. Through the trippy light of my flashing T-shirt we walk onwards, ever onwards through the heaviest rain I have experienced, laughing at 3 burners on a standard random burning experience but just so god damn wet.

Through the haze I remember the path being like a river, telling a hairy irishman with a beard in bra and pants that he was lovely on the inside and walking through more wet, not being able to go back only way is to survive by walking onwards. Surfaced into the firelight of the chill space these radiant pillars of damp and cold, everyone was smashed though so we slipped right in. Be-decked in smoking jacket and flip flops we discuss the events of last night and all I keep get is "Hanging In There" my apparent catch phrase of the evening.

3) Doug was just coming back across the bridge in his 4x4 before everything was cut off again Yesterday and he found some lads about to jump into the torrent that once was creek and try and bodyboard it. UPSTREAM OF THE BRIDHE. He tries to talk them out of it but the are so full of weed/ male pride that they jump in and instantly regret it. Screaming one of the guys makes it into a tree his board catching in the eddies of the bridge as the water is sucked under it. Other fella was not so lucky and got sucked under the bridge and disappeared. The guys mate is screaming and there is just no sign of him. There is a shout from downstream and the boy appears scratched and not nearly so certain of himself, his bluff hollow and fragile. Doug ends this story about how he wishes he had his camera to catch it, and a lesson could be learned.

Nimbin feels so very much like certain elements of the festival scene that I love, people gather round out of the rain and stories start. I might start a few but mostly in the good name of group dynamics, and partially small part of centre of attention syndrome as well. It is time to get out, Tasmania is calling and I am really done with the rain. Got a dutch travellling companion now called Caspar who I am training up in the way of the Zombie Apocalypse, coming along nicely. We just have to prise him out of Nimbin, there is Nimbin time here which runs even slower than playa time.

Dougal