Noosa.

My friend Jack Mac at Bistro C on Hastings Street.

Noosa.

Something told me to leave early and I acted on the instinct. The most convenient travel arrangements emerged and I took the bus up north in the sunshine, feeling at ease and allowing all the tension, all the stress and fatigue wash away. Sam and Sparkles collected me from the bus stop smiling, laughing and waving from their Suzuki four-wheel drive. They took me to their home, which seems perfect for them, surrounded by green and complete with a small bird, its nest and egg just hanging from a bag attached to the back verandah. We went to Noosa Heads and I saw the ocean, the god-light and the drifting tide. Bush turkeys are native here, and we were lucky enough to spot a white bird, not long after had it turned, eyeballed me and dropped one of its feathers for us.

On our first evening we enjoyed the conversation I’ve missed for almost 8 months, about energy, divination and spirit over great food and good coffee. I slept a dream-filled, deep and uninterrupted sleep, which I haven’t enjoyed in some time. I woke late and saw that the weather had changed, the wind picking up and the rains had come - a complete transformation from the day before. Floods had come and isolated townships, cars stranded deep in water. Enough to keep us inside for a couple of days, dreaming and meditating, reading the cards and reflecting, relax they told me.


Some time ago a friend informed me that my blogs had been publicly ridiculed amongst of group of people that perhaps I do not know. A brave thing to tell me, and I thanked them for the somewhat upsetting tip-off. The person who publicly read my words in order to shame me, I do know. Not very well, but their own reputation is slimy and malevolent, a shady character not liked amongst many close friends and simple acquaintances. A flash of revenge; thoughts dwell on ways to ridicule and shame this person’s creations amongst those they do not know in order to discredit their reputation. But why waste the energy? I let go of those thoughts long ago but the after-effects of this person’s actions against me left me without the inspiration to write such harmless streams of consciousness or what we call ‘blogs’. Again, I attempt to re-evaluate and come to the same conclusions. Trusting in instinct is the golden rule.

Today, the sun broke through the clouds and the rain subsided despite weather reports to the contrary. After lunch in the sunshine with the girls, I grew tired and lay down to a deep afternoon nap where confusing, hazy dreams took over. Luckily, awoken by Sam I got up and accompanied her to the beach where we bore witness to the destruction the storm waves had caused. Whole sandy banks had been ripped from the beach, leaving not much left for sunbathers to enjoy. This was wild weather, tumultuous waves still crashing nearby, very few brave souls out in the swell. My head was still in dreaming, thinking of the past and now the present. As I get closer to new friends and crave the company of the oldest I think about time as a series of connections. Some are strong, positive and filled with abundant energy and joy; others are weaker but share a semblance of the positive. There are some connections that are made without instinctual judgement and inevitably become destructive. These connections are powerful and can, in a very short space of time ripple through the strong, positive connections and attempt to destroy them. This storm, whilst being a great stroke of Mother Nature, carried a great teaching for me, and that lesson I am learning and growing stronger from.

Whilst this storm was not welcome on a holiday taken after many years wait, looking back I am happy it allowed me to reflect and deal with the things that I might have just attempted to bury. Storm-boy you may call me! After a deep analysis of those issues creating tumultuous, destructive waves in my head I am now able to move on and be eternally grateful for the gifts and friendships I have been blessed with, and focus on what my heart truly desires.

Now is the time to have the holiday we all come to expect when one goes to Noosa.

Hastings Street, the Sunset Boulevard of the Sunshine Coast is just one word: Fabulous. Nowhere in this country can everybody get away with so many pairs of white pants and gold jewellery (you’re right, Ms. French), in one place. Why does one need Hugo Boss by the ocean? Resort-wear is everywhere and is just that, only to be worn whilst swanning through this district, air-kissing the lovely couple whose christian names you can’t quite remember. I somehow wish I had been here earlier to experience such a holiday by the ocean. Speaking of, this destination is sublime for watching an entire day go by under the sun if you just cast your eye past the stretch of designer retail and look out to sea.

People watching in Noosa brings to a head the following observations. Ladies who lunch in matching pink twin sets & chintzy cargo pants, attempting to ignore the bush turkeys who take up native residence here. Bronzed teenage boys parading shirtless next to their mothers donning Kookai. Coastie girls in bikini tops and boardies slinking shoeless, sideways glances. Kingswoods and Mercedes Benz line the tree-lined boulevard, a peculiar coupling of rich and bogan.

By night there is only one place to go. The Rolling Rock. The Throbber. After a night of revelry Jack Mac and I slink off to the beach with a crew of people we just met. The night ends in the loss of designer prescription glasses and a wallet and drama. But, the ocean provides and both are returned safe in a morning clouded with hangover.

The ritzy cafes and restaurants all make me smile and laugh and I fully intend to sit amongst the faux-tanned in cut-off skinny black denim shorts, grey marle cotton shirt, silk scarf and Chuck Taylors, sipping my $4.70 café latte that I could have made better myself. This is the superficial holiday everybody wants and why not? It makes me smile, and whilst I sound as if I judge, I secretly want to be these people who surround me in polo shirts and panama hats; if only for a few days.