Hello all, it's been a while, and for that I am sorry. It won't happen again… maybe.
I'd love to tell you that I haven't been writing because I've been crazy busy doing constantly awe inspiring things, but that would be a lie. I haven't been writing because I thought I had nothing to write about, my life is pretty standard in terms of Byroners (Byronees? Byronians?) and I had forgotten that just because something is routine, it doesn't mean it isn't pretty spectacular. For me it took getting out of Byron for a couple of days over Christmas and explaining to other people what it is exactly I do with my days to appreciate its small beauty. Whilst I attempted to rush through the explaining of things as quickly as possible, fearing they would think me terribly mundane, I was bombarded with questions and grins and remarks about how lucky I am.
And I am.
It is only now that I find my time in the Bay nearing an end, can I fully appreciate just how special my own personal mundane is. The next series of posts are going to b solely dedicated to some of my favourite memories in this beautiful place, but for now we'll start with the beginning.
The beginning.
If we were to go back just a few short months, we'd see me living in the staff room of Aquarius Backpackers with 11 other fantastically insane work for accommodationers. 12 people in this tiny room was a squeeze, and it was gross, and you lost everything you owned, and there was a small maggot infestation and it was just the purest example of friendship. Being thrown into living and working and socialising with a group of people whom you've never met is beyond daunting, but it also creates some of the tightest social links I've ever known. In one short week I'd seen majority of them naked, swapped clothes with most of them and fallen in love with all of them. I mean don't get me wrong, they're all absolute freaks and misfits and if it were in any other situation non of us would have befriended one and other, but somehow that made it work all the more.
For two months I lived in the squalid pockets of these people, and then one day Aquarius offered to pay me in money rather than room, and so I packed up my few remaining clothes and moved to the locally known “happy houses” with my fabulous Canadian friend, Ariya. Within three weeks there were 10 former AQ staff and guests living within three houses of each other. For me, I have what I deem to be the perfect set up, still working at AQ means I get to visit the one or two last remaining ones of our bunch who are still living there, but having my own studio means I no longer get woken up at 4am a host of hammered people, and I no longer find jars of pickled herring in the toilet. Bloody Swedes.
A general day of cleaning at Aquarius sees me out of the house from 9.15am until around 2pm, and this is not English 2pm, it's Australian. That means it's still over 30 degrees and the beach is calling. I don't think I can stress just how close work and the beach are, so I've included a map for reference. Yeah. Be jealous. After lying down for several hours on a pristine beach, with the mountains to the left and the lighthouse to the left, I'll make the pilgrimage home, with my bike, Carol, it takes me just six minutes to get home. Evenings vary from crazy nights out to cuddle puddles and Disney films and to be honest, it's pretty beautiful what ever we choose.
Where I lie now.
Currently I am lying in my garden, the late afternoon sun is fighting through the large canopy of trees that protect me from the harsh rays, creating a kaleidoscope of colours and patterns on the rug beneath me. I am also warmed to my core from the low beams, penetrating through my thin layer of skin and spreading it's heat and joy through my veins. A small breeze is quaffing my hair slightly and creating a peaceful rustling in the fallen, crisp leaves that reminds me of the English countryside thousands of miles away. The smell of our, now weekly, family BBQ tinges the air with the sweet scent of onions and evokes a sense of excitement at the prospect of a beautiful, long summer evening in this, my perfect home, stretching out in front of me.
This is where I lie now. And though it may be unremarkable, it is real, and it is mine and I could not be more contented.
