Brisbane is a lively and eccentric city. Street performers, ferris wheels, Asian gardens, breweries and man-made lagoons surround the Brisbane river, reticulated only by landmark bridges and lesser-known freeways; there is much to do here.
I arrived yesterday and spent today in South Bank wandering through the Queen Street Mall which, if I weren’t practicing this thing called self-control, could capture me in its tentacles for days.
This city is a fascinating place.
Tomorrow I will visit the local farmer’s market with high hopes of catching a glimpse of true Australian culture. This hostel I’m staying in certainly can’t provide me with a proper taste of this civilization. It’s like a hotel!
Though Steve Irwin may be dead, I will celebrate his life for a mere sixty dollars at the Australia Zoo. And for only thirty more I can hug a koala at the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary. A quick tour of the XXXX Brewery is only an extra thirty five. And for a couple hundred more I can visit Moreton Bay, a somewhat smaller interpretation of Fraser Island, which will only run me about four hundred dollars to visit.
And skydiving in Caloundra won’t set me back any more than three hundred and fifty.
A Whitsunday Islands sailing sensation is only a few hundred more so I’m pretty sure I’ll be living on the street, begging for spare change within the next two weeks.
Donations are welcome. Maybe I need to find a job.
It’s funny how the days run together when you’re on the road. I can barely remember where I’ve been. I can barely remember who I’ve met. I rarely remember what day it is, much less the date.
Wait, what month is it anyway?
I’m taking naps on a daily basis. It’s very tiring, taking in all this new information every minute of every day. Nothing is ever the same, I have no routine.