Just Dance….Your Way To A Hundred Dollars; in the Midst of Russian Spies

This could end up being one of the longest posts in the history of man, ridiculous amounts of everything have happened in the last week; surfers paradise with Kel, the bus to Byron, 3 days of surf camp, Nimbin, ridiculous amounts of drunken dancing, winning a hundred dollars and probably a whole lot more; so we’ll start at the beginning:

Which takes us back to Surfer’s Paradise and Kelly’s flat, from when I left you I can report that I spent most of my time in her house, chilling out, talking crap, reading books and just generally doing absolutely nothing. Which was absolutely wonderful, many thanks to Kel for her awesome hospitality and love of the KFC Burger Box. Also thanks for the initiation into “The Farmer Wants a Wife”, a terrible bizarre yet wonderfully watchable modern day Blind Date; intriguing!

Sadly I had to leave the comforts of the sofa bed and rejoin the land of hostels. Shared kitchens, thousands of Germans and uncomfortable beds awaited me in Byron Bay. After a short bus journey I arrived and checked into my hostel. The brand new Nomads Odyssey, which is absolutely spot on, I even had a double bed in my room, which was for six, but for the first three nights housed me and me alone.

I’d barely had time to check my emails when I was told I could go and eat for a couple of dollars down at one of the local bars and get a free lift down there, never one to pass up an opportunity like that I jumped right in with both feet. The food was forgettable but the rest of the night would prove to be anything but.

It started with myself, Rob, Stu and Michael getting shitcanned on $8 a jug beer, cheap and cheerful 😀 Next came an invitation to join in a dance-off, I of course signed up, a little time lapsed and it was time to go at it. I was to go up first, heading up to the stage I had absolutely no plan, once the music began this became throw some super quick foot movements in there before spinning in and out of the barrier behind the stage/table I was dancing on. I followed this up with a little hanging backwards off the stage and a lot of smiling.

There were five people following me, one of whom was a German triathlete with the body of an adonis who could do the caterpillar, another was a pretty looking tart who took her top off and danced like she was stripping for cash. Not that I have any problem with that. And do you know what…? They didn’t win. I did. Somehow. Many thanks to the lads for giving some extra loud cheers.

The prize for all this was actually awesome. One Hundred Dollars. In cold hard cash. Wow. Thats was an extra 20% to my budget, immense. I proceeded to plow a little of it back into the bar and spent the next few hours dancing on tables like a madman. At some point I became very very drunk, at this point I informed Stu the girl dancing next to me was a Russian spy, all while dancing and sweating profusely. I think I need to take a break from the Tom Clancy novels.

I vaguely remember stumbling home and setting my alarm in anticipation of the beginning of surf camp the next day. I awoke to a more minor hangover than my action quite possibly deserved, lucky me. It was time for Surf Camp, day one of three. To the beach, after a little instruction into how to actually get up on to a surfboard it was time to test out the theory.

I failed. Miserably. I could barely get up on the board, nevermind ride a bloody wave, thankfully help was at hand in the form of a larger board on the back of the van, given this the afternoon was much more productive, there is evidence of my surfing away on the edge of a wave, admittedly on a surfboard that has much in common with a canoe but that’s fine by me.
That night it was decided to chill out on the beach with a few beers and some banter before heading to a club called Coco Mango’s; a pretty decent place, the most remarkable part of the evening was watching one guy go for it on the dancefloor; nothing smoke and mirrors and enthusiasm like myself, this guy could really dance; incredibly impressive. At the end of the evening I walked home and crashed into bed once again; for the second night in a row it would be me and me alone in my room, quite surprising in a six bed dorm!

Surf Camp: Day Two. A promising morning on the big board gave me a false sense of confidence that led me to believe I might have some success on the smaller board. I did do better than the first day and got up for a little while but with my lack of balance surfing is most definitely not the sport for me. I did wear a pink top though; sexy in the pictures.

The night was time to return to Cheekys Monkeys but thanks to a massive hankering for a meatball sub I didn’t eat there this time. I did however run into friends from further up the coast; Jo, Leanne and Tom, and we got on with some hardcore Jenga action. At one point we had a tower 34 rows high and the only available option was to tap a double layer into the middle and pull one off the side. This was failed by one of the others and the whole thing came crashing down.

Leanne had entered herself into the 300 dollar cash prize wet t-shirt competition which was a great laugh, she sadly didn’t win but fair play to her; if men could have been involved I would have been up there shaking my monkeymaker without doubt. From there we headed back to my balcony for banter and a sugar fix.

The next place to be was surf camp, day three. On the third and final day of possibly the beginning and end of my surfing career I decided to stick with the larger board. This was a good decision in some ways, as I got up plenty and looked quarter-decent at times. It was also a bad idea when a particularly rough wave caught hold of the board and threw it into my jaw. For a second I thought it was broken, thankfully its just a high quality bruise, nicely masked by my ever more ridiculous looking beard!

Special mention to the Mojosurf group pics and name game every day, highly entertaining. Had some wonderful instructors and photographers too, highly recommended, though I hope you don’t have quite the issues with balancing on the board as I did.

The night began with a burger in Cheekys, with Tom and quickly descended into drunkenly throwing shapes on the tables, thankfully the cash machine rejected my card and I didn’t get too smashed. Leaving me to make a nice graceful exit and sweep off to my bed in preparation for the Nimbin tour the next day. I would like to say I was proud, and thankfully for Tom Clancy, that I won a jug for knowing that USSR stands for the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

The next few paragraphs could lead to an ear bashing from my Mum and will hopefully never be read by any prospective employer; Nimbin is the Australian home of marijuana; its technically illegal but they don’t seem to be doing much about it there. I got on the bus and found myself chatting away with some lovely girls, one of whom had seen my dancing of the previous night. The shame.

We arrived into Nimbin and purchased a few “space cookies”, we were advised to eat half and see what happened; absolutely nothing. Either we got hosed and bought normal cookies for five bucks a pop or you needed to eat three of them. Mother you can rest easy, prospective employer please delete the last two paragraphs from your memory, thanks.

From there it was on to a BBQ lunch and to a local waterfall, we jumped off a rock from around 5m up into the plunge pool and chilled out for a little while before I spent the whole of the journey home napping away. At the end of the trip home we were given vouchers for free food at Cheeky Monkeys, so guess where I found myself back again? No prizes for that one, sorry.

The food was pretty good this time, I had a free starter and a $4 chicken parmigiana to contend with, both were delicious. From there a typical path was followed; cheap jugs, dancing on tables. At one point I even got a round of applause and more than one person told me I was a fantastic dancer. Whether that is true or not I will take the compliment! Thoroughly sweaty and danced out I headed home, pretty much stone cold sober and into bed.

Where I managed a couple of hours sleep before the massive fucking idiots belonging to some Australian youth sports team or other came in and proceeded to fall over themselves and then chat animatedly for half an hour about who had shit in whose pillowcase, which judging from the smell had actually happened to one of them. I opened the balcony door and managed to get back to sleep, all the while hoping noone would choose to attempt shitting into my pillowcase.

Thankfully they kept their shitting habits inter-club and I woke up this morning in time to grab a quick shower and pack my bag before checking out, I have since been sat here in Peterpans for the last 2.5 hours, my overnight bus to Sydney doesn’t leave until 7pm. *sigh* I’m going to try and find some Ugg boots and a Subway for myself in a short while!

Love and Dance-offs

J. Xx

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One Response to “Just Dance….Your Way To A Hundred Dollars; in the Midst of Russian Spies”

  1. You will be pleased to know we now have an english version of ‘The farmer takes a wife’ so you can look forward to that on your return home!! Not overly impressed with your ‘space cookie’ outing remember Kathy and her ‘space chocolate’ experience you have been warned!!


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