toowomba

Toowomba is one of those deliciously named Queensland towns that I couldn't help but get giddy over the prospect of visiting. While my home state in America has practical, staid city names like 'York' and 'Factoryville', Queensland seems to have a plethora of towns with names like Woodenbong and ... well, Toowomba. The sheer amount of vowels in these town names was reason enough to pay my respects through a visit.

I was mildly, and cheerfully, taken with Toowomba. I rather aptly described the town in my journal as "nothing spectacular but quaint." Which is true. Toowomba itself isn't stunning, but it has a charming look to it that you don't get in many other Queensland towns.

To begin with, Toowomba is located in the mountains. The drive in to town is a bit of an ordeal, as the main road is set at a ten percent incline up the side of a mountain. Signs are everywhere, promising danger and doling out warnings to overly optimistic drivers. The first time I came in to town, which was in a vehicle that was having mechanical problems, I ended up stranded in an over heated car for forty five minutes. Not fun.

Once in town, however, the going gets a lot easier. Toowomba is the epitome of pleasant. It has pleasant homes with lush gardens, pleasant and cool mountain air, pleasant people with cheerful smiles, and a very pleasant downtown full of some "old school" buildings that are, well, pleasant.

The gardens of Toowomba are one of the town's major draws. It seems that for many parts of Queensland, landscaping isn't taken that seriously. In Toowomba, however, it has become a form of high art. Even a brisk drive through town will reveal a plethora of beautiful yards full of blooming bushes and colorful flower beds. Even the air is a little sweeter and cleaner here than in many parts of coastal Queensland.

A focal point in Toowomba is the well named Picnic Point. A medium sized park with walking trails, a cafe, picnic grounds, gardens, and incredible old gum trees, Picnic Point is the perfect spot to catch some spectacular views of the surrounding countryside. In fact, the park provides an incredible look at the Great Dividing Range and Tabletop Mountain.

I was utterly charmed by Picnic Point. I wandered the trails, which looped joyously through groves of eucalyptus, and spied on some lovely bird life. I measured myself against one old gum tree, and stepped away realizing just how short I truly am. I even had a picnic here, and happily ate cream puffs and a sandwich under the blazing heat of the Queensland sun.

Although I didn't walk around downtown Toowomba, I did get a short drive through of the area. There were some old buildings that had an antiquated charm, and it seemed like the area was a bustling one. Nothing really drew my attention as being a must-see, but it was still fun to poke my head out the car window and snap some photos.

Toowomba is also beloved by many Brisbane/Gold Coast locals. I heard the name repeatedly through out my trip, and many times it was spoken about with a sort of reverence one gives to a doddering old grandmother. Not exactly a jumpin' party spot, but certainly a lovely place for an afternoon picnic.

driving in queensland

Distance takes on an all together new meaning when driving around the roads of Queensland. Maps are deceiving; two points could look like they're next to each other, but an actual drive will prove them to be anything but close together. What seems like it should be a five minute trip turns in to a rather epic journey that spans three-quarters of an hour.

This seems to be the case no matter what. In this respect, Queensland is for all the world like California, a state which should be nicknamed something like 'Land of The Sprawl.' According to the fine citizens of California (and Queensland, for that matter), things should be built far apart rather than close together. In other words, make everyone drive stupidly long distances, for the hell of it! Why put a shopping center down the road when you can make it really down the road?

In the defense of Australia's sunny state, part of the reason everything is so spread out is that the bush is very much part of the landscape. 'Bush', in Australian slang, refers to anything that hasn't been tamed by the hands of humankind. Any wild, woolly, overgrown, or sparsely populated area is referred to as the bush. And make no mistake about it -- the bush is ever present in Queensland. People don't seem to encroach on the bush so much as the bush creeps up on people. It's kind of the paradoxical inverse of most places.

A fine example of this is the lovely city of Brisbane. A bustling metropolis with a population of over a million people, a skyline studded with sky scrapers and a rowdy and fun reputation, Brisbane seems completely urban. There's a wonderful transit system, sprawling suburbs, and enough gawking tourists to clog up pedestrian traffic during the summer months.

However, take about a ten minute drive out of the city in certain directions, and you'll see plenty of eucalyptus forests and kangaroo crossing signs ... but not too many houses. Park rangers at the Brisbane National Forest, which is on the outskirts of the city limits, actually warn visitors to drive carefully on the road ahead, and not to proceed without sufficient fuel. Why? Oh, because it's so remote, there's no petrol stations for over an hour and a half. And this is within a national park that is on the edge of a major city!

The day Joe and I went driving in the Brisbane National Forest, we were mildly amused to learn that there were exactly two spots on the road where we could grab some lunch. Naturally, one of these places was closed, which left one quaint place as our only choice. This little cafe was located in a tiny (albeit adorable) town of about one hundred people.

Amazing, the bush. Simply amazing. And everywhere.

Another reason everything is so spread out is that Australia is so damn big. I mean, yeah, we all known from geography lessons that it's the world's sixth largest nation, yadda yadda. However, I don't think a tourist can appreciate this fact until they're actually in the country. Then it starts to dawn on you. Oh wait, this place is huge and rather sparsely populated. A sign in western Queensland made this point clear to me when I read that the next town wasn't for 200 kilometers.

So, we have the bush and the sheer size of the place. That's two factors in explaining why every stop at the grocery store seems to morph into an epic road trip. But then there's a third reason why everything takes forever to get to.

Queensland has a system where there's a main town for a given area, and then lots of little towns associated with it. These little towns may be thirty kilometers away, but no matter. They are somehow linked to the one major town in a given area. Of course, lots of these little towns lack what the main town has, namely access to the railway system, a decent grocery store, and commercial center. So, if you want to buy 'nice' groceries or catch a ride on the train, you're going to have to truck in a fairly long distance to get to the one major town in the region that has these exciting features.

Luckily, driving in Queensland is generally a scenic experience. There are some stunning landscapes. A lot of the region's beautiful scenery is relatively untouched by people, as well, making it an even lovelier experience. You can drive for kilometers and not see a single house in many places. (Cows, maybe, or pasture land, but not houses.) It's a refreshing -- and freeing -- feeling.

brisbane river festival '08

The noise, the crowd, the expectations and excitement. Conversations, at a loud volume, swelling and diminishing as people walk past, laughing, cheering, holding hands and slapping sweaty palms. Me, rooted in one spot, trying not to get pushed or stepped on, perched on the edge of a tiny iron railing, a seat made of metal and the fabric of my jeans. I can't fall, I'm safe, there's only concrete and crowds around me, but still I sit, precarious on my metallic throne.

Cameras are flashing all around, little glittering globes of light that pop for a second with blinding brilliance. Bright white orbs, dancing in air, going off in my face, making me blink, shake my head, blink some more. My friend standing next to me is doing the same thing, my camera in his hands. It gives off little pops of white light every two minutes or so. My friend is making lightning white flashes of his own. Recording posterity. Recording the crowds. Recording a specific moment in time.

This, I think, is expectation.

Everywhere I look there are people. Hundreds and thousands and hundreds of thousands of people. Babies, toddlers, children, teenagers, young adults, the middle aged, seniors. Drunk people, sober people, stony faced people, joking people. A thousand different accents, and me caught in the cradle of their voices, listening but not understanding a word.

I'm here, at the heart of this massive event, almost by accident. Luck and chance brought me to this place, and now I'm standing in the middle of Brisbane, Australia, waiting for one of the nation's biggest shows to begin. Brisbane River Fest is an annual event celebrating an amazing city, and the RiverFire is perhaps the greatest extravaganza during the festival, a sweeping show of fireworks and burning jet fuel along a great expanse of the Brisbane River.

It seems the whole world has come to witness the event, and it's a great feeling. All of us, pale faces, Asian faces, dark faces, have come to be a part of this moment. It's communal. It's all of us in it together. It's children and old people coming together.

Expectation and tension mounts as we wait for show time. Finally, when it feels like we can't stand another moment of craning our necks heavenward, it begins. A jet flies low over the crowd, and then zips upward, letting loose a stream of fuel that is then set alight. A streak of fire fills the sky, a stunning sight that makes the crowd gasp.

And then -- the fireworks. Oh, the fireworks! Hundreds of them, shooting up into the sky, beautifully timed to music. They glitter and glisten and gleam, just like pyrotechnics should, and all of Brisbane stands there watching, gasping, oohing. Every two minutes I turn to my friend in awe and ask, "did you see that?!" or "how much money did all of this cost?"

There's a lull in the fireworks, a little trick to make the crowd think the show is over. And then boom! The show begins again in earnest.

It lasts for a long time. The technicolor glitter, the show in the sky, the burning jet fuel and impressive fireworks. I haven't been this enchanted by anything in a long time, and it's a good feeling.

My second night in Australia, and this happens. What a beautiful experience. I want to open my arms wide and say thank you to this wonderful country for arranging this event specially for me. Of course I know it isn't really in my honor, but I can't help but feel like that.

This is the moment when I realize that I love this place. Australia is welcoming me with open arms, and I am doing the same to her. We love each other. It's a love affair that has begun with literal fireworks.

I smile to myself at this thought. I don't tell my friend what I am thinking, but he can see it in my face. "Happy?" he asks.

I nod and then start to laugh from pure happiness.

"Very," I tell him.






(clip from the opening of the River Festival ... fast forward to 3 minutes to see the actual start of the show -- it's high quality footage!)

surfers paradise

At last, after over twenty hours of travel, I reached sunny Brisbane, Australia.

Getting through customs and baggage claim was surprisingly easy (and quick), and I knew I was in the right place as soon as the smiling customs agent wished me a "G'day" and "welcome to Australia!" I had never had an Official Passport Stamper be so friendly with me. (Usually they treat me like I'm a plague carrying drug mule.)

I found my friend at the airport, and we recognized each other instantly, despite the seven years that had passed without seeing one another.

My first day in Australia really began when we left the airport. We sailed down the highway towards the delightfully touristy Surfers Paradise, which is basically a small version of Miami, Florida. (There is, in fact, a Miami on the Gold Coast of Australia, but that's a different story.)

Surfers Paradise is one of those towns that tourists flock to, despite having nothing to do with the 'real' Australia. It's full of high rises, expensive hotels, Japanese families carrying camcorders, and yes, surfers. It is also located alongside a very nice beach, which is probably the main reason it appeals to so many visitors.

There are a lot of fun things to do in town, especially if you are in your teens and twenties. The legal drinking age in Australia is 18, and there are plenty of bars and 'bottle shops' (liquor stores) in the area. This fact, of course, makes Surfers party central. One word of warning, however: liquor is horrendously expensive in Oz. I'm including imported beer under this category as well. Expect to pay upwards of $40 for a bottle of Bacardi, which is a ridiculous sum of money when compared to what one pays in the States. A bit of a damper on the party spirit, but no one can keep a good Aussie (or American tourist) down.

There are plenty of places to shop, as well. Surfers is a black hole for cash. Most of the stores tend to be overpriced and cater to tourists. There are also some surprisingly upscale places with designer merchandise aimed at the rich folks who stay at the $600 a night hotels that dot the beach.

I did manage to find the mother ship of all souvenir stands. Two stories of junk shopping heaven, the upper story was a shady smoke shop and the bottom was home to piles upon piles of junk. I stocked up on 5-for-$1 postcards, $6 mugs and eyed the tiny Aussie flags, kangaroo toys, plastic boomerangs and towels emblazoned with the naked bosoms of Australian women. I have no idea what the place was called, but it was next to a mall. If you ever go, try to find it. It has the best souvenir deals of anywhere I saw in Aussie.

Surfers Paradise was also the place where I experienced my first taste of the perennial Aussie fast food favorite, Red Rooster. Red Rooster is famous for its chicken, although it also serves a decent fish n' chips selection. Good old R.R. soon became a budget dining go-to of mine, and I came to really love their golden chips (fries), chicken sandwiches and fried fish.

I had expected Surfers Paradise to be tackier than it was, based on the Lonely Planet's Guide rather grim take on the town. However, I actually really liked it, and found the party atmosphere to be quite fun. The beach was beautiful, and the water was warm, clear and impossibly turquoise. There was also a lovely boardwalk alongside the beach.

The public toilets there are hilarious, by the way. You enter in to a concrete enclosed single toilet stall, and are locked in by some sort of automated machine. It scolds you if you don't urinate fast enough, and then you have to fiddle around with the controls forever in order to get the doors to open again.
You then emerge again in to the bright sunshine, blinking and confused, and watch as the next person in line struggles with the tempermental toilet stall.

My only bummer about Surfers was that I didn't get to meet one of the famed Meter Maids. The Meter Maids are scantily dressed young women who walk around and feed parking meters. They are the opposite of the police -- their sole job is to make sure people don't get parking tickets. I hear they wear next to nothing and are famous in Aussie, but alas, I didn't get to have a photo-op one.

In my next post I'll put up some photos of the area, so that you can see exactly what I'm talking about when I refer to it as 'Little Miami.' It has everything you would expect in that city -- tanned, skinny people, beautiful beaches, gorgeous high rises, palm trees -- except, perhaps, a large Cuban population.

That said, Surfers Paradise is all eye candy and a good time. It's a frivolous place and not at all a reflection of the true Aussie spirit. I would recommend a one or two day visit, but not a long term stay. There are beaches that are equally nice on the Gold Coast, far less crowded, and unknown to tourists. Hit up those spots instead, but only if you want a flavor of real Aussie beach-bum life and not a touristy good time.