I am currently sitting in a hammock outside a hostel in Byron Bay, a Sydneysider getaway located along Australia’s Gold Coast. (Fun fact: The Hemsworth family owns an estate on Byron Bay, and many exchange students have reported Hemsworth sightings during their stays here.) It is exactly 9:00 AM. I’m on mid-semester break, and, after a week of hell writing two 10-page essays on the darkest subject matter possible–sexual violence against Indigenous women–a relaxing vacation like this was much needed.
Last night, my travel group and I went to a local hotel to check out their “Monday Reggae Night.” The best two words to describe the event are, “Lord Almighty!” While at the event, I literally told my two fellow Carribbean friends, “This is going in the journal.” We weren’t even about to go, as one of our friends peeked inside the venue and saw nobody there. Yet, the music sounded great, as the DJ played classic DanceHall songs that our families would play on-repeat during big gatherings. Thus, we begrudgingly paid the $5.00 AUD entry fee and walked inside.
The minute we walked past the hotel entrance, it felt as if we accidentally stumbled upon the set for Saturday Night Live. White Australians with locs and cornrows, wearing tattered clothing and flannel shirts, were wildly dancing. My friends and I could not even feel offended at this blatant display of cultural appropriation, as we watched the dancers gyrate to their own rhythm in awe. Two girls in particular were literally just raising their knees as if they were exercising! Nevertheless, we appreciated how the dancers moved without a care in the world.
The next morning, when I first started to write this journal entry, I embarked on another one-of-a-kind experience. My friends and I spontaneously decided to spend the early afternoon sitting on the beach in our pajamas, skipping our usual beach day routines of putting on bathing suits, slathering on sunscreen, and packing coolers with food and drinks.
Although I typically resent such spur-of-the-moment decisions, I felt so at peace. The sun was beaming despite the day’s dismal forecast on the Weather app. The waves were, of course, beautifully crashing. The breeze felt absolutely phenomenal. I didn’t even mind the fact that beach babes and hunks were running up and down the shore as I lazily sat donning a baggy t-shirt, workout pants, and some unprecedented bedhead. I was just happy to be in the presence of good company and spectacular views.
While my love for Sydney’s urban environment is like no other, I appreciated Byron Bay’s “come as you are” attitude. It made me forget my pride and remember what truly matters: Meeting new people and pushing the limits of my comfort zone. I look forward to continuing practicing this philosophy during my final two months in Australia.
