Byron Bay

It was after merely an hour in this hippy beach town, that we realize we would need more time here. The small-town, laid-back aura of Byron was exactly what we were looking for after a bustling, fast-paced Sydney. The streets were lined with adorable café's, surf shops, funky hippy stores, and expensive boutiques, and the parking lot along the beach is lined with converted vans and even some station wagons in which travelers and vagabonds live.
The hostel was unlike anything we've stayed at prior. It had a very clean-cut, modern 'Alice in Wonderland' kind of feel, with its neon stripes and geometric shapes painted on the walls. I'd almost get dizzy walking down the tunnel-like hallways if I stared at one pattern for too long.

After unpacking our luggage and picking up a few things at the grocery store, we headed back to the hostel to meet up with Katherine, our friend from SIT whom we planned to cross paths with during our post-program tour de Australia. The four of us cooked dinner and made plans for our next few days, starting by adding an extra day in Byron.

Some people might tell you about the Surfer's Paradise in the Gold Coast, but what most locals will tell you is that Byron Bay is the real surfing capital of Australia. We tried our hand at surfing one sunny day and had an absolute blast. Feeling the wave take you as it crests and rolls to shore is invigorating and almost addictive; you'll want to keep catching waves, "maybe even a bigger one next time!" you'll say to yourself. Standing up on the board is actually quite hard and takes a lot of balance; I found it fun and much easier to sit on my knees or squat on the board while riding a wave. After our surfing excursion we had a lovely picnic lunch by the beach. While enjoying some pita and hummus, a man in old clothes with a messenger bag slung across his chest and a recorder in his right hand walked up to us and asked if he could play us a song on his "flute". While the other girls hesitated at the sketchiness of the situation, I immediately blurted, "YES!" Who wouldn't want to enjoy a flute/recorder serenade while picnicking at the beach? The man proceeded to play a very repetitive song that he'd probably made up just then. Nevertheless, his music thoroughly enhanced our picnic experience and was fifty cents well spent.