Samantha's Paradise

So after a pretty hectic return day to Brisbane (locating a Lonely Planet, buying a dictaphone and ear-bug - I'VE GOT MAGAZINE WORK ALREADY! - and picking up our Wicked camper van - the pink seat covers rule, but Buddy Holly? Really?) we set off at 6.30pm for Surfer's Paradise.



Got to Cheers hostel where they let us park the van outside and pay to use the facilities, which was all good. Then a rowdy bunch invited us down to the local club. I totally wasn't in the mood. Tired. Moody. Felt ugly. The usual. But as it was free entry and free drinks, we decided to at least check it out. And it turned out to be the best decision we could have made.

There we met Joel. A beautiful surfer (girls, seriously, when I say beautiful I mean beautiful - the sight of him with his shirt off at the pool the next day made me want to cry) who had a heart of gold. He started chatting to me outside and wanted to meet 'my crew'. Whatever it was about me and my crew (Duncan) he seemed to like, as he then took us to another few places and before the night had ended had insisted that Dunc and I stayed at his pad on the beach, instead of kipping in the van.







Joel reckoned we were "proper filth" and "totally sick" - both surf slang for "wicked" or "terribly nice" - and said that it was really refreshing to meet such nice, real people. Bless. Whatever, it suited us just fine. We got to hang at his apartment for 2 days with his wicked housemates (Wayne, Ben and Vicky), drinking beers, feeding wild parrots and generally just feeling spoilt. Gnarly.