Five sunrises for alive prizes. . .

When my plane landed, the sun was coming up. The next morning I awoke while it was still dark (due to my biological clock) but luckily alot of people were still up from the night before due to the graduation/birthday festivities. Being no longer inebriated I assumed the position of van shuttle driver (ironically a white van). Stick shift with the left hand on the left side of the road at 5am up a mountain is how and where I went with 5 others passenged. Mount Coot-ha to be exact, right outside of Brizzy with the best view of the city and the second sunrise. Sunday morning found me on the roof the shed, partly because there were 7 bodies occupying the couch surfing room but also because it seemed like the right place to sleep. I was rewarded handsomely with a quite psychadelic sky transforming through a range of oranges and blues to the eventual blaring yellowhite of the new day. Monday was another peaceful wakeup on the shed, aside for the fact that I slapped the tin roof with my flip flop a few times to wake up Thomas so he wouldn't miss his flight. The flip flop vibrated the whole shed all the way down to Diego who thought the police were raiding the place. Sorry Diego, it was just my Havaiana. This morning found me waking indoors for the first time, at my sister Katina's place in Mooloolaba. My clock is now adjusted and my physical was wanting more rest but my psychic managed to conjur some motivation. I am now across the street from the Pacific, after all. I wandered out and across still a bit sleepy to a quite wide awake beach. Young and old, two legged and four, walking swimming talking and living. I sat for a bit and watched the fireball cage-free egg yolk brighten to a bright bulb hue. Breathe in, breathe out. I'm alive.
So far my days have been enjoyable as they should be. In Brizzy I was staying at the "Forest", sort of a United Nations of travelers and lurkers of all sorts. A one eyed one horned flying purple people eater would fit right in without question. Family meals, dumpster dives, spliffs, stories, laughter, and sleeping space were just a few of the things shared there. There was also a slightly tame baby possum that would come around ever night to get fed leftovers, right out of my hand. I thought it ironic that I had once killed a possum on my bicycle, and here I was giving another one life. Se la vie.
To get to Mooloo I took the good'ol thumb route and made it in just two rides and about ninety minutes of walking. Only 10 minutes of thumb-out were actually needed. My first ride came from three Israeli boys in Toyota 4x4 who were heading all the way up to Darwin to work on a cattle station. Only one of them spoke good English but that did not stop us from sharing plenty of laughs. We stopped at a bayside picnic area for lunch and they just straight setup a kitchen with the quickness. Tomato onion garlic and cucumber was cut up with imported Israli olive oil and seasoning. Tahini was made from scratch right in front of my eyes and it was, yeah, BOMB! Also a eggy bread fry was produced on the camp stove. They each had a task, besides feeding me, and they were incredibly organized and swift about the whole procedure, not one movement wasted. I said "shalom" to them as they drove off and caught my next ride within a few minutes from mMichael, a tradie (9 to 5er) on his way home from work. He had the heat blasting, window up, wearing a jacket over his work clothes. I was in a t-shirt and shorts, I rolled the window down. He had just been traveling around Asia for a while. I got dropped off just a few Ks from Moo and walked the coast to the desty. Small, clean surf greeted my eyes as the first glimpse of the Aussie Pacific I have seen in 5 years, surely a good omen. Surf will come soon, a board must be acquired but a rush to get one is not a necessity. More explorations to come.