From Brisvegas to Yamba

It's 10am on a sunday and the folk in Fortitude Valley are already on the piss

I’ve just come back from a two week jaunt which included a stopover at Brisvegas followed by some glorious days in Yamba.

After a three-day ‘industry’ conference at the Brisbane Convention Centre, my travel companion Maria and I thought it may be a good idea to remain in the city for the weekend. Re-branding ourselves as Shazza and Stace, we took up residence at the Snooze Inn in Fortitude Valley. This place was cool. We may have had no window in our room, but heck there was a vending machine on site (proudly boasted on the hotel’s website) and ‘breakfast on the go’ – a complimentary service with fresh juice and muffins.



Maria aka Shazza takes a break in our windowless room

Sure, our hotel may have not been 5 star but at least it was bang in the middle of one of Brisbane’s more culturally exciting inner suburbs.

Fortitude Valley is almost like Sydney all squeezed into one. There is Mosman (Emporium Village), Eastern Suburbs (Cru Bar), and Brunswick Street (Newtown).

Within the Emporium Village, was the Emporium Hotel – a newly built ‘boutique’ hotel. It was the place we spent our first night in at the Valley. The place seemed inspired by the Gold Coast’s Versace Hotel. Indeed the female patrons were all blonde, pert and plastic. We were fortunate to be picked up by a pair of 60 something gents (property developers) who bought us bubbly all night.

The next day was spent in the Valley’s markets and I picked up some fabulous finds including a $10 vintage black cocktail dress and a black velvet coat for $60. I did have to try on the attire in the public toilets, located right next to the Fortitude Valley Police Station. Thank God for dear Shazza (aka Maria) who bravely held my toilet door closed. I only had to squeeze into a multitude of vintage clothing. Shazza had the experience of watching men pee – some who did it with a smoke in their mouths. The highlight for the afternoon was spotting Big Mal Meninga in the Miss Sixty boutique on Ann Street.


In the Valley you can get a somosa, a burger and a tatoo

We managed to enjoy some of the cultural aspects of Brisvegas including the Glass Menagerie by the Queensland Theatre Company and of course the recently opened Gallery of Modern Art – a fabulous place.



Brisvegas is a nice place with nice people who have nice smiles. As someone from the sub-continent, I did harbour views that I would get beaten up and thrown into prison, like that poor Indigenous bloke up in Townsville. Fortunately the only 'insult' I got was from a young bloke who told me to "fuck off" when Shazz and I informed him that we were from Sydney. I have to say, my only real gripe is the lack of infrastructure. You think Sydney is bad? Population is exploding in Brisvegas but unfortunately the transport system and roads can’t keep up with the growth. The taxi drivers make their Sydney counterparts look like limousine dirvers and the roads are mainly one way which is a real pain in the arse. While at the conference, I stayed at the Medina Executive just across the river from the Convention Centre. When I took a taxi from the hotel to the conference I was ready to celebrate by 37th birthday. It simply took ages to get anywhere. Even the ferries couldn’t accommodate the Sunday throng wanting to travel to Southbank. Australia’s first punk band The Saints hailed from Brisvegas. One of their hit singles was titled “Stranded”

I know what they mean.


Investment Technology's Michael Bailey, stranded on his way to the airport

Yamba




After four days in Yamba my goal is to become a self-funded retiree. This balcony is where I spent my evenings in Yamba. And according to my lovely hosts, all their “neighbours are like us – self funded retirees”.



Relax and unwind is exactly what I did in this beachside town. What made my holiday break extra special was the hospitality and generosity of Sam’s parents. Everyday, drinking would begin promptly at 12:00pm and end at about 9:00pm. Sam’s dad was a Jamie Oliver (without the punk attitude) in the kitchen. I was treated to homemade burgers, a marinated rack of lamb, cheese platers and seafood that included oysters, prawns and tuna. What more could a princess want? Oh, yes I did have a spa bath. Of course I drank a piccolo of champagne “Christine no one has gone into this spa without alcohol”, Sam’s dad told me.


The quiet streets of Yamba town

Yamba is a place where time seems to stand still. Days are filled with sunshine and the only stress anyone seems to have is if they have are on the list at the local golf club. The Pacific Hotel has a spectacular view of the beach and you still pay $6 for a piccolo of pink bubbly.

The big “social problem” in Yamba are the Aboriginals. Yamba has a ‘reserve’ where they all live and according to crime reports theft and burglary is common in the nearby streets around the reserve. “Nobody told the poor buggers who bought these homes what they were getting into” one local identity told me.