A study in contrasts

This is a tale of two cities.

Byron Bay and Surfers Paradise are cities that sit not so far apart from each other on Australia's east coast. The first is a small, seaside resort town, perhaps not large enough to be called a city at all (in fact, many of Byron Bay's residents would likely shudder at the thought). Surfers Paradise, contrarily, is a small city made of big-city dreams.




For most backpackers and tourists, both cities are mandatory stops on the Australian tour. From the moment you arrive in Sydney, you encounter other travellers who've just come back from "Byron" or "Surfers", or who are heading there next week. Most of them will rave about the splendours of Byron in one sentence, turning their noses up at Surfers in the next. "Byron Bay is magic, it's so cool," they say, a dreamlike smile appearing on their faces. "Surfers? What a place. Full of nothing but highrises and noise."


It's true that Byron and Surfers couldn't be more different from each other, at least on the surface. Byron Bay found its way onto the world stage as a mecca for surfers back in the 1960s, its crashing waves some of the best in Australia (Yes, those are surfers swimming around near the rocks in the pic above). In the 70s, free-lovin' hippies found their way to Byron, bringing incense, chakra therapy, tie-dye and, of course, marijuana in their wake. In the '80s, backpackers discovered the town and scores of hostels were built as a result. Finally, the yuppies came to town in the 1990s, tearing down unsightly buildings and erecting villas, fine wine stores, and expensive clothing boutiques. At present, Byron is a slightly bizarre combination of all of these things, and then some.





Surfers Paradise, on the other hand, started its life as a sleepy, country town named Elston. Elston had little else going for it besides the fact that it's situated on a narrow peninsula of land and you are never more than two blocks from a beach almost anywhere you go. In 1925 the Surfers Paradise hotel opened as the area was becoming renowned as a tourist destination. In 1933, the town of Elston changed its name to match that of the hotel. And the rest, more or less, is history. A huge development boom in the '50s and '60s started the highrise craze, which continues to this day. Surfers is now home to the tallest residential tower in the world (the Q1), opened in 2005.




You might guess, based on these brief and probably vastly incomplete descriptions of each city, why some people would love Byron and hate Surfers. Byron, after all, is not marked by a single skyscraper or building over, say, five stories tall.

However, if you're more like me, you might wonder if perhaps there is something wrong with you. The problem, you see, is that I think there is really nothing special at all about Byron Bay.

Gasp! Allow me to explain, if you haven't fainted from shock. But where do I begin? Perhaps the first mark against Byron came when we checked in at our hostel, the Arts Factory Lodge, a sort-of hostel meets campground meets hippie commune. It is the most popular hostel in Byron and I have no idea why.

My friend Matt and I were camping at the Arts Factory campground. Great. Except that they demanded we pay $15 each per night for the pleasure of camping there in our one, puny tent. We stayed for three nights and even after 72 hours we couldn't figure out what we were paying for. Was it for the sprawling, rocky, dirt yard they call a campground? Was it for the inadequate and unclean toilets and showers? Perhaps the messy, unsightly kitchen and the spider webs that decorated the ceiling above the eating area? Oh wait, surely it was for the $5 beer available in the hostel's bar (the same beer is normally found for about $3.50 in Oz). Oh, and get this. The Arts Factory charges $30/night for one of their dorms. And here I thought this was a place run by hippies. Shouldn't they be charging more like $3 per night. Anyway, the hostel was a total dud.


The next problem? The damn prices in Byron Bay. Everywhere we went food, clothing and, as mentioned, housing were priced remarkably close to what you'd pay in Sydney. Heck, most of the eateries had a pretentious big-city air about them. Wasn't this supposed to be an idyllic seaside town?



I suppose much of Byron's charm comes from its beaches (they are beautiful, I concede) and the town's lax attitude toward recreational drug use. To be sure, the easy access to pot excites the 18- to 21-year-old set like little else. Maybe if I were a few years younger and hadn't just spent four years in too-cool-for-school-have-a-toke-man Vancouver, I too would have been more pumped. But I wasn't.



All I really wanted was a cheap beer and a decent shower.

So it was with happy hearts that Matt and I left Byron Bay last Saturday and headed for Surfers.

We located a hostel that was not only cheap ($20 per night with a coupon we found PLUS free drinks at the in-house bar) but had a pool, hot tub, arcade, free body boards (see photo for proof I used one) and cheap eats. I nearly thought we were in heaven for a few minutes.

Sure, Surfers verges on the tacky in many ways, with its neon shopping malls and souvenir shops lining the streets. However, the city is also home to spotlessly clean streets, some impressive architecture and miles and miles of golden beach.

It may not exactly be paradise, but take me to Surfers any day.