It’s over. That’s right. OVER. We are leaving Brisbane on Sunday. And as much as we’ll try to always stay connected, we’ll have to leave a little of ourselves behind…

Time has come to say goodbye, gather our seemingly millions of memories, collect our souvenirs, rewind our emotions. We’ll just curl everything up into a tight little ball we’ll always keep right there, close to our hearts, deep in our cores. Always. ALWAYS.

But there is no time to whine or mope about… I have a farewell party to go to – let’s bring the driiiinks girls!!!

* BrizVegas aka Brisbane… Don’t ask me about the source of the nickname…There is no such thing as Casinos, slot machines, wedding chapels, bigger-than-a-city hotels. Why not BrisYork or BrisAngeles? Seriously, I have no idea…

Firstly, let me warn you – THIS POST IS FOR GIRLS ONLY – STRICTLY NO BOYS ALLOWED!

This weekend I was chilling out in Byron Bay (I am a lucky girl I know), and you’ll never guess who I bumped into on the beach. Paul Fishers.

Ah la la…Paul…PAUL…P.A.U.L!!!

Ok, ok. I know what you’re going to tell me: who the hell is Paul Fishers?

Paul is one of the 10 hottest surfers on the planet according to U.S surfing magazine Transworld Surf. Apparently he doesn’t need to do much fishing for ladies* – Here is what miss TW Surf 2008 Heather Rose says about Paul. And I’d bet Miss Rose is considered an authority on the subject of hottest dudes.

“That smile alone makes us melt! What can I say…I like blondes. Preferably blondes who feel the constant constrain of clothing. This guy loves to get nude—finally a preview we are willing to sit through!”

Mmmm, enjoy these pics girls!

And boys, you’d better save your gay tendencies and man crushes for the gym. See, didn’t I warn you to stay away from this post??

* Apparently our boy is also famous for acting like a jerk with women.
Here is the lovely comment a ‘friend’ of his has left on the Transworld Surf website:
“Paul Fisher is a pig. Don’t waste your time with him. No respect for women. Should be strung up by the balls.”
So if after meeting him you end up renouncing to men, don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Answer: It’s in their D.N.A…

Sounds a little ‘GATTACA’? See for yourself:

They learn to surf before they walk…		And so did their Dad…
And their Mum…		And their Grandpa and Granny…

So, do you believe me now?

Close your eyes, come with me. Let me take you on a magical journey to a fabled land, a land haunted by the spirits of dozens of ancestral creator beings named Kalaya (Emu), Liru (poisonous snake), Lungkata (blue tongue lizard), Luunpa (kingfisher) and Tjintir-tjintirpa (willie wagtail)…

A land of springs, waterholes, rock caves and ancient paintings. A land over which reigns a red ochre giant of great spiritual power…

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to sound like a new age guru on drugs. But there is definitely something sacred emanating from Uluru (Ayers Rock), Australia’s most recognisable natural icons, the world-famous sandstone rock formation located in the southern part of the Northern Territory, central Australia (for those who don’t know!).

Something sacred but not of the kind of thing you’d find in a church, a temple, or a mosque. No, something sacred in its natural state, not processed or refined by human hand. Rawer, stronger, deeper. Something that appeals to the origins of things, that lets you awe struck by the magnitude, solitude and the wondrousness. Something that makes you feel like a pilgrim rather than a mere tourist…and that leaves you with the consciousness that the whole of the Earth is sacred.

OK, maybe I do sound like a new age guru on drugs…

But seriously go there and watch the rock at sunrise or sunset, when it changes colours, from golden brown to tangerine, from carmine to scarlet, magenta to lavender purple, and – yes, it will make you high!

Just after arriving to Australia, we were so furiously overexcited with the “Australian surfing culture” thing that we bought a gleaming new surfboard on the first weekend, rushed to the beach and began an intensive waxing to the sunset.

Yahaaa!  It was  like a childhood dream becoming true. The Australian sun, so bright, the Australian beaches, endless kilometers of immaculate sand, so white, and the Australian waves, so perfectly curled…Yeah, AND the Australians surfers, hoards of them, tattooed from head to foot, thirsty for the perfect wave and SO ready to make mincemeat of whatever got in their way…

Do I need to say it didn’t take long until we got tossed off the beach…Sizzlin’.

So with surfers, now I think I just like to look…There’s nothin’ better than sitting on the beach, sippin’ soda, and watching the hunks float by!