Queensland

To all loyal followers of DDW, please accept my apologies for the break in transmission over the past week. During that time, I delved into the chasm of skin cancer that is our sunny northern neighbour of Queensland. A wondrous combination of natural splendour and unnatural breeding, this Australian state is home to the Big Pineapple, the Brisbane Broncos and almost as many bad tattoos as there are creatures that want to sting, bite or eat you.

For the Sydney urbanite, it is easy to understand why those in the Sunshine State live where they do. The fine sands and warm water are most addictive, while the birds, marine life and mammals of Fraser Island are almost as impressive as HD David Attenborough on a 42” plasma. After encountering the locals of small seaside towns, the stress of the city seems far behind, along with the need for computers, fuel-efficient vehicles, correct spelling or tasteful hats.

Once a rotten-egg basket for escaping convicts, the penal colony at Moreton Bay has developed into Australia’s third biggest metropolis. Brisbane is unique amongst Australian capital cities, managing to ignore the 7000km of sandy coastline in its home state, preferring to colonise a sweltering swamp 23km from the beach. By 1859, Queensland separated from New South Wales, formed its own colony and thankfully took their beer with them back to Brisbane.

If it don't fit on me ute, it ain't worth floggin'

If there is one thing Queensland has, it is space. So much, in fact, that once you reach the suburbs of the Gold Coast you will scarcely see huge multi-storey shopping centres or car-parks blemishing the rich environment. Instead, countless identical single-level shopping centres, each with their own 12 hectare car-park protect as much of the environment as possible with pure asphalt. Three generations of women walk hand-in-hand from the hairdresser, with as few stylistic differences as there are years between them.

The Gold Coast is unique among stereotyping – nowhere else on earth is typecasting so accurate. The processed tourism of Surfers Paradise is the finest example, with enough plastic boobs to raise the Titanic, enough bronzed retirees to support Australia’s leather industry and enough frustrated families arguing to turn anyone off holidays ever again. Although Queensland Police are short of manpower when faced with drunken violence after dark, one can always crawl across the New South Wales border to Tweed Heads to find a station open past afternoon tea.

Despite the minor rift, cultural difference in Australia really is little more than imagination based on a few varying factors. All states have their merits,* but when it comes to theme parks, sunshine and Steve Irwin, Queensland pips us at the post. The beer might be weak, the drivers insanely impatient and the insects plentiful enough to inflict thirty-seven sand fly bites in less than ten minutes, yet Queensland opens her heart to tolerance, compassion, multiculturalism and sexual freedom.

* Except that Melbourne is full of self-righteous toffs, Adelaide is full of stoners and I have not been to Perth yet.