Barry Divola wanted to find out what made backpackers tick, so he became one of them for
a month, taking the well-trodden and well-sodden tourist trail up the east coast of Australia,
from Bondi to Byron Bay, then on to Hervey Bay and Fraser Island, Airlie Beach and the
Whitsundays, and finally to Cairns. He stayed in cramped hostel dorm rooms and hung out
with travellers in buses, boats, beaches, bars and bunks. Along the way he cracked a rib
trying to learn to surf, drank too much cask wine, tried to smoke drugs using an apple,
found himself the only person in a room not having sex, and danced way too many times to
the Scissor Sisters' "I Don't Feel Like Dancing" with 19-year-old Swiss girls at 3am. He also
saw his own country through a backpacker's eyes, and what he saw often surprised him.
The Secret Life of Backpackers reads like Bill Bryson crossed with Hunter S. Thompson. If On
The Road was grafted onto He Died With A Felafel In His Hand ...well, that would just be
really weird, but you get the idea. Enjoy the trip.