Getting in touch with ones inner self is not always easy, getting The Husband to find his inner peace whilst surrounded by crystals and healing aromas is definitely more of a challenge than getting him to set up a folding chair (see previous post).
We started the morning with the promise of a 9.00am start having met up with the Wandering West Australians yesterday, never ones to hurry for any outing because they remain on Clarkie time (a slow moving minute by minute time lapse that only those who have been retired for years seem to be able to achieve) we left at 10.15. Off into the wilds of Northern NSW where the locals sport wrinkled hemp clothing, dreadlocks, 70’s overalls and a calm glazed look in their eye..welcome to Mullumbimbi. We trek in search of inner peace.
We arrive at the “Crystal Palace”..we pay because inner tranquility is not free. The tropical gardens look beautiful, The Husband loves a good garden and looks set to enjoy the experience. We come upon the Buddhist scrolls of peace, you turn them once to three times until you have either chanted the Buddhist prayer or your own, sending the prayers out into the universe…Mrs Clarkie and I commence on our journey around the symbols…we are determined to be enlightened. Husband 1 & 2 march blindly past, no girlie chanting, prayer saying reflective moment for them. They push ahead pausing for but a moment to admire a tall gumtree….we are surrounded by incredible rainforest beauty and they pause for a gumtree. We walk on, strolling behind the men to take in the serenity of it all…..it must be said that the serenity was slightly pierced by the fact that every few feet your saw the signs that stated ” we share our gardens with everyone” please be vigilant or you may step on a very long, scary, poisonous snake or words to that effect. Towards the end of our tough 1km hike, nature calls, I go in search of the amenities, I spy a bamboo fence , no signs but figure they don’t wish to ruin the karma with a big sign that says toilet, and there they are, one of the things I hate most …the porta loo, the drop dunny, the thunder box, all terms for a toilet that no girl in heels wants to experience (ok I wasn’t wearing heels but little leather flats), I venture in, oh the smell. I pump to flush, this is seriously too much, especially since I was trying to juggle a handbag, a camera, a camera bag and a mobile phone. Having completed my visit, I’m proud of myself, job done, I’ve roughed it, kept it natural with all my bodily functions returning to nature, off to find The Husband.
I find them all a path and a few palm trees away, oh look it’s a cafe and shop, signage everywhere….cafe this way….aura readings that way…..meaningful scrolls off to the left…TOILET…oh god I had just subjected myself to an outhouse that had probably seen more greenie defecation and no disinfectant since the 80’s. I resolve to shower when I get home. We purchase two meaningful scrolls, tour the incense and insanely expensive crystal room, have a Chai latte and head back to civilisation.
At this point we find a pub, not just any pub but Middle Pub. Obviously creatively named as it is in the middle of the 2 other pubs in town. We settle the Husbands in, feed them and provide them with liquid happiness and a window to “perve at the Sheila’s” while Mrs Clarkie and I shop. I have an epiphany, the path to peace and happiness is not always a healing crystal, a meditative moment or and assortment of incense, I find myself strolling the streets of this country town with as much vigour as if I was pursuing the perfect pair of heels, and I realise… it’s shopping that provides me with inner peace, a gorgeous fitted bamboo dress, shirt and jacket later I’m feeling about as enlightened as a girl can. As for the men, give them a beer, a pub, a laugh and a good set of tits to look at and enlightenment is theirs. 
Caravanning in Heels 