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Heading south once more, we came to Townsville, one of the larger random backpacker towns. Normally a team of hardened travellers such as ourselves would have gone to stay on Magnetic Island just off the coast, which supposedly has 350 days of sunshine a year, making a nice break from having rain pissing down all the time. Unfortunately it was Easter weekend, which meat the every Aussie and his wallaby had descended on our sunny paradise, leaving us honest, hard-working backpackers stranded on the mainland and having to shack up in a hostel which included a decrepit, Blair Witch-esque house. Naturally I got put in said house, and my tensions weren't eased by the Indian man who slept wrapped up in his sheets like a nesting vampire, or the fat guy who shoved his bed right up next to mine. After kicking arse at cards I retired to the house. Too scared to go to bed straight away I watched an very poorly acted documentary about a plane hijack in complete silence with a complete stranger. I survived the night, and in the morning we went to Reef HQ, which has the largest indoor reef in the world, giving you a good idea of its natural colours when it hasn't been kicked to hell by thousands of divers. That was that for Townsville, a dull little town really, and not worthy of further mention.
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