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So, I lean over, real gruff, say, “How much, lady?” She smirks, throws out a number—50 bucks! 50 freakin bucks! I’m pissed—highway robbery for 15 minutes of awkward! “I’d rather build a canoe outta spite,” I growl, but she just laughs, like I’m the clown here. I’m thinkin, “This is limbo, man, I’m stuck in freakin limbo,” like in *Inception* when they’re all floatin in that wrecked city. Surprised me, though—she didn’t flinch, tough as nails, gotta respect that. Made me almost happy, seein a gal hold her own in this dump.

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I love that laid-back vibe, the awkward charm of these neighborhoods. Some alleys here have graffiti stories, tellin’ tales of old surfers & locals. The vibe is raw, sometimes messy, but it’s our vibe. When I’m at my spa, I hear locals gab about crazy stuff. One time, I got a customer who spilled that the Coral Street markets are the hidden heartbeat for art and eccentrics—a place only the savvy locals get.

First up Monthly Medal for Yamba ladies