On our final night in Sydney, our cell companion was a friendly local lad called Jason. That was friendly, until he went to sleep, at which point he started to burp, fart and sleep talk a little too aggressively for our liking. This prompted us to ditch the dorms and their unknown quantities, for our newly acquired tent (or travelling tent as it says on the cover) at our next stop; Port Macquarie, or Port as its affectionately known by the Aussies. The campground held pride of place between the centre of town and townbeach and was home to tents and RVs bigger than our tiny flat in Lansdowne. We tried to hide our little tent off in a corner but to no avail, I think we were the laughing stock of the place. We were
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