Traipsing subway platforms and gazing out upon their sprawling concrete jungle, the south east metropolitans seem to be a world away from the landscape of North Queensland.
And while we can't begrudge their obliviousness to life by the coast, creek or bush, it's an undeniable reality that the urbanites simply don't understand the country-way of life.
When the topic of renewable energy enters the room, the audiences are divided.
Forget sun burnt plains and lumbering cattle, forget lush forests and abundant fauna, forget cool, trickling streams of mountain inlets.
The 'green energy' dream may not be so green at all, according to those against it.
They want you to picture massive holes with concrete-secured wind turbines - the constant 'thump' of spinning blades - later to be cast into piles of unusable and expired heaps.
Picture hundreds of duck-billed platypus either stunned by fatal shock waves, eliminated through relocation into other males' territories, or killed directly through the dam pumps.
Picture convoys of diesel trucks rolling into habitats, carting 'renewable' infrastructure created by resources that have been mined from the earth.
The green energy push may have spawned from pure intentions, but the methods are contentious.
You need only dig a little deeper and you'll find articles about thousands of birds slaughtered by turbines, blades catching alight, dumped piles of them left to rust in forest or bush land, chemical run off into waterways, children in the Congo spending their short lives mining cobalt for electric car batteries.
The Eungella pumped hydro scheme has been touted as a tourism draw card, but after hearing the community's plight, it's clear to me that the proposal has missed the mark.
Residents in the firing line of the developments are seeking mental health support as their futures hang in the balance, while others are selling up decades-worth of farming and agricultural innovation, their retirement plans and their pastoral legacies for generations to come.
One can hardly blame them with the pressure of financial compensation hanging over their heads. "Our next offer won't be as generous" was a sinister promise one resident told me they had received.
And as more and more properties now sit unoccupied, without anyone to manage the land, there are also residents who have a 'shut gate' policy. They'll fight for their slice of paradise until the very end.
And that's what's at stake; paradise. Every time I visit Eungella, I wind down the windows, and listen to the rainforest. I drive slowly past the rolling pastures, cattle scattered across the lush hills.
After the recent rainfall, the trickling waterways and waterfalls on the range now cascade. There is peace there, a complete symbiotic relationship between the abundant and diverse nature and the residing residents.
They came there for a life on the land, they respect it. Whether they're sitting amongst rain forest canopies or on their acres, these residents moved to Eungella to cultivate, not to watch their home ravaged by these mammoth dams and energy farms.
Nobody is anti-green. Far from it. They want to see this paradise continue to thrive.
But the cost of these proposals is contradictory.
Find a barren plain elsewhere to lay your plans, look into other renewable options, and leave Eungella be.
