But the time had come to meet Rachel and so at 8:55pm on November 8th, in the midst of a torrential downpour, I boarded the Greyhound for the final leg of my east coast bus pass -- a 13 hour journey from Byron Bay to Sydney. I lucked out and was one of the few people who got 2 seats to myself. After some careful contortion a person my size can actually sleep comfortably on two seats. My head and torso are short enough to lie flat and my legs... well my legs just fend for themselves. But the point is that I can fall asleep and stay asleep for hours.
Of course it shouldn't surprise you that I am enfatuated with the efficiency the night bus provides. It saves not only on the cost of accommidation for the night but also on usuable daytime hours that would otherwise be spent sitting on a bus. And there is the added bonus of getting to check out the crazies who decide that 2:37 am is great time to board a Greyhound bus in places with names like Woolgoolga.
When the bus arrived at Sydney Central Station at 9:45 am, I scrambled to gather all my bags from the sidewalk and suit up into my official "on-the-move" arrangement of baggage. The hostel was only a block away and Rachel had already called to say she'd arrived so I excitedly hurried off... little realizing I'd left an item of some importance sitting on the sidewalk. Uh oh... suspense!
As I approached the YHA Sydney Central, I happened to look up and spot Rachel's back crossing the street at the next corner. Running to catch up with her was an impossibility considering the load I was carrying so I opted for plan B and yelled "RAACHELL!!! on the top of my lungs. Now picture this on a city street with me looking like a luggage cart with a head sticking out the top. Perhaps my social skills had deteriorated along with my hygene and desire to live indoors. A few attempts at this ferrel(*1) method of communication got the job done and she came back and hugged me and my baggage; even though she couldn't get her arms around us.
On the moveWe got some breakfast and had a catchup and a wander through a bit of Sydney. It seemed as though no time had passed since I'd left home -- until the moment Rachel offered me a piece of gum. My wide-eyed excited response was "::gasp:: Gum?! I haven't had gum in so long!" As she handed me the piece she said, "I think it's time for you to come home. You are way too excited about this."
We spent the next 48 hours checking out Sydney -- the Opera House, the Sydeny Harbour Bridge, The Rocks, Circular Quay (pronounced "key"), the Australia Museum, a woman who fit herself into a 36" square box on the street, wine that was NOT goon(*2), $5 kangaroo roll(*3), hermit crab races(*4), etc.
Opera House
kangaroo roll
crab racesWhen we'd had enough of the city we headed to the Hunter Valley for a wine tour where I made the unfortunate mistake of being hungover BEFORE we started drinking at 11 am; but made it through all the tastings anyway, even the crazy chili shot.
It was around this time, about 3 days after arriving in Sydney that I realized that my hiking boots were missing. These were the boots that cost me a lot of money, were extremely rare in my size (only 2 pairs in the whole of the US) and required a bit of a wild goose chase before I managed to locate them at a store in California. Therefore as you can imagine, I really wanted them back. The only reasonable explanation for their disappearance was that I'd left them on the sidewalk when I got off the bus. My only hope for getting them back was that someone brought them into the Greyhound office that happened to be located near the store. When I enquired at the store, the man at the desk said, "I do have one pair of boots. They are very small." Jackpot.
We took the train out to Katoomba and the Blue Mountains to see the 3 Sisters and the Janolan Cave--where we had the priviledge of standing next what is believed to be the oldest known mud in the world--which in turn would make the caves the oldest known caves in the world. But don't hold me to it, that “fact” was imparted by our tour guide -- who just might have been the Australian double of Napoleon Dynamite.
Napoleon?
Janolan Caves
3 SistersWe visited Bondi Beach for a day and spent 2 days in Manly Beach. Although these beaches are quite nice, the scenery does not even compare to the beaches of Queensland and northern New South Wales. I wished Rachel had more time and could have see these places that had floored me again and again. They were so abundant for such a length of time, that I think I began to take their scenery, atmosphere, and seclusion for granted. I was beginning to mourn those places and began to wonder, if I feel so overwhelmed and uninspired in a city the size of Sydney, will I ever feel ready to return to New York?
Reason why Australians have plastic Christmas trees.
Australian's get straight to the point.
Really straight to the point.Dennis arrived in Sydney a week later and Rachel and I returned to the city center to meet him. We introduced him to kangaroo rolls and crab races before his jetlag got the best of him.
The following day was Rachel's last, and since we had not managed to locate a real, live, hopping, pocket-toutting, wild kangaroo, a trip to the zoo to see a real, live, pocket-touting, confined kangaroo was in order. Since Dennis also wanted to check "kangaroo" and other marsupials off his list and I'd already visited my share of Australian zoos, Dennis and Rachel made this trip on their own; leaving me to happily spend the morning reading in bed. As I'd explained to the two of them -- I am not on vacation, I am on an adventure. And the pace of an adventure is a bit slower than the pace of a vacation... kind of like a marathon vs a sprint.
After Rachel left us, I promptly got sick. Guess my immune system was just so sad to see her go.
I agreed to accompany Dennis out that night anyway and after some dinner and a few drinks we found a gay bar, as had been our intention for the night. But the bouncer took one look at me and determined he couldn't be letting a straight girl the likes of me into his establishment. Of course he claimed that my sandals (not even flip flops!) were the problem. "You need real shoes. Like heels," he said. Yeah sure. That sounds like sexuality profiling to me.
Dennis and I moved out to Bondi the next day where it rained and rained and rained and I slept and sniffled and slept some more. I think the highlight of our time in Bondi was meeting Jada from Canada and finding out that the name of her town in Saschachewan was Regina--pronouned Reh-j-eye-na. Yes she's heard all the jokes. But checking out hot Aussie waiters pulled a close second.
Chaos in Bondi
Is it a pool? Is it the sea? Is it a pool?On November 21st we left Sydney behind when we boarded a flight to the land where men are men and sheep are scared. Or so I'd heard.
Footnotes:
1. Ferrel is the Australian term for Redneck or people who are not domesticated; as in the opposite of a domestic cat is a ferrel cat.
2. Goon=Aboriginal word for pillow, pillow=what the bag that is inside of box wine is used for when the contents are finished
3. Kangroo roll=Kangaroo steak, shredded tasty cheese, grilled onions and barbecue sauce on a hoagie roll. Does not come with a plate but does come with a beer.
4. Patrons at Scubar have the opportunity to choose one of 16 hermit crabs to name and support before the 16 crabs are released at the center of a large round board. The first crab to find its way to the edge wins it's supporter a prize that varies in value from hundreds of dollars to crap.
A special thanks to Rachel and Dennis for taking much better photos than me on this leg of the trip. Photo credit goes to them.
