Harbouring Criminals

Sydney, Australia
Have you ever woken up to discover that everyone else in the world has gone completely and utterly insane?

Well, I had one of those days today. I went for brekkie in Joe's Cafe close to the hostel. A pompous woman inside was busy being over the top and completely insane about everything. Even the old man who worked there, presumably Joe, seemed a bit half-baked (a bit like the breakfast he served).

The time had come to do n our sun-visors, socks with sandals, pull my belt up right under my arms and hang my camera round my neck. Tourist Time!

As the train pulled into Circular Quay, the doors opened to a large window showing the Harbour Bridge and Opera House beyond. Both sporting manic grins as I headed down the steps and into the melee.

 
As with Angkor Wat, I'd built the Opera House up in my mind to be a towering structure, so it seemed a bit smaller than I'd expected. But there was no being disappointed by its heavenly design and its premium position on the gorgeous natural harbour across from That Bridge What Had Fireworks On It Once or Twice?

Some of the tourist companies were asking an arm, leg and a didgeridoo for a harbour cruise, so penny-pinching me suggested me simply use my day ticket for a free ferry ride across to North Sydney on the other side.

I were afforded great views of the Bridge and Opera House, but on arriving I quickly concluded there was nothing much to see there apart from some houses (albeit multi-million dollar efforts with a harbour view). So I returned on the next boat to the Circular Quay for a jaunt down Pitt Street through the financial district, and watching the futuristic monorail zipping about between the buildings, I headed to Darling Harbour.

Darling Harbour looked gorgeous at night, with its boats moored in front of the towering buildings. It had been developed primarily as an entertainment plaza, with restaurants, bars and, my interest for the evening, an iMax cinema. I'd never been to an iMax before, and couldn't wait.

I plumped with the impressive sounding Avatar, and handed a pair of huge 3-D specs each. Fifties-tastic! I couldn't have been more wrong as the huge screen rolled, the soundtrack boomed out from all directions and the pictures looked so real I felt I could've reached out and touched them.

Stanly

Sydney!!!

Bloody hell!
Sydney,

This morning I would be in Sydney. You know, Harbour Bridge, Opera House, a place with as many opportunities as redback (the spider)... it held a certain magical status in my mind. Sometimes I have to check myself. I never dreamed I would make it out here.

But first I had to get there, chauffeured to the airport that morning by, you guessed it, yet another relaxed, intelligent and friendly Aussie driver. We discussed all sorts on the forty-minute drive to Avalon airport, and he even got in the odd friendly dig about the Bloody Poms.

"The only reason Australia should stay in the Commonwealth is because they win all the medals at the Commonwealth Games," he quipped.
"Aiseh," I sneezed in reply.

A little kid wailing his lungs out throughout marred the flight. Poor little bugger; someone's not going to grow up wanting to be a pilot, I thought.

I arrived at 9am, and the airport was pretty much deserted. All the shuttle buses had packed up for the morning, so we begrudgingly set out to the taxi stand. Luckily as I approached and bumped into a couple of Belgian Flemish backpackers going our way, so we all jumped in and took a short ride to our area of choice, King's Cross.

It was a cheap backpacker area, mainly because it doubled up as the red light district, but conveniently located within fifteen minutes' walk of the centre. We grabbed a place to lay our heads in the Germanic-sounding Eva's Backpackers and prepared ourselves for the delectable harbour sights we'd be seeing tomorrow.

Stanly

Getting Kilda by Tram

Melbourne, Australia

When I arrived in Melbourne, I found it incredibly disturbing to be sharing the same road with those metal thundering beasts known as trams, and find it a miracle I never parked the hire car into one if I hired one. To avoid such unhappy marriages they have a special maneuver called a 'hook turn'. Completely contradicting all driving logic

So I was far happier to appreciate the trams on foot and as a passenger. Melbourne transport is integrated, so a day ticket allowed me to travel any bus, tram or train within the central zones. I took a tram today down to St Kilda, Melbourne's seaside resort. It was a pleasant sunny day, although a blustery cold wind was whipping off the sea as I walked the beachfront and passed Luna Park, a delightful 50's-style theme park complete with rickety rollercoaster.

As I walking along the beach, someone actually approached me kite surfing. At first I was not so sure and keen to take it up but then since I’m here with my bermuda pants and rush-guard so might as well. My initial plan was just swimming

Kite surfing or kiteboarding is a surface water sport that uses the wind to pull a rider through the water on a small surfboard or a kiteboard (similar to a wakeboard). It’s different concept between the real surfing and kitesurfing. Generally kiteboarding refers to a style of riding known as freestyle or wake-style, whereas kitesurfing is more "wave-riding" oriented.

For 75 Australia dollars, you simply get yourself an instructor to teach you how to surf. Approx 20-30min then you can enjoy kitesurfing on your own for 2 hours. Believe me it’s not hard and it’s not that easy to control your kite as well and the water is freaking cold!!

That evening I met Clarkson, a friend that I met along the way after work and we went for a drink with his other second cousin, Sarah, who was studying Art. Cue many obvious gags about Art Festivals,
Art Galleries and so on. She was a highly switched-on girl and the conversation turned to talk of the interpretation and meaning of Art. In a lighter moment, Sarah told me I was a dead ringer for her ex-flat mate.

I kept with the routine of meeting up with Clarkson after he'd finished feigning work the next day. Every time he would ask me what joyous things, I had been up to. Every time I would sheepishly tell him "nothing". Many hours today were spent writing my scrawling.

This travel log really is a labor of love at times - I had all but abandoned work on it when I reached here 2 days ago - but I was clawing my way back.

Stanly