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