Sydney differs from Auckland and New Zealand in so many ways, notably regarding the number of people. I think Sydney has around 3 million people, which covers the whole population of New Zealand. Its big, sprawling, urban, hot, brash, and not without a hint of americana.
I think I have spent about a week here, and Im only now starting to get used to it. Becky up in Byron (another concept album name) said that Manly is the best and most civilised part of Sydney. While I think she is right, it wasnt what I was expecting, but Im thankful that I didnt end up in the den of iniquity that is Kings Cross. As in the area of the same name in London, the main
users of the streets are those with unfeasibly short skirts, large beards, or possess a permanent fixture of some alcoholic beverage in their street-filthy hands. Its great. Strip clubs are oiled and squeezed between backpacker hostels, tourist shops, fast food outlets selling huge varieties of partially cooked meat, and internet cafes. The latter is the safest place to observe the goings on in the world outside, as obviously I dont have the desire or money to visit the strip clubs. Honestly.
There is a cinema that I stumbled across in the Kings X area, and I had heard about it from others who had visited Sydney years ago. I Went to buy a Warriors T-shirt and found an NRL shop, above which, the shop-keeper explained, was a vegetarian curry house, and above that was a cinema furnished with cushions and beanbags. I havent been to watch anything yet, but it sounds good.
Im still deliberating on how to get to India for Daryls wedding. It sounds wonderful, but Im starting to think about the pennies, and that really wouldnt help. It would be a shame to miss, but if I havent got the money, then I havent got the money. Additionally Cathy, whos foolishness knows no bounds, has decided that nearly a month in New Zealand wasnt enough for her, so she is coming to Australia. This is a good thing as she has been trained well in tea making and sunbathing, therefore making an excellent travelling companion, and the sunbathing making good use of the time while I am drowning in the sea learning to surf.
The idea of learning to surf was based on having thousands of bronzed men carrying fibreglass under their arms, and not wanting to feel left out, I went and bought one myself. I didn't want a Mini-Mal when the world and their son were buying one, so I bought a second-hand 6'6 Ron Wood shaped board. I got a 3mm wetsuit for 30GBP and got a leggy, wax, comb thrown in. The guy who sold me the board also sold me his old decrepid board bag, which makes me look a little authentic, as it has seen far more wave action than me.
Faint heart never did something naughty, apparently so it goes in the Navy, so I got in the water and had a go. After two days, I have strained my shoulder, swallowed more sea water than a fish, and never saw one wave; not from above the water anyway. I cant even sit on the board for longer than a minute, but at least I have managed the knack of crawling back on my board and vomiting discretely. Im sure I'll pick it up. Soon. I hope. Else I think I might be finding a new way to pass the time when I should be out jobhunting. At least it beats jobhunting in the UK, where that would be spent out of the rain, staring at newspapers and thinking about whether to put another jumper on. Im perfectly happy to lie on my board, thinking about jobs, in glorious sunshine, spewing elegantly out of my smug mouth, and thinking about which cafe to sit at while I dry off.
Ive got the Aussie bank account, and Im sorting out my Tax File number this week, while also moving out of Manly Beach Hut, which is a perfectly good, clean hostel, is haunted with the atmosphere of a University first year halls of residence. There are about 4 plates in the upstairs kitchen, 2 tea spoons, a cheese grater and kettle that go on long vacations, tea towels
that were possibly used to dry cats in Egyptian times and all this for the hygienic allergic inhabitants who number in excess of 30.
Ive found a decrepit and charming hostel down the road, which has a much more laid back atmosphere, with less drinking and intersex sport, and has a yoga and meditation centre next door. While its far from ideal, its better than being woken at 6am as people come back from clubs, just as I wake them at 7am to go out for more drowning practice on my new board.
Nature report: No sharks seen yet, some snorkelling possible around Shelly Beach, bats with a wingspan greater than a metre live in a tree near the wharf, cock-a-roaches hang out in gangs on street corners and I found a cat nearby that is bigger than most dogs. At least two or three times the size of most cats, it carries off small children. Maybe I exaggerate about the children; they weren't that small.
No comments:
Post a Comment