Some hot air
"We'd like to welcome you to Sydney where the local time is 7.45am and the temperature is a comfortable 23 degrees celsius"
Clearly the Captain of Virgin Atlantic flight VS200 didn't grow up in Scotland. Twenty-three degrees?! Comfortable?! At 7.45am?! Comfortable where I come from is seven degrees and a nice sweater. I'm exhausted, my fingers have swollen up due to the heat, and I'm sweating from pores I didn't even know I had.
By now you might have gathered that I arrived safely in Sydney, and that due to the heat and jet-lag, I am slightly irratable. Like I said, I arrived around 8am and made my way from the airport to my hostel, which was relatively simple. I knew I was going to like Australia when the tube train pulled into the station - it was a double decker. Air-conditioned, loads of room, and above all, a smooth and definately not cramped journey. Having suffered the London Underground for the last nine months, it was a welcome break.
I huffed and puffed my way to my hostel, my poor shoulders groaning under the weight of my rucksack. It's only about a fifteen minute walk from the station, but the heat made it feel alot longer. My first port of call upon arrival was the showers - after a twenty hour flight I was not smelling particularly rosy - but I soon realised I didn't actually pack a towel. I improvised however and used my yellow jumper. I've used it as a towel before so I was confident in its ability to perform the task I needed it to.
Once I was showered and adequately dried, I decided it was time to begin exploring Sydney. I left the hostel and headed in the general direction of the harbour and in particular, the Opera House. The walk took about half an hour and I passed through the Botanical Gardens on my way which are lovely, although I did get a slight hay-fevery twinge after I'd looked at one flowerbed too many. The path meandered through the gardens for a while until I was suddenly face-to-face with Sydney Opera House. My immediate thought was that it's a different colour than you think it is, but I quickly realised I still had my sunglasses on. Still, it's pretty impressive. My enjoyment was enhanced further as I heard a familiar sound in the distance - a marching pipe band had started up about two hundred yards away and launched into a rendition of 'Scotland The Brave'. It was as if they knew I was there.
After about half an hour ogling the Opera House I headed towards the Harbour Bridge, via the city quay along 'Writers Walk'. Writers Walk is basically an Australian version of the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the differences being that only writers are featured (the clue was in the name) and instead of stars, they get manhole covers. Each contains a quote from the writer relating to Australia and a mini biography. It's a really good idea that more cities should maybe copy.
As I got closer to the bridge, I walked through what I thought was just a randomly well dressed crowd of people, but very quickly realised I had in fact walked right into a wedding, just across the quay from the Opera House. It was a fantastic backdrop, and if I ever thought that getting married and doing so in a romantic location were important, then that is the location I would probably choose. Luckily the nupitals were over by the time I swaggered into the ceremony, but it must have made for an amusing sight.
Happy that I'd been to a wedding for only the second time in my life, albeit accidentally, I walked under the bridge and followed the coastline around by all the docks. After about an hour and a half of walking I ended up right back where I started, on the doorstep of my hostel. I kept going however, and headed towards Kings Cross, which is basically the Soho of Sydney. Full of travellers, gay people and sex shops. By this stage I was dying for a pint so I popped into a sports bar for a quick Castlemaine. Feeling refreshed, I continued walking through Kings Cross when I walked past a girl who was clearly staring at me. It was such a lingering look that I thought for a second it might have been someone that I knew, but it soon became apparent that she was trying to lure me into a 'strip club'. I've spent enough time in the center of London to know that the so-called strip clubs are never as they appear. They entice you with a cheap entry fee but once you're inside the drinks can cost anything up to a hundred pounds, and you are forced, usually by a large bouncer or two, to pay up. Luckily I do not have first hand experience of these 'clip joints' as they're known, but I definately know what they're all about.
By the time all this excitement was over I was thouroughly exhausted, so I decided to head back to the hostel and type all this up and check my emails. I'm not really sure what to do tonight but it's the Mardi Gras parade through Sydney so I might go and check that out. It's a massive carnival and half a million people are expected to turn up, so that might be quite interesting.
Incidentally, to promote the Mardi Gras and the fact that it's National Gay Week or something, people have been going around with pink versions of the Aussie flag, which I have to say, actually makes it look better.
It's 33 degrees now. Scary stuff.
Clearly the Captain of Virgin Atlantic flight VS200 didn't grow up in Scotland. Twenty-three degrees?! Comfortable?! At 7.45am?! Comfortable where I come from is seven degrees and a nice sweater. I'm exhausted, my fingers have swollen up due to the heat, and I'm sweating from pores I didn't even know I had.
By now you might have gathered that I arrived safely in Sydney, and that due to the heat and jet-lag, I am slightly irratable. Like I said, I arrived around 8am and made my way from the airport to my hostel, which was relatively simple. I knew I was going to like Australia when the tube train pulled into the station - it was a double decker. Air-conditioned, loads of room, and above all, a smooth and definately not cramped journey. Having suffered the London Underground for the last nine months, it was a welcome break.
I huffed and puffed my way to my hostel, my poor shoulders groaning under the weight of my rucksack. It's only about a fifteen minute walk from the station, but the heat made it feel alot longer. My first port of call upon arrival was the showers - after a twenty hour flight I was not smelling particularly rosy - but I soon realised I didn't actually pack a towel. I improvised however and used my yellow jumper. I've used it as a towel before so I was confident in its ability to perform the task I needed it to.
Once I was showered and adequately dried, I decided it was time to begin exploring Sydney. I left the hostel and headed in the general direction of the harbour and in particular, the Opera House. The walk took about half an hour and I passed through the Botanical Gardens on my way which are lovely, although I did get a slight hay-fevery twinge after I'd looked at one flowerbed too many. The path meandered through the gardens for a while until I was suddenly face-to-face with Sydney Opera House. My immediate thought was that it's a different colour than you think it is, but I quickly realised I still had my sunglasses on. Still, it's pretty impressive. My enjoyment was enhanced further as I heard a familiar sound in the distance - a marching pipe band had started up about two hundred yards away and launched into a rendition of 'Scotland The Brave'. It was as if they knew I was there.
After about half an hour ogling the Opera House I headed towards the Harbour Bridge, via the city quay along 'Writers Walk'. Writers Walk is basically an Australian version of the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the differences being that only writers are featured (the clue was in the name) and instead of stars, they get manhole covers. Each contains a quote from the writer relating to Australia and a mini biography. It's a really good idea that more cities should maybe copy.
As I got closer to the bridge, I walked through what I thought was just a randomly well dressed crowd of people, but very quickly realised I had in fact walked right into a wedding, just across the quay from the Opera House. It was a fantastic backdrop, and if I ever thought that getting married and doing so in a romantic location were important, then that is the location I would probably choose. Luckily the nupitals were over by the time I swaggered into the ceremony, but it must have made for an amusing sight.
Happy that I'd been to a wedding for only the second time in my life, albeit accidentally, I walked under the bridge and followed the coastline around by all the docks. After about an hour and a half of walking I ended up right back where I started, on the doorstep of my hostel. I kept going however, and headed towards Kings Cross, which is basically the Soho of Sydney. Full of travellers, gay people and sex shops. By this stage I was dying for a pint so I popped into a sports bar for a quick Castlemaine. Feeling refreshed, I continued walking through Kings Cross when I walked past a girl who was clearly staring at me. It was such a lingering look that I thought for a second it might have been someone that I knew, but it soon became apparent that she was trying to lure me into a 'strip club'. I've spent enough time in the center of London to know that the so-called strip clubs are never as they appear. They entice you with a cheap entry fee but once you're inside the drinks can cost anything up to a hundred pounds, and you are forced, usually by a large bouncer or two, to pay up. Luckily I do not have first hand experience of these 'clip joints' as they're known, but I definately know what they're all about.
By the time all this excitement was over I was thouroughly exhausted, so I decided to head back to the hostel and type all this up and check my emails. I'm not really sure what to do tonight but it's the Mardi Gras parade through Sydney so I might go and check that out. It's a massive carnival and half a million people are expected to turn up, so that might be quite interesting.
Incidentally, to promote the Mardi Gras and the fact that it's National Gay Week or something, people have been going around with pink versions of the Aussie flag, which I have to say, actually makes it look better.
It's 33 degrees now. Scary stuff.
Labels: Mardi Gras, Sydney
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