Rizz goes round the world

It feels good to not be a backpacker for a while--Oz, Chapter 1 (Sydney, Aus)

15-25 September

I awoke on Cheryl and Adam's couch, on my first morning in Australia, with daggers in my throat. Queenstown had won its battle and done me in. However, there was no one around me snoring or rustling through a damn plastic bag, my backpack wasn't locked to the bed, and when I took a shower, I used a real, actual, FLUFFY towel, not a quick dry one, so life was still good.

When Lance had picked me up from the airport and we walked out into the drizzling rain, he kindly pointed out that that afternoon had been beautiful weather-wise-- 30 C and sunny. The trend that greeted me at the airport had continued into the following morning, I realized as I glanced out the window and shivered when I opened the sliding glass door onto the balcony. Well, perfect weather for doing nothing, which was exactly what I needed. I managed to venture out of the flat once. This was a feat in itself. Cheryl and Adam's building is very secure, and it's a game getting out of it--all sorts of flashing a plastic thing-a-ma-bob in front of sensors and pressing buttons. I was hoping I'd be alone the first time I ventured outside by myself, but that was not the case. First I had to ask whether the elevator was going up or down. Then I flashed my plastic thing when I didn't need to. Then the man who had been with me in the elevator stared at me funny as I stood in front of the wrong side of the door and it subsequently didn't open automatically as it was meant too. Oh well; that's life. For me at least.

Already a bit insecure, I stopped by a coffee shop that Adam had recommended and couldn't figure out where to order the coffee. It was one of those artsy pretentious places. Well, it was really only pretentious because I couldn't figure out how to order coffee there. And, no, it wasn't because of the different coffee jargon on this side of the planet. I'm set with that-- long black, no sugar, thanks. I actually couldn't find the physical counter at which to order a coffee. So I nonchalantly carried on, pretending I didn't want coffee there anyway, and stopped at the much more familiar Starbucks. I hate Starbucks coffee, mind you. This was enough of the out-of-doors stuff for me. I bought a phone card and retreated back upstairs, like a spooked turtle. The rest of the afternoon was spent on the phone and on the internet. It was lovely.

That night, I hopped on a bus down to Circular Quay, where the ferries pick up, to meet Cheryl and Adam. We'd be crossing Sydney Harbour to have dinner at their friend's house. I sat on the bus for a full 5 minutes before realizing I was sitting right next to Adam. Hey, his head was buried in his sketch book, alright? So, as you see, my first day in Sydney was typical for me. At any rate, had my obligatory (though chilly) ferry across the Harbour and had a lovely dinner and lots of laughs over toilet jokes and talks of inbred relatives (not mine thank god) with Cheryl and Adam's friends.

I slept like a baby that night. The next day Adam was working from home, and when I awoke, I was in desperate need of a coffee. I was hoping Adam would bring me to Pablo's Vice, the place from the day before, so I could figure out how to order a coffee there, but we went somewhere else. As we took the elevator downstairs, chatting along the way, I felt confident. Aha! I know how to get of this place now! I am confident and poised! I will exit this building successfully! As I strode off the elevator, a pro at this now, still in mid-conversation with Adam, I very confidently walked directly into the glass door. Full force. Smack. Yup. I immediately almost peed my pants laughing, and as I turned to Adam to share my laughter and give him a hearty slap on the shoulder, he had an aghast look on my face. I apparently had made a very loud noise walking into the door (that was my knee), and he was fully expecting me to turn around with blood flowing from my nose and tears flowing from my eyes. Oh Adam, you'll learn, this is all par for the course.

Anyway, after our coffee adventure, Lance came by to pick me up. After pointing out my nose print to him on the glass, we headed out for lunch in Chinatown and a movie. We saw An Inconvenient Truth. It was remarkable in many ways. It was not only yet another eye opener on the reality of our environmental situation in a string of eye openers I've already been experiencing in my travels. It also made me angry all over again about the year 2000 and astonished at the huge disparity between the composed, eloquent man on stage in the movie and the buffoon who instead represents our country.

At any rate, enough politics. That night Cheryl and Adam again let me tag along on their social adventures. This time it was a posh industrial design party hosted by Bombay Sapphire, meaning free gin all night. Adam is an industrial design student and had won an award for a fruit bowl he designed last year at this event. As a recent award recipient, he was invited back this year to the very posh event. Posh + backpack does not create a great mix. I borrowed a pair of heels from Cheryl and threw together a fairly acceptable outfit. Only one problem. The top I wanted to wear was strapless. I didn't bring a strapless bra. Usually not a problem, but the top was slightly sheer. Let's just say that Adam put his industrial design skills to use to solve my little problem, and I fortunately looked sufficiently presentable for the occasion. I of course proceeded to make a fool out of myself later in the night after inserting my foot fully into my mouth by ranting about someone while they were fully standing 10 feet away, but that's life. You can dress a girl up nicely, but that doesn't mean she's automatically possessing of poise and grace.

The next few days I was finally starting to feel better and decided to put my walking sandals to use. Lots of hoofing it, through the oldest neighborhood in Sydney, called the Rocks, to the Botanical Gardens, with its iconic view of the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, to Darling Harbour, through the Chinese Gardens. It was lovely just walking around the city; I'd already played the role of the tourist last time I was here, and it was nice just to be a bit of a vagabond this time around. A lovely week off from the backpacker's life. Phew!

That weekend I headed off to Surf Camp. Real, legitimate Surf Camp. I'm even capitalizing it. Lance works as an instructor for this camp (Waves, I think?) and got me on the trip at a heavily discounted price. So Friday, after heading down to Royal National Park for a walk along the coast, Lance and I hopped on a coach up to Seal Rocks, about 4 hours north of Sydney. The camp is housed at a huge farm in the middle of nowhere, complete with wild kangaroos bouncing around everywhere. It consists of a main "cabana" with a pool outside and inside a small bar, stage, and open area that serves alternately as a dining room and a dance floor. There are also a few lodges scattered about to house the guests. Not a bad setup. A funny aside: the property used to be owned by a guy who owns a number of strip clubs in Sydney. He used this property as his weekend getaway to entertain executives and the like...

Anyway, slept that night in a loft, with a window high in the wall, through which I could see a blanket of stars. It was lovely. I also at some point during the night lost my digital camera. I sadly took it as lost forever, but more on that later.

The next day it was down to the beach for some surfing. Teachers make the worst students, and this proved true for me in surfing. Mind you, I've had 2 lessons in the past, and this time out I had my own personal instructor. However, I was only able to stand up on the remedial board, the huge surfboard that the instructors lovingly called "the Mothership". At first during the weekend I felt like the cool girl: in with all the instructors, ooh, what's her story? But as soon as everyone saw me "surf", that image washed away as quickly as I did with the first wave that smacked me under. Oh well.

We were meant to surf the next day as well, but Lance ended up getting really sick and needed to go to the doctor. I could have gone and surfed anyway, but I'm a good friend so I accompanied him. It had nothing to do whatsoever with my performance from the day before. The trip to the doctor was an adventure in itself: we were in the middle of nowhere and it was a Sunday. The nearest doctor on call was a good hour to hour and a half away. Lance felt ok enough to drove out, hitting a kangaroo in the process (I know, sounds sad, but they're unavavoidable. They literally jump directly into your car), but I got to drive back. An old Ford station wagon with a tricky clutch on the wrong side of the winding, narrow road...It was an adventure.

That night it was back to Sydney. The bus ride back was uneventful, minus a bunch of American college students calling Lance a murderer after I revealed that he had been the culprit behind the dead kangaroo still lying on the road. Sorry Lance!

Only a couple of days remained for me until my energy-rekindling nine days in Sydney came to an end and I had to take the night bus to Melbourne. I was hoping to make the best of it, and fate was kind to me in that respect. I had decided earlier that Monday would be my fake birthday. Fake birthday? See, I was scared I'd have no friends on my real birthday (which definitely ended up not being the case. Hurrah!). So, when my friend Naomi from Kiwi Experience had invited me to join her out on her birthday, on the 24th, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, I have friends in Sydney...Maybe Naomi won't mind if I steal some of her thunder and make the 24th my fake birthday, and I can be sure I'll be surrounded by friends." Fortunately Naomi didn't mind, and as I woke on the 24th, Cheryl and Adam wished me a happy birthday. And man my fake birthday was lovely. Two packages in the mail! Containing: A card from Tate! LOTS of chocolate! A new, silver four-leaf clover to replace the one I lost in Colorado (See here). PLUS! The post office found my phone! (They had lost it in the mail...Why was it in the mail? I left it at a hostel in Dunedin of course). AND! Lance called in the morning--they had found my camera at Surf Camp and he came by to drop it off! Wow! What a great birthday! I danced around Cheryl and Adam's flat like a kid on a sugar high--it was great!

That night, Cheryl and I made our way down to the Opera Bar (Lance was sick and Adam was freaking out about his major project due within a matter of weeks) to meet Naomi, her husband Daragh, Subodh, another friend from Kiwi Experience, and some of Naomi's friends. My fake birthday was spent in the company of friends, old and new, under the shelter of the Sydney Opera House, with the Harbour Bridge in the background. The next night I was off to Melbourne, but at that moment, I couldn't be asked for much more out of life.

posted by La Rizz @ 7:20 PM