An overnight bus from Byron Bay (with no room for that comfortable sleep across two seats, mind you!), brought me to Sydney where I met up with my English friend Anne. We had first met in Peru in 2008 as we had been in the same 4 day Lares Trek/Machu Picchu tour. She graciously invited me to stay with her in her flat, just minutes away from Bondi Beach....sweet az!! :P We set off that morning along a walk of the Eastern beaches of Sydney (Bondi to Coogee) with Anne's Irish boyfriend Brian, and their two friends CAtherine and Caroline. We lunched at Coogee Beach hotel and then Anne and I attended a birthday party for one of her friends in New Town, where I sampled yet another delicious Aussie BBQ.
The next day was a day at the races for the Sydney Cup!! Picture it: the big oval, beautiful horses paraded around, tiny jockeys, betting forums, food and bar tents, champagne flutes, flashy suits, ruffled dresses, high heels, feathers, and an incognito competition for the biggest and best fascinator that money can buy! (a 'fascinator' is an old-fashioned hat/clip/or decoration that women wear propped on their head. Some can run for hundreds of dollars!) It was an experience to remember and a spectacle where you better try your best to look amazing, like an old day at the races, o prepare to be shunned! I got away with borrowing a red dress and belt from Anne's rommmate Kat, buying black rose-designed tights, black earrings, and a small red fascinator; and rounding the outfit out with my black flats. People commented that my outfit was 'funky and original'....PHEW! Beats being shunned! :P We finished the day with a night at Cargo Bar on Darling Harbour and fireworks!
Morning found Anne and I taking a refreshing swim at Bondi Beach and posing for photos with the beach's famous lifeguards (okay, they may have been volunteer lifeguards, but they dressed the part!) I then transferred to Wake-up Hostel in the CBD because Anne was leaving town for a few days. I went for a long walk around the city, hitting-up famous landmarks such as the Opera Houses, sky tower, and hyde park. That night I was hit full force by an unexplained illness and I had to sweat it out through the sheets.
The next morning I awoke to a horrible smell, disregarded it as I went to take a shower, and then returned to the room to find a hostel staff member throwing a mattress out into the hallway. I put two and two together and was horrified, thinking that that horrible morning smell had been the leftover odor of my night of sweating, then someone had complained, and I had ruined a mattress! Well, fortunately my 'two and two' added up to something other than four because I was wrong: the mattress was being thrown out because someone had peed their bed and THAT was what the lovely aroma was that I had awoken to!....hmmm, whyever was it that I had a craving to return home during this portion of my trip? Hostels....ugh.
This day was ANZAC day, the Austalian rememberance day. A day of honouring and...drinking. I began with another walking tour, this time starting in the quaint suburb of Surrey Hills, with its 2 storey flats squished tall against one another; with swirling challises and fancy fence posts. I was overcome with a craving for a latte, so I took a break at a small, hidden,but very welcoming, cafe called Robo Cog (I would highly recommend this cafe....and unfortunately I have no exact address for it!). After a relaxing sit-down, I set out again in a misty shower of rain, this time to Hyde Park, theh site of Sydney's towering ANZAC memorial. Inside, the mood was somber and I looked over the inner circle of rail to a lower floor displaying a castrated figure of Christ, surrounded by small gold stars with names printed upon them. A volunteer approached me then and handed me a star. I told her, "I don't know any names to write." She smiled, nodded, and suggested "the unknown soldier." I nodded back, wrote my hommage, and tossed the star down. Honouring: check.
Next was, of course, Australia's favorite pasttime: drinking. And I was in luck...my friend Mikael (whom I had also met on my 2008 South America trip, in Ecuador) lives in Melbourne, but was up in the Sydney area for the Anzac weekend. I met up with him and his high school friends at the Alexandria Hotel Pub, the location of their annual Anzac reunion. On an Australian public holiday such as this, there are bound to be 3 things: profuse drinking, rugby/AFL on the big screen, and the beloved game of 2UP! 2UP is only able to be legally playe din pubs on ANZAC day. One person places 2 coins on the stick in their hand, a crowd cretes a perimetre around the tarp on the ground in front of that person, the crowd bets 2 heads or 2 talks with eachother (the person that bets 'heads' holds the money), the coins are tossed up and the winner collects their small fortune (can range for $10 to $100). If the coins land one head and one tails they are tossed again. Pretty basic, eh? The most fair game in the world: an exact 50/50 chance. Interestingly though, these odds still lead to drunken brawls, which is why 2UP is only legally allowed in pubs on ANZAC day and even then only til 6 pm. (Why only ANZAC day? That I don't know.) I walked away $3 poorer, but still felt exhilarated from a small win before my big loss. That's right...my betting budget lasted only 2 tosses. The rest of the night was spent meeting Mikael's kind friends, and catching up with him on Ecuadorian adventures of old.
The next day, some coughs and sniffles still lingered from my sickness, but I was committed to see the Blue Mountains before I headed down to Melbourne the following day. I had high hopes when getting onto the train for the 2 hour ride to Katoomba, but an incessant drizzle and chilly wind had me immediately second-guessing my plan: "Should I just wait on the platform for the next train back to Sydney?", I asked myself. But instead, I tightened the hood of my jacket and stubbornly marched into town. I considered stealthily snapping photos of Blue Mountain postcards, but immediately discarded that idea for fear of being discovered and then being forever jailed in that cloudy and cold village. I ended up biting the bullet and spending a cool $6 on a rain poncho (a clear one with rubber bands at the wrists and a fancy draw-string hood) and umbrella; and set-off into the wet and white uknown, already excited to return to the main street which was overflowing with a plethora of cafes offering warm temptations.
Not 500 metres down the road, as the sideways rain threatened to snap the very existence of my umbrella, I had a revelation: there was no chance in hell that I'd be able to see the Blue Mountains in this weather....I couldn't even see 100 metres down the road! So I grudgingly turned and regretfully conceded defeat to Mother Nature as I trudged back up the hill to the last intriguing cafe I'd seen. I opened the door to the Common Ground Cafe and my mood was instantly transformed: soft guitar music, friendly and attentive staff, a small table of polished wood (big enough for my things and mine alone, which is important when you travel solo and you tend to feel guilty when you occupy a table made for four persons), and a small, hand-painted picture of a bird at lakeside on the panel of wood in front of me. It reminded me of the Preserved Seed Cafe in Chilliwack: homey and inviting like a forest treehouse, with strong missionary undertones. The men served while the women cooked healthy, wholesome, and delicious food (I indulged in the gluten-free blueberry pancakes with yogurt). But alas, my runners were soaked through, and the rain continued to pelt down, oblivious to my plight. Thus I retreated from Katoomba on an earlier than expected train; my only comforts being my IPOD and my dry hat, which was wrapped unceremoniously around my pruned and shivering feet, and in no way did that hat resemble a warm blanket! The train glided back to Sydney under glimpses of an annoying blue sky which peeked through the grey clouds. It would appear that the weather was going to clear, not half an hour since I had given up and left the Blue Mountain area. It was then that I wondered, hopelessly, what life's motives were all about. Life just looked me straight in the eye, smiled a smile of hope, and said, "Life goes on." And with that, I set-off to Melbourne.
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