First, I must apologize to the English language for the acts of cruelty I my previous posts have committed against it. Sorry.
Secondly, to those who have read my previous blog posts who have any reverence for grammar and spelling. My bad.
Lastly, I must apologize to my parents. I do not doubt that something along the lines of, "Hold the phone. We paid a lot money to send this boy to college for 4 years (yes they are pretty amazing like that). He MAJORED in English. WTF?" Fair enough.
My defense:
My idea of traveling rarely includes spending several hours in front of a computer screen writing blog posts. My eyes go blurry and my arms start cramping. Boo hooo, I know but...well....deal with it.
Back to our irregularly scheduled update--
When we last left our travelers they were catching an overnight train from Melbourne to Sydney. Don't imagine overly cramped cabins with rickety fold-down beds for this 13 hour train trip. No. That would be far too classy. We being of the "perpetually poor" traveled the only way we know of: business/economy class. Essentially, we vainly tried sleeping sitting up in rather stiff backed chairs. Not a great night's sleep.
But it was effective as the five of us--JR, Emily, Andrew, Claire, and I--exited the train with swollen and cavernous, bloodshot eyes in Sydney. It couldn't be described as "hot" and "warm" would be pushing it but it was...fair. Some sunlight peaked through the clouds. But it was more of a mental benefit than a thermoregulatory boost. But it wasn't raining and it wasn't cold. So it was better than Melbourne at least.
Andrew, Claire and I split a room at a hostel immediately next to the Sydney Central and dropped off our packs. We caught maybe half an hour of rest/watching the first episode of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman (I always thought it was a movie for some reason). After which we had agreed to meet Em and JR at the Circular Quay (pronounced 'key' rather than 'kway' in Australia. Why? No one knows) and catch a ferry to Manly Beach--a famous Syndey surfer beach.
The Circular Quay and surrounding area I would describe as the tourist's city center. The quay area is home to swankier cafes, restaurants, and bars; the ferries to Manly and Bondi Beaches; and most famously the Sydney Opera House; as well as being one of the best places to view the picturesque Harbour Bridge.
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This is as good a time as any to take a small detour and talk about the creativity of Australian names. Let's just say that Australians are practical.
"Hey what do you call that bridge that goes over Sydney Harbour?"
"The Sydney Harbour Bridge."
"Hey, what do you call the opera house you have in Sydney?"
"The Sydney Opera House."
"Hey, what do you call that great giant reef you have up north? You know the one that is like a barrier, stopping waves and such from getting to the mainland?"
"The Great Barrier Reef."
Hey, what do you call that long road that goes along the ocean below Melboure; it's got a lot of great beaches and scenery on it?"
"The Great Ocean Road."
"... ... You guys really spent a lot of time on these names, huh?"
"Aw, heaps of time mate. Heaps."
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In the modern world pictures, postcards, and videos can make world icons that are several thousand miles away seem familiar and comfortable. Take for instance, the Mona Lisa. Everyone has seen the Mona Lisa a million times, right? She's everywhere: movies, tv, posters, billboards, stickers, T-shirts, book covers, place mats, and coffee mugs for christ's sake. Since the Mona Lisa's imagine is so well circulated I recall a profound sense of anticlimax upon seeing the painting in real life. I left feeling underwhelmed. A rather long way of saying that sometimes real life simply cannot live up to the reputation. Let me tell you though that the Sydney Opera House does not suffer from this effect whatsoever. Again, I've seen images of the Opera House countless times but even with this I was captivated by it, entranced even. Something about the juxtaposition of the elegant flowing curves with the sharp and jagged lines of the structure simply demands one's attention.
The ferry we took to Manly beach turned gently around the building allowing us to see it from all angels and it made us all crane our necks till was blocked entirely from the boat.We spent the rest of the day at Manly Beach.
JR straight away rented a surf board. One of the massive, long, foam numbers designed for those that are hopeless at surfing (see my previous post for a better description "hopeless"). Manly, true to its reputation, treated us much more kindly than did Rye. We shared the board around everyone having a go. It was great. Without the threat of some horrible death-by-ocean the comedy of our nyophytism shown through. Pretty much everyone got owned. In my estimation JR came the closest to actually riding a way. While Andrew definitely took the "observer" award.
During the surf sessions everyone else took it pretty easy on the beach doing typical beachy things: sun bathing (it did warm up a bit), reading, videoing the surfing, and spinning poi. The latter being my newest obsession.
Several hours later we caught the return ferry back to the center of the city and Andrew, Claire, and I returned to our hostel, where we cooked an economic rice meal and prepared to meet up with JR and Emily who were hanging out with a friend of Emily's.
For the life of me I can't recall the name of the bar we met but I do remember it was probably 250 meters from our hostel. If I recall it was a Tuesday night; or a Wednesday night; or a Sunday night. Some night that would be considered a 'dead' night most places. But the bar we went to was a backpacker mecca and the thing about backpackers is that they have no jobs, so every night is a drinking night! The place was jammed and besides the ridiculously cheap beer (finally!!) its unique draw was a "crab racing table". Use your imagination on that one. Sadly, JR's crab, Daniel LaRusoe aka the karate kid, failed to bring home the cup. So it goes. The night was pretty uneventful. Lots of beer and a shorter night as most people were already feeling quite tired. But a long enough night that JR and Emily were sneaked into our hostel instead of getting a taxi and Andrew slept on the floor.
The next day Clair, Andrew and I changed hostels to a cheaper option in the only district Claire's mother specifically recommended against-King's Cross. A very interesting neighborhood where one could find some really nice, sophisticated bars butted immediately up to a gentlemen's club. And this was par for the course. Every other door had neon lights and blacked out window's. But due to its seedy nature it was a natural destination for us penny-pinchers. Anyway, we checked into our new hostel and headed out to explore the expansive botanical gardens which are adjacent to Sydney Harbor. An easy, short walk delivered us to the gardens where Claire and I meandered through. By far the most interesting things we came across were a type of tree--the curtain fig I believe. It was awesome. Dropping roots from its branches that made their way to the ground and dug themselves in. The end result is where the name comes from, it looked like a curtain. Very very cool.
We walked past the Opera House once again in a mild trance and we (Andrew had joined Claire and me at this point) ate the left overs of our rice dinner on a bench by the harbour. An innocuous activity to say the least. However, Andrew was with us and life is rarely dull when he is around. Actually, Andrew is better known as Cluster. Those of you whose imaginations don't need prompting can a pretty accurate picture of Cluster. Life is always interesting when he's around. This was no different. I forget whose plastic bag it actually was but a thin plastic bag, like one used in grocery stores for produce, slipped from our little posse's control and gently blew over the edge and into the harbour. Now this should be a conundrum for anyone. Littering is bad. But Claire, Cluster, and I are all employed in the outdoor field. Sadly, this means our pollution sensitivity is much keener than the general public's. So only using what we had handy, which was quite meager: the closes we were wearing, Claire's poi (socks with tennis balls in the end essentially) we attempted to construct a sufficient retrieval device. We spent the better part of an hour and half going for it. Connecting Cluster's and Claire's sweatshirts, Claire's poi, my raincoat, Cluster's flip-flop, a carabiner I had on my bag, and a full Nalgene bottle. It was rudimentary at best but funny as hell. First it was more or less ridiculous. Second, it attracted A LOT of attention. Upwards of thirty people stopping and staring at times. All questioning us, "What's in the bag?" To which we said "Nothing. We are doing our part to stop pollution." "Extreme vexation" would be the only way to describe their reactions. Ultimately, someone got fed up with watching us through the ferry's ticket booth and got a shepard's crook and retrieved it. However, our mission was successful! One less piece of litter in our oceans.
Afterward we floater boated the nearby fountains, nearly losing my nalgene and took shelter from a heavy storm at the Sydney museum which was pretty ordinary.
We returned to our hostel and changed into our fanciest clothing for soon after we went to see a play in the Sydney Opera House. There was a small feeling of let down when we were admitted into a quite ordinarily sized auditorium. For some reason I expect there to be only one stage with 20,000 seats. Upon reflection it wouldn't really work well--hard to sell out for every show every night I suppose. The play was called, "Under Milkwood". It was a play adaptation of a long poem. It was...interesting. One of that kind of show that at the end everyone stoop up and mumbled vague, nebulous comments of enjoyment vainly trying the mask the "what the hell was that?" feeling in their guts. Maybe it has some great meaning but if it did it was lost on us, or me at least.
Outside the Opera House was stunning. There was a world light show exhibit running at the time and running around the Circular Quay were a series of light show exhibits all with their own unique qualities. Some were stunning: the Opera House had images projected upon it making it shimmer and wave; buildings whose lights danced to music playing from nearby speakers; spinning globes of color; 45 story buildings changing colors--from purple to green to red to blue. Some were interactive: walking by triggered sensors that changed the surrounding colors; playing tick-tack-toe on a giant lit board; one that lit up only when screamed at; one that created artwork based on people dancing in front of it. Some were strange: bicycles with brightly lighted and colored angular fish thingys put on top and ridden around; an igloo made of gas containers lit from the inside (you couldn't go in); the world's biggest flash light (?!?). And some were plain pathetic--giant wooden dogs with glowing heads that "amazingly" turned your way if you pushed the one button the exhibit had. Thank you Australia's finest for that one.
By far though the clock tower was the best. Check out this quick clip of it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LiQof-jAnbA&feature=youtu.be
[put your arrow over top of that colored text and click grandma :-)]
A light showed played over top of the elaborate structure of the building and the light show actually incorporated the structure into the show! It was amazing! Columns turned into highways that cars drove over; windows became holes things fell into; doors became a tongue. It was incredible. I spent at least 20 minutes standing transfixed.
All in all the light show was stunning. It really turned Sydney into a special, unique experience for me.
Nothing of note that evening. A quite return the hostel and a good night's sleep.
Most of the next day was spent taking it easy. Not really sight seeing not really doing a whole lot except relaxing in one of the city's parks, listening to street musicians, reading, and spinning poi. It was great really. Every week or so a day like that is mandatory for backpackers. It just clears everything out so you can reboot for more traveling.
Sadly, this evening was time to say goodbye to Cluster, Claire, and Emily. It's strange thinking about it now, nearly 2 months later. It seems ages ago we parted and honestly, I am looking forward to getting back to Eildon to see some familiar faces again. They are definitely all good people and friends. But that will come.
This being the end of the 'group' traveling I suppose it is as good a time as any to give you readers a break as well as me. My shoulders are starting to hurt and I am more susceptible to carpaltunnel these days. But that is a story to come later.
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Yet another way to die in Australia
Red Gum Trees
Nope. That is no typo. The trees can even end your life. Although not in the way you probably expect.
You think killer tree you tend to think it's somehow poisonous, right? I do anyway.
Well nope. Not gumtrees. See some times Australia can have lots of rain. At the moment for instance Melboure is doing fine in its water reserves. But sometimes Australia can practically be a desert. Not long ago (~3 years) there were kids who were 13 years old that had never known rain in the Melbourne area.
Anyway trees don't like this so much because if they have water available it is beneficial to grow limbs to catch more sunlight to photosynthesis more to get more energy to grow bigger and stronger and so on and so on. However it is not a good idea for trees to have lots of giant limbs when there is not much water because it means they have to spread the water everywhere meaning they need lots of water which sucks when none is around.
Gum trees have a strategy for this. If they don't have the water they'll just say "F@#$ this I don't need this limb," and they just drop it. No warning. No notice. Just giant tree limb randomly falling.
Now this is not too big a deal if you are just hanging out around it cause it will crack a second or ten before falling and you're awake, you can walk/run away. But camping near this type of tree can be a hazard because well you aren't awake and get the hell out of there.
This is pretty serious around OEG as they actually had a girl killed years back from a red gum limb in the night. So now it is mandatory procedure for group leaders to do thorough tree checks to ensure camp sites are safe from these hazards.
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