Sydney: March 19th to 22nd
Quick run down of living situation and people here, in case you don't know - Justine = great mate who emigrated here three years ago and lives in uni accommodation in Sydney CBD. Jessamie = her sister who lives in a Sydney suburb by the beach called Cogee. Brittany AKA Britters = Justine's good mate who lives two floors above her. Newcastle = Justine's home town, two hours North of Sydney. Meryl and Graeme = Justine's mum and stepdad respectively. Winne = Graeme's daughter. Yes, sorted? Good.
***
Monday. Back in Sydney. Today I make the wise choice to visit Syndey Aquarium, one of the finest in the world I believe. The A$27 entrance fee is justified instantly by the platypuses. Oh. My. God. How awesome are these little creatures? Like otters with beaks. Bizarre but infinitely cool. Similarly exciting are the seahorses. They always look fake, beautiful and complex animals that give off an air of calm and ancient beauty unrivaled by any other creature of the sea. Despite the display telling me that the fish in the next tank was Nemo's dad, I knew in my heart that I had in fact found Nemo, and proceeded to proudly announce this to a three year old standing next to me who didn't seem as impressed as I was.
I always think, when I see sea lions and seals, that they are the happiest of creatures. They flip and spin in the water, cutting through it as though it were no thicker than air, with an innocent but slightly condescending look on their faces as if to say, "poor you, born a human". It is clear that, if reincarnation is a truth, then only the best behaved and luckiest people get to be reincarnated as seals. Ghandi and Mother Theresa are no doubt lapping the harbour as I write this.
There is real menace in the cloud formations as I emerge from the Aquarium. There's something about Australia that makes the sky seem so much vaster than in England. This hugeness walks hand in hand with the uneasy feeling that at any moment the weather could do just about anything. As it is, it seems the heavens are affording me the luxury of sitting on the wooden harbourside, observing ships, gulls (so much smaller than the good ol' West Bay shite hawks), monorails, and people, whilst intermittantly dipping into my Tolstoy. These simple joys are interrupted after half and hour when the clouds become impatient and a large drop of rain falls onto the line I amm reading, followed by several more. And suddenly, without further warning, the heavens are open. I dive quickly to shelter and watch as the world gets drenched.
The evening is to be taken up with dinner at the Landsdowne, as very...."pub-ish" pub situated round the corner from Justine's student apartment. We are joined by three boys, and Irish girl named Fi, Brittany, and Jessamie. Upon hearing my offer to joing the pool doubles game, the boys exchange glances. It is obvious that the Aussie boys too are born with the notion that girls cannot play pool. After attempting to prove them wrong (and succeeding, but not to the point of actually winning- I still blame my partner James) we all treat ourselves to a A$5 meal which brings back fond memories of good time out in Spoons back home. Fi turns out to have one of those very friendly, jovial, and slightly sarcastic personalities that seem to suit the Irish so well, and her accent, still strong after four years in Auz, is a welcome break from the distorted vowels of the Australians on all sides. All in all, a very pleasureable evening made all the more so by the chocolate cake we devour before bed.
Sydney is a deceptive city. In fact, all metropolises in Australia could be called so. You are lulled into a false sense of security and safety from nature by the high-rise offices, shining architecture, and happy healthy faces, into believing that all Australia's many dangerous flora and fauna are far away in some distant dangerous land that you will never visit. The reality, as brought home by some illuminating displays at the Aquarium, is that nature, in all its viscious glory, is right on your doorstep. This was brought home to me this week when I went to stay with Jessamie in Cogee- not as trendy or famous as Bondi but certainly a disireable part of the city.
Don't get me wrong. I am not about to tell you an action-packed tale in which I narrowly escaped a bloody death at the hands (or rather, mouth) of a twenty foot shark. To follow such a build up with story about how I saw a large spider this one time would seem foolish now, but bare with me.
Cogee is like a little vacation from the city. Clean, sloping streets burst at the seams with fashionably healthy eateries, fruit and veg shops all selling "the best smoothy in Sydney", seaside cafes and of course the traditional Aussie pie shop. The whole area falls down to the beach, white-sanded, with natural baths to the left, pleasing esplanade behind, and rocky headlands to each side. My only full day here, I decide to go down and laze on the beach. I relay this idea to Jessamie and she says "great idea". A short pause. "Watch out for the bluebottles though. You know, the jellyfish? They give bad stings. Don't worry. You'll be fine". Ah, for a blissful moment there I had forgotten about jellyfish! Sadly, when I reach the seaside, they are all I can think about, and I splash around in a cautious manner before a swift departure from the water to enjoy the more cowardly pursuits of reading and sun burning my back.
The day, spent in such a picturesque and soul-satisfying place, sprints past me, leaving behind it a rose tinted sunset and bringing a sweet scented evening full of lights and the laughter of hundreds of diners and drinkers. I decide to take a walk over the headland to the next beach, Gordon's Bay, though the light is fast fading over the Pacific.
The walk is rocky and bushy, and as I flip flop my way down a sandy path I am startled by the sight of a...-I'm sorry, there is no better way to say this- fuck off massive ugly spider. I had forgotten all about the spiders. Nothing on this Earth has the right to have that many knees. Especially not yellow knees. What was our creator thinking? This monstrosity is sitting in a web perhaps two metres wide and I swear, though it is dark now and spiders probably don't even have pupils, that it is staring at me. I tiptoe past and hope, irrationally, that it doesn't go for me. The spider somewhat ruins my walk as I now think every tickle at my ankle is an attempt by some member of the insect mafia to kill me.
The cicadas, or crickets, here are ridiculously loud. It is quite extraordinary; I can hear them through the loud serenading of Regina in my ears. They must have thighs the size of mine to make such a noise. I reach Gordon's Bay accompanied by this natural sonata and find it to be a tiny beach, hemmed in on three sides by imposing cliffs and, closer to hand, scores of wooden rowboats. In the moonlight, this all looks very romantic and I am at peace for a moment. But then something scuttles out in front of my legs and I shit myself. It's a house cat, and a small cute one at that. I decide it's time to return home to the safety of a soft bed.
***
Monday. Back in Sydney. Today I make the wise choice to visit Syndey Aquarium, one of the finest in the world I believe. The A$27 entrance fee is justified instantly by the platypuses. Oh. My. God. How awesome are these little creatures? Like otters with beaks. Bizarre but infinitely cool. Similarly exciting are the seahorses. They always look fake, beautiful and complex animals that give off an air of calm and ancient beauty unrivaled by any other creature of the sea. Despite the display telling me that the fish in the next tank was Nemo's dad, I knew in my heart that I had in fact found Nemo, and proceeded to proudly announce this to a three year old standing next to me who didn't seem as impressed as I was.
I always think, when I see sea lions and seals, that they are the happiest of creatures. They flip and spin in the water, cutting through it as though it were no thicker than air, with an innocent but slightly condescending look on their faces as if to say, "poor you, born a human". It is clear that, if reincarnation is a truth, then only the best behaved and luckiest people get to be reincarnated as seals. Ghandi and Mother Theresa are no doubt lapping the harbour as I write this.
There is real menace in the cloud formations as I emerge from the Aquarium. There's something about Australia that makes the sky seem so much vaster than in England. This hugeness walks hand in hand with the uneasy feeling that at any moment the weather could do just about anything. As it is, it seems the heavens are affording me the luxury of sitting on the wooden harbourside, observing ships, gulls (so much smaller than the good ol' West Bay shite hawks), monorails, and people, whilst intermittantly dipping into my Tolstoy. These simple joys are interrupted after half and hour when the clouds become impatient and a large drop of rain falls onto the line I amm reading, followed by several more. And suddenly, without further warning, the heavens are open. I dive quickly to shelter and watch as the world gets drenched.
The evening is to be taken up with dinner at the Landsdowne, as very...."pub-ish" pub situated round the corner from Justine's student apartment. We are joined by three boys, and Irish girl named Fi, Brittany, and Jessamie. Upon hearing my offer to joing the pool doubles game, the boys exchange glances. It is obvious that the Aussie boys too are born with the notion that girls cannot play pool. After attempting to prove them wrong (and succeeding, but not to the point of actually winning- I still blame my partner James) we all treat ourselves to a A$5 meal which brings back fond memories of good time out in Spoons back home. Fi turns out to have one of those very friendly, jovial, and slightly sarcastic personalities that seem to suit the Irish so well, and her accent, still strong after four years in Auz, is a welcome break from the distorted vowels of the Australians on all sides. All in all, a very pleasureable evening made all the more so by the chocolate cake we devour before bed.
Sydney is a deceptive city. In fact, all metropolises in Australia could be called so. You are lulled into a false sense of security and safety from nature by the high-rise offices, shining architecture, and happy healthy faces, into believing that all Australia's many dangerous flora and fauna are far away in some distant dangerous land that you will never visit. The reality, as brought home by some illuminating displays at the Aquarium, is that nature, in all its viscious glory, is right on your doorstep. This was brought home to me this week when I went to stay with Jessamie in Cogee- not as trendy or famous as Bondi but certainly a disireable part of the city.
Don't get me wrong. I am not about to tell you an action-packed tale in which I narrowly escaped a bloody death at the hands (or rather, mouth) of a twenty foot shark. To follow such a build up with story about how I saw a large spider this one time would seem foolish now, but bare with me.
Cogee is like a little vacation from the city. Clean, sloping streets burst at the seams with fashionably healthy eateries, fruit and veg shops all selling "the best smoothy in Sydney", seaside cafes and of course the traditional Aussie pie shop. The whole area falls down to the beach, white-sanded, with natural baths to the left, pleasing esplanade behind, and rocky headlands to each side. My only full day here, I decide to go down and laze on the beach. I relay this idea to Jessamie and she says "great idea". A short pause. "Watch out for the bluebottles though. You know, the jellyfish? They give bad stings. Don't worry. You'll be fine". Ah, for a blissful moment there I had forgotten about jellyfish! Sadly, when I reach the seaside, they are all I can think about, and I splash around in a cautious manner before a swift departure from the water to enjoy the more cowardly pursuits of reading and sun burning my back.
The day, spent in such a picturesque and soul-satisfying place, sprints past me, leaving behind it a rose tinted sunset and bringing a sweet scented evening full of lights and the laughter of hundreds of diners and drinkers. I decide to take a walk over the headland to the next beach, Gordon's Bay, though the light is fast fading over the Pacific.
The walk is rocky and bushy, and as I flip flop my way down a sandy path I am startled by the sight of a...-I'm sorry, there is no better way to say this- fuck off massive ugly spider. I had forgotten all about the spiders. Nothing on this Earth has the right to have that many knees. Especially not yellow knees. What was our creator thinking? This monstrosity is sitting in a web perhaps two metres wide and I swear, though it is dark now and spiders probably don't even have pupils, that it is staring at me. I tiptoe past and hope, irrationally, that it doesn't go for me. The spider somewhat ruins my walk as I now think every tickle at my ankle is an attempt by some member of the insect mafia to kill me.
The cicadas, or crickets, here are ridiculously loud. It is quite extraordinary; I can hear them through the loud serenading of Regina in my ears. They must have thighs the size of mine to make such a noise. I reach Gordon's Bay accompanied by this natural sonata and find it to be a tiny beach, hemmed in on three sides by imposing cliffs and, closer to hand, scores of wooden rowboats. In the moonlight, this all looks very romantic and I am at peace for a moment. But then something scuttles out in front of my legs and I shit myself. It's a house cat, and a small cute one at that. I decide it's time to return home to the safety of a soft bed.
posted by Aisling at 11:43 PM
2 Comments:
I'm sure you've been told this before but you really do have a gift for writing. Also I like the photos of the animals they are very nice. Where is the platypus? I expect you're saving that for when you come home. I get it. Nice. Miss you xxxxxxxxxxxx ps I wanted to have "google blogger" as my identity but I wasn't allowed. A shame I think you'll agree.
People should read this.
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