We arrived in Sydney by train and made our way to Kings Cross, a suburb of the city recommended by most budget travelers. To our surprise, it’s a charming area full of hostels and prostitutes; we have yet to discover how these two lifestyles settled in the same location. The hostel we’re staying at was gracious enough to give us “The Gospel”, which is a coupon booklet that allowed us to freeload on several (15, to be exact) bars around the city. It also provided us with a list of things to do, a map, and several meal deals for every day of the week. Turns out, this was a great tool to get us to see different areas of the city. Needless to say, we covered a lot of ground in order to redeem our free/cheap stuff. Keeping up with our Kilimanjaro training, we opted to avoid public transportation. This decision resulted in approximately 8 hours of constant walking. We covered all the typical sights including a romantic sunset overlooking the harbor with a view of the Opera House and bridge. There is a popular option to climb the bridge for a whopping $175, but we decided to walk across it instead. Monday evening we decided to splurge instead on a $30 entry into a bar made entirely of ice. No worries, though, we had a 20% discount and drink voucher for this as well. We had to watch a safety video before entering, wear special jackets, there was a 30-minute time limit and our glasses were made of ice imported from New Zealand—it was a fun thing to do once.
The next morning we had our first mishap with international diplomacy when we accidentally went to the home of the Vietnamese consulate instead of his office (this was the address provided on the website). We were told by a little Vietnamese boy through an intercom that his dad was not there and he had no idea where he was. Upon asking if there was a phone number he said yes, but he didn’t know it. Convenient. We were kindly redirected by a sign on his giant metal gate door to the office, where we dropped off our passports in hopes to see them 24 hours later.
After more sightseeing and walking, we placed our bets on some hermit crabs at Scubar, which races these little creatures as a form of bar entertainment. Unfortunately, Wizard’s sleeve, the bogan, and minge (their names) were not victorious. We’re not even sure they came out of their shells. Here’s a terribly sad story and a not so pretty picture: as we were relaxing in a booth from the jam packed bar traffic, two guys (one with a beautiful blonde rattail) came to sit down beside us. As he said to his mate (and I quote), Oi! Chicks! He promptly pulled off his pants because it was more comfortable to sit in his boxers, the guy beside him peed in a corner and they both shattered glasses under the table. We laughed (they were ridiculous), but then realized it was our cue to leave.
Today we ran errands in preparation for our first country switch since our travels began. We also stopped at the famous Bondi beach to take in Australia’s beautiful blue water one last time until we return in September. There was a beautiful beach club overlooking the water for which we just so happened to have a free drink voucher. Thinking it too good to be true, we decided to take our chances at the Bondi Beach Icebergs Club. Excitement turned quickly to skepticism when the bartender in a white tuxedo asked how he could help us. Donned in the same outfits we’ve had to wear for days, we smugly ask if we could redeem our free drink here. He kindly says, no, that’s downstairs at the kiosk. Of course, it was closed. By this point; however, we were thoroughly embarrassed. Reflecting on the horrific experience, we did a mental check on our appearance. Excuse me, could we have our free drink? Please overlook my fleece, chipped toenail polish, greasy hair, dirty Band-Aid and the underwear I wash in the hostel sink. The scenario was quite similar to a homeless man asking if the Ritz was free shelter. (And we haven’t even encountered true culture shock)
Now it’s off to pack and prepare for our journey over the Indian Ocean to Africa (with an 11-hour stopover in the Bombay, India airport). If the rumors of free Wi-Fi in the airport are true, we will update you with our creative ways to kill time. However, we’ve been informed it’s one of the worst places to sleep so we’re not quite sure what to expect.
The next morning we had our first mishap with international diplomacy when we accidentally went to the home of the Vietnamese consulate instead of his office (this was the address provided on the website). We were told by a little Vietnamese boy through an intercom that his dad was not there and he had no idea where he was. Upon asking if there was a phone number he said yes, but he didn’t know it. Convenient. We were kindly redirected by a sign on his giant metal gate door to the office, where we dropped off our passports in hopes to see them 24 hours later.
After more sightseeing and walking, we placed our bets on some hermit crabs at Scubar, which races these little creatures as a form of bar entertainment. Unfortunately, Wizard’s sleeve, the bogan, and minge (their names) were not victorious. We’re not even sure they came out of their shells. Here’s a terribly sad story and a not so pretty picture: as we were relaxing in a booth from the jam packed bar traffic, two guys (one with a beautiful blonde rattail) came to sit down beside us. As he said to his mate (and I quote), Oi! Chicks! He promptly pulled off his pants because it was more comfortable to sit in his boxers, the guy beside him peed in a corner and they both shattered glasses under the table. We laughed (they were ridiculous), but then realized it was our cue to leave.
Today we ran errands in preparation for our first country switch since our travels began. We also stopped at the famous Bondi beach to take in Australia’s beautiful blue water one last time until we return in September. There was a beautiful beach club overlooking the water for which we just so happened to have a free drink voucher. Thinking it too good to be true, we decided to take our chances at the Bondi Beach Icebergs Club. Excitement turned quickly to skepticism when the bartender in a white tuxedo asked how he could help us. Donned in the same outfits we’ve had to wear for days, we smugly ask if we could redeem our free drink here. He kindly says, no, that’s downstairs at the kiosk. Of course, it was closed. By this point; however, we were thoroughly embarrassed. Reflecting on the horrific experience, we did a mental check on our appearance. Excuse me, could we have our free drink? Please overlook my fleece, chipped toenail polish, greasy hair, dirty Band-Aid and the underwear I wash in the hostel sink. The scenario was quite similar to a homeless man asking if the Ritz was free shelter. (And we haven’t even encountered true culture shock)
Now it’s off to pack and prepare for our journey over the Indian Ocean to Africa (with an 11-hour stopover in the Bombay, India airport). If the rumors of free Wi-Fi in the airport are true, we will update you with our creative ways to kill time. However, we’ve been informed it’s one of the worst places to sleep so we’re not quite sure what to expect.
1 comment:
You write very well.
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