Only have a couple minutes to post, as MaJe are patiently waiting for me on the couch over there. Will continue my daily posts on the terrible delay that I'm operating at later.
I decided I would start reading an Australian book while I'm over here, you know, just to input this place into my cerebral cortex from as many different angles as I could. So I brought with me Tim Winton's Dirt Music (there's no underline command here, Will) and began it a couple days ago.
I came across this passage about surfing the internet, that I really liked and thought I'd send it along:
Logging on -- what a laugh. They should have called it stepping off. When Georgie sat down before the terminal she was gone in her seat, like a pensioner at the pokies, gone for all money. Into that welter of useless information night after night to confront people and notions she could do without. She didn't know why she bothered except that it ate time. Still, you had to admit that it was nice to be without a body for a while; there was an addictive thrill in being of no age, no gender, with no past. It was an infinite sequence of opening portals, of menus and corridors that let you into brief, painless encounters, where what passed for life was a listless kind of browsing. World without consequence, Amen. And in it, she felt light like an angel. Besides, it kept her off the sauce.
With that, we head toward Coogee and the two hour beachwalk to Bondi. Tomorrow is the Blue Mountains.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Awash and Wet, Day 1
The night was insanely cold. Much colder than I expected or packed for. But then the day was warm, so it's impossible to gauge. Mary left for work at 8AM or so and Jeff and I slept in for another couple hours. Mary called to wake us both up -- if she's up, then we all are!
The shower drain was backed up so I showered in someone else's filth. Excellent....
Had a couple weird dreams. The first was that we never left the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel (pub) my whole trip here and Mary replaced her parents with a pair of blond thirty-somethings. She even named them Ben and Barb and assured me that I wouldn't have to lift a finger for anything, that her "parents" would comply. Strange, huh?
The second one was non-geographical and full of faceless people. I was on a police ride-along, in the front seat, listening to my iPod. The cop was dealing with something outside the car and then all of a sudden some houligans tried to get into the car. Feeling attack was imminent I unleashed a brand of hell in defending my territory. Then after they left, a little black girl tried to get into the car trunk and sit there but I told her she can't do that. She said "Fine" and left. Then I went back to wherever I came from and about a minute later realized that my iPod was left in the car, and was resigned to the fact that it would now be stolen. I went to sleep in my dream. When I woke up I saw that there were chalk marks on the tongue of my shoe with words on it and certain letters circled, and I immediately knew that it was a word jumble clue to where my iPod was being held hostage. I love a good treasure hunt.
Jeff was off Monday and we went and ran a couple errands while he showed me the skeleton of the city, George St. We went to Circular Quay, saw the majestic opera house, the Harbour Bridge, the Royal Botanic Gardens, the Rocks, the New South Wales Art Gallery and walked around some more. I was paranoid that my pictures wouldn't come out focused because it looked like my view finder was unfocused or dirty. So I took a whole row and got them developed. They were fine, and really incredible. I'm really happy with them. I probably annoyed the shit outta Jeff with my incessant talking. I really need to learn when and how to shut the fuck up.
I had some incredible mango gelato at Gelattismo at the Quay. Delicious. Mangoes are my favorite fruit. Mary says they taste like pumpkin with pepper on it. Not at ALL! Speaking of pumpkin, they are freaks for it here. Pumpkin everything! I love it. Pumpkin is my favorite vegetable and there's nothing wrong with a country that would die for a squash. Not in my book.
Jeff made chili for dinner. The green pepper was rank and every time we said it was good, he would downplay it and affect a sentence along the lines of, "Well if only we had green pepper...." He and Mary had this weird competitive chili leftover game they played the next couple of days. It became very personal.
We watched Australia's favorite TV show, "Neighbours." This will be familiar if you've ever read a thirty-second biography of Kylie Minogue, who is essentially a goddess over here. It's this half-hour daily soap opera that looks like it was filmed on the quick with a standard video camera. I keep expecting my family's Xmas home movies circa 1986 to be intercut with the footage seemingly filmed yesterday. There's a character on the show whose recent storyline had him going from not blind to blind to not blind again. Right....
Had a Streets Magnum bar for dessert. Just like a Dove ice cream bar at home. Mine was original while I let Mary and Jeff have the last two mint ones since they both really wanted them and I didn't care.
When I dropped off my film, the guy wrote "Jef" as my name and then seemed vexed and asked if it was "double f." Seems they spell it the way I hate over here. Geoff.
Went to an empty pub that closed at 10. The bartender was glued to "Desperate Housewives" and "Cold Case" the whole time we were there. Just like home....
And to end the night, Mary couldn't sleep. Just like home....
The shower drain was backed up so I showered in someone else's filth. Excellent....
Had a couple weird dreams. The first was that we never left the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel (pub) my whole trip here and Mary replaced her parents with a pair of blond thirty-somethings. She even named them Ben and Barb and assured me that I wouldn't have to lift a finger for anything, that her "parents" would comply. Strange, huh?
The second one was non-geographical and full of faceless people. I was on a police ride-along, in the front seat, listening to my iPod. The cop was dealing with something outside the car and then all of a sudden some houligans tried to get into the car. Feeling attack was imminent I unleashed a brand of hell in defending my territory. Then after they left, a little black girl tried to get into the car trunk and sit there but I told her she can't do that. She said "Fine" and left. Then I went back to wherever I came from and about a minute later realized that my iPod was left in the car, and was resigned to the fact that it would now be stolen. I went to sleep in my dream. When I woke up I saw that there were chalk marks on the tongue of my shoe with words on it and certain letters circled, and I immediately knew that it was a word jumble clue to where my iPod was being held hostage. I love a good treasure hunt.
Jeff was off Monday and we went and ran a couple errands while he showed me the skeleton of the city, George St. We went to Circular Quay, saw the majestic opera house, the Harbour Bridge, the Royal Botanic Gardens, the Rocks, the New South Wales Art Gallery and walked around some more. I was paranoid that my pictures wouldn't come out focused because it looked like my view finder was unfocused or dirty. So I took a whole row and got them developed. They were fine, and really incredible. I'm really happy with them. I probably annoyed the shit outta Jeff with my incessant talking. I really need to learn when and how to shut the fuck up.
I had some incredible mango gelato at Gelattismo at the Quay. Delicious. Mangoes are my favorite fruit. Mary says they taste like pumpkin with pepper on it. Not at ALL! Speaking of pumpkin, they are freaks for it here. Pumpkin everything! I love it. Pumpkin is my favorite vegetable and there's nothing wrong with a country that would die for a squash. Not in my book.
Jeff made chili for dinner. The green pepper was rank and every time we said it was good, he would downplay it and affect a sentence along the lines of, "Well if only we had green pepper...." He and Mary had this weird competitive chili leftover game they played the next couple of days. It became very personal.
We watched Australia's favorite TV show, "Neighbours." This will be familiar if you've ever read a thirty-second biography of Kylie Minogue, who is essentially a goddess over here. It's this half-hour daily soap opera that looks like it was filmed on the quick with a standard video camera. I keep expecting my family's Xmas home movies circa 1986 to be intercut with the footage seemingly filmed yesterday. There's a character on the show whose recent storyline had him going from not blind to blind to not blind again. Right....
Had a Streets Magnum bar for dessert. Just like a Dove ice cream bar at home. Mine was original while I let Mary and Jeff have the last two mint ones since they both really wanted them and I didn't care.
When I dropped off my film, the guy wrote "Jef" as my name and then seemed vexed and asked if it was "double f." Seems they spell it the way I hate over here. Geoff.
Went to an empty pub that closed at 10. The bartender was glued to "Desperate Housewives" and "Cold Case" the whole time we were there. Just like home....
And to end the night, Mary couldn't sleep. Just like home....
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Under a SoHem Sky
It's about time I begin blogging from Down Under. I think I'll organize it by day.
We left for the airport on Saturday morning at a little after 7 for a 9AM flight. I run late. It's who I am. Around Rosemont there was a humongous traffic jam, every lane and entrance merged into one lane. ONE! It was a nightmare. We figured there was construction or an accident. Neither, it turns out. They were fixing the sign above the road that says "Welcome to Chicago!" Who does that?!?! It took forever to travel what usually takes five minutes. I got to the check-in desk and the ticket agent made a face and my heart sank. She called over a manager... you know where this is going. It was 815 for my 9 o'clock flight. She said I'd have to be put on the next one to LA since I was so late and I may not make my connecting flight to Sydney. I begged and pleaded to be let through. As the manager made a call, the agent told me that it takes 90 minutes to go through security for international flights, definitively. I asked it a lot of people were late for their flights that morning because of the evil road doings of the city of Chicago. She had no idea what I was talking about. Then I was given the go-ahead by the manager. And guess what? I went through security in, no joke, seven minutes. Who the fuck was she kidding with that 90 minute nonsense?!?
The flight to LAX was uneventful, except that it happened. I flew United, which seems to always be a risk these days. I slept on and off like in class when you drift off and jerk your head up again, over and over. It was really uncomfortable.
Got to LAX and had a couple hour layover. I had forgotten exactly how much I loathed that airport. To make you go outside to get from terminal to terminal makes my blood pressure spike off the gauge. Finally got checked in at Qantas and all was good. The plane was one of those double decker ones, straight out of the cruise vacation episode of "Growing Pains" or Richard Branson's only way to fly. There was little to no leg room, which could be problematic on a 14-hour flight over the Pacific. A really butch lesbian and her friend with two chins sat next to me and were very loudly talking and laughing and were so incredibly shallow and fake. I immediately hated them. When the plane took off, the double-chinned one asked me to move to a different row, and as much as I wanted to, I didn't want to be nice to them, so I said, "You know, I'd rather not." She moved. I regretted it instantly, wishing that I had in fact moved because I would then be bumped and walked past by all the attendants all flight. It wasn't so bad, though. Except for one flight attendant. We didn't get along at all. There was no leg room and the first person in the aisle seat four rows ahead of me put his/her seat back and forced the person behind to do the same to have any chance at any room. Domino effect. Well the old man behind me must have complained each time my nemesis steward passed because each time they were doing drinks or meals, he was reach into my chair and move it upright as he asked if I could sit up. So the person in front of me had her chair all the way back and mine was all the way front and I had roughly six inches between me and the tv screen I was watching. I immediately moved my chair back into recline. Jackass.
Those are the only complaints I have for Qantas. Very nice airline. Great food, great movie selection. They give you many nice gifts. It was enjoyable. Still, though, it was exhausting. I kept looking at my watch and doing the math in my head... I still have nine hours left....
When I got to Kingsford-Smith, I made my way through customs to baggage claim to the international train station. I was asking the attendant about trains to Pyrmont, when I saw this person across the terminal just standing there. My contacts were really dry and so I couldn't see that far, but it looked like Mary. Then I walked toward her but had to stop because a gate counter was in between us and it took us forever to realize it was the other person. Jeff was downstairs waiting because his feet hurt from exercising in sandals or something. We figured it all out and got on the train toward the Harbour.
Walked from the train station, which is right at the mouth of the QVB (Queen Victoria Building) and walked up inclines and down declines and to the Darling Harbour. It was beautiful. Really incredible at night with all the lights and the water, it was really a sight. Got to their apartment and then went to the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel, a pub down the street. It's Jeff's favourite. It was a cool place. Had my first sip of Toohey's Old and a kebab at the Turkish place next door. I'm sure we'll go back there before we all leave this city.
Went back, tired and not, and blew up the air mattress. Took us an hour before we realized there was an air leak. Then we all went to sleep, me with thoughts running through my head of what this place has to offer and see and write about. Jeff was probably thinking about his feet and his pain, and Mary was surely hoping that melatonin supplement I made her take would drift her off to sleep. She thought about it so much, she was kept awake the whole night. Poor girl.
Well, I'm done writing for now. That was a big one and there will be more, but I've been here at the Pakhi Cafe for an hour and the rain finally let up. I'm gonna go get some lunch and hit up the National Maritime Museum. Catch ya on the flip side....
We left for the airport on Saturday morning at a little after 7 for a 9AM flight. I run late. It's who I am. Around Rosemont there was a humongous traffic jam, every lane and entrance merged into one lane. ONE! It was a nightmare. We figured there was construction or an accident. Neither, it turns out. They were fixing the sign above the road that says "Welcome to Chicago!" Who does that?!?! It took forever to travel what usually takes five minutes. I got to the check-in desk and the ticket agent made a face and my heart sank. She called over a manager... you know where this is going. It was 815 for my 9 o'clock flight. She said I'd have to be put on the next one to LA since I was so late and I may not make my connecting flight to Sydney. I begged and pleaded to be let through. As the manager made a call, the agent told me that it takes 90 minutes to go through security for international flights, definitively. I asked it a lot of people were late for their flights that morning because of the evil road doings of the city of Chicago. She had no idea what I was talking about. Then I was given the go-ahead by the manager. And guess what? I went through security in, no joke, seven minutes. Who the fuck was she kidding with that 90 minute nonsense?!?
The flight to LAX was uneventful, except that it happened. I flew United, which seems to always be a risk these days. I slept on and off like in class when you drift off and jerk your head up again, over and over. It was really uncomfortable.
Got to LAX and had a couple hour layover. I had forgotten exactly how much I loathed that airport. To make you go outside to get from terminal to terminal makes my blood pressure spike off the gauge. Finally got checked in at Qantas and all was good. The plane was one of those double decker ones, straight out of the cruise vacation episode of "Growing Pains" or Richard Branson's only way to fly. There was little to no leg room, which could be problematic on a 14-hour flight over the Pacific. A really butch lesbian and her friend with two chins sat next to me and were very loudly talking and laughing and were so incredibly shallow and fake. I immediately hated them. When the plane took off, the double-chinned one asked me to move to a different row, and as much as I wanted to, I didn't want to be nice to them, so I said, "You know, I'd rather not." She moved. I regretted it instantly, wishing that I had in fact moved because I would then be bumped and walked past by all the attendants all flight. It wasn't so bad, though. Except for one flight attendant. We didn't get along at all. There was no leg room and the first person in the aisle seat four rows ahead of me put his/her seat back and forced the person behind to do the same to have any chance at any room. Domino effect. Well the old man behind me must have complained each time my nemesis steward passed because each time they were doing drinks or meals, he was reach into my chair and move it upright as he asked if I could sit up. So the person in front of me had her chair all the way back and mine was all the way front and I had roughly six inches between me and the tv screen I was watching. I immediately moved my chair back into recline. Jackass.
Those are the only complaints I have for Qantas. Very nice airline. Great food, great movie selection. They give you many nice gifts. It was enjoyable. Still, though, it was exhausting. I kept looking at my watch and doing the math in my head... I still have nine hours left....
When I got to Kingsford-Smith, I made my way through customs to baggage claim to the international train station. I was asking the attendant about trains to Pyrmont, when I saw this person across the terminal just standing there. My contacts were really dry and so I couldn't see that far, but it looked like Mary. Then I walked toward her but had to stop because a gate counter was in between us and it took us forever to realize it was the other person. Jeff was downstairs waiting because his feet hurt from exercising in sandals or something. We figured it all out and got on the train toward the Harbour.
Walked from the train station, which is right at the mouth of the QVB (Queen Victoria Building) and walked up inclines and down declines and to the Darling Harbour. It was beautiful. Really incredible at night with all the lights and the water, it was really a sight. Got to their apartment and then went to the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel, a pub down the street. It's Jeff's favourite. It was a cool place. Had my first sip of Toohey's Old and a kebab at the Turkish place next door. I'm sure we'll go back there before we all leave this city.
Went back, tired and not, and blew up the air mattress. Took us an hour before we realized there was an air leak. Then we all went to sleep, me with thoughts running through my head of what this place has to offer and see and write about. Jeff was probably thinking about his feet and his pain, and Mary was surely hoping that melatonin supplement I made her take would drift her off to sleep. She thought about it so much, she was kept awake the whole night. Poor girl.
Well, I'm done writing for now. That was a big one and there will be more, but I've been here at the Pakhi Cafe for an hour and the rain finally let up. I'm gonna go get some lunch and hit up the National Maritime Museum. Catch ya on the flip side....
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