We got into Sydney pretty early and dived into a taxi. It immediately hit us how weird it was going to be adjusting to being in an English (nearly) speaking country again.
Our taxi driver was perhaps a bad example, as he had no grasp of the use of different tenses whatsoever, but was a nice enough bloke. He also made us laugh when he left his milk on top of the car and drove off, saying it was the second time he'd done it. That day.
Screeching into King's Cross we arrived at the hostel that we were meant to be staying in and meeting Emma, Hel's sister - but there was no sign of her. We also couldn't check in for another few hours and so we lay down in the common room and fell asleep for a bit.
The next few hours are a bit jet-lagged and hazy but somewhere in the mix was a happy reunion with Emma, finally getting into our room and also meeting up with a lad called Jay that we had met on 'the bus through Hell' to Luang Prabang.
Up in our room was a smug French twat that had scattered himself and his belongings over the entire six-bunk room like some sort of human clusterbomb full of rancid underpants, who generally laid about in bed scowling at people and mumbling to himself.
Screeching into King's Cross we arrived at the hostel that we were meant to be staying in and meeting Emma, Hel's sister - but there was no sign of her. We also couldn't check in for another few hours and so we lay down in the common room and fell asleep for a bit.
The next few hours are a bit jet-lagged and hazy but somewhere in the mix was a happy reunion with Emma, finally getting into our room and also meeting up with a lad called Jay that we had met on 'the bus through Hell' to Luang Prabang.
Up in our room was a smug French twat that had scattered himself and his belongings over the entire six-bunk room like some sort of human clusterbomb full of rancid underpants, who generally laid about in bed scowling at people and mumbling to himself.
On the bed opposite him however, was his complete antithesis - the man, the mountain, the legend that is Jose Alonso-Recaj.
Jose was a bit older than us and from Spain. He was over in Australia on holiday from teaching English as a foreign language near Brighton and Hove. He is probably the single nicest person I've ever met. Which is why what happened about a week later was probably the most embarrassing thing I've ever done... but more on that later.
That day we went for a walk to Sydney harbour, got the generic pictures in front of the Opera House (which is much, much smaller than I thought it was) and the bridge and had a stroll around the Botanical Gardens and had a look at the fruit bats.
We ambitiously bought a box of 'goon' - cheap wine to you and me, Aussies trying to be 'funny' I think - but were in bed by quarter past nine.
The next day we went to the Australia Museum, which was really good. It gave a reasonable fair and just portrayal of how Australia was colonised and how the Aboriginal people have attempted to adjust to a new way of life while keeping their culture alive. I like the idea of 'The Dreaming' too.
Jose was a bit older than us and from Spain. He was over in Australia on holiday from teaching English as a foreign language near Brighton and Hove. He is probably the single nicest person I've ever met. Which is why what happened about a week later was probably the most embarrassing thing I've ever done... but more on that later.
That day we went for a walk to Sydney harbour, got the generic pictures in front of the Opera House (which is much, much smaller than I thought it was) and the bridge and had a stroll around the Botanical Gardens and had a look at the fruit bats.
We ambitiously bought a box of 'goon' - cheap wine to you and me, Aussies trying to be 'funny' I think - but were in bed by quarter past nine.
The next day we went to the Australia Museum, which was really good. It gave a reasonable fair and just portrayal of how Australia was colonised and how the Aboriginal people have attempted to adjust to a new way of life while keeping their culture alive. I like the idea of 'The Dreaming' too.
But my favourite part was in the dinosaur exhibition, when I told Emma that this fellow was a cow's skeleton.
That night we went out with Jose to a place called World Bar which is, other than the night we were there of course, entirely missable. We did have a great time though, and, once Jose had departed, the three of us cleared the dance floor within literally one song.
The next day our jet lag, fuelled by alcohol, kicked in. We slept for a good majority of the day and didn't do much else other than drink fizzy drinks and prepare more pasta than you can shake a pesto covered stick at.
The following day, however, we went out again to watch Arsenal versus Manchester United. Beautiful. Jay still owes me a pint for that, actually.
That night we went out with Jose to a place called World Bar which is, other than the night we were there of course, entirely missable. We did have a great time though, and, once Jose had departed, the three of us cleared the dance floor within literally one song.
The next day our jet lag, fuelled by alcohol, kicked in. We slept for a good majority of the day and didn't do much else other than drink fizzy drinks and prepare more pasta than you can shake a pesto covered stick at.
The following day, however, we went out again to watch Arsenal versus Manchester United. Beautiful. Jay still owes me a pint for that, actually.
Also, two things of note: one was a mad Irishman that shouted 'WANKY RED CUNT!' at the top of his lungs in the most menacing way imaginable every time they showed Alex Ferguson on the tele (but anyone that's seen my face would attest he could've been talking to me), and the other is DO NOT DRINK GUINNESS IN AUSTRALIA. Horrid.
The following day we met with Helen's Old Man's old mate Swifty, who has been living out in Australia for nearly a quarter of a century. We also met his wife, his son Daniel and his son's girlfriend and had a few drinks and fish and chips in a nice posh-ish place just down the road from their house. We then drove down with Daniel and his girlfriend to Coogee Bay where we met up with some of his mates and sat on the beach.
I was completely unprepared for the beach, and, as inviting as the sea looked, I was in my heaviest shorts I had and, more importantly, the Calzaghe fight was about to start.
The following day we met with Helen's Old Man's old mate Swifty, who has been living out in Australia for nearly a quarter of a century. We also met his wife, his son Daniel and his son's girlfriend and had a few drinks and fish and chips in a nice posh-ish place just down the road from their house. We then drove down with Daniel and his girlfriend to Coogee Bay where we met up with some of his mates and sat on the beach.
I was completely unprepared for the beach, and, as inviting as the sea looked, I was in my heaviest shorts I had and, more importantly, the Calzaghe fight was about to start.
Helen and Emma stayed down with everyone while I went to the Coogee Bay Hotel, reputedly the biggest pub in Australia or something, and watched the fight on my own. This was fantastic for numerous reasons, not least Calzaghe's victory. It mostly meant that I didn't have to spend another second with one of Dan's mates who, not to put too fine a point on it, was a Grade-A prick. His chat stunk, and mostly consisted of put downs to the three of us. The most potent of which was 'I’ve been here longer than you, so I should know.' He was the sort of moron that thinks by commenting on everything that anyone says - at all - he has reached some sort of comedic zenith.
This torrid time, for Helen and Emma anyway, was probably worth it for Helen's comeback. Helen was talking about cheese with Dan (as you do) when his mate frothed up in his awful Tourrettes style 'WELL THERE'S GOOD CHEESES AND BAD CHEESES!' at which Helen responded with 'Like there are good jokes and bad jokes?'. Apparently half the beach applauded.
Needless to say, she had the last laugh.
This torrid time, for Helen and Emma anyway, was probably worth it for Helen's comeback. Helen was talking about cheese with Dan (as you do) when his mate frothed up in his awful Tourrettes style 'WELL THERE'S GOOD CHEESES AND BAD CHEESES!' at which Helen responded with 'Like there are good jokes and bad jokes?'. Apparently half the beach applauded.
Needless to say, she had the last laugh.
1 comment:
'He was the sort of moron that thinks by commenting on everything that anyone says - at all - he has reached some sort of comedic zenith.'
Yeah right Chris. Idiot.
(i'm being ironical)
x
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