This French couple took over Hans Gruber’s bed last night and woke me up for a minute as they got it at 3 AM. The guy was begging his girl to blow him. “Suce ma bite.” He must have said like 25 times before she just left the room telling him to do suck it himself.
I woke up at around 7AM feeling remarkably better than last night. The sun is out and I’m going for another run. I saw this park on Monday near the university campus that I must check on this run. My legs are pretty sore from yesterday as I run my way through the campus. Girls here are A+ by the way (as if I haven’t already mentioned, not that I’d judge a women solely on her looks) and there seems to be enough of them around my age on the campus. The architecture here is very similar to King’s College in Toronto and the park I described has a swimming pool, a jungle gym and a small zip-line. The sweat trickles down my face as I enter run down Broadway ave. My water bottle gets drained fairly quickly on this run and I realise that biking is not as hard as running…I AM REALLY OUT OF SHAPE!
I check out of my hostel at 10 AM and I know that I can’t check in again until 2 PM. On Monday Miles gave me a voucher, which allows me take a free tour aboard the red dubs decks of glory, and since the sun is really shining, today is the day. Carpe Diem I tell myself and am reminded of one of the tour guide’s in Toronto, Molly, whose tattoo on her arm reads seize the day in a language I can’t quite remember (almost resembles binary code). I grab a mixed chicken and beef kebob from Yummies at Liverpool and George. It might be worth noting that in Toronto, and many other parts of the world, it’s called chicken Shewarma and beef Gyros, but here it is just straight up Kebob. Great meal by the way and I’m cutting back on pop so I just drink water from my Camel back. I asked these Aussie workers in the restaurant about cell phones and like Anastasia, my Aussie from Darwin friend who is living in Toronto right now, they also recommended going with a prepaid cell phone from Vodaphone. They call me American and I guess that is something I should get used to while I am here.
After a great meal, I make my way over to Central station on Eddy ave. where I ask the City sightseeing employee when the next bus is coming. He looks like a very serious dude and I recall seeing his picture on the wall in Miles’ office. “It will be coming by in 10 minutes.” He states firmly. I tell him that I will be working with him starting on the 27th and he just nods. He casually tells me, “I tried to get a job in London, but I’m too old to apply for a work Visa there. I think Miles said you will be working at the IMAX theatre.” I mirror him and nod back and I guess my reputation precedes me. Shortly before the bus comes I apply sunscreen because I really don’t want to get sunburnt this early in on my voyage. There are 10 people waiting for the bus as it pulls up in front of me and it is quite apparent that the busses here are much bigger than in Toronto. There is even a back door where people can get off and obviously the front door is where people get on (what a luxury). This makes it much easier for people to hop on and off, as well as easier for the drivers to see who has tickets and who doesn’t. A ticket is printed off for me by the salesman from a machine that looks different from the Datatrax and Moneris: Veriphones that I am used to in Toronto. The ticket even has the company logo down the sides of the ticket which makes it easier to identify from other receipts that people may have. I go up to the top of the bus, have a seat and we are off.
First we go by the University for Technology of Sydney (so Asian), near Chinatown, then the Ian Thorpe (Thorpedo) aquatic center. As we come closer to Darling harbour, the recorded voice on the inside of the bus tells us that if we look closely enough we can see the ANZAC bridge with an Aussie flag flying at the top of it… indeed there it is flapping profusely in the wind.
What’s different about the Sydney tour is that the commentary is recorded and played at specific stops, whereas in Toronto we have tour guides who give live commentary. In some cases there are even two of them and the second one helps people get on and off the back of the bus. There are also headphone jacks on the sides of the seats allowing sightseers to plug in and listen to commentary in languages other than English. As the bus goes by the Star City Casino, the voice makes a remark on how it is about to have an 860 million dollar renovation and it is where fortunes are won and lost. We pass the convention centre, just across from the Casino, which reminds me a lot of the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, where the G20 summit was held this past summer (that’s worth a whole 5 pages of writing on its own).
The next stop is the IMAX theatre, in Darling Harbour, where I will be apparently be working every day. It looks very busy and I am stoked about this. The theatre is surrounded by hotels and between December 1st and New Year’s day they are ALL sold out. There are also a lot of clubs around here and I make a mental to note to talk to some of the bouncers when I get this spot. This could also be a good spot to practice my game, although I promised Cindy I wouldn’t see other women.
Right now Cindy is my main girl: a 6’1” tight bodied brunette dancer with a splendid rack from Belleville Ontario whom I’m exclusively seeing (a true high 8/low 9). Other than my main ex, she is the hottest chick I have ever been with. When I met her in August, I was seeing 3 other girls and was even on a date with one of them when I saw her drinking alone at the Madison Avenue pub at Spadina and Bloor (Toronto). She is so kind and polite to me too and spoils me with gifts and presents. Cindy gets me too: she laughs at my jokes, listens when I’m talking (even when it’s random babble about nothing), enjoys snuggling, is kind to people of all “status” levels, rarely becomes negative, and is overall just chill and easy to be with. Mentally though I still feel I am out of her league as some of her friends are pretty high profile, as well as rich and high value. I rode in a limousine this past summer to an event she took me to and I felt way out of my element…she could tell too and that made it even worse and more uncomfortable. Cindy promised me before I left that when she had a couple of weeks off, she would come and visit me. I really look forward to that as I haven’t had it in over a week now. I don’t even jackettes anymore since I decided that true players/naturals don’t do that. Cindy…
After the IMAX stop the bus rolls by the Sydney Aquarium and Sydney Wildlife World, followed by under the Sydney Harbour Bridge, also known as the "coat-hanger", and onto the Rocks, where I decide to get off and take some photos. There is another salesperson at this stop, a woman this time, and she has over 20 people waiting to get on…that’s pretty good. Once off I see a Christmas tree made of bicycle frames painted, painted green, and rims which represent ornaments I guess. There are free walking tours happening all over the harbour and take lots of pictures of everything while I am there. I am taking photos of this one homeless man feeding what appears to be over 50 seagulls and pigeons, when I see the most beautiful bird I have ever seen: the rainbow lorikeet. There are 2 of them picking at a bush, either for its buds or for the bugs on the branches. They call to each other and I guess they one is female and the other is male, even though they look identical. I take a few pictures, but none of them turn out too well and I only get a short video of them flying around. Back at the Rocks bus stop, I snap a photo of a Magpie who seems to walk around as if he owns the place. The bus pulls up and I hop back on.
The double decker takes forever to make its way down George Street, the main street in Sydney, and it is quite a bust street as I have mentioned before. A lot of the buildings have the markings of an emu and kangaroo facing each other. The recorded voice confirms that it is in the national symbol of Australia for many monuments as well as the federal police department. We go by the queen Victoria building, city hall, Scruffy Murphy’s pub (you can get a pint of Guinness there until 6 AM), the police department, St. Mary’s Cathedral, Hyde Park and finally end up in King’s cross.
This is the red light district, and a sort of dodgy area at that, where you can get boozed up, drugged up and banged six ways to Sunday by prostitutes of any ethnic background or gender. There is also a massive Coca cola sign that is a landmark for this area and has only been shut off once in the last 40 years, during earth day this past May.
The low lying branches make the bus ride terrifying at times, while the driver rips through the cross. Near the east part of the harbour, Harry’s pie stand can be seen and apparently these things are world famous for their deliciousness, in fact sailors and navy men come to the city just for the pie (and by pie I mean Indonesian transvestites in King’s cross). After going through some random tunnels we go near the Museum, the Conservatory of Music, the Art Gallery or New South Wales, and the Opera House. Obviously this is where half the bus gets off to take snapshots of the main landmark in all of Australia. It was designed by a Dutchmen and built in the 1976 after a competition was held by the queen of England to give the harbour a unique non-European look.
The tour is nearly over as we head down Pitt street towards Central Station. Before we get back to the station, I have an epiphany: Now I get why people do these bus tours. In Toronto I always wondered why? Why would you fork over money for this? I have Toronto memorized though. I know it so well. I don’t know Sydney and sure I have a basic set of bearings for where stuff is, but I really now feel like I KNOW Sydney. On the double decker bus you are in the scene: you feel the wind on your face, taste the air, smell the streets, hear the sounds of the city and see the sights without that television like frame around you. In laments terms, you are present.
The tour is nearly over as we head down Pitt street towards Central Station. Before we get back to the station, I have an epiphany: Now I get why people do these bus tours. In Toronto I always wondered why? Why would you fork over money for this? I have Toronto memorized though. I know it so well. I don’t know Sydney and sure I have a basic set of bearings for where stuff is, but I really now feel like I KNOW Sydney. On the double decker bus you are in the scene: you feel the wind on your face, taste the air, smell the streets, hear the sounds of the city and see the sights without that television like frame around you. In laments terms, you are present.
Before getting off I ask the Salesman his name and he says he is Scott. He still doesn’t smile at me, but I shake his hand and thank him anyways. We are not quite done yet, since I still have the second tour, which goes to Bondi beach and through all the different bays. The first half of the tour goes only down Oxford Street, which leads right through Bondi junction to the beach. Apparently this is the main street where the Gay and Lesbian parade, or protest as it was originally called, takes place. The views of the ocean suburbs are spectacular and there appears to be a lot of cyclists headed towards the beach and I am happy to see that this great route is fairly biker friendly.
I feel the cool breeze and can smell the ocean air now. The beach must be just ahead as the scantily clad girls in Bikinis and surfer dudes are signposts leading the way there. There it is just over the horizon where the blue sky and ocean meet. The bus is now Oceanside going down a massive hill and there are tourists, beach bums and cute girls everywhere.
As I get off I feel extremely calm and the waves of the ocean make me more relaxed than I have been in a long time. The beach isn’t too bust either as very few people are swimming or tanning in the area near the bay. I remember Hampton beach when I was younger being almost impossible to walk on during the summer. During Christmas though this must be the same way and I am fortunate to see it on a day where not too many people are gathered here. I find the calisthenics station that I have seen online where you can work out basically for free. There are signs explaining exercises like dips, chin ups and hanging leg raises. Under push ups it simply says, Anyone can do these. I walk along a bit South on the Beach and see the skate park which is very busy.
The graffiti on the walls is quite well painted too as the pieces appear to have been painted by a skilled hand and are quite artistic in Nature. This one stunning girl walks by and I think of Cindy. This Aussie chick is on Cindy’s level looks wise, although her fake breasts make her less appealing and give the impression of a phony attitude. The blonde hair, short shorts and tight low cut shirt make up for it though. I yawn as she passes me by and realise I am getting very tired and decide to go back to the stop.
As I get off I feel extremely calm and the waves of the ocean make me more relaxed than I have been in a long time. The beach isn’t too bust either as very few people are swimming or tanning in the area near the bay. I remember Hampton beach when I was younger being almost impossible to walk on during the summer. During Christmas though this must be the same way and I am fortunate to see it on a day where not too many people are gathered here. I find the calisthenics station that I have seen online where you can work out basically for free. There are signs explaining exercises like dips, chin ups and hanging leg raises. Under push ups it simply says, Anyone can do these. I walk along a bit South on the Beach and see the skate park which is very busy.
The graffiti on the walls is quite well painted too as the pieces appear to have been painted by a skilled hand and are quite artistic in Nature. This one stunning girl walks by and I think of Cindy. This Aussie chick is on Cindy’s level looks wise, although her fake breasts make her less appealing and give the impression of a phony attitude. The blonde hair, short shorts and tight low cut shirt make up for it though. I yawn as she passes me by and realise I am getting very tired and decide to go back to the stop.
The bus takes forever to arrive and I strike up a conversation with a mother and daughter. They are English and I literally have to hold my backpack over my waist to cover my overly protruding boner. The mother gives me HER number and the daughter sits there almost as shocked as I am. I didn’t even ask for it and I literally said like 3 sentences. Instead of zero’s she uses little hearts: FUCKING UBSURD. I do enjoy older women, although never having a woman over 28 I am nervous and ask the daughter if she knows any good clubs in the city. The mother is staring me down hard as I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my forehead, but I don’t want to wipe it off as this would expose my erection.
There is a Filipino family getting very anxious and I decide to gently sing Let it be in my best impression of Paul Mccartney. There are probably about 40 people waiting for the bus, all no watching my stupid ass sing nervously. I only do about 8 bars and the chorus and for some strange reason this receives a few claps. I cut myself off as I see the Bus which gets an even bigger applause. When I get on the bus, I decide to sit as far away the mother and daughter as possible. I must and will not cheat on Cindy under any circumstances. The mother appears perplexed. The sun is getting lower and lower in the sky as we embark on the final quarter of the tour.
There is a Filipino family getting very anxious and I decide to gently sing Let it be in my best impression of Paul Mccartney. There are probably about 40 people waiting for the bus, all no watching my stupid ass sing nervously. I only do about 8 bars and the chorus and for some strange reason this receives a few claps. I cut myself off as I see the Bus which gets an even bigger applause. When I get on the bus, I decide to sit as far away the mother and daughter as possible. I must and will not cheat on Cindy under any circumstances. The mother appears perplexed. The sun is getting lower and lower in the sky as we embark on the final quarter of the tour.
There is a golf course next to the beach and have a faint memory of my brother hitting balls at our old cottage in the eastern townships. There is a massive fence built right next to the road to block any sliced or shanked balls from hitting cars passing by. At a closer glance the greens and fairways look terribly maintained and I will have to mention this to Brad the next time I email him. Higher and higher into the hill, I feel slightly woozy as we are now at one of the highest points in the city. Then out of nowhere I see this field that overlooks the entire city from I distance. I try to take a picture but it looks terrible as I haven’t changed the settings on the camera and is it too late as houses are now in the way. A bus stop reads “Dudley Page Reserve” and I make a mental note to return here to take pictures one day. We go to all the different bay areas for more stunning views of the Ocean. I get smacked in the face by a branch that also hits a French gentleman so hard he goes downstairs to tell the driver. Look, the voice on the commentary says every 3 minutes not to stand up during the tour and he does, so it’s clearly his own fault. His family calms him down and they even find it kind of funny. The sun is setting as I get off the bus and I say goodbye to Scott…still no smile though as he nods.
My stomach tells me to eat and so I grab some Chinese food from the food court in Market City: ribs, chicken and vegetables on rice with corn soup. Pretty average and very salty and after being in the sun all die I need to refill my camel back for the third time, something I have never had to do before after almost 3 years of having it. I check into my new room, 311 and meet my new roommates. 3 Scottish dudes. One tells me his girl is from Victoria and that there is hockey at a bar in Darling harbour every other Wednesday. I miss hockey almost as much as Cindy, who I miss almost as much as my mother and brother Brad. I am so tired and hit the hay.
My stomach hurts for some reason and knows at some point I will throw up. You always know when you are going to puke as humans have fortunately evolved that way. I leap out of the top bunk of my bed in my six person room and dart for the washroom, barely in time to vomit. After five or ten minutes of this, I feel great again and return to sleep. It must have been the sun, mixed with the food, mixed with the lack of sleep that caused this. I look at the clock and it’s just before 4 AM. In bed I hear snoring louder than Patches coming from below me. FUCK. Suddenly the door swings open and I pray it’s not Hans Gruber! Live free and Die Hard? No. This Irish guy and girl come in and they are plastered. I hear no words said, only them each hitting the mattress and passing out in separate beds. He starts snoring in unison with the Scotsmen, who at this point is breaking world records. Somehow, after going upstairs and having some peanut butter on toast, I manage to get back to sleep.
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