Tales From The Other Side of the Date Line

Upon touchdown, I dusted off the flight, grabbed a cab in the cold morning air, and took the thirty minute ride into downtown Sydney. What with it being 8 am Tuesday morning, I found myself butt up against rush hour traffic and the car matriculated slowly down the Sydney Airport Motorway. As luck would have it, I had happened upon a silver cab driven by a Ukrainian immigrant so despondent with his new found home that he saw no reason to censor complaints or curses on a range of different topics. While I'll normally patronize someone in this type of situation to kill any awkwardness, my resolve was weakened from the long journey and I was in no mood. I sat silently listening offering nothing more than "uh huh" and "hmmm" until we pulled up to the venue at which I will be staying for the next month in center city. As I stepped out of the cab the skies let loose pouring heaps of rain on Sydney and I dashed into the apartment building carrying my two practically packed suitcases. I soon found that Sydney gets extended periods of rain during this season and as it turns out, the precipitation did not relent for the following four days.

And I kid you not when I say four days. It was the most intense, consistent rain I have ever witnessed…the kind of rain in which your socks never fully dry out. Although the one pair of shoes I brought will most likely have to be replaced on account, I take solace that I reaped my full A$14 worth from the flimsy umbrella I purchased from the convenience store around the corner.

I discovered that I'll be staying in an apartment but a stone’s throw from the office. The facility could double as a a hotel, complete with a pool, restaurant and gym. The unit itself is perfect for what I’ll need and is furnished with what seem to be modern amenities. Two nice television sets sit on modest entertainment centers, an instant kettle/hot pot sits on a marble kitchen counter, and what looks to be a new washer/dryer combo nestles in the corner of the bathroom. Somewhat out of place, however, is a Sharp brand 1998 model three-disc boom-box equipped with transportable speakers encrusted in a healthy layer of dust resting underneath the television set in the living room. It’s the kind of unit that hasn’t seen action since that Rusted Root album was mercifully removed from it years ago. As much as I'd love this to add to the entertainment repertoire in the apartment, I unfortunately didn’t pack any CD’s and I've failed to locate a Sam Goody as of yet. Mark my words though...if I happen upon one I'll break it in in proper style as I plan on purchasing the greatest hits album of New Zealand rock legends, “Dragon.” iTunes doesn't offer their catalogue (trust me, I've searched) and a chance to add that one to my collection might just be worth the trip alone.

The wet week was brightened on account of reacquainting with familiar co-workers and being introduced to new ones in the office. I have settled in nicely and I am comfortably fixed back in the operations here.

As for the weekend...I had no plan as I ventured out early Saturday morning armed only with curiosity and a complimentary hotel map firmly planted in my back pocket. The weather was finally cooperating and I was determined to make the most of what turned out to be a refreshingly brisk, sunny afternoon. I headed north in lock-step with the crowd and slowly made my way through open-air malls and narrow side streets before finally stumbling into the largest of Sydney’s three city parks. Hyde Park was alive, busy and full of commotion. I entered and immediately to my left on a milk crate stood a megaphone wielding, Steve Gutenberg lookalike, droning on about his strong dislike for the practice of deporting refugees by the Australian government. While I’m not versed on the subject, to his credit he refused to show any signs of discouragement despite neither I nor any of the hundreds in the area thinking it worth paying him any mind. Immediately to my right stood a large crowd admiring an artist on all fours as he chalked a talented drawing featuring connected snippets of several famous religious paintings into a sectioned-off portion of sidewalk. I was so impressed with the ornate detail that it held my interest just long enough to think about how devastated this guy would be if it started to rain. While it’s bound to happen eventually, he seemed to be providing good entertainment for onlookers and so I thought I’d root for him to finish before mother nature made it a complete waste of time. Twenty minutes proved more than enough time for Hyde Park to show all she had to offer and so I paced my way to the exit on the far south side and decided to head down towards the water.

A half mile down the street Circular Quay (pronounced: KEY) home to the most famous icon Sydney has to offer, the Opera House, began to appear in the distance. It is an impressive structure. While I’ve never saddled up behind a T-square, I’ll bet that it’s odd oblong shape must have presented significant architectural challenges and I couldn’t begin to think of how it was actually constructed. In light of all that and as it is one of the most recognizable structures in the world, I gave it the full 30 seconds my attention span thought an opera house deserved before I decided to move on in search of something much more interesting…like lunch.

I ordered a hamburger from a nice establishment on the water, offered the beet that was placed on top to the seagulls in the area and washed it down with the best beer I've ever tasted, 'White Rabbit..' I had plans to go out with an Irish co-worker just off the boat that had started in Sydney a few weeks back that night and so I headed back to shower up and touch base with him. On the walk back the rains started again. I was caught without my umbrella and what with me being reluctant to fork over another A$14 for another, I sopped home at a brisk pace to get ready for the night out . As a forward of things to come, the Irish chap proceeded to show me new areas of the city and holistically drink me under the table (I used to think I was Irish…I was wrong). I'm still doing my best to recount the events of that evening and if it ever comes back to me, I'll share it next time with all of you.

Who's Still With Me?

We have a lot on our plate here and so let's just quickly sum it up by saying that the rest of my time in Hong Kong was fantastic. And while I have so many fond memories, I do have to offer my apologies to the surprising number of loyal readers after having left you all hanging shortly after returning from my trip to Indonesia. Much like the first part of the journey, the remainder of the time was chock-full of experiences worthy of sharing…life-altering even. Doing so, however, was virtually impossible given I was without a working computer for the last month or so. Now, I won't go into gross detail as to how that came to be. What I will say is that in Hong Kong I discovered that I have many skills I never really knew I possessed. Unfortunately, holding a beer upright while sleeping apparently isn't one of them. One fateful night I generously dowsed the laptop, and contrary to the explanation I have given people up until now, it wasn't water (there, I've come clean). Regardless, there's no use crying over spilled beer…let's let bygones be bygones. The equipment has since been replaced and I'm proud to report that this time around I've packed a tarp to protect all valuables.

Anyway, I'm making the baby step before the giant leap. Newark to San Fran, 45 minutes in a terminal, San Fran to Sydney. All in it's 25 hours (23 hours of airtime) and a rather daunting timeline if you ask me. I've been preparing for having this much time on my hands since booking the trip a few weeks back and I had come to the conclusion that my sanity is going to be heavily reliant upon a little fancy time management. The plan calls for me to find things to keep me busy early on in the trip so that I can save the meaty activities such as blog-writing for the San Fran to Sydney leg later tonight. I've got a book I'm working through, the ipod is juiced up, but I planned on relying upon the low-hanging fruit so to speak (aka, the in-flight movie) to burn a few hours. United is screening a new movie entitled "HappyThankyouMorePlease" (sp), which I quickly found to be missing two very important things… 1) spaces between words in its title and 2) a plot. It was so abhorrent that I was all but forced to call an audible much earlier than I had anticipated. Now, I'll be honest, I had never heard of this particular movie before reading a promising synopsis of it in the magazine material United Airlines provided in my seat pocket prior to takeoff. It would have been much more accurately described as a movie that makes you scratch your head that it somehow slipped through the screening process at the movie producer’s. You all know the type I’m referring to…dialogue so artsy and contrived that it'd make Leonard Cohen sick to his stomach and a soundtrack no doubt borrowed directly from the set list at The Lilath Fair. Starving artist armed with a pen, camera and a dream kind of stuff. I lasted longer than I probably should've before mercifully surrendering about half an hour in. And so with a little over 4 hours to go, I'm mounting the horse again and returning to the keyboard.

I'm in a comfortable first class seat and I've already stuffed down a lasagna dish that could have passed as decent in any upscale dining establishment. Unfortunately, I'm in danger of losing it all in the lavatory as my stomach is beginning to turn on account of the loudest, loosest and most appalling snoring I've ever heard. The culprit is sawing wood one row to my back on the opposite side and I've joined everyone else in the vicinity passing astonished, grossed out glances at the gentleman. This guy is getting everything he can muster out of that diaphragm of his and to be honest, If it weren’t so repulsive, I’d be impressed. It’s a troubling thought, but at this point anyone within earshot is definitely at risk of getting showered with two week’s worth of head cold reserves if this plane makes any sudden movements. Steady now…

I’ve been told that I too am guilty of snoring; however, albeit on a much more modest scale. Nonetheless, growing up I shared a room with my brother and it was not uncommon to awake buried under a generous pile of balled up socks of which he apparently used to pelt me with in an attempt to get me to pipe down. A tactic no doubt utilized more frequently in comfortable situations, but if I had access to a pair right now I'm sure the entire cabin would break out in cheers if I took a crow-hop and heaved one at his mouth.

Thankfully, Rip Van Winkle had just enough time to towel himself down before we slid into San Fran 20 minutes ahead of schedule. I picked up a newspaper and a bag of trail mix in the terminal, waited to board the 747 and proceeded to my seat when my section was called. I write you now from my seat on the top floor of the plane and I must admit I’m quite pleased with the set-up. I’ll reserve final judgment for afterwards, but Untied does equip you with a seat capable of fully reclining , ample entertainment options and a menu that looks like it just might be able to keep me satisfied for the next 16 hours. The Dewars on the rocks has only added to the promising start. I’m not normally a scotch drinker (although I really wish I could say that I was)…I decided upon it for sedation purposes…not necessarily taste. It’s drink three and that decision seems to already be paying off in spades as my eyelids are starting to put up a fight. If at any point I nod off on you, I’ll do my best not to snore…