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.