It’s worth noting that Aussies love their Danes. Ever since the crown prince of Hamlet’s Hometown married some off-the-street Australian Shelia, the OzPress has had a field day with the Danish version of Prince William (it’s a loose association – the Dane is twice the athlete, Samaritan and scholar than the British Pom ever could hope to be). I first noticed it in the papers, but Prince Fredrich the Fantastic was in Sydney the same weekend I was. I to buy a bike, he to dominate world-class yacht racing.
Got tucked into the Youth Hostel Association Hostel straight off the train. The YHA is sort of the Ritz of hostelling, so I was overcharged a few bucks, but I figured it was worth it: super-central location and ardi Gras high season evened things out.
Most of the pictures are self-explanatory; here are just a few side-notes. They’re in roughly the same right order (as you read this), but I’m sure you can match up with the right photographs. A last quick aside: there is no 1818 Wallaby Way and I’m not sure I would’ve gone if there had been. Nemo can find himself, eh?
I picked up my two-wheeled, 40 Dollaridoo, pre-loved Hog at a suburban Saturday Market. I actually ran into some people from Parkrose (a sister suburb of Troutdale) there. I would’ve gotten a group picture, but I had a train to catch in three minutes. Small world, eh? I’ve actually been pretty happy with the bike, in the four days that I’ve had it. I got myself a helmet and a rear-carrier (just like the kind grandpa has) with a crate. Its 18-speed and it’ll get me to campus and back, which is all I need. If I ever get around to that triathlon, she’ll (I’ve named her the Millennium Falcon) do me well.
I also hit up the Direct Factory Outlets. The DFO is a pretty sweet place and I picked up two shirts, a pair of shorts, and some surprises for Anna and Emelia there. All on a Traveler’s budget, too. I was looking for some Jimmy Buffett-esqe loafers, but no dice. My old loafers are shot and I feel naked without them. One of my old Truman Pals is named Jacquie, which explains the JACQUI-E picture.
The Opera House wasn’t as impressive as I thought it would be. I don’t really like Opera, though. But it was important to see, so I saw it. And that Palm Groove picture? I took that myself, with the self-timer feature of my little Nikon Coolpix 3500. Which explains the darkish quality, eh?
After some extensive investigating, I’ve verified that the fountain is the same fountain from the Lady In Red scene of Matrix1. This means that I’m going to get a better picture, one with me in front of it. Whoever e-mails in the best pose suggestion before Friday gets a signed copy.
If the Opera House was unclimactic, the Manly and Bondi beaches were a very pleasant surprise. They were both super-cool. I’m a Communications major, so I’m pretty inarticulate. Let’s just say that I’m thinking about skipping my trip to Darwin just to get another weekend there.
If I had one regret about my little weekend excursion, it’s that I didn’t get around to King’s Cross. The slums of Sydney, it was made infamous for it’s Neo-Nazi’s by Russell Crowe in Romper Stomper, a classic Ozziewood production. I would’ve liked to enlighten a few Kiwis’ on the subtler points of American Imperialistic Egalitarianism, eh? In the rough parts of Troutdale, I’m known as two-fisted death.
Not really. But it’s hard to believe I only have four more months here. The Newcastle e-mail is coming (I’ve got a little schoolwork to do before I can knock that one out). But I’m having a great time, rolling with a lot of the “culture shock” and the difficulties of being able to look out at that big blue Pacific and realize that the people you love are big, big ocean away. Life’s a rollercoaster, baby baby. I’ll get by.
Citizen Fenton
http://www.fento.ath.cx/photos/2005/1_winter/syd1/index.html
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