Cause I got a buttload of pictures. Went on a… let’s call it “self-guided” tour today, walking aimlessly about the Syndey CBD, mini-tripod in hand and jacket over shoulder, trying to try not to look like a tourist. I rationalize that if I look chill enough I will not stick out. And hey, I’m not a tourist. I didn’t come in on some boat that let’s me out in the kitchy disctrict and I have to return there by 6:00 for ballroom all-you-can-eat dining. Which, yes, I did get a picture of that boat. Trouble is that because of the train I’ll be catching I’ve got no way to unload these… 165 pictures? Is that right? May Flickr forgive me for my tourísmo spirit.
Figures it should take one such as myself this long to realize there’s an internet cafe next door that charges the same $2 rate. And this one has keys in English!
My second day in-country has been a much less unusual affair than the first. Yesterday I bought shorts and used a fitting room that was a curtain, from a market vendor who was having their “last last bloody sale”. Today I went to a museum. Yesterday I had beef jerkey quarantined and destroyed. Today I had a nice peach from a fruit stand. But yesterday was a transition period, right? I mean, from my viewpoint yesterday was actually two days… that’s pretty odd in itself, I’d say. Oh, by the way—I have absolutely no idea what time it is over there, any more than I could tell you what time tea is served in Edinburgh. That comes with the territory…
I got up this morning a scant bit later than planned. My alarm was on the right time zone, just not the right time of day. I suppose I should be thankful I didn’t wake up at 7:00 pm as scheduled. I caught a bus down George street, looked up and down a city block thrice before finding my orientation only 25 minutes late. The IEP folks blokes were genial about it, though. Good information to be had there. Tomorrow I’m boarding a train to Melbourne based on that info; I’ve gotten wind of the Commonwealth games and the extra hands needed. Three months sounds about right. Oh, and it’s Melbun, not Mell-boor-nuh. I need to know these things. Plus, hey—rural Australian sightseeing! Before I leave, I promise, I will get merchandise bearing the name of the proud settlement of Tittybong. Go ahead and giggle; it’s giggleworthy.
That’s my up-to-date update for now. Go see more! — check out my Flickr pictures and see the sights so far. Not a lot there but I’ve decided it’s hard to carry a camera around with no belt (thanks, Mom 
).
Finally arrived! God that was harder than I thought… from the insanely long flight to the drive through suburban Sydney to the fantastically accomodating and yet despicably not-my-home-liness of Central YHA, it’s been a journey and a half. If the homesickness didn’t start before QANTAS Flight 108 even pulled up to the terminal than I’m Canadian. And I’m not; I’ve established that. The flight itself was reassuringly pleasant. God, I do love the Aussie accents. Where I am now, though, there aren’t a lot of those.
For those not clairvoyant, I’m typing this from the modest aging-PC showroom of the F1 Internet Café. The keyboards have four characters on each of the keys, the walls, windows and cielings are decorated with checkboards, and the going rate is A$2 an hour. That’s ten platypuses, for those not familiar. This place is not far from the hostel, near the marketplace where I made the wise purchase of some much needed shorts. Granted, it’s summer here — but in the words of a local, “feels like we’re about where Thailand should be.” The humidity’s around 95%. That’s metric percent so I’m not sure of the conversion rate.
But anyways, I have to say something since technically I haven’t yet:
Yay! I’m in Australia!
