hel-loooooo Sydney!

sooooo......Sydney.... hmmm.... how to put this.....
i’m a little worried that i’m going to upset an awful lot of people, because Sydney is a town that an awful lot of people get incredibly passionate about. but to be entirely honest, Sydney and i did not get on. there, i’ve said it. and i’m sorry for anyone’s illusions that i have shattered. Sydney does not have to be everyone’s favourite place in the world, and i'm really sorry it’s just not mine.
that is not to say that i had a horrible time there- not at all, we had a ball, met up with a couple of friends and had great times catching up with them, went out for a spectacular meal and had a lot of laughs and giggles along the way. but there were a number of times when i wished myself back to the peace and tranquillity and simplicity of Byron Bay. the overwhelming feeling i find myself leaving Sydney with, despite the undeniable beauty of the city, was actually akin to how i felt a lot of the time in London- stressed, tired and frustrated. but, i know i can’t just say that (the Sydney-lovers will crucify me!) so let me run you through our 5 days in Sydney, and see if you can empathise with me at all.

we experienced complications with Sydney even before we got there. we wanted to arrive and stay in the CBD (the central area of the city) on saturday night, but every hostel we tried was entirely booked up. even the ridiculously massive YHA central, which looked to house about 1000 people. so, the sensible thing seemed to be to book a hostel in a different area of the city for one night, and then move into the CBD on sunday morning, bright early and ready to hit the town. we picked Manly Beach as our saturday night stop off- i’ve heard nothing but praise for this area from friends who have lived there, and my folks who travelled through and gushed about how lovely it was- and then booked a hostel in the CBD for sunday throughto thursday. we drove out of Byron Bay at 7am on saturday morning before any of the hippies had roused themselves, and headed off well aware of the long drive facing us (google maps said about 10 hours), but excited about what awaited us at the end of the road. and that is how I finished my last blog in the car on that journey, all full of enthusiasm, vim and vigour.

unfortunately about 10 minutes after i typed my last few words and shut the laptop cover, we hit a traffic jam. it was a biggie. and it was blocking the entire highway going along the East coast.
we waited motionless for over 30 minutes, by which point the heat in the car was starting to get a bit unbearable. it was nearly 11am, and we had made staunch progress thus far, but there seemed to be nothing to be done about the accident blocking the road at Hungry Heads (seriously- that is an actual place name!) which had stopped us in our tracks. we made the decision to be pro-active, and rather than wasting any more precious time in the searing heat, clueless about what lay ahead or what was being done to clear the way, we thought it better to try and find a way around the blockage. we had a sketchy map in the Lonely Planet that seemed to indicate some roads leading off into the bush to the side of the town, and we stopped at a tourist info booth on the way back off the highway and picked up a slightly larger scale (but equally sketchy) map of the area. there were tiny dotted roads marked on this map, winding between a few nature reserves in the hills, and we optimistically thought ‘Fortune favours the brave’ and headed off into the woods. for the record, i was also thinking about the terrifying horror film ‘Wolf Creek’ that an old flatmate once made me watch, but i didn’t think that vocalising this would be helpful in the current circumstances.

the roads initially were small, and a little bumpy, but fine... it was only after about 30 or so minutes of driving down them that they became un-sealed, narrower and windier. we carried on regardless, a sense of adventure and positivity prevailing, despite seeing several slightly ambiguous signs indicating that the road ahead may or may not be closed. other than those saying ‘Road Closed’, we saw absolutely no other signs, road names, or any clues as to our positioning, so we were not really entirely sure of where we were on the sketchy maps, or how far along we may be. a slightly wild enthusiasm emanated from me, at every little twist and turn i was quite convinced that the road would widen out and take us onto a large empty freeway.we encountered a couple of other cars along the way, australians also attempting to skip around the jam, which re-assured us that we were doing the right thing, and after driving for so long down these perilous roads, we felt committed. unfortunately, my enthusiasm was not to be rewarded. after about an hour, with the road gradually getting rougher, narrower and more strewn with branches and rocks, we came across a wash out in the path, that even our neat little Goon would not be able to skip over. so, we carefully turned the car around, and attempted to find another route out. another local suggested we follow him, but again after 30 minutes of careful driving down an alternate path we found ourselves foiled by branches in the path and the obvious total lack of any end in sight and we despondently headed back to the highway the way we had come. we eventually ended up back on the highway, back in the jam, and had wasted hours, and about 80kms of petrol getting only a kilometre or so further down the road. on the plus side, there had been no Wolf Creek re-enactments.

luckily, once we rejoined the jam the traffic seemed to start moving again, and having lost 3 1/2 hours we continued on our way. about 30 minutes down the road we hit another jam, and again were static for about 30 minutes. the husband was about to tear his hair out, but there was nothing to be done- there is only one main road down the East coast, and we had learned our lesson about trying to go off road, so we just sat it out and got increasingly hot, sweaty and irritated.

we arrived in Manly, in the dark, having navigated the suburbs of Sydney at 7.30pm on a Saturday night, at about 8.15pm. it had been over 13 hours of travelling. and the reception at our hostel was shut. and there was nowhere to park. thankfully, after leaving the husband in the car, batting my eyelashes to get let in through the security doors by a drunken guest, and pushing my way through a sweating heaving bar area upstairs i located a guy who could check us in to our room. he smilingly handed me some mismatched faded sheets to make our bed (not something we have had to do in any other hostels along the way i hasten to add!) and gave me a key fob to open the main door and room door. the off road car parking that we had been promised was blocked because some uncharitable sod had parked a car in the entrance to the car port. the husband set off to try and find a space somewhere on the road. i gave him the key fob so he could get back in, lumbered all of our bags, and the sheets down the corridor in several runs to our room, and then realised i couldnt get in to it because i didnt have the key. cue, having to go back to the heaving bar again to try and find the same guy to let me into the room. again smilingly, he informed me that the nearest bathroom was down the corridor, up the stairs, through the door and next to the bar. nice.

it took the husband over 30 minutes to return, and he promptly told me that there had been no parking anywhere in Manly at all, so in the end he had ended up squeezing little Goon in next to the illegally parked car outside the car port, taking up all the pavement but at least off the road. all in all it was not a good start to our few days in Sydney.

once installed in the room we were to discover another blow. the little laptop had ceased to work. on the previous night, whilst gesticulating rather too enthusiastically over a boxed pizza dinner at the Arts Factory, the husband had knocked a cup of goon over the keyboard. we had rushed to turn it upside down and dry it off, and it had seemed to spring back to life, but perhaps the 13 hour car journey had been too much for it too, and after reluctantly and slowly switched itself on a few times it would only show us a blue screen and then shut down. we tried a few times in vain, but eventually decided it would require more specialist skills than the original IT fix of being turned on and off again. if any of you have wondered about the radio silence from me it has been because we were sans computer for a while and it really cocks up writing blogs and idly checking facebook. apologies!

we were both too exhausted to want to do much, but we needed to make an attempt at seeing what delights Manly had to offer. so we showered off the days accumulated dust and sweat in the dirty, chipped bathrooms, with a backing track of drunken squeals and some kind of pumping dance music coming out of the bar, and hit the streets of Manly. we felt not at all in the mood to join one of the massive queues outside the overflowing bars on the waterfront, full of yet more drunken squealing indivuals, young boys with ferocious lust in their eyes and girls tottering on wobbling stilletos with bosums hanging out of too tight dresses and knickers on show. instead we found a bottle shop, bought a six pack of beers, and retreated to the relative peace and tranquility of the beach. we could sit with our backs to the flashing lights and tottering girls, on the damp sand, and the noise of the crashing waves cancelled out the singularly bad music being pumped out of the bars. once our bottoms were thoroughly wet and cold from the sand and the beers were depleted, we had a little wander up and down the streets, more full of couples eating face in doorways, lads shouting at each other down the street and stumbling drunken girls looking ready to vomit than the weekend streets of Soho. we got a kebab, given that we hadnt eaten anything since before the second traffic jam, and sat on a bench, watching with amusement the various little saturday night dramas being played out in front of us. a girl who had lost one shoe and all her friends stumbled round in circles for a good 5 minutes, rather like a demented crab, before dutifully showing her ID to a doorman and being let into a club. another girl, dressed in a stunning long dress more suited to a wedding than a night on the town, trailing it along the ground since she had removed her towering heels and rolling her eyes wildly, was being barely supported by another equally drunk friend in an equally smart long dress, was obviously very ready to be sick in the middle of the street. we retreated to the relative safety of our grotty hostel, now much queiter given that the upstairs bar had emptied on to bigger and better things, and sunk into the bed that i had made a few hours earlier. i was left wondering what, exactly, my mother had found so captivating about Manly.

the next morning, reluctant to get back in the car, but keen to get into Sydney proper, we spent a good 45 minutes in Manly trying to find a car wash to clean the dirt and dust that had accumulated on our car during the previous days off road adventures. once we finally found one, and paid through the nose for the pleasure, we sat in a queue of 4 cars for another 20 minutes. it was swiftly turning into another day of waiting and time wasting. and it was getting hot.

eventually we found ourselves headed into the CBD, and drove over the Sydney Harbour bridge triumphant and ready to enjoy this town that i had heard so many glowing words about. when we arrived at our hostel we gingerly parked the car outside, dragged in most of our bags and were told by a surly faced aussie that we could not possibly check in before 2pm. it was by this point nearly 11am, and despite our protests that surely the room would be empty because check out was 9.30am, and we didnt care if the room was not yet cleaned, we were told stonily that rules were rules. we dragged our bags further (i swear they had got so much heavier in the preceding 24 hours!) into a storage room, and rushed out to try and find a legitimate parking space before our car got clamped. i think we spent the next hour and a half trying to find a car park open on a Sunday, returning twice to the hostel for directions or any help at all, which the surly receptionist was most unwilling to impart, and eventually giving up entirely, returning to the hostel again to totally empty the car of any of our strewn belongings and to get directions to the nearest Hertz office so we could just give Goon back a day early and get on with trying to enjoy the city.

we did then gratifyingly precede to have a really lovely afternoon. we were due to meet Maria, an old work colleague of the husband's who has relocated to Sydney, at a place called Opera Bar (unsurprisingly, right in front of the Opera House), and had just enough time to walk down through the city, into the old part of the town known as The Rocks, and grab a drink and a shared croissant so we weren't drinking on totally empty stomachs. the sun was shining down on us hotly, and with the iconic Opera House glinting and gleaming (surprisingly a creamy yellow and not white as i had expected) we gaily knocked back a couple of bottles of Pinot Gris and soon the stresses of the morning and the previous day were forgotten. we caught a ferry (another entirely necessary thing to do as a tourist in Sydney) across the water and under the bridge, with Maria pointing out sights all the way and acting as a most qualified guide. we stopped at Darling Harbour where we had cocktails and food, and more cocktails, and pretty soon we had forgotten any stresses whatsoever and were extolling the virtues of the charm of living in such a wonderful place as Sydney. we stumbled back to the CBD with Maria, checked in to our hostel before it got too late and we forgot where we were staying along with everything else, and then headed back out to meet up with Maria's boyfriend and have a few more bevvies. all in all it was a very good Sunday, and i was willing to forgive Sydney for the hassles we had encountered to reach her.

the next morning dawned grey, overcast and cool, and the forecast was for rain. this was not good news for us- when i left my job my colleagues had clubbed together and generously given me and the husband tickets for a BBQ boat trip in a tall ship around Sydney Harbour as a leaving gift. we had needed to book our places in advance, and had opted for Monday thinking it would be a good way to get our bearings on the city at the start of our few days there. we spent another frustrating 45 minutes trying to make the printers in the hostel work, to print out our booking confirmations. more wasted time. but nonetheless, we eventually escaped the hostel, and headed up to the Surry Hills area to get brunch- we were willingly sucked in by the 'tv chef effect' and went to one of Bill Grainger's many establishments, simply called 'Bill's'. Brunch was delicious, extravagant and rich, served by smiling waitresses in minimalist surroundingd that still felt comfortable. unfortunately, as i tucked into my sweetcorn fritters the skies darkened outside and soon the heavens had opened. after staring longingly out the window, prolonging asking for the bill and hoping for the rain to get lighter, we realised that the waiting game was not really one we could play, given that we had a deadline to be down at the harbourside for our boat trip. so, waterproof mac's on, we lunged out into the street, just as the rain seemed to redouble its efforts. within a few moments we were both drenched and chilled to the bone, and it became clear that we would have to return to the hostel, get changed, and get a taxi down to the waterfront if we were not to spend the whole 2 hours on a tall ship totally soaked and shivering. Duly changed into sensible shoes, more layers, and a little pair of shorts that would dry quickly if they did get wet, we headed out of the hostel once more, and flagged a taxi driver who had no idea where we needed to go. the meter ticked up, the clock ticked down, and eventually we got to within 5 minutes walking distance of where we needed to be and jumped out the car into the still pissing rain.

now, any colleagues who clubbed in to my leaving gift and are reading this, it is probably best if you skip this paragraph and move on. thank you. we had a wonderful time. it was great. now please stop reading.

for those others of you who want a laugh, imagine this- as we rounded the corner of the harbour we could make out about 40 disconsolate figures standing in the rain, most of them with smart macs on, a few sporting those very special clear ponchos with hoods that are made out of bin liner material. of these 40 figures, we looked to be the youngest by at least 30 years. no one looked particularly excited about the tall ship BBQ cruise that awaited them, and it was hardly surprising as through the rain, and fog and gloom it was barely possible to make out even the bridge. as the ship pulled in, admittedly grand and beautiful, all painted and varnished wood and towering masts, we saw that they had pulled a tarp across the centre of the deck, and this was to be our shelter through the storm. as we checked on to the ship we asked if it would be possible to change to another day. possible, but there was an administration charge and limited availability and the weather forecast was for rain for the rest of the week. we then asked if there was a bar. it turned out that the administration charge to change our booking was the same as the charge to have 'as much as you can drink' at the bar (i'm not sure if that was the official description, probably more like 'unlimited access' to the bar, but 'as much as you can drink' was how we read it.), so since we'd already paid for the taxi down we decided it was better to bite the bullet and drink through the rain, rather than spend more money to defer and risk still having to do the trip on another rainy day. so we carefully stepped aboard, and huddled together with all the OAPs under the dripping tarp, like patient cattle in a pen at market, and mac-covered shoulder to mac-covered shoulder on the gently rocking boat we were debriefed. then, as the boat shuddered out into the harbour, the bar (for which read eskie box) opened and we got stuck in.

i think we made friends on the boat. they were most definitely impressed by our heroic drinking skills. one friendly aussie commented "Strewth mate. if you get crook, and get sea-sick, we could set your vom on fire!". that is a compliment from an aussie i believe. 2 hours and an inedible BBQ later, having seen a lot of very grey clouds covering landmarks, and not much else from under the dripping tarp, we stumbled off the boat quite happily, and i realised as long as you have had all you can drink then even a rainy Sydney could be quite fun.

we dropped in at a laptop shop on the way back to the hostel, only to be told that the hard drive was properly drenched in goon, and unsurprisingly that is not much good for it (nor anyone in fact). we would need to buy a new laptop. outside, as the husband imparted this news, i slipped on a particularly slippy bit of curb (despite the sensible footwear change earlier in the day), and wiped out, knee on to the ground with a sickening thud. the rest of the incident is somewhat blurry for me, which obviously has everything to do with the shock of the injury and nothing to do with the alcohol of the afternoon. the husband bundled me, dripping wet despite the mac, and now copiously bleeding all over sensible shoes, into our second expensive taxi of the day back to the hostel where we borrowed antiseptic wipes from the now friendlier receptionist and i retired for a lie down. and that kind of ruined the rest of the day!

next morning, with a now rather painful and ugly scabbed and bruised knee cap, we tottered out to go to the fish market for a nose at the days catch and hopefully some brekkie. the day was looking brighter, and it was a good thing as i was dressed in shorts, too nervous to put any trousers on in case my knee bled through the fabric. we had a fun morning drooling over sushi and taking some arty photos, ate soft shell crab for breakfast, and headed on to my sole demand of Sydney, to stroke a koala bear. you can do this at the wildlife world on the quayside, and i had found some vouchers to get free pictures taken with them. now the only thing i love more than a cute furry animal is a discount voucher for free stuff, so we were straight through those doors. we had a really interesting few hours- i also got to stroke a massive stick insect and see the worlds largest saltwater crocodile in captivity, a sleepy wombat and a totally captivating bouncy thing with big ears whose name escapes me. we left as the sun really came out, and wandered round by the rocks and up on to the bridge, bought a new laptop, ate big ice creams, did a loop of the Opera House and checked out restaurants for our last night in Sydney the following evening. i felt pretty down with Sydney again. i was even thinking of forgiving it for its slippy kerbstones.

until we tried to use their public transport. we spent forever getting back to the hostel to drop off the computer, and forever and an age to get back out to the Rocks to meet Liz, a friend of mine from Sydney nee London. after arriving an hour late we settled down to an evening of beer and catch up, with the occasional view of the Opera House from the roof terrace of our pub, and just as excitingly the discovery of sweet chilli and sour cream flavour crips (delicious!). we'd had a good day, were planning a trip to Bondi beach the following day, and despite not trusting the buses enough to catch one home, so consequently walking the 45 minutes back from the pub, i was willing to love Sydney. especially when we saw a possum in the park on the way home. and some big ass rats too.

but when we woke up the next day it was bucketing down with rain again, our plans foiled and tempers frayed. we debated about going to the beach anyway, just to see it, but it seemed dumb to take a 20 minute bus ride to go and sit in the rain at a beach-side cafe when we could sit in the rain at a harbour-side cafe without having to brave the public transport again. so we stayed in town, mooched, went to the Rocks Museum, and mooched some more. we spent another agonising hour in the laptop shop, retrieving all our documents from the old goon soaked hard drive, and getting to know the sales assistants who we had now visited 3 times, once on each of our full days in Sydney.

we did end the trip on a massive high though, going for a blow out cocktail and meal at the Sydney Cafe, a deceptively named decadent restaurant, all low lights and glass tables and gleaming waiters in smart white aprons. we enjoyed a really gourmet experience on the terrace, the skies had cleared and the lit up Harbour Bridge was our backdrop- i started with tuna and veal carpaccio which was a surprising delight, and had a grilled Tasmanian Trumpeter (a type of fish if you were confused- i had to ask!) with stuffed courgette flowers. the husband feated on Balmain Bugs (a type of shellfish if you were confused!), and his favourite pork belly with apple. alas, we were running later than planned, and were pretty full to bursting after a cocktail each, two courses and a delightful bottle of wine from Te Whare Ra (our favourite vineyard in New Zealand) that we had spotted on the menu, so skipped the desert and rushed back to the hostel to get packing for our early flight. we walked back through the gardens, hand in hand, skipping over the odd rat and looking out for possums, and i felt pretty warmly towards the city.

sadly our parting from Sydney was to be just as frustrating as our arriving, so it left a bad taste in my mouth. the airport shuttle that we had ordered the previous night to pick us up at 7.05am, and that we had come downstairs 15 minutes early for, had failed to materialise. tempers were short, because the drunken packing of backpacks took a while, and we hadn't turned the light out till 2am. with the alarm going off just after 6am, the last thing we needed was to have a trauma with transport again. eventually after nearly an hour of waiting another shuttle bus arrived, the husband got a seat but the bus was overbooked so i had to half crouch, 1/4 of a buttock on the back seat between 3 bemused girls on the bench designed for 2. the driver went to the domestic terminal first despite knowing we were late (grr), and then bumblingly dropped us off at international departures. you had to pay to use the airport trolleys, so we dragged our backpacks in to the pretty small queue at check in, only to find a smiling Quantas rep extending the pointlessly empty snaking barrier, and pointing us to the end of the hall, so we had to weave endlessly around and around the barrier like little mice in a maze in some lab somewhere, dragging our bags behind us. thank you very much Sydney for that final indignity. you've made it clear that you dont like me so i'll just leave.

that was 5 or 6 days ago now (apologies, the crossing of time zones and the 13 hour flight out of australia, with screaming kids for most of the way, but at least thankfully empty so we could drink the other passenger's allocation of wine and use the empty seat's pillows to cover our ears, left me a little confused about how many days have gone by), and i've been safely ensconced in a comfort zone, my beloved South Africa, since then.

the husband and i have been pretty lazy since we arrived. this country is a favourite place for us, for its people, its gorgeous vistas, its stunning beaches and its relaxed attitude ("not now now, just now" is a phrase that explains so much about this country's infamous 'Africa Time'). we've both had extended stays here before, so as soon as we landed we got in yet another hire car (this one is called Tin Can, it is steel blue and rounded, and in many other worrying ways is very like a tin can), and drove down the coast from Durban to a spot near some infamous dive sites, and checked out for a couple of days by the sea. after so much continuous travelling and frantic sight seeing and box ticking, it was nice to stop in one place, chill out by the pool, have a beer at lunch, get some sunbathing and book reading time in, and relax in preparation for the 3 months ahead. we were incredibly lucky to land up at Southbroom Backpackers to spend this check-out time.

we picked the place because of a good write up in a Lonely Planet, hastily skim read in a Sydney bookstore (we didnt bother buying one for South Africa, and have been bitterly regretting it for days). Neville, a guy in his early 40s with a heart of gold who has spent 22 years as a lifguard, grew up in the area and has tamed the local monkeys and now runs a backpackers out of his house. his partner in crime, Bruce his neighbour and best mate was off work for a few days, and had essentially checked in to Neville's, and we spent ages chatting, playing with Neville's 4 utterly charming doggies, watching sky news and catching rays. the husband went off to do some terribly scary shark diving at Protea Banks, where he encountered a lot more than the odd wobbygong. disappointingly, i decided against it because my knee is just starting to heal, and the thought of putting a wetsuit on and then peeling it off, and a soggy scab with it 2 hours later was more than i could bear. we went for some walks, had a braii, went twice to a wafflehouse, did a lovely horseride across the beach, where once again i was allowed to take my steed off on my own to let off steam and have a thrilling gallop miles down an empty beach with waves crashing to my left and brave little legs thundering under me. but otherwise, discounting the daily monkey feeding in the kitchen which we got to take part in and which was actually quite raucous, we were very sedate, we caught up with ourselves and got early nights.

in Southbroom we were without internet, so it is only now that we have arrived in Durban that i'm getting a chance to upload my vastly out of date blogs. like buses, you wait for ages and then 3 come along at once (as demonstrated neatly in Sydney by the no. 555 bus, a final nail in my opinion of the Sydney transport coffin!).

i am going to try to bash out one final blog before we get on the flight to Zambia on Friday. who knows if i can manage one more, but i'm going to try because i like that 3 buses- 3 blogs metaphor, and there are some unpublished wisdoms that i learned in the land down under and here in saffy that could do with being aired. i'm also not sure how much internet access i will have to blog from Zambia, or indeed free time, so i suspect i will be quiet again for a while after we board our flight out of Durban to Lusaka at the end of the working week.

and one final thought.

everyone told me i would love New Zealand, but i found it overall too quiet; eerily beautiful and breathtaking at times, but also eerily empty.

everyone told me i would love Sydney, but i found it too busy and found myself stressing out as 'City Syndrome' kicked back in and transport, timetables, delays, and places to be and things to see all became a little overwhelming, tiring and un-fun.

i'm rather hoping, that on my return to Dorset in a few months time, when this trip is over and we settle down, we should be able to find ouselves a place with just the right balance of people and countryside, like Goldilocks with her porridge, not too hot and not too cold, but just right.