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Day one back on the road. Didn't want to break ourselves in too harshly, so we landed in Sydney and checked straight into a 4 star hotel overlooking Darling Harbour. Yeah, maybe this traveling thing isn't too bad.
Don't panic though, the budget hadn't been completely tossed out the window - the hotel was actually cheaper than a backpackers... my gosh Australia's gotten expensive all of a sudden.
Some things don't change mind, and 31C greeted us on the morning of Australia Day - we seem to have developed a talent for turning up in places just as festivities we knew nothing about kick off. Anyway, you'll be pleased to hear the art of flag waving isn't dead in the colonies, and that occupied the vast majority of the day before the Sydney authorities do what they do best and threw some big fireworks into the mix over the water. Not quite New Year big, but nevertheless, the cost would be a healthy match for say, Guatemala's GDP. Which, with our responsible travellers' hats on, we could argue should be allocated more effectively, but nevermind that, they were sparkly and pretty and shiny and get this, set in perfect harmony to some erstwhile forgotten Aussie 90s hits. Travellers' hats firmly back in the bag.
On the way home from the fireworks, we also discovered that the Oz music industry's future looks bright too - this time next year, they may well set the fireworks to what we branded, 'Digiri-Dance'. What is this sonic revelation? Well, in it's current form, it involves two drunk hobos with a digiridoo, blown PA system and ghetto blaster. Whilst one blows his reefer-addled heart & lungs out into the funny wooden pipe, the other rap battles with no one in particular sort of in time to the hard house beat. The video won't upload on this connection, but remember where you heard it here first, before that Creosoted Cowell gets his grubby paws on it. Australian Idol my...
Anyway, Sydney centre ticked off, it was off to the beach, and no one's gonna complain about Manly & Bondi on back to back days. It did bring us to the end of our brief New South Wales pit stop however, so we jumped back on a plane and headed for Melbourne.
Having emptied our wallets to scrounge a cupboard-sized room in South Yarra during the tennis (this festival / event timing things isn't always useful), I'm surprised we had anything left wityh which to head for the bar. Must have been Tahnee's fault, in her capacity as our social pimp that side of the ditch. But that's far from a complaint. No that came when I lost half my bodyweight trying retrieve a BK from just down the road to fight the good fight against a storm force hangover - Melbourne was an oven that weekend. With 38C coming back off the pavement, no wonder it took us all 3 days to recover from Friday night. Ah life's tough. That was our excuse. Andy Murray had to find his own where the downpour just before his match knocked a good 10-15 degrees off the temperature. Sadly it didn't wash Federer away with it. On behalf of Scottish tennis (it'll be British tennis when he wins), damn you Roger.
So that was Australia, next stop Singapore
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