Ooohhh wee (Coogee) na na na
Coogee and Surrey hills 06.11 & 07.11
Thursday, day 5, 2nd night in one continuous hostel and maaannn does it make a difference not having to move 'home' everyday.
The morning was spent dallying life away; internet banking and all manner of boring 'life admin' that still need completing on one's big adventure...
By lunchtime I was itching to be outside... And by itching I mean literally... Following my mountain exploits I had awoken with not 1/2 but 17 mozzy bites in various bodily places including my nose tip and chin... Attractive!
Being semi-allergic to bites (Allergies are a sign of weakness of so I'll never be fully allergic) not only are there bites,but bites on rashes, on lumps...hello elephant man.
You'd think living with the medical marvel that is Jked, my drug supply would be pretty hefty... Nope-That requires preparation. Epic fail 2.
On mission pharmacy, I got way laid by the thoughts of food (always) and really really fancied pizza . Taking an unknown detour down a shady street (lack of sunlight not characterised) I spied a cool little number 'mad pizza' (decor favouring the original Bowery look); popping in to check their prices (student style) a cute Manc lad behind the bar sold it me (northern accents = moth to a flame).
Attempting some alfresco dining, this is Sydney after all, I had to give it up, after that nippy wind returned.
Hopping inside, I bunked at the bar for an afternoon of annoying Mr Cape Verde.
Two Australian beers (pilsners?) one Sydney Cider, one pizza and four hours later I was still sat there. A Fabulous way to wile away a Thursday afternoon.
I can envisage some of my 'I'm a traveller' friends scowling at me for wasting my day in such a manner; but actually after 4 non-stop days 'twas great to sit amongst the locals and share your love of a city...
Good practice for when I live here ;)
As it crawled towards half 5 two things made me move from my ingrained position at the bar... pharmacy would soon shut and if I carry on drinking they'll be carrying me home.
Pharmacist took one look at me and went 'ouch'; didn't need to explain that's how bad it looked....
That night Myself and PB explored Surrey Hills in search of that everyday backpacker substance...Steak!!
Surrey Hills appears to be a really nice community (sharrow valish) streets and streets of small restaurants all bustling with people; fringing on the 'Gay area' of the city there is also an element of a bursting party somewhere.
We were directed (no Aussie lies) to the Gaucho....$46 for a steak... Erm maybe not. Finding a more relaxed establishment more worthy of our station 'clock tower' more than impressed.
Over the meal 3 things confused me (easily done):
I was told Fosters is not Australian it's just a British marketing ploy?? (Still awaiting confirmation of this)
the waitress offered me a 'famous Australian cider' ... Bulmers??
Peppercorn sauce is a thick gravy... Gravy on my steak- great way to ruin it!
(FYI: Distance from UK does not lessen the cider pain)
But if steak wasn't a decadent enough meal the desert craving crept in (that's your lack of salted caramel tart Jovoderman) restaurants in this area don't sell any sweets because they are unable to compete with the 'world famous' Gelato shop across the road.......
I was out of the door before directions were offered....
A shop 10m away. 50 + people deep queue snaking down the street. Messina Ice cream. Yay!
As an avid icecream lover there was actual yelps of delight - mounds of colours and flavours. ice cream heaven. My plan to dive head first into the container was foiled by the typical 'chunky child' whose brattish ways insisted on tasting all 45 flavours before picking... Webster Stratton training parents!
Walking back to the hostel I bade au-revue to PB and headed back to my top bunk.... Via the World Bar...with my children roomies...one of them brought a girl back.... Bunk opposite... Enough said
Friday morning dawned and it was move day again... Packing Karl; strong, Man name for my backpack -dedicated to the legend that is Karl with K Kennedy (Bro Ho approval?). I chatted to Mr Denver about his conquest...
Me: so is that your bird then
Mr Denver: Not at the mo-ment, but I sure hope so after last night.
Me: she seemed nice...
Mr Denver: oh wasn't she just the most awesomist, beautiful, clever, in fact I'm going to ring her right now and tell her
Noteworthy difference between English and American men there which I am not attributing to age....
Anyways Dumping Karl with the other abandonees of the absurdly early check out times and headed to meet Ginge K for lunch.
Being the keen walker I am now, i checked out the map (yeah I can read maps) and approximated a leisurely half an hour stroll... 2hrs later I was late- blatantly Aussie mapping designs and not my map reading skills....
After another sashimi roll lunch (can NOT get enough) leaving Ginge K to return to work I stole her keys and headed over to (ooh wee) Coogee. Pretty down with this public transport business now!
After washing the minimal clothes that I have worn this week (denimn shirt is my second skin) I went for a wander down the promenade and around Coogee town centre.
If you were gonna live in Syndey I imagine Coogee would be the dream destination; 30 mins from the centre, beautiful beach location, bustling area full of young (admittedly mostly Irish- but isn't everywhere) individuals and little families.
That night after treating Ginge K to an exquisite Thai banquet....we debated our options over a bottle of sangria and then a bottle of red...aware that I had a plane tomorrow (to definitely catch) the infamous phrase 'I don't want to get too messy reared it's ugly head'....
Luckily... Ginge K was paralytic enough for the both of us....
after swinging by Frankie's pizza; an underground rock club that serves pizza all night and gin with fresh (I mean picked from the tree and Squose (yes that's a word) in front of you) apple juice, we headed on, escaping the dowdy 'out of place' business harassing us.
Next stop was O'Mally's; as you can tell by the name just your standard Japanese joint (kidding) Ginge has a thing for the Irish. After a whirlwind ballroom dance, worthy of the Aussie strictly, with an Eastern European (he wouldn't disclose his true nationality). It was time to move on... Because it was midnight... Which of course is a reasonable time for 98% of bars and clubs to shut...
Being a novice to the Sydney nightlife my reliance on Ginge's drunken stupor knowledge was questionable, but it was my last night and no way was I cinderellaing.
The final port of call was Sugar Hills 'club' a fair taxi away, Ginge was adamant it would be worth it...
It was not.
The definition of a club in Australia: a half casino, half bar with shut roof terrace occupied by men proud of their nation and sexist bar staff who do not subscribe to the ladette culture.
I was having one of those nights where regardless how how much you drink; life will not allow you to get drunk. (Rraaahh)
The same could not be said for Ginge, she had picked up my baton from last week...
Engaging in some light hearted banter with some Aussie males. Ginge turned: mega b**** emerged, free drinks refused. The word Nah became her soul language.she even engaged in a little push at one point stony faced ignorance was her calling card....doesn't go down to well With strangers ;)
Then again neither did my 'I hate Australians' ... they're still learning the banter
Jumping in a taxi without me, I had to chase Ginge to ensure I didn't get left on the hotel floor.... again. Back to hers. We were locked out...
At this point we MAY have woken the entire block with our repetitive buzzer pushing, however Ginge DEFINITELY woke up the entire block with her repetition an Ellie Goulding song..... until Dawn....
Good job I'm leaving tomorrow....
See you in Melbourne