Before you wonder if I've perhaps suffered a mild seizure whilst titling this blog, let me put you at ease. It is a quote from "To a Mouse," a poem by the Scot poet Robert Burns, written after turning up the winter nest of a mouse while plowing. But Ellen, you are surely asking yourself now, I'm so happy to hear you didn't fall victim to an epileptic fit before telling us about your trip to Sydney, but what the hell are you talking about?
Well, much as the poor little mouse's comfortable dwelling was rent asunder by forces out of his control, our plans for our Sydney vacation didn't quite go according to plan.
We decided to head up to Sydney for Mardi Gras, the epic weekend of partying that traditionally occurs prior to the Christian tradition of Lent, which marks the time of reflection and self-denial prior to Easter. In Sydney however, the hedonism is brought to a new level through a combination of traditional Mardi Gras festivities with those associated with Pride Days showing support for the GLBT community. Basically, just an excuse to make the parties bigger, better, and even more fabulous. Nick, Kelsey and I decided to fly up on Wednesday night, stay with friends of mine (Thanks again Eliott and Torey!) for two days and then move on to stay with a friend of Nick for our final two nights, before flying out at 6:30 am on Sunday (yes, you read that correctly. in the morning).
We arrived in Coogee late Wednesday night and while Nick and Kelsey went to see what the city had to offer, I went down to the local bar with Eliott, where we ran into some GW people and Nikita and I took a toolish DG picture. The next day, after waking up early to conduct a rather important job interview in a sketchy internet cafe surrounded by strangers who now know all the valuable skills I would bring to a leadership position, we headed down to GORGEOUS Coogee beach, which the boys are lucky enough to live literally a block away from, and spent the day lying out on the sand. Ok well Kelsey and I lay out, Nick gave us twenty minutes, then retreated to the shade to read his science fiction novel. After a relaxing day, the boys headed off to a booze cruise and Nick and Kelsey and I hit the town. After an extra long goon pregame session which may or may not have featured a Britney Spears music video retrospective and Nick reenacting some choice cheerleading moves, we headed out to Oxford Street to see what the Mardi Gras crowd had to offer us.
The giddy mood was palpable and there were rainbow flags and revelers everywhere. We looked around for a little and then headed into the first club. It is at this point, gentle readers, that I must address a personal shortcoming of mine that emerged this weekend. I cannot keep up with the music at a gay bar. No one who knows me would ever use the word "coordinated" or "peppy" to describe me, and I am afraid both of these things were required. The music was at least three times faster than anything I have experienced and after bouncing myself around uncomfortable for a few songs, I finally settled for a rapid shuffle-step combo that somewhat mimicked my fellow party goers, who seemed unfazed by the machine-gun style bassline. After hitting up some more places and trying out some new pickup lines (What time is it? was met with mixed success), we headed home.
The next morning we woke up ready to head to our next crashpad in Bondi. Unfortunately, our crashpad was not ready for us, ie, our host had not been able to move in and could not provide accomodation, as she had none to offer. Undeterred, we packed up our belongings and headed down the hill to the local Macca's (that's McDonalds for you Yanks) to utilize their free wireless to plan our next move. The knowledge that we were homeless in a strange city on a strange continent should perhaps have been met with some consternation, but I'll admit to feeling some excitement. In my nearly two weeks in Australia, countless things have gone wrong. In fact, its safe to say that exactly nothing has gone exactly according to plan or been in any way shape or form what I expected. However, this powerlessness over my surroundings has been somewhat liberating. If I miss a tram that I desperately needed to get me somewhere by a certain time, no amount of complaining or stress is going to make it reverse and retrieve me. If I want to pout about it, I definitely can (and sometimes do), but the knowledge that there's nothing to do but wait has provided me with a surprising amount of relaxation.
After a bit of searching, we found three rooms in a hostel for Friday night, and decided that Saturday night would just be sleepless, as our flight out was at 6:30 the next morning. We checked in to our new room and met our 12 new roommates, who created us with a series of nods and grunts. After shoving our bags into a locker, we headed out to explore the city. Well, Nick and Kelsey had been before, and had seen all the sights, but they indulged me and dutifully tramped around to the tourist spots with me, obligingly posing for pictures every four steps. I'm happy to report that I enjoyed the sights of Sydney much more than I though I would. For some reason, I thought it would be unbearably humid and somewhat oppressive, full of towering skyscrapers. While it was full of skyscrapers, and could have been more temperate, the city itself is beautiful, with plenty of open green space. We walked through Hyde Park to get to the Botanical Gardens, which were gorgeous, and from there it was an easy walk to the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. The bridge was nothing spectacular, just...a bridge, but I suppose as bridges go it was a very nice one. I really like the Opera House, though. Nick and Kelsey both remarked that it was smaller than they had imagined it, but I really hadn't thought about the scale of it before. I love getting close to it and looking at the intricately tiled roof, and peering through the windows at the people enjoying their food at the gorgeous, but certainly overpriced adjoining restaurant.
From there we headed back to our hostel to rest up a little before venturing out for dinner and then enjoying a nice box of wine on the cockroach-infested roof of the hostel, while people on the luxury hotel balconies above us flicked cigarette butts at us.
Saturday we woke up and checked out of our hostel and headed to the home of a friend of Kelsey's, who had miraculously responded to a panicked facebook message we had sent the day before, asking for somewhere to store our luggage. After a stop off there we headed to historic Bondi Beach for lunch and a near-drowning incident before starting the night's festivities. We got back a little later than we wanted to and so were death-marched by Kelsey the several blocks (it felt like a hundred) to where the parade would go through.
A (self-proclaimed) veteran of the San Francisco Pride Day festivities, I was expecting to feel some sort of familiarity at Sydney's celebration. Other than being less than shocked when some of the BDSM floats came around, I don't think that Pride Days are something that someone becomes accustomed to. The number of people, costumes, and floats, the sheer time and energy that go into creating something so utterly frothy and full of frivolity is truly amazing. We spent the entire night wandering the streets of Sydney, simply swept up by the atmosphere.
We eventually headed "home" to pick up our luggage, caught a cab to the airport and somehow headed back to Melbourne. I spent all of Sunday in something of a stupor, exhausted to the point of insanity, but it was a truly wonderful experience, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.
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