A Strange Brew
February 28, 2008
I arrived yesterday (Friday 28th) at 7.15 am Sydney time. The flight hadn't actually been too bad; got on the first leg of the journey at Heathrow, had a free Carlsberg, some fairly nice plane food, watched Ratatouille and then necked a couple of Nytol and went to sleep. The next thing I know I'm waking up several hours later and an English Breakfast is being served. A couple of hours after that and we touch down in Singapore. Everyone has to leave the plane, probably for extra security. Singapore airport is really nice, everything is clean and there are lots of shops selling cheap electronic goods. I take the opportunity to use the bathroom and freshen up, before going back through security (where they confiscate my water bottle) and then get back on the plane for the second leg. This also goes quite quickly; where I had no one sitting next to me before I'm now joined by a lovely young Aussie named Fiona. We get talking and it turns out she and her boyfriend are moving to Bath in a couple of months. I watch Sleuth with Michael Caine and Jude Law (which I thoroughly enjoy) before necking another couple of tabs of Nytol and going to sleep for about 3 hours.
On the plane I have to fill in this arrival card saying whether I'm bringing food into the country and how long I'm staying, etc. We get off the plane and go through to the Arrivals security. I give my card to the guy and he tells me to go over to the Working Holiday Visa desk. There I queue up with a couple of other peeps and the man at the desk simply scans my passport, prints off a sticker and attaches it to one of the pages. He never even asks me anything! Collect my baggage on the collection carousel, which comes through very quickly, and then it's off to Quarantine. I start queuing up. I'm ready to follow the people in front and head over to the xray machine but then a guy catches me. He takes my arrival card off me, asks me if I have golf shoes or any food on me. I say no, then he simply says, "Okay, straight out the door, see ya later". Sweet!
So now I'm through security and heading for the underground train station. I buy a ticket to Kings Cross via Central Station (a bit like Clapham Junction). Only $15 Australian. The trains are actually double decker, a bit like France. Good on the Aussies having the foresight to do that. What I didn't realise was that half of the lines are actually underground, and I've arrived during rush hour! I feel like I'm on the Victoria line as I try and squeeze in tight with my big luggage bag. Finally we hit the overground and arrive at Central. I change platforms, then it's back underground until hitting Kings Cross.
Kings Cross is odd. In fact as I discovered later from walking around it actually feels less like I'm in Australia and more like I'm in Hong Kong. Living and working in London I'm used to seeing an abundance of different cultural influences; Indian, Chinese, Italian etc. Here there is no real mix; I'm absolutely astonished at the vast numbers of Asians / Orientals there are here! I think it's great but it's definitely going to take some getting used to, and it's very different from London where it's much more of a melting pot. I'm also very aware that in the whole of my first day walking around I saw not one black person.
I make my way past all the Thai restaurants and massage parlours along Darlinghurst Road, then up through Victoria Street and then reaching a little side road called Orwell Street. Here is my hostel, Eva's Backpackers, which I have booked for my first week.
Eva is very friendly but I do get the impression she is somewhat overworked; she seems to do everything. I arrived early and the cleaner hadn't turned up, so Eva cleaned my room herself. She offered me breakfast while I waited; what I didn't expect and was a real surprise when she showed me the kitchen was that I had to do it myself! I've never stayed in a hostel before but I was expecting something akin to a cheap B&B. I jostled with the other (mostly European) inhabitants as I made myself some simple buttered toast. I think it's fair to say I'm going to ignore the breakfast and eat out for the rest of the week, not because I'm a snob but if I'm going to make my own breakfast I'd like to not feel rushed and have other people waiting to use the toaster. Otherwise, I'd rather pay and get someone else to cook it for me.
My room is okay, nothing in there but a fairly nice double bed, a mirror and a chest of drawers. Rooms are fairly pricey in Sydney, and I'm paying £270 for my double room at Eva's (there are no single rooms). I decided to get my own room so that I could acclimatize myself to Sydney without too much distraction, and also so I could check out hostels for my second week and choose one with a dorm room that I wouldn't mind staying in. I have a feeling that funds being what they are I am eventually going to have to slum it, but while I can afford my own room I'm damn well going to take the opportunity!
The bathrooms here are amazing though, there are two on my floor alone and they are both clean and spacious. After what feels like the best shower ever, I head out of the hostel and start exploring the city. Unfortunately it's pouring with rain, but lucky old me was a good boy scout and has packed his bright blue cagoule, which while I look like a retard is actually helping me to stay dry. I start walking aimlessly down roads, with no real idea where I'm going. Trying to cross the road here is a deathtrap; you have to press the button on a crossing and wait for ages, and then when the lights finally decide to let you go you have literally seconds to get across the road. Whereas in London Ken seems to want to keep cars out, here in Sydney it's the pedestrians that seem to be second class citizens; definitely the car is the star in this neck of the woods.
I pass though Sydney's Hyde Park, which is a hell of a lot smaller than my own dear Hyde Park (maybe a tenth of the size). Finally I reach a place called Market Street. Now we're getting somewhere: I see lots and lots of shoppers. And where there are shoppers, there is always food. I walk around Market Street, Elizabeth Street, King Street, George Street. This seems to be where everything is happening, and is the Leicester Square / Picadilly / Oxford Circus of Sydney. I walk through an absolutely amazing arcade of little shops, probably the most ornate arcade I've ever seen. Everything is gilt-edged and sparkling. Most of the restaurants are geared for healthy living; Thai, Sushi bars, etc. I however ignore all that, manage to find proably the only KFC in Sydney. Alas, there is a queue, so I make a mental note of where it is (somewhere near the George Street / Kent Street area I believe) and then wander over the road into Australia's version of Burger King; Hungry Jacks.
Hungry Jacks is Burger King. It absolutely has to be the same company, or I'd imagine they'd have got sued by now. They used the exact same logo and livery, with the words replaced. I take a look at the menu and order what looks like a Bacon Double Cheeseburger meal. Here it's called the Bacon Deluxe. It is indeed a Bacon Double, but somehow it's healthier. The cheese isn't fully melted and actually looks like a fresh cheese slice. Also they added a bit of salad and mayo. Other than that though it's the Bacon Double Cheeseburger we all know and love.
I leave Hungry Jacks and head over to Darling Harbour, which seems to be the exhibition centre of Sydney. I've taken a couple of photos of Darling Harbour for you to look at. I make a mental note to come back here; it's beautiful, modern, tranquil and has an Imax and an Aquarium.
I make my way back towards my hostel, passing through the Botanic Gardens. They are quite nice, smaller than I thought they'd be, but it's raining and I'm shattered and want to get back. Upon reaching Victoria Street the heavens open with tropical storm rain. I have only a few metres left, but by the time I get back my jeans are soaked, the rain has found it's way into my shoes via a puddle and now my only trainers I brought with me are also soaked. I arrive back in my room absolutely knackered. I watch a couple of episodes of Blackadder on my portable hard drive, a couple of Fawlty Towers and then hit my bed at 7.00pm, sleeping for the next 12 hours.
On the plane I have to fill in this arrival card saying whether I'm bringing food into the country and how long I'm staying, etc. We get off the plane and go through to the Arrivals security. I give my card to the guy and he tells me to go over to the Working Holiday Visa desk. There I queue up with a couple of other peeps and the man at the desk simply scans my passport, prints off a sticker and attaches it to one of the pages. He never even asks me anything! Collect my baggage on the collection carousel, which comes through very quickly, and then it's off to Quarantine. I start queuing up. I'm ready to follow the people in front and head over to the xray machine but then a guy catches me. He takes my arrival card off me, asks me if I have golf shoes or any food on me. I say no, then he simply says, "Okay, straight out the door, see ya later". Sweet!
So now I'm through security and heading for the underground train station. I buy a ticket to Kings Cross via Central Station (a bit like Clapham Junction). Only $15 Australian. The trains are actually double decker, a bit like France. Good on the Aussies having the foresight to do that. What I didn't realise was that half of the lines are actually underground, and I've arrived during rush hour! I feel like I'm on the Victoria line as I try and squeeze in tight with my big luggage bag. Finally we hit the overground and arrive at Central. I change platforms, then it's back underground until hitting Kings Cross.
Kings Cross is odd. In fact as I discovered later from walking around it actually feels less like I'm in Australia and more like I'm in Hong Kong. Living and working in London I'm used to seeing an abundance of different cultural influences; Indian, Chinese, Italian etc. Here there is no real mix; I'm absolutely astonished at the vast numbers of Asians / Orientals there are here! I think it's great but it's definitely going to take some getting used to, and it's very different from London where it's much more of a melting pot. I'm also very aware that in the whole of my first day walking around I saw not one black person.
I make my way past all the Thai restaurants and massage parlours along Darlinghurst Road, then up through Victoria Street and then reaching a little side road called Orwell Street. Here is my hostel, Eva's Backpackers, which I have booked for my first week.
Eva is very friendly but I do get the impression she is somewhat overworked; she seems to do everything. I arrived early and the cleaner hadn't turned up, so Eva cleaned my room herself. She offered me breakfast while I waited; what I didn't expect and was a real surprise when she showed me the kitchen was that I had to do it myself! I've never stayed in a hostel before but I was expecting something akin to a cheap B&B. I jostled with the other (mostly European) inhabitants as I made myself some simple buttered toast. I think it's fair to say I'm going to ignore the breakfast and eat out for the rest of the week, not because I'm a snob but if I'm going to make my own breakfast I'd like to not feel rushed and have other people waiting to use the toaster. Otherwise, I'd rather pay and get someone else to cook it for me.
My room is okay, nothing in there but a fairly nice double bed, a mirror and a chest of drawers. Rooms are fairly pricey in Sydney, and I'm paying £270 for my double room at Eva's (there are no single rooms). I decided to get my own room so that I could acclimatize myself to Sydney without too much distraction, and also so I could check out hostels for my second week and choose one with a dorm room that I wouldn't mind staying in. I have a feeling that funds being what they are I am eventually going to have to slum it, but while I can afford my own room I'm damn well going to take the opportunity!
The bathrooms here are amazing though, there are two on my floor alone and they are both clean and spacious. After what feels like the best shower ever, I head out of the hostel and start exploring the city. Unfortunately it's pouring with rain, but lucky old me was a good boy scout and has packed his bright blue cagoule, which while I look like a retard is actually helping me to stay dry. I start walking aimlessly down roads, with no real idea where I'm going. Trying to cross the road here is a deathtrap; you have to press the button on a crossing and wait for ages, and then when the lights finally decide to let you go you have literally seconds to get across the road. Whereas in London Ken seems to want to keep cars out, here in Sydney it's the pedestrians that seem to be second class citizens; definitely the car is the star in this neck of the woods.
I pass though Sydney's Hyde Park, which is a hell of a lot smaller than my own dear Hyde Park (maybe a tenth of the size). Finally I reach a place called Market Street. Now we're getting somewhere: I see lots and lots of shoppers. And where there are shoppers, there is always food. I walk around Market Street, Elizabeth Street, King Street, George Street. This seems to be where everything is happening, and is the Leicester Square / Picadilly / Oxford Circus of Sydney. I walk through an absolutely amazing arcade of little shops, probably the most ornate arcade I've ever seen. Everything is gilt-edged and sparkling. Most of the restaurants are geared for healthy living; Thai, Sushi bars, etc. I however ignore all that, manage to find proably the only KFC in Sydney. Alas, there is a queue, so I make a mental note of where it is (somewhere near the George Street / Kent Street area I believe) and then wander over the road into Australia's version of Burger King; Hungry Jacks.
Hungry Jacks is Burger King. It absolutely has to be the same company, or I'd imagine they'd have got sued by now. They used the exact same logo and livery, with the words replaced. I take a look at the menu and order what looks like a Bacon Double Cheeseburger meal. Here it's called the Bacon Deluxe. It is indeed a Bacon Double, but somehow it's healthier. The cheese isn't fully melted and actually looks like a fresh cheese slice. Also they added a bit of salad and mayo. Other than that though it's the Bacon Double Cheeseburger we all know and love.
I leave Hungry Jacks and head over to Darling Harbour, which seems to be the exhibition centre of Sydney. I've taken a couple of photos of Darling Harbour for you to look at. I make a mental note to come back here; it's beautiful, modern, tranquil and has an Imax and an Aquarium.
I make my way back towards my hostel, passing through the Botanic Gardens. They are quite nice, smaller than I thought they'd be, but it's raining and I'm shattered and want to get back. Upon reaching Victoria Street the heavens open with tropical storm rain. I have only a few metres left, but by the time I get back my jeans are soaked, the rain has found it's way into my shoes via a puddle and now my only trainers I brought with me are also soaked. I arrive back in my room absolutely knackered. I watch a couple of episodes of Blackadder on my portable hard drive, a couple of Fawlty Towers and then hit my bed at 7.00pm, sleeping for the next 12 hours.
|
|
Create a free TravBuddy account or login to leave comments, meet travelers, and share experiences with the TravBuddy travel community.
