Animals, waterfalls and blackouts
Sydney, Australia: My life is so much fun and so expensive.
As Craig, Sharon and I went to see The Lion King in Melbourne last year and enjoyed it immensely, we excitedly buy tickets when we hear about the upcoming Aladdin musical in Sydney. We’ve been so lucky with all these favourite Disney classics of ours happening to be turned into musicals in whatever part of Australia we are.
I manage to snag us some good seats on premiere night, and by the recommendation of a guy I’ve chatted to on Tinder (yes, I’ve had a minor setback), we get some burgers and beers before the show at Burgers Anonymous. It’s basically the best burgers and loaded fries I’ve ever had, at a Breaking Bad-themed restaurant. Yeah, bitch.
We then walk in the pouring rain to Capitol Theater, where we fall in love with Genie, are underwhelmed by A Whole New World, and look at the couple making out in front of us with disgust.
I have been working towards another 20 km walk for some time now, and one super early morning, I catch the sunrise at Coogee and walk all the way to Bondi Beach, where I decide to just keep going. All the way to The Gap, then Watson’s Bay, and almost all the way back to Rose Bay, before my back gives in and I walk towards the nearest bus stop. I also finally give in and join the gym, which means my weekend coastal walks are basically a thing of the past now.
After a kind of long, but half-assed chat on Tinder and Snapchat, I meet up with the guy who recommended Burgers Anonymous on a Tuesday night at Coogee Pavilion. I am so nervous leading up to the date, that everyone around me are probably getting sick of hearing about how I am about to crap my pants. He turns out to be super cool and he probably thinks the same about me, because we have a second and then a third date, where he takes me to Taronga Zoo AND PAYS FOR IT(!). That’s unheard of these days.
It’s a warm and sunny day, which is pretty unusual this Winter. We take the ferry from Sydney Harbour to Taronga and get awesome views of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. We then take a cable car to the top of the zoo and make our way down from there. What’s pretty cool about Taronga is the view and the fact that their 100th anniversary is coming right up. What’s not so cool is that they don’t have tigers. Yet. I take a million pictures with my fancy camera, because I might as well use it, but my pictures turn out to be super boring to look at. I wish I was the creative genius I tend think I am.
After several hours in the sun, looking at (probably delicious) animals, we are starving and decide to take the easy way out and get Burgers Anonymous. I like the easy way out.
We also go to the circus – and I get to drink wine at the circus! It’s Cirque Du Soleil: Kooza, not the children’s kind of circus with elephants and tigers, so drinking is OK. We pay a shit ton of money for really crappy seats, but luckily the slightly better ones are empty, so after the intermission we move and catch a better glimpse of people almost falling and breaking their necks.
Craig is sometimes a genius. Mainly when it’s involving cars. He rents a car for the week and calls me to brag about it, which gives me an excuse to force him to take me somewhere for the weekend. I decide on Royal National Park. Craig picks me up fairly early in the morning and of course we have to blast a good throwback playlist in the car on our way there. We park the car and go for a trek in the woods, till we get to an absolute stunning beach. From there, we have to climb countless rocks till we get to the popular spot with the Figure Eight Pools. The tide isn’t working in our favour, so we take a couple of pictures, get our feet wet and then venture back to the car for some ham, cheese and crackers. Cuz we fancy.
We then drive towards Winifred falls, where we do a short, but steep hike and then have to wait for three Scandinavian-looking girls to eff off so we can enjoy this tiny place by ourselves. We bring a cider each, that we have while sitting on top of the waterfall, being amazed and exhausted all at once.
The festival of the winds starts off like most Sundays do. Actually, Sharon’s not at work, the sun is shining, and loads of people have rocked up to Bondi Beach with their kites, so not really. We’re there too with our waterbottled mimosas, and Barry Du Bois from The Livingroom on Channel 10 walks right by us and I am super starstruck, even though I don’t actually see him from the front and just have to take Sharon’s word for it.
We meet up with Becky, who like us is starving, and I am in the mood for mac and cheese loaded fries from Beach Road Hotel as usual. They also have wine there, so it’s a no-brainer.
Okay, this is actually not a picture of me from that day, but it shows just how happy mac and cheese loaded fries makes me.
Now… whenever we are with Becky and someone wants wine, it never ends well. We should know this by now. But I suppose we’ll never learn. Craig and his former roomie Robyn shows up and I drunkenly force-feed them the rest of my fries. One bottle of wine turns into 5 or more, I honestly don’t remember at this point. Funny thing is, no one remembers. I vaguely remember people getting kicked out of the bar one by one for being too drunk, and there I stand, all alone, until an old Pink Palace mate rocks up and I try to keep his lady friend out of the men’s bathroom. I then decide that I am too drunk and don’t remember getting home. The email I received from Uber tells me I got home at 8:30 PM.
The next week we repeat the success at Coogee Pavilion, although I remember everything and I leave before anyone else. I suspect I am upset over the half-eaten Halal Snack Pack that I decide to leave the bar to buy and then abandon once I get back to the bar. What a waste.
In case no one knows, I usually tell people I’m from Kenya when I go out. If anyone really asks me my story, I say my parents are former doctors without borders that went to Kenya, joined a cult called Children of Lexia (like the goon) and I am basically on a Rumspringa, like the Amish kids. Or I escaped. Depends on the day. Anyway, my story has been told so many times that I can basically lie in my sleep. But one day I am thrown off guard and make up the worst possible story.
Tanya, Sharon and I are on the couch, sharing a bottle of wine at The Royal close to our apartment, and we’re waiting for the live music to start. In walks a guy in a suit with waxed, spiky hair and he walks up to us, determined, like he’s a friend who’s been looking for us at the bar for the past 20 minutes. He sits down on the arm of the couch I am sitting on and introduces himself to me, and me only. He is Spanish, a lawyer for some car insurance firm, which he won’t stop talking about, and he is super rude. He proceeds to only pay me attention for what seems like hours, while Tanya, Sharon and even the musician playing Wonderwall 20 metres away from me are laughing. He asks questions like I’m being interrogated, and I give him the most half-hearted lies to make him understand I am not interested in a conversation – and then it turns into a game for me. I’ve got to make these lies believable! In short, I am a 30-year old vet from Cornwall, England (even though I keep my usual strange accent. Is it American? Canadian? Irish? I get a lot of different guesses these days), and I am engaged to Sharon, a teacher. I also put her goldfish down in a very humane way the other day (I threw it in the freezer), and saved a cat that Tanya ran over with her car… that she doesn’t actually have. Well, we all get into a big discussion about gay marriage and divorce and he upsets us all, and then his mate shows up and asks me about Cornwall’s history. Awkward. Anyway, guess I’m back to the Kenya story again.
Now, I’m getting a bit tired of writing, so I’ll leave you with some pictures of life as I know it these days.
We get really into The Bachelor with Richie who says dorky things like “cool bananas” and who wears flannel all the time.
I FINALLY get around to making my own gin.
Conclusion: it did the job, and it did it well.
I spend some time at my beloved Arcade and win at air hockey (of course)
I have like the best burger at a pop-up place that also serves Pokémon burgers.
Sharon can lift.
Sydney Sling at Opera Bar! Another check off the bucketlist.
Catching up with the MFC’s from Mildura!