January 30, 2017

Cuddling Cats and Getting Kicked Out of Bars

christinelouise Oceania 2017, Australia, Australia Day, cats, Drinking, hiking, irish pub, sydney

Sydney, Australia: After unicorns, cats are definitely my furvorite animal.

I suppose I am pretty easy to buy presents for. I’ve always made individual wish lists for the gift-giving people in my life with very specific items to ensure I get what I want and to avoid people getting me the same thing. It’s very efficient and thoughtful of me, although it kinda makes me look like a bitch. Other than that, I talk about things I want to get for myself all the time without realizing it, so I get surprised by the kind of presents that proves someone pays enough attention to the seemingly never-ending stream of words coming out of my mouth. Sharon is one of those people, and she’s been listening to me talk about my Sydney bucket list and wanting to go to a cat café for the past year and a half. So for Christmas, she decided to shut me up and book us an hour in a room full of cats. Best surprise since my birthday weekend (which wasn’t so long ago, sure, but still…)

We head to Catmosphere in Surry Hills on a sunny Saturday around noon. We walk into the café and get coffee before we are taken upstairs to a room with 14 cats scattered around. The next hour is filled with soft kitties, warm kitties, little balls of fur, and of course, lots of rejection and cattiness. We even manage to find the cat versions of ourselves, which is probably the highlight of my life. Mine is a ginger attention seeker who demands cuddles, and Sharon’s is half black, half ginger and has a lot of cattitude. It hates her and runs away to a corner where it can’t be reached. After our cuddle session is over, we get a cat-shaped cookie and buy some cute cat socks, because you can never have enough of those.

For lunch, we head to El Loco, which is conveniently located right next to Catmosphere. We sit down and look through the menu when a giant black limo arrives, and out of it stumble a bunch of girls dressed in black lingerie and cock chokers. Yep, you heard that right. Bachelorette party at El Loco, woo! Luckily, they head to the back of the room, so we lunch in a relatively quiet atmosphere, with just two older sat a bit away from us. We decide that they are us in twenty years, and learn from the bartender that they are headed off to the cat café after lunch. Yep, that’s us alright.

We go to the bathroom before leaving, as one usually does, and find that one of the bachelorette party attendees has left her (empty) gift bag by the sink. It has a black penis like the one on the choker printed on it, so naturally, I steal the bag and bring it with me to our next stop, Coach and Horses back in Randwick. We bond with the (male, older) bartender over my dick-bag stealing abilities, and have some wine before we head back home and I get the worst early hangover ever. Still a legendary day.

Our friend Henry is going to Japan for a little holiday because he is a lucky bastard, and he’s asked us to do him the honour of being his cat- and housesitters. Naturally, we can’t say no to cats and nice apartments with AC and individual bedrooms, so Rose Bay becomes our home for 10 blissful days. I get to turn the lights on in my room in the morning and get ready in a well-lit bathroom without bothering anyone! Henry’s place is close to the beach, where he takes us the evening before he leaves for an awesome sunset view (you know I am a huge fan of those), and dinner and double thick-shakes at Chargrill Charlie’s. 

Sharon and I go exploring on our day off and find the Hermitage Foreshore Walk which leads us to a friggin’ castle (which is actually Kincoppal-Rose Bay School) and beautiful, secluded beaches with views of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge.

In the midst of dealing with work, matching customers on Tinder and making things awkward, an insufferable heatwave and cat-sitting, Australia Day comes along. Last year wasn’t a memorable experience (link), and neither is this year – the reason being several Jägerbombs.

I start the day with a walk up to Watson’s Bay, stopping to take in the view at the Gap and then heading onto the South Head Heritage Trail, which has been on my bucket list for a while because of the Hornby Lighthouse, which reminds me of something in between a circus tent and a lollipop. I’m digging that. It’s a very quiet day, so I have most of the walk to myself, and if it wasn’t for a stubborn fisherman, I’d have a whole nude beach as well! Would have been cool to go for a skinny dip in broad daylight.

All that exercise exhausts me, so I have a long nap when I get back around noon, and then I pack most of my stuff at Henry’s and get an Uber back to Randwick. I sit for hours and watch some guy play the new Resident Evil game on YouTube while I get ready to go for drinks with Sharon in Bondi after she finishes work.

We head to Teagardens to repeat last year’s success, but we are denied entrance because for some reason, a bouncer decides that our ID’s are invalid for the first time in our almost two years here. The awkward exchange goes a little something like this:

Me: Hi! *hands bouncer my (Danish) driver’s license*

Bouncer: *looks sceptically at driver’s license for what seems like a long time* Can I see a driver’s license?

Me: This is it.

Bouncer: *looks at d.l. sceptically for a long time once again* Where does it say that?

Me: *points to the top of the card* Right there… In Danish.

Bouncer: *looks sceptically at me, looking for a reason to not let me in* I will get back to you in a minute…

Sharon: *hands bouncer her Irish age card*

Bouncer: You can’t get in with that card. You need an Australian ID, or a passport or d.l. from your country.

Us: …

Okay, so the exchange isn’t particularly interesting or funny, just kind of stupid. Disappointed, we head over to Cock and Bull, which is an Irish pub everyone we know have been to, but we never have. There are a few seats free in there, so we grab some drinks and share some chicky chicky parm parm.

I go to the bathroom, or Whiz Palace as I like to call it, and as I am leaving the stall, I see Ciara walking in and I let out a frightened and excited scream. Ciara and Devitt, from our drunken night at Cheers recently, have decided to bless us with their presence and they have plenty of Jägerbombs and a guy wearing Oakley’s with them. And that’s the story of how I celebrated an Australian holiday with Irish people.

We are having a great time, downing drinks and stealing the guy’s Oakley’s for PC Principal and Cousin Itt impressions, and then we move to the pool tables.

Someone decides to put on a Sia song, and I am sorry, but I cannot and will not go through life without recreating her music videos when her songs are being played. It’s really the DJ’s fault that I am twirling around the room,  but this leads to a bouncer approaching me around 5 minutes after the song and strange dancing ends, and he is angry and not very talkative and kicks me out without explanation. Some people I don’t know come out an try to argue with another bouncer to get me back in, but he asks us to talk to the bouncer in question. Sharon finds him, and basically he just finds me vulgar and drunk. Well, I am at an Irish pub on Australia Day, go figure. Anyways, most people would see that as a defeat, but to be honest, I am quite proud to be able to say that I was kicked out of a place notorious for drunken, bad behaviour. I must be doing something right.

We end up getting into Tea Gardens anyway for a last drink before getting an Uber home, and it’s back to work for me a few hours later. Luckily, a cold Coke with lemon fixes the crankiness, and we close early, as it’s dead quiet in the building.

I go back to Randwick after work and take a long nap and finish watching Resident Evil. After obsessively reading all of the pages on the fan-Wiki, I engage in a long and serious conversation with Tanya about life, and then she gets the fantastic idea to go to Coach and Horses for karaoke night, just like our first night out together (link). We shower and get ready in record time, then have a few drinks before heading out.

It’s fairly early and quiet when we arrive, but we are greeted with an older woman with a strong Indian accent singing Dancing Queen, which means that the night is already a total success. Some English guys start talking to us and Siobhan arrives and puts in my name for a song and I completely panic. So I am forced to go up and do my best Danny Zuko for Summer Nights, and you bet I force Siobhan to be Sandy. After several drinks, and a solo performance of Take on Me, Tanya and I get up to do Africa, which is also something I can tick off my bucket list now. It’s great for me and horrible for everyone who has to listen to it. I get my Halal Snack Pack and fight off strangers wanting to try it as I always do, and I get home around 1.30, super drunk and super sick. On top of my usual post-drinking sickness which includes painful leg cramps, rooms spinning and overwhelming nausea, I also get food poisoning. I spend all night with a stabbing pain in my stomach, mostly staying in the bathroom with short breaks in my bed or on the couch while I gather the energy to get up and go back to the bathroom. Sharon finds me the next morning, almost naked and in fetal position, which is becoming a monthly thing now.    

 

What can I say, guess I’m just…