Not everything will kill you in Australia - but it goddamn tries to - Part 1
After my stressful departure from the Philippines I was more than ready to have a festive, joyful and happy Christmas time at the sunny beach in Sydney. Well, Australia was not. First of all where the hell was summer? Seriously, I stepped out the airplane and immediately got hit by a blizzard and temperatures not seen since Roland Emmerich’s “The Day After Tomorrow”. OK, I might exaggerate a bit but this was supposed to be summertime in Australia. Instead it was more or less the bloody same temperature as back in Zurich (they had an unusual warm Christmas). Also, due to me missing my flight in Manila, I arrived late on Christmas Eve and by the time I checked in at the outrageously expensive hostel pretty much everyone had left the nest. I however had a plan and would stick to it, come what may. That was a couchsurfing community gathering at the beach to be precise. I hopped on the bus and got all the way out to famous Bondi beach only to encounter a pitiful group freezing their asses off on said deserted beach. The scenery reminded me of Jack Nicholson’s last shot in “The Shining”. I joined the last Mohicans for a round of festive holiday drinks and fucked off within 30 minutes. No way I would catch my death here.
Back in the city I found the hostel deserted so decided to venture out to find a cozy restaurant where I can be forever alone and eat my first ever Christmas dinner apart from my family and - much more catastrophically - without delicious home made Bulgarian food. Luckily, I found a small restaurant that served Croatian food.
I ordered some familiar dishes which tasted quite acceptable (no worries Mom, no one is even close to your impeccable cooking skills). Also I managed to facetime with la familia and some friends back in Zurich, bringing the overall depression level considerably down. After that my only friend was alcohol. That and karaoke. Entertainingly performed by drunk gays, drag queens and fag hags. Considering my situation this was to be assessed as a pretty good outcome.
The next day it only could go uphill as I met my sister’s friend Anja who pretty much started her world trip the same time as me but in the opposite direction and here we were on the other side of the world criss-crossing each other’s path. That girl has a voice of a 90 year old man who’s been smoking two packs of cigarettes since childhood. She seriously belongs in a jazz band or in a studio dubbing movie trailers.
The weather remarkably improved and we finally were able to fully enjoy Sydney as intended. Anja and her friend even let me crash their fabulous Airbnb flat so I could save a thousand or so dollars (goddammit Down Under got really expensive). I in turn introduced them to the equally fabulous and crazy Sydney gay nightlife. I am now in possession of some pretty interesting pics that will insure my pension should she indeed break it into Hollywood. (She already is on her way as she organizes by now Switzerland biggest award show - go gurrrl!).
And then it was time to meet a colleague from the bank I used to work at who had mentioned that he was planning his holiday in Australia. He thus suggested to join forces for two weeks and explore the South. I did share my concerns with him as we had totes different mindsets: I was backpacking for a year and he was a successful banker ready to spend my month's budget for a night at a fancy hotel. Eventually I gave in. Big mistake.
Our first days in Sydney were actually pretty great. The flat he booked was amazing, the parties we went to as well and I even go to see Yannick, whom I spent crazy days with back in Singapore as well as Irwin, whom I met back in 2008 during my first Aussie Aussie oi oi oi experience. Yes, I am that international. #humble #blessed #iknowhowhashtagswork
New Years Eve was a hoot. First of all we were amused how on TV they were showing some batshit crazy tourists who would queue for 24 freaking hours to grab the best viewing spot for the fireworks and then wait for another 18 hours for the spectacle to actually begin. Ain't nobody got time for that. Instead we decided to have a nice meal at the flat when suddenly we heard fireworks. What time was it? Did we miss something? Was our vodka diet kicking in (Lose 3 days in one week)? Was it really after midnight? Frantically checking our phones we realized that this was a family fireworks display at 9pm. Oh how goddamn unnecessary to confuse us just so little Timmy can get his own special fireworks.
Midnight was however approaching fast and we had no idea where to go. A special Sydney fireworks app came in handy displaying in real time which spots were still open. Not many as it turns out - 30 minutes before the clock was about to strike Cinderella hour (those crazy tourists were probably laughing now). It was already a miracle that we managed to get a cab to one of the locations we deemed suitable. 5 minutes before showtime we got there, managed to get in and out (the view was worse than seat 1 in row 1 in a movie theater) and just before we lost hope miracle number #2 kissed us: we discovered a small wall: and once gracefully climbed granting us full view at the famous harbor bridge. The fireworks were mesmerizing. Fueled by this great experience and cheap vodka red bull in oversized plastic cups we were ready to hit Sydney’s nightlife and properly celebrate the arrival of 2014. For some reason I have no clear memory of that night however I do remember that we somehow ended up in the backstage dressing room at a gay club. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Remember that movie “The Sweetest Thing” with Cameron Diaz and Christina Applegate?
Yeah, exactly like that. With the slight difference that the wigs must have been worth thousands of fabulous gold coins. Those drag queens have set their priorities straight. I’ll probably never will look as fabulous as I did in that moment. Long story short we got caught red-handed, screamed at and thrown out. Fantastic night, sweetie.
New Year’s Day was obviously very quiet so my body could rest… I’m just kidding. We went to “Daywash” a day party that cost us an arm and a leg, which equaled to precisely AUD 110, or 55 per limb. And it was absolutely utterly boring. The party crowd consisted of piles of sweaty muscled up flesh clones either self-absorbed or crazy due to questionable substances.
Time to ditch the day-zombies, bemoan the hard-earned and ill-spent 110 Aussie dollars, waive Sydney goodbye and check out Melbourne where the nightmare would slowly unfold…
