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Published: January 1st 2007
Sydney (1); Happy New Year.
Sydney Harbour, 6.30am New Years Eve.Saturday 30th December 2006 to Monday 1st January 2007.
Having said goodbye to Lynn and Steve I spent my last sunny afternoon in Melbourne seeing a few more of the landmarks that had thus far evaded me and made my way to Southern Cross (bus station this time) for the final time. I was sad to be leaving but even sadder at the thought of sitting on a bus for twelve hours and it was probably this reason alone that made me close to boiling point whilst queuing to check in. Patience I'm afraid is not my greatest virtue and it's definitely been something I've been working on for the last few weeks but seeing people queue jumping too far away to do or say anything about it with a large, heavy bag on my back combined with the general stupidity of people in these situations had me biting my lip hard.
The coach departed Melbourne at 7.20pm and I was sat next to an Indian looking lad who spoke not a word of English whatsoever. At least it wouldn't be repeat of the train journey with mad Andy I thought and as darkness descended we were treated to
Sydney (1); Happy New Year
Melbourne. The River Yarra with Flinders Street Station opposite The South Bank, The MCG and The Rod Lave Arena in the background and The Cathedral mid left. a movie, albeit a trashy one, with Matthew Mconhaughey and Sarah Parker. I felt a bit guilty after it had finished as I was the only one on board with my reading light on so I popped one of Helen's herbal sleepers in my mouth, switched off the light and attempted to sleep, unfortunately with not the slightest bit of success.
We had two stops, one at 11:30 and one at 2:30 and the relief getting off was immense and chatting to other passengers I soon discovered that I wasn't going to be the only one homeless when we got to Sydney.
A couple of days before I left the UK it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn't booked any accommodation for Sydney which, as you can probably imagine, would become harder to find as time went on and all I could find was a motor inn in Ryde, 15km from the City for a disgusting 86 pounds. When I got to Asia I was flicking through my book containing all my travel details and noticed that I had in fact booked a hostel for Sydney, just that I'd completely forgotten ! I know what you'll be
Sydney (1); Happy New Year
Melbourne Jail where Ned Kelly hung, taken through the gates. Well time was short and I wasn't paying ten quid to look in an empty cell. thinking and I agree, at times I'm a complete absent minded knob !
Anyway, at Byron Bay I rang to confirm my Melbourne accommodation and also called the motor inn to cancel my booking. Mistake number 2. They told me I'd have to contact Lastminute.com to recieve my refund, something I never got around to doing and when I got to Brisbane I rang my Sydney hostel and was horrified when they told me they had no record even of my existence. From thinking I was double booked for New Years Eve I was suddenly on the streets. Natasha, the poet on the train had said she might be able to fix something up at one of her friends' house but I had conceded to myself that it was all my fault and I'd have to pay the price. It was New Years Eve anyway and an early night wouldn't be on the cards.
We arrived at Sydney central at 5.45am and I'd managed no more than one hours sleep. My first thought was the need to ditch the weight on my back so I went into the adjacent train station and asked a policemean where the lockers
were. "There aren't any" he replied adding before I had chance to swear, grab him by the collars or anything else that it was for security reasons and that there was a place around the corner at 810 George Street. I staggered around the corner but of course it wasn't open, there were just about six other travellers in a similar predicament camped on the pavement outside. It's strange how confusing and hard it can be to think straight when you've suffered severe sleep deprivation, those Japs were clever bleeders, so my next thought I considered almost a stroke of genius. I'd booked the hostel close to the rail station on purpose (even though I travelled by bus !) and it was actually on the corner of the next block so I went up to reception and told them I had a booking for later in the day. Of course they couldn't find it so, putting on my most distressed and anxious face I asked if I could leave my bag whilst I looked for somewhere else. They kindly agreed and told me to return at noon to see the manager about the booking mix up.
I walked the
Sydney (1); Happy New Year
Melbourne. The Circle Tram that saved me many miles of walking. twenty minutes or so through the deserted City heading towards the most famous landmarks of the city, the opera house and the bridge, noticing the homeless people on the benches and in the doorways who later that day would be my room mates, and sat at the harbour watching as City began to wake. The next couple of hours were definitely some of my lower moments since my journey began began but I had no one to blame but myself. At 10:30am I went to the Marriott on Pitt Street to see Johnathan and to pick up my tickets for the test match. I went to the bathroom first in an attempt to wash and generally clean myself up as I was worried he may not recognise me. With three days growth, one hours sleep and clothes I'd had on for over 24 hours I didn't exactly look (or for that matter smell) the picture of health and happiness. Fortunately, he was on the airport run and wasn't there though that scotched my plan of asking him if I could kip on his floor. In the hour preceding all this I had rung the original Motor Inn in Ryde to
Sydney (1); Happy New Year
Melbourne. Hitching a ride on The Metal Pig. plead my innocence and confirm my booking (that I'd actually cancelled) and they told me the booking was confirmed. They had no record of my cancelling and consequently I had a room, albeit half an hour out of town, which I'd already paid for. My elation was massive.
I made it back up to the hostel and the staff on reception had changed shift so, in order to get my bag back, I explained to the girl the situation. I opened my book and showed her where I'd written 'booked for 7 nights from 31st December' and that there'd been a horrible mix up. She scanned then announced "Oh, you're in the wrong hostel".
"Huh"
"Yeah, this is Sydney Central YHA, you've got Wake Up Sydney Central. It's round the corner". What a tit !
I tried to look elated, that I'd just had my life saved and she looked genuinely thrilled that she'd just given me the information that had saved me from a night on the streets but I knew better. Although I'd stupidly gone to the wrong hostel the number I'd rung from Brisbane was correct and surprise surprise when I went into
Sydney (1); Happy New Year
Down and out in Sydney. Homeless, tired and smelly. Early morning New Years Eve. Wake Up the answer was the same. Just by chance however, a vacancy as rare as rocking horse shit had come up two minutes earlier and the guy, again looking as pleased as punch that he was the deliverer of such great news to such a desperate looking old fool, offered me a bunk for three nights. I had to quickly spin another white lie that I'd just minutes earlier booked a hotel but he was determined. He was persistent, "You can use the phone to cancel if you want". I thanked him and told him that I'd book the other two nights and return tommorow but, as I hadn't slept, would use the hotel to get some much needed kip before tonight. I walked out of the hostel like I'd been given a shot of adrenalin and forgot for a brief moment that I'd hardly slept for over 24 hours.
When I got off the train I asked the gaurd on the platform for directions and was told it was about a kilometre towards town up a steep incline. I only had my flip flops on and had developed a tiny blister on the sole of my foot
Sydney (1); Happy New Year.
The Famous Bridge, early morning. that was now feeling as though I'd been branded with a red hot branding iron and as I marched up the hill gritting my teeth and egging myself on with each step in a bid to mask the pain and fatigue I imagined myself as a paratrooper on manouevres.
When I reached the place I was disappointed. For two hundred dollars I was expecting a tall plush glass sided hotel building. What I got was a two storey shit hole !! It was now ten past three and the guy on reception informed me that my room wasn't quite ready and that it was still being cleaned. You're having a laugh I thought to myself, and don't expect me to check out at 10am tommorow.
I went in and the maid was busy. She was your typical 'small town in the middle of nowhere' hillbilly but lovely with it. I think she was a bit retarded but in which way I couldn't figure out and she was forever apologising. I asked her her name and she replied Trayyzze and I asked her about three times to repeat it before finally realising her name was actually Theresa or Trees
Sydney (1); Happy New Year.
I call this one 'Tired and Depressed'. for short. She complained of Japanese women being hairy !, gave me some extra coffee sachets for my travels and found a pair of ladies panties in the crumpled bed linen. The cleaning lasted a good 35 minutes despite my saying "don't worry about that, Trees" about five times for different tasks she told me she still had to do. I just wanted to rest so when she finally left I set the alarm for two hours later, collapsed onto the bed and fell into an instant deep sleep. When I woke I switched the TV on and it dawned on me the scale of the celebrations about to commence. The news had an item about NY Eve and interviewed people who had taken up their positions for viewing the fire works around the same time I'd arrived in town. I remembered I'd seen a couple of people carrying fold up chairs but thought nothing of it and it went on to say that one million people were expected in the City.
I chatted to a woman on the train to the City who was on her way to the opposite side of the harbour with her family and
Sydney (1); Happy New Year.
If the one in Melbourne was as simply named as this I wouldn't have made a complete buffoon of myself. when I emerged from the station I thought I'd walked onto the set of 'Zombie; Flesh Eaters'. Masses and masses of people were marching down George Street just as I had fifteen hours earlier to see the first of two planned fireworks displays.
I spent the majority of the night in a street close to the harbour where the speakers attached to the walls of the bars made the street into a huge dance floor. Dance music was the order of the day and the place was bouncing, thankfully in a good natured way. I drank a bottle of wine from a Starbucks cup and chatted to various people including a girl who'd just had a row with her fiance and ten minutes earlier thrown her three thousand dollar engagement ring into the harbour and although the fireworks themselves were a bit of a disappointment had a brilliant night. I returned to Ryde on the train at about 2am and the walk up the hill was a doddle !!
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non-member comment
Did you try diving in for that ring? Good looking blonde - no wonder you woke up!I knew you were a knob but I had no idea you were absent minded.You continue to be full of surprises! Happy N Y.