Things are looking up up up

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So after a few days of waiting I finally got word about the nanny-job, but we’re going to do this chronologically, to keep you guys on your toes a bit.

Thursday began with a run, as has been my habit for this past week, for better or worse.
For better because I’m getting back in shape and can firm up again after months of slacking while indulging in large quantities of food, alcohol and candy.
For worse because I’m not quite keeping up the food-intake with my calorie-burn, and am consequently shedding pounds I’d really much rather keep on me. But worry not, Mom, I’m on it!

After breakfast and a shower I packed a small daypack and went off in the car with Richard, my host and tour guide. We drove up the coast and pulled into an empty parking lot for employees of a rescue helicopter centre. After walking for 5-7 minutes down a sandy dirt road and through some thick, shrubby areas, we landed on big, flat rocks, layered on top of each other in dramatic formations. Right below us was the furiously foaming ocean, a vast monochrome that showed off a stunning turquoise which blended with the white bubbly foam as it slammed into the landmass.
The rocks themselves seemed imported from the moon, with craters and odd crevices that fascinated me to no end.

We walked over to an area where Richard had mentioned a cave. It was far below, down by water level, but I looked around and thought I had found a route that would take me down to a big plateau from which it seemed like I would be able to see directly into the cave-opening.
I took off my sandals and started my descent, which was more difficult than I had thought because of a layer of grainy sand draping the rocks, making it hard to get a good grip. I heard Richard yell something from above, but couldn’t make out what he was saying due to the strong wind, and felt that I needed to focus on my climb anyway.
After I had made it safely to the next plateau I looked up to see what Richard was yelling about, but I still couldn’t hear a word he said. His body language, on the other hand, was about as clear as it could be, with arms begging me to come back up. He looked really worried, and I felt bad. I was having a field day climbing around on the edge with the roaring force of the waves splashing against the rocks right beneath me, but Richard’s concerned look put a damper on my fun, so I started climbing back up again.

We walked over to the main attraction of the area, which was an old wreck from what was once a coal-ship. Now it was nothing more than a bunch of rust washed up on land, but the dark orange color of the wreck against the gray rocks and the clear blue sky made a nice picture, so we hung around photographing it for a while.
On our way back from the shipwreck I stopped to take pictures of some interestingly shaped protrusions on the rocks, which brought my attention to what I had thought to be little pebbles. It turned out they were in fact myriads of tiny shells, holding on for dear life to wherever they’d been washed up. There was no way around crushing about 70 of them with each step, and I had to remind myself of the abundant plethora of these baby-shells to not feel bad about the destruction Richard and I caused merely by walking.

We drove up to a nice look-out point, where Australia’s oldest building was situated. It was an un-impressively small tower of some sort, so we ignored it and sat down with a view over the beach where Captain Cook first set foot. Richard had packed a few rolls of bread, a can of tuna, a banana and some donuts, which made for a nice little snack.
I was feeling really relaxed in this quiet, peaceful spot until Richard threw a piece of bread to the masses of seagulls that had been hanging out around us in hopes of food. I jokingly scolded him for his idiocy, to which he replied by throwing another piece right next to me, so that the ugly birds came swarming all around me in desperate attempts to get to the bread first.
Very nice, Richard. If I end up with salmonella I know who to blame.

After having laid lazily in the grass for an hour or so we headed back home, where I got ready to head in to Sydney to meet up with Jett.
He had given me directions to an address around King’s Cross, and it brought me to a super-swank building with large iron gates and huge glass doors. I went up to the forth floor and knocked on flat 16 like instructed, and Paul, a guy I recognized from the bbq last weekend, opened the door. He was preparing dinner inside, and keeping him company was a girl named Bianca.

The apartment was ridiculous. The carpets, wallpapers, bathrooms and the general layout was very tasteful and modern, but the people living in this place obviously had no interest in interior design whatsoever, and so the flat was outfitted very poorly. Paul and another guy was house-sitting this place, and so Paul thought it would be a good idea to invite some people over for dinner to show off his posh accommodation for the week.

Jett and his Swedish friend Martin showed up after a while, and we had some beers while waiting for the food to get ready. We sat out on the balcony (on cheap, plastic furniture) overlooking the water and talking about traveling and malaria, which Jett had caught on his last trip to Papua New Guinea.
After dinner we ended up in front of Youtube, which really is a sign of our time, if you ask me. Soon I won’t be able to remember how nights with friends used to end before this wondrous tool of entertainment came into our lives.
I was trying to get going to catch a train back to the suburb, as I had not planned to stay in the city overnight, but every time I expressed that I probably should get going, they convinced me to join them outside for one last smoke. I stupidly agreed time after time, and when I finally got up and said that I really had to go, the last train to my suburb had already left Sydney.
“You can sleep in the spare room here”, Paul was quick to offer, and I was just as quick to accept it. The others were leaving, and I helped Paul tidy up in the kitchen. “Now help me put the sheets on my bed”, asked Paul, which I did. “You know, the easiest would be if you just slept in here with me”, he said, as we were stretching out a sheet over the queen-sized bed.
Really? REALLY? Now isn’t that a surprise! Paul thinks it would be a good idea if I slept in his bed. I'm shocked!
“It’s not a very big bed”, I replied, but Paul promised he would keep to himself. “I’d rather sleep by myself”, I answered, but Paul said that he was now getting worried about what he had offered, because the other guy, who was the actual house-sitter, might not approve that some random girl slept over. “But if you sleep in my bed he’ll never have to know”, insisted Paul.
“I’ll sleep by myself”, I repeated, while ruminating over what complete dicks men can be. You don’t tell someone who’s stranded late at night that they can sleep in the spare room, just to modify your offer to in my bed when all other options have left the building. Asshole.

Paul showed me into a room with crap all over the floor, crates and boxes with what appeared to be trash, and a barely visible, small couch in the very back. "You can sleep there", he muttered, obviously insulted by my adamant rejection to lay next to him.
I demanded a sheet and a pillow from Paul, whom I no longer like, and grabbed a blanket from a nearby pile of shit.
“Do you need to take a shower, or…?” tried Paul, but I said no, and bid goodnight.
I went to sleep in all my clothes, and was tapped awake at 7AM by Paul the following morning. “If you leave now Phil won’t have to know you were ever here”. I got up in an instant, put on my boots, drank the glass of cold water offered to me, and said goodbye and thanks to Paul the A-hole.

I was meeting a guy from Couchsurfing.org for lunch in Sydney, so going back to the suburb didn’t make any sense. Instead I strolled around the Botanical Gardens for a while, but started feeling pangs of hunger within an hour, so I headed over to the Central Business District for something edible.
In the Food Court of the Westfield Shopping Center I scored a big fruit salad from a sweet Italian old man's fruit stand, and I sat down to write and listen to music in a quiet corner. The morning rush had not yet started, and the mall was almost peaceful, which felt ironic since I was practically sitting in the midst of capitalism. But noting around me stirred, and it could've just as easily been my best friend's kitchen an early morning.
After this light breakkie I walked around in the mall, and ran into a store where everything was $4.95.
Uh-oh.
I don’t have much money and I certainly don’t have more room in my backpack, and I still didn’t know about the nanny-job, so I really shouldn’t buy anything. I’ll just look, I reasoned with myself, and then decided that trying things on was free, too. When I ended up paying for 5-6 pieces of clothes and a new pair of sunnies (my old ones are scratched!) I felt almost caught by surprise. “How did this happen? I was only looking”.
I told myself that when you’ve hiked and then had dinner and then slept in the same tank top, it’s ok to buy a new one, especially if it’s only $5. Why I had to buy the other pieces of clothing I couldn’t quite justify, but I cut myself some slack and patted myself on the shoulder: “This is how you console yourself after a rough night and there’s no one to call up and talk to about your most recent hardship”.
Good one, Annis. Blame it all on Paul.

I dropped into an internet café to look up the directions to meet up with Lorenzo, my Couchsurfer lunch date, and got on the train heading over there.
The area was called Newtown, and it was indeed new to me. I decided I liked it, and I liked it a lot. Unlike the other places in Sydney I had been to so far, this place was not so busy, and not so hectic. If I don’t get the nanny-job, I thought, I’ll try to find an apartment here.
Newtown boasted heaps of cheap, good Thai restaurants, and Lorenzo took us to a really great one, where we stuffed our faces with delicious green curry and panang for $6 each.
After lunch we sat down in a park and chatted, and I moaned about not having heard from the nanny-job yet, even though I was told I could expect a call the day before around lunch time. “This doesn’t bode well”, I forecasted, when the phone rang. It was Tania from the nanny-agency who happily told me that the family had chosen me. High five!

Lorenzo had to go back to work, but invited me to a dinner thing that he was going to later that night, and also offered me to stay at his place over the weekend if I wanted to. I thought it sounded great to get out of the suburb for a few days, so I grabbed the next train back to Richard's house where I took a shower, packed a small bag and immediately turned around to go back to Sydney again.

Lorenzo and friends took me to a pretty cool bar with really interesting people for some beers, and I was happy to find a new favorite brew: Amber Ale. I only had two, but since I hadn’t had a bite since lunch and it was now 7PM, I could feel its glorious effect within the first half scooper (yup, picking up some Aussie slang as well). Lorenzo’s friends were all really nice, and I had a great time. As we left to go get something to eat the rain was pouring down hard, but we suffered through the 9 blocks to end up at a Chinese restaurant. It wasn't very cheap, and it felt especially pricey since I don’t really care for Chinese food. The bill landed on about $20 a head, which I thought was ridiculous considering that we were paying mostly for deep-fried MSG and oily carbohydrates. But the company was good, and it was a day of celebration for me, so I didn't mind.

It was still pouring when Lorenzo and I took the bus back to his place, which was 30 minutes outside of Sydney city center. On the bus we both learned that neither of us had ever done any drugs, and we were both equally astounded that there was someone else out there in the world with a similar mindset in that regard. Bonding moment, for sure.
When we arrived at his place, Lorenzo showed me to the couch, gave me a sleeping bag and a pillow, and didn’t even suggest that it’d be better if I slept in his bed.

This morning I woke up with the ocean right outside the balcony window, which truly appeals to the Aquarius within me, and now Lorenzo is making us pancakes and coffee. He’s Italian, so I don’t know what to expect from his pancake-skills, but the coffee is bound to be strong and European. Plus, I spy with my little eye both banana and Nutella, which means he probably knows what he's doing with the pancakes as well.
Happiness.

Now that I have my housing all taken care of, and I sort of have a job along with a few nice friends around here, I’m starting to really like Sydney.
And what does Sydney think of me after a week? Let me refer to these two last pictures in this entry to answer that question for you.

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Photos

This is my friend
Crazy-ass Jett

Comments

[potato]

Paul has officially had his man card revoked and is from hence forth reclassified Slimy Cheesy Asshole Dick, or SCAD. He will be entered into the SCAD International Database and has accrued a formal Texas ass whooping, though I think the little perv might like it. Thank you for your participation in our effort to end the heinous stain of male SCAD affliction. Sincerely, Potato California Regional Director of the SCAD International Database

[sandra]

Aquarius and never done any drugs? me too. I didn't even try smoking - just having the occasional drink. :)

[annis]

dear potato, thank you for dealing with this matter so promptly. as it turned out, paul the a-hole quickly assumed that i must be either gay OR only attracted to black men, a hypothesis solely based on my refusal to sleep with him. what other reason could i possibly have for not wanting to share his bed, other than above mentioned?