My flight from Atlanta to LA was forgettable. I sat next to an elderly Jewish couple on their way home. She noticed to flag on my backpack and said she was raised in Winnipeg. I nodded politely. Then she told me about the two week Caribbean cruise she and her husband, Jimmy, were on. I nodded politely. I continued nodding politely for over an hour. She has three sons, two of whom are divorced. No grandchildren yet, but they're hoping!
The layover at LAX was all I wanted it to be: I brushed my teeth, had some pizza and drank two double white russians. I settled into seat 45J (window seat, bitches!) with a nice girl from Florida and a middle aged Australian woman who had one of those laughs that makes you not want to say anything else funny for the next fifteen hours. Thanks to the nice amount of alcohol in my system and a few Nyquils I was able to sleep through the first nine to ten hours or so. Then I watched parts of Juno, Walk the Line, 500 Days of Summer and various episodes of complimentary Showtime programming. The flight was incredible cold for some odd reason. Oh, it was also completely uncomfortable and my tummy hurt most of the time. The “dinner” was disgusting but the fake eggs they gave us for breakfast weren't too bad. I eventually made it off the plane only to be tapped on the back by yet another Canadian, also from Winnipeg. Sewing that thing on was such a good call.
Customs were a joke and my bag was the third one off the rack. I exchanged my currency, got a Vodafone and hopped on the train to Central Station where my hotel was. I got off and it all hit me: this place is fucking hot! I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt while carrying a thirty pound pack. When I got to the hotel I was literally dripping in sweat (shout out to those who brought me to Room 1328, it's so legit).
After freshening up I went for my first walk around the city. I had some awesome chicken and then went into Peterpan's travel agency and booked an open dated trip to Fraser Island and to the Whitsunday Islands. On a roll, later that afternoon I booked my NZ trip and my flights both to there and down to Melbourne.
It was raining and overcast when I headed out to see the harbour. On the way there I met two more Canadians, from Halifax, they were quite nice, and also lost. I ended up wandering into the Royal Botanical Gardens and it was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen, even considering the weather. I walked the coast around Farm Cove and then hit the Opera House. Sooooo beautiful. There was a show on that night and people were walking around in tuxedos and gowns (and me dripping wet in cut off jean shorts). By the time I hit Sydney Cove I was too exhausted to go on. I trained back home, ate some cheap sushi and hit the sack. Then I went to bed.
This morning I got up early, did some laundry in the sink, and hopped on the train back to Sydney Cove. The ferry ride towards Taronga Zoo. The ride was epic and when Facebook stops beings a bitch I'm going to post some awesome shots I got. It must have been grandparent day at the zoo because everyone there was over 60 or under 8, except for one sweaty Canadian in headphones. That's another thing, I sweat whenever I'm anywhere that isn't this hotel room. Lotsa fun. The zoo was great, I hadn't been to one since I was a little kid and I got to see tons of sad animals in captivity. The snow leopard was particularly pissed off, and the elephants didn't have any spring in their step. I did see two goats humping on a cliff, but she was faking it.
I decided to walk back from the ferry. You can give yourself great tours of a city when you have no idea where you're going and just head towards shiny things for hours on end. It just hit me that it's like 9:00 PM and I'm already falling asleep at the computer. Tonight was supposed to be filled with socializing and alcohol, but I think it's just going to have to wait.
Tomorrow: Bondi, baby!
Yay nice Halifax people!
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