As I look back on Bondi from my new hostel back in the city, I'm half-watching my new German roommate arrange his belongings and fold his newly laundered clothes with Nazi-like efficiency. His name is Sven. I assume he enjoys bratwurst and the like. Now he seems to have misplaced something and is searching high and low. I don't have the heart to lend him a hand because I want to document what happens next. He's scratching his blonde head of hair while he nervously contemplates where this lost item may be...wait.... he found it! A t-shirt. Phew! He just left, to do a load of whites I presume.
Back to the lecture at hand: Bondi. Saturday morning I checked out of the Mecca of all hotels after snagging a free $18 buffet breakfast: gather 'round children and I'll tell you how to eat for free in Sydney between 8 and 11 AM. Go to the second floor of the Mercure Hotel at 820 George Street (across from KFC) and simply smile politely (the same way you do to elderly Jewish women on cross-continental flights) and walk towards a vacant table. Put down a book/newspaper to claim it as your own and then approach the buffet (I used Chandler's The Big Sleep, you can use any book of your choice. Except Twilight. Ass-hats who use Twilight should be tarred and feathered and forced to spend their remaining days having enlightened conversations about goose-stepping and the current state of the Euro with Sven). Avoid the over-ripened grapefruit halves, but go nuts on the scrambled eggs, fresh pineapple and small little lamb sausages that melt in your mouth. If you really want something toasted be prepared to put it through the majigger like five times. Have two to three cups of coffee because getting one on the street is like double what it costs at Timmy's. If an Indonesian busboy approaches you to take away your empty dishes, let him; that's what they pay him for. When you finish eating to your heart's content, simply walk out. Ta da!
Maneuvering a large pack through the trains and buses of a major city isn't easy, but I made it to Bondi Junction without a problem...yet. I got on the bus that goes to the beach. Fifteen minutes later I noticed my surroundings becoming more and more suburban and less and less beach. I asked a quiet Asian girl where the bus was headed, got off, crossed the street, and took the same bus back in the right direction towards the beach. At this point sweat was pouring down my back like Niagara. The new bus was comfortable and I was elated when we finally hit what was unmistakably Bondi beach. (Editor's note: ''Use Me'' by Bill Withers just came on shuffle, gonna play it twice). I obviously missed my stop while staring out the window at the awesomest beach ever and had to walk like seven long, hard blocks back to my hostel with my pack on my back.
For the second time in three days I approached a reception desk with enough sweat on my forehead to fill a juice box (Apple-Grape). All in all, my threes nights at Bondi Backpackers hostel were great. The place could have been cleaner and the staff could have smiled, but it was alright. When/if I spend more nights at the beach I'll probably stay somewhere else. ROOMATE INTERUPTION NUMBER TWO!!! Sleeping guy in the bunk above me finally woke up. His name is Michal (try pronouncing it quickly in a thick Yiddish accent) and he's Danish. The poor guy is sick and went to get some soup. The hostel by the beach produced some quite interesting characters. The dramatis personae: Tall Angry Guy, Drunk Irish Rob, Small Irish Allan, Steve, Chevy, Math teacher dude from Edmonton, German Girl, Zack (also) from Edmonton, Unemployed British Girl #1, Unemployed British Girl #2, Happy Tom the Red-Head and a Scottish girl who went by V. There was also a middle-aged acid flashback named Heather who had very strong opinions on the downfall of Australian agriculture and the inflation of food prices.
That first night Chevy and I went bar hopping along the beach and had some laughs, and several drinks. We met up with out motley crew back at the hostel and drank goon and smoked very sub-par green until the wee hours of the morning. The next day we hit the beach. So pristine. The most amazing part is that it's so close to the city. In Montreal terms it's like taking the metro to Cote-Vertu, getting on a ten minute bus and finding yourself at a world-class beach (instead of Luddy's house). We swam, tanned, and people-watched all day long. Slightly burnt by the sun, I headed back to the hostel and joined in with others who were watching hours of American sitcoms on the TV in the lounge. I went to bed early that night. Yesterday was way too hot to spend at the beach, so I took the proper bus back to the junction and did the only thing around there that was air-conditioned: I saw Invictus. It was awesome, but that funky theater worked on a system of reserved seating. I was in seat G-10, one over from (another) elderly couple who brought their own sandwiches and cans of diet Fanta. My intentions for my last night at the beach were to revisit the goon, but I got so caught up in fun conversation in the lounge that midnight came and went before I had a chance to start drinking.
This morning I showered, laundered and checked out all by 10 AM. Bussed to the Junction, back on the train, and checked in here at the Wake-Up hostel, voted #1 hostel in Oceania and #1 large hostel in the world. This place is epically clean and has everything you could ever need. It's slightly pricier then I would have liked but I'll take it. You met two of my roommates already, but there are also two very disagreeable looking girls with Baltic accents. I'm gonna call them ''Slobodanvia'' and ''Mika'' until I find out what their actual names are. This afternoon I walked to Darling Harbour. It was really beautiful but I'll have to go back when the weathers nicer. The Sydney Aquarium was kind of a bust, but on my walk around town I noticed a bunch of cool shit and listened to my i-Pod on shuffle, which seems to be the move so far. Missy Elliott and Cat Stevens back to back? Damn right.
Some friends from Bondi are staying here as well and in a few minutes we're going to compete in trivia night for a $100 bar tab. Little do these fuckers know that I was on a nationally ranked trivia team back home and am dying for free booze.
Shout out to Tush
If you would only use the liquid sunscreen rather than the spray on....Stubborn old fool.
ReplyDeletei agree with the spray.
ReplyDeletemy disappointment is that you haven't yet met the norwegian girls, and explained to them you were on the canadian wrestling team.
other than that, your blog was A-1.