Superbowl Monday in Sydney

We began out second day in Sydney with yet another coastal hike. This time we took the meandering path from famous Bondi Beach all the way along the ocean to Coogee. It was a breezy morning but the rain had subsided and the water was a beautiful vibrant aquamarine so the nearly 2 hours spent in silence, listening to the waves was welcomed. 

According to our freebie map, currently functioning as our bible, all of the locals stop for fish and chips at the end of this morning ritual and despite the fact that I was pretty sure that tidbit was complete bullshit - fried food tastes good - so I was down. Jackie utilized her googling prowess and within minutes we were seated outside of A Fish Called Coogee for a plate of fried fantasticness. I don't typically eat seafood but anything tastes better with ketchup, or tomato sauce as it is called here, so my plate was cleaned.

A quick stop for some Fro Yo to balance out the diet of fat and sugar and we were back on the bus into town. 

Jackie and I have discussed the absurdity of asking whether or not a culture is 'nice' or not as, between the two of us we've covered a large portion of the globe and it would seem that no matter where you are, some people are good and some people suck ass.

We were beginning to think perhaps most Australians fell into the latter community but two incredibly helpful bus drivers restored our faith in Aussie kind and directed us to the Australian Center for Photography. The Museum was small, but interesting... and free.

With continuing clear skies we took the opportunity to walk down Oxford street, stopping at book shops, boutiques and cafes along the way until we ended up at Kawa in Surry Hills where we were served some sort of beet juice cocktail, soaked up some late afternoon rays, and inhaled some second hand smoke from the young French girls seated next to us. Being American, and a California native at that, I am always surprised how prevalent smoking is in other countries and how no one seems to care if they are blowing it in your smoke free face.

The evening was uneventful, with a brief discussion about going to see a movie on George Street and then thinking better of it.  When we awoke the following morning to blue skies and elevated temperatures it was as if god himself were smiling down upon us. We felt a sense of urgency to take care of some life logistics and get out in the vitamin D immediately.

Jackie had been recycling dirty clothes for a while and I had a few unmentionables that needed cleaning, so laundry was dropped off at a local mat, and a makeshift work station was sourced so I could edit the film I had shot for the hostel before skipping town. The proprietor had expressed interest in getting the images sooner rather than later so we walked up to Kings Cross and found a cute little cafe called 5 Bouroughs where the banana bread was delicious (although my Mom's is still far superior) and the barista was cute and just charming enough to make fun of my American accent without being offensive. He was also a wealth of knowledge, informing us that minimum wage in Sydney is nearly $20 an hour- making the unreal pricing structure slightly more understandable.

A couple hours of wifi were purchased from the Internet connection across the street and the ability to sit at a sidewalk cafe, write postcards, edit film and watch the local burnouts was thourougly enjoyed.

Jackie and I had been discussing for days watching the Monday morning Superbowl here, going so far as to having been invited to a Superbowl party. Sadly, work won out over the game, but we were able to stop into a seemingly rowdy old man only pub to catch the last several minutes so I could witness my beloved 49ers come so close, yet fail in their valiant pursuit for victory. A heartbreak felt by many of my loved ones at home for sure.

Laundry was picked up and feeling so fresh and so clean but working on what is becoming a rapidly shrinking budget we did what any tourist does on a lazy Summer afternoon in February - we wandered. Feeling like we had hit most POIs in Sydney we ended up down by Darling Harbour - which has a distinct Yerba Buena Gardens feel - and then back to Hyde Park to lay in the grass, watch the interesting foul that occupies said park, and consume large ice cream bars that have been scientifically proven to contain no calories when consumed out of your country of origin. At least that is how I understood it.

With the sun getting low in the sky I grew cold and restless and headed back to the hostel to read and capitalize on our last night of unlimited internet access while Jackie roamed the streets of Surry Hills looking for establishments that stayed open after dark and yet more ice cream.

Our days in Sydney were mellow but the city was beautiful and strangely enough, our most affordable stop yet. 

Often times when I travel I become distinctly aware, in the moment, that this will likely be the only time I am ever here in my life- and I felt this way when packing up my bag for a departure from Sydney the following morning.