Our last full day in Sydney was spent roaming around the city. After grabbing a ridiculously oversized breakfast at Chill Cafe, our first stop was Queen Victoria Building – a large, but visually impressive shopping complex. After completion in 1898, the building has undergone all manner of face-lifts, refits and strangleholds.
Virtually across the road from there is another large shopping complex, housing a Kinokuniya and a variety of Asian-themed stores and restaurants. The Crazy Canadian and I were unable to tell whether the overwhelming amount of Asian-themed stores in this one area was intentional or just a coincidence.
After browsing Kinokuniya for a while, we made our way down to Harbour City. How could I not take a photo of this sign?
As we explored another pretty area of this city, I bumped into a friend of my younger brother who lives about 5 minutes away from us in Melbourne. Needless to say, we were both confused. His band was in Sydney to perform, but their show had been cancelled so they were free to piss about in the city for a day or two.
After crossing Pyrmont Bridge, I noticed a lot of inflatable Santa Claus scattered about. First off, there were these two.
So, I’ll draw your attention to the Santa that looks like he’s either trying to break into the building, or has actually stolen a bunch of stuff and is making a risqué escape. Right. Now that you’ve looked at him, imagine a very windy day.
Take that into account when I say that without exaggeration, the particular day I saw him it looked like he was doing inappropriate things to the side of the Sydney Convention Centre.
It’s one thing to have two Santas in such close proximity to one another, but it’s a whole other problem when you have one seriously creepy Santa.
Disclaimer: This photo may forever spoil your image of Santa and potentially give you nightmares, or any children, passers-by or stalkers who have been unfortunate enough to see this photo while you were reading this blog entry.
The Crazy Canadian and I were both uber-creeped out by this inflated goon. While we were discussing how creepy it was, I was consuming the Harbour’s Best Coffee (apparently) purchased from a gelato store just nearby.
It’s one thing to have the balls to say you make the Harbour’s Best Coffee. It’s another to offer a money back guarantee if you’re not satisfied. Do you have to try every other coffee in the Harbour before asking for your money back, or do you simply say “I had a better coffee at (insert location here)” and they cough up your dough?
And if you’re not willing to put a limitation on it, people could drink it and say, “I’d like my money back.”
Potential free coffee for life. Get onto it, Harbour dwellers!
I can say that it was the best coffee I had in the Harbour, because it was the only coffee I had in the Harbour. Comparing it to any coffee I’ve had in Melbourne would be unfair, because Melbourne knows coffee.
We also stumbled across a Kingpin bowling alley. Most Australians would know what I’m talking about. However, the Crazy Canadian had never seen anything like this in her life and was quite astounded by the fact that we managed to glam up bowling. Photos were taken to show other Canadians, so they could express equal amounts of shock and awe while saying “Fancy, ey?” and cry into their maple syrup about how uncool their bowling alleys are.
Departing the Harbour area, we found our way to Paddy’s Markets. The markets themselves were closed for the day, as we were informed several times by the security guard sitting near the entrance. The exchange went something like this…
Me: Are the markets closed?
Security Guard: Closed.
Crazy Canadian: Can we walk through there just to look at what they’re like?
Security Guard: Closed.
Crazy Canadian: Do you know if they’re open tomorrow?
Security Guard: Closed.
Me: I think they’re open again tomorrow. What time do they open?
Security Guard: Closed.
Me: Well, it says they’re open tomorrow. What time do they open?
Security Guard: Closed. Come back tomorrow.
What was open, however, was the arcade part of Paddy’s Markets. We wandered around in there for a little while and purchased some Jelly Belly Beanboozled from an imported candy store. Co-workers of mine that read this may know what Beanboozled jelly beans are, but for those of you not in the know – in a small box of jelly beans, there are sixteen flavours, but only eight types of jelly beans. Eight taste really nice, and eight taste really bad.
This is how I learnt that the Crazy Canadian has an unbelievable sense of smell. She was able to tell what was what from the outside of the jelly bean and she didn’t even have to hold it close to her nose.
It was at this point that we decided that should we be able to, we’ll start up a crimefighting duo – combining my great memory and her sense of smell. When we tried to develop that idea, we had to start thinking of crimes that would specifically require those two talents to solve and we decided to put it on the back burner.
Sitting in front of the ANZAC Memorial in Hyde Park, we opened the packet of Beanboozled and got stuck into it. The flavours were…
- Peach or Vomit
- Juicy Pear or Booger
- Chocolate Pudding or Dog Food
- Strawberry Jam or Centipede
- Buttered Popcorn or Rotten Egg
- Coconut or Baby Wipes
- Berry Blue or Toothpaste
- Caramel Corn or Mouldy Cheese
This is where I also discovered the Crazy Canadian has a cruel streak. I tasted every terrible type of jelly bean, even though the Crazy Canadian had ‘sniffed’ them and assured me they weren’t the bad flavour. She later admitted to tricking me because she didn’t want to eat any of the terrible flavours (She did get a few, though). I could say that her actions were in bad taste, but that joke may very well see me get kicked off the Internet.
We met our host at Hyde Park after seeing possums climbing trees and bats flying around and headed out to Kings Cross for dinner. We ate at a small Italian place called Bill and Toni’s, that had a chalkboard up where they would remove what food was no longer available for the night. I thought this was a particularly nifty idea, because it meant that the food you were getting was always prepared on the day and in short supply. The food was quite nice and after a few drinks we then headed to Oxford Street for a taste of the nightlife.
My history with nightclubs has never been a particularly glowing one and I’ve always found more reasons not to attend nightclubs than I have to partake. It’s all a matter of taste, but I thought at the very least I should try my best to enjoy myself.
We ended up at a place called Q Bar. It just so happened to be ‘Teen Spirit Night’. This gave the DJs (if you can call them that) carte blanche to play as many terrible songs from 1990-2005 as they could. Ace of Base, Aqua, Steps, Shaggy, Scatman John… All the greatest shits from that era were on display.
Overall, though, we all had a fun night dancing away without a care because the music was so bad, there’s no way you couldn’t have had fun. And probably the oddest song selection I’ve encountered in a nightclub…
“I Just Can’t Wait To Be King” from the Lion King soundtrack.
Maybe it was played because of the re-release in cinemas, or maybe it became a club hit since the last time I attended a nightclub. Either way, it was equally odd and fun.
There was also a guy at the club who was wearing a headlamp and reading a magazine the entire night. But, funnily enough, it garnered him more attention from just about everyone in the club than he ever wanted.
We called it a night when any club patron should – when they started repeating tracks we’d heard earlier in the night.
Next time – the difficulties getting out of Sydney, an impromptu visit to Newcastle and (finally) Port Macquarie!