I am presented with an empty box of chocolates that they all bought for my arrival then proceeded to eat before I turned up. We have a rendition of 'O Flower of Scotland' from our beds then it is time to catch up on some long overdue sleep. In the morning I am woken up to find a freshly made cup of coffee awaiting me. I feel at home already.
The hostel is amazing. It floats over an archaeological dig, the rooms are arranged in strata around wide open atriums without ceiling or floor. Above the endless sky and below the excavated remains of 1820's cottages that used to reside here. A handful of thin metal pillars keeps the whole building raised above the crumbling remains below.
There are four of us working here for accommodation. We help out in the cafe, in the kitchen and at the barbecue. The cafe is my favourite by a long way. As it turns out I just love making coffee, real coffee that is. And my mum always wanted me to be trained as a barista.
My first week or so here pass in a blur. I spend a lot of time wandering around seeing the city, applying (unsuccessfully) for jobs and getting to know my room-mates. We take an evening walk down to the Opera House one day to find Jack Johnson is playing before its steps. We sit by the fence with all the fans that were too slow or too poor to get tickets. I'm not a fan of Jack Johnson but tonight his music fits the summer evening perfectly. White peaks soar above us and across the harbour the bridge hangs in the air over star studded waters.
We stand on a bench to try and get a better view and within seconds a security guard arrives and orders us down lest we injure ourselves. If I wasn't able to stand on a bench without injuring myself I doubt I would have made it to Australia. I wouldn't be surprised if you need permit for that anyway. Australia, particularly New South Wales is ridiculous for that sort of thing. You can't do anything without having completed the appropriate course, which will inevitably cost you money.
Overall I like Sydney, although it doesn't feel as big as I was expecting. I know it is huge but the centre doesn't feel to me like it belongs to a city of this size. Perhaps if I lived a bit further out of town I would feel differently. Anyway the area that I live in is the oldest, prettiest (and probably most expensive) part of town. Thankfully I'm not paying.
I have found more old buildings around here than I did in Melbourne, and I haven't explored it nearly as much. But I think I prefer the general atmosphere when walking around the streets of Melbourne than to here. Here there are less people skateboarding to work or to the shops. People seem to care a bit more, but it could just be the part of town I'm in.
Farewell New Zealand
Hello Sydney
Christmas time in Australia is, to say the least, odd. Firstly I don't think they go as crazy for is as we do at home. There aren't Christmas lights everywhere for a start. Walking along even some of the main streets you can hardly tell what time of yer it is. Even on Christmas day there are still some stores open in town. And don't get me started on the pathetic attempt at decoration made by our hostel.
We do manage to do a lot of appropriately Christmassy activities though. First we attend a carol concert under the Sydney Harbour Bridge, views across to the Opera House included. This particular event does not put me in the Christmas spirit. The carols have all been altered and modernised, they even make them feel summery. They change the words and they change the tunes. They switch tunes around and they invent their own songs specifically for this concert. Also, Australia seems to under the impression that Greensleeves is a Christmas song. At one point they turn it into some sort of rock power-ballad and sing to it about the baby Jesus.
We leave before the last song to avoid the rush. As we are leaving we hear them announcing the final song; “it's a tune you'll all know though the lyrics are new” they warn us before the electric guitars start blasting out Auld Lang Syne.
Our next Christmas excursion is much more of a success. A carol concert in the botanic gardens. This time it feels like Christmas. Rows of lights, thousands of people waving (fake) candles in the air, even traditional carols! We get Danni Minogue, we get Father Christmas, we get fake snow (foam) drifting through the air to the sound of “White Christmas”. We even get a live feed of Kelly Clarkson singing for us straight from Las Vegas. A bit of Michael Buble and it would have been the perfect Christmas evening.
Shortly before the end it starts to rain and everybody freaks out. The Australians panic, they're running around frantically shoving leftover food into hampers, blankets over their heads. In a matter of minutes it seems that about half of the crowd have fled. A few people are still left around us, they all appear to be British.
Our final Christmas trip is to a light show on the side of the Catherdal. It is started off with a Carol Concert (yet again) from the Cathedral's wonderful choir. Then the face of the building is lit in a myriad of colours. We get the Christmas Story and we get huge artworks of Mary and child. It's all quite beautiful and I am impressed by the quality.
In place of the traditional Christmas Market here they have what they call the 'Village Bizarre' which is a collection of stalls selling handmade jewelry or artisan cupcakes interspersed with mystics, pop-up theaters, barbers (??) and yes, a silent disco. It is different and exciting, and the silent disco is just too much fun. And besides that the whole thing is beautiful.
On Christmas eve we inevitably end up in the pub. Or should I say in pubs. At one point we are in an Irish bar watching a man in drag coerce people into singing karaoke and two men in kilts approach me and burst into a rendition of 'O Flower of Scotland' (they had been informed of my nationality by a friend). I joyously join in and by the end of the first verse we have attracted all the Scottish people in the vicinity.
Having suitably prepared ourselves, we end up having a wonderful Christmas. In the morning all four of us are running the hostel's Christmas brunch of ham, spinach and egg rolls (champagne included). One of the receptionists has some sort of extreme problem with Christmas music and refuses to play any, eventually though we get the Love Actually soundtrack so I guess that'll do. The guests are all in a great mood and we have a few too many mimosas. It turns out to be really good fun.
Afterwards we open out presents in our room. We have all bought each other gifts. It doesn't matter that they're small or cheap or that any other year would probably fade into insignificance beside everything else. This year they make me feel luckier than I could have possibly imagined. None of us were really expecting anything. I know I wasn't. I also received cards from my Mum and a couple of wonderful friends back home so now I have a little Christmas display by my bed. Sometimes less really is more.
It rains all day. The only complete day of rain I have had in Australia in four months and it's Christmas Day. I secretly don't mind at all. It feels like home. That afternoon I try read my book on a sofa in the social area and promptly fall asleep. I really couldn't have wished for anything more.
The period between Christmas and New Year vanishes as it always does and I have no idea what happens. What does happen to all that time? Every year it just disappears. I think this year it mainly went on The Hobbit.
For New Year we are helping out at our hostel's roof party. It costs one hundred and eighty dollars and has been sold out since April. We get it for the price of helping to set up and take down. During the party we get the hostel's iPad to take photo's of ourselves and the guests and ourselves some more. We get the perfect view of the Harbour, boats adorned with lights float over the dark water, their glistening masts stretching both up and down. Between the odd free drink offered at the bar and whatever I have stashed in my room it manages to be quite the evening.
Apparently this is the first time in ten years that Sydney has had a fireworks display from the Opera House as well as the bridge. This is great for us as as our view stretches perfectly between the two. We get fireworks at ten past eight, half past eight, nine, half past ten and midnight. It's all about the midnight ones. And they are of course amazing. Seeing the Opera House lit from above by the deepest red or the brightest blue and then seeing the same display repeated into the distance down the harbour is an amazing sight. And the golden finale is simply spectacular.
In a couple of weeks me and Laura (the Aberdonian) are going to go farming for a few months. I'm quite excited about it although no doubt it will be hard work. But I am certainly looking forward to earning some money as currently I am beyond the end of mine.
It can be quite demoralising applying for jobs and not even hearing anything back for weeks on end. And it has made me miss home quite a lot, especially due to the time of year. Sometimes I just want to wake up and be in my bed in Linlithgow. But then I think about it and I know that that's not what I really want. There are still places that I want to see, that I have to see, before I could ever go home. I just need to wait till I can go farming and earn the money to do it. All in all I have had an amazing time over the last few weeks, and I know there are amazing times still to come.
I hope you all had as good a New Year as I did. To all my friends in Inversnaid, I know you will have. I cannot express how gutted I am to miss it, though obviously not gutted enough to miss the New Year that I did have. I will be there next year. And to everyone else, whatever you did, I hope you enjoyed it. I will no doubt see you at some point before the next one. In the meantime I will keep you updated. When you next hear from me I will probably be on a farm...
Happy New Year!
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