25/3/15

Dear Diary,

Travel days are always dull. I’ve done it so often on this trip that I’m sick of the sight of Melbourne Tullamarine Airport. So to mix it up a little bit and keep everything fresh my flight to Sydney today leaves from Avalon Airport.

No, I’d never heard of it either. There is a shuttle bus that runs to it from Southern Cross in Melbourne but there are so few flights in and out of Avalon that the shuttle only runs out there to meet them. So I have to leave at noon for a 3:30pm flight. I bet there’s no wifi at the airport either. In the end it’s probably a good thing the coach leaves so early because the airport is miles away. I thought it was a long way out to Tullamarine, Melbourne's main airport, but that's just peanuts to Avalon. There was enough time to have a 30 min nap, wake up all grumpy, and for that grumpiness to dissipate before arriving at Avalon. It’s probably closer to Canberra than it is to Melbourne.

Check in, weigh my hand luggage which, despite all my careful packing and traveling a light as I possible can still comes to 8.3kilos. The girl at the desk knows that I have the old limit of 10kilos so doesn't really say anything but I have come to the conclusion that it is physically impossible to travel with hand luggage less than 7kilos.

Arrive in Sydney and try to avoid any rudeness that the inhabitants excrete so effortlessly by not talking to anyone. Tonnes of being jostled around and pushed on public transport (just ask politely, I will move for you.) leave me fed up already and at an interchange I jump ship and get a taxi the rest of the way.

The Taxi driver is as grumpy as I am so we actually have a decent chat for a while complaining about traffic and cyclists. I tell him I’m in town for the cricket and he says its a sell out and I could probably sell my ticket for ten times face value. I tell him I actually have a spare as my Sista flaked out on me claiming to have a better offer and that I could sell him that for face value. He scoffs at the idea of anyone having a better offer than the semi final of the World Cup in Sydney and says that he knows a guy who would take it off me.

One of the things I hate the most about my Sista standing me up for this match is that it has turned me into a scalper. Even if I’m selling the ticket at face value I am still turned into a scalper and it’s more hassle than I want, especially in Sydney. Capital of rudeness.

We exchange numbers and I hope that someone nice and polite, who is actually a fan will get to see the game in my sistas place.

Check into the accommodation which is lovely with two big dogs as house guests and overlooks a little bit of the ocean (if you crane your neck and look through some buildings in a certain way). A walk into Coogee to enjoy the cooling sea breeze softens my harsh view on Sydney a little bit. Maybe it isn’t such a bad place after all. I buy an ice cream to round off the day nicely and the lady insists on handing it to me before giving me my change which leaves me struggling to put the change in the wallet without ice cream ending up all over my hands, my wallet, my coins and my trousers.

I hate Sydney.


"Look for the ridiculous in everything and you will find it." Jules Renard - (1864 - 1910)