Hostile Traveler

Home at last, though the lizard brain has no idea what time it is, and is very unhappy about it. Coming Eastbound is always the roughest for me for some reason, so I’m guessing it will be a couple days before my body sorts itself out. Probably just in time for my next trip with my luck.

The flight home was a bit shorter than expected because of strong tailwinds helping to blow us along. The Sydney to Los Angeles part wound up being 13 hours and the Los Angeles to Boston part was 5.5 hours, so not too bad. When I got on the first plane, I thought my travel luck may have turned. First off, my seat was in the top deck of a B747-400, which always rocks. Then as I found my seat (back row - woot!) I noticed there was a tall blonde sitting next to me. Long legs, short tight skirt, stiletto heels, tight sweater - I thought my travel profile that asks to be seated next to fat balding combover guys with gland issues had finally been erased. So then she turned to look at me…and it was the Crypt Keeper with too much makeup. She was 60+ and a flight attendant in between shifts. Apparently she’s been a flight attendant for 40 years this year, so she started out with the Wright Brothers more or less. Very nice woman, but too much perfume, probably to cover the smell of death and wee. Still, I’ve had worse traveling companions, so what the hell.

At LAX I had to get my checked bag, walk through customs, and drop it on another belt to go on to Boston. This is a seemingly simple exercise that gets cocked up by all of the asshats on the plane. Specifically, there’s one carousel serving all of the people coming off a loaded 747. Rather than everyone standing back a few feet from the belt, thus increasing the number of people that can see their bags, everyone piles on top of it and jockeys for position. So, even when they can manage to spot their bag through a crevice somewhere, there’s nowhere to drag said bag off the belt. My approach is to simply wipe out whomever happens to be nearby for not getting the fuck out of the way. Well, unless they’re bigger than me, then I just stand and sulk.

The second issue is that of bags, both size and number. Is it really necessary to carry every worldly possession you own on a week holiday? Did duct-taped cardboard boxes really seem like a good idea to have the baggage-handling apes throw around, and did you really expect them to survive? Same goes for carry on. General rule - if you can’t lift your giant fucking Louis Vuitton knockoff bag over your head, don’t drag the damn thing on the plane. Retards - all of them.

Finally, let’s address my favorite oxymoron - the Smart Cart. These are the wheeled carts you can get at every airport to throw your bags on to wheel around. Unfortunately, the “Smart” part comes into question by the absolute fuckwits that use them. They’re usually the people dragging way way too much shit along with them, and they use these things like battering rams whenever there’s a crowd they need to get through. They also go back to problem number one in that they have no issue parking their carts right up against the luggage belt like they were valet parking their Rolls. So now when someone needs to get their bag, they need to clamber over not only the fuckwit, but also a pile of metal tubing with wheels. My favorite (ab)user of these are the old ladies that turn my ankles into hamburger when they ram them because they can’t see a thing through their coke-bottle glasses and those giant black shades that go over them.
There’s a solution to this: pack light and buy some luggage with wheels, dammit. I know wheels are a new invention that have only been around for, what, a few thousand years, but trust me - they’ve worked out most of the bugs by now. Those foldable luggage carts don’t count - in fact, every time I see one, I want to beat the person using it. Talk about a great way to screw up overhead space. Also, if you can’t lift your bag, you may want to reconsider just what your view of “essential” is. Underwear changes? Okay, I’d label that as essential. Your 1974 World Book Encyclopedia? Probably not. Have to bring your own pillows because you can’t sleep on hotel ones? Forgive me as I smother you with them.

Anyways, I’m home now. About freaking time. I still have some pics to post in the gallery section when I get around to it. I think I took more pics than a Japanese tourist on crystal meth, so it may be awhile. This kind of quality site takes time. Stop laughing.

While I have a bit of bandwidth here at LAX, I figured I’d upload a few of the photos I took in Sydney at night.

I’m about to board the long flight to Los Angeles, then on to Boston, so I think it’s about 22 hours of pure bliss in the air. That far is always a bit rough on my body, so we’ll see how I’m feeling once I get there.
It figures the weather would clear up when I’m leaving, but at least late last night I was able to wander around and finally get some good night shots of the harbour. I’ll post them when I get on a real connection.
Well, boarding has begun, so wish me luck…

I got up painfully early this morning (daylight savings was last night) to take a tour of the Blue Mountains outside of Sydney. This was one of those organized coach tour things that I always go into hoping will be different, but they’re always the same: a bus full of old people bitching about inane things. Most of them had come off of a giant cruise ship that docked in Sydney yesterday, and this was part of their vacation package or something. Then there was the worst part - they were mostly Americans. I’m so ashamed of my country every time I encounter tourists abroad because American tourists bring new meaning to the phrase ‘obnoxious ignorant assholes’. When I travel someplace, I do my very best to blend in and embrace the culture around me (okay, aside from being a yeti in some places). Eat the same foods, be polite to people, observe good manners, that sort of thing. But most of the Americans I meet abroad seem to be shocked that things aren’t done they way the expect everywhere they go. You don’t speak English? You drive on that side of the road? You expect me to eat that? There really ought to be a course that Americans have to go through before they’re let out of the country - ‘How not to be a fucktard 101′. Most would fail.

The one thing that really helped the situation by adding shock, horror, and humor to the situation were the pair of 25ish French lesbians that made a point of constantly holding hands, kissing, and cuddling with one another on the bus. The expressions on the old folks’ faces were just priceless.

So why did I do this knowing what the situation would be (minus the lesbians)? Well, it’s a convenient way to see some things that are a bit out of the way. I really wanted to get out into the countryside a bit, and the Blue Mountains looked like a great place to visit.

First stop was…wait for it…a zoo. But not just any zoo - the Featherdale Wildlife Park is a truly amazing place that encourages interaction with some of the animals. So, they have handlers walking around with snakes, koalas, wallabies, and so on, and there are large open pens where you can reach in and pet the animals, or even walk amongst them. For an animal lover, this is a very cool experience. Over the course of the hour or so I was there, I was able to pet kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, koalas, and even a couple of very tame birds. I’ll only subject you to a few more pics because I know I’ve kind of overdone the animal themes lately. Don’t worry - I’ll keep the boudoir sheep photos to myself.

Feeding one of the wallabies hopping around the place. Yes, it’s an ice cream cone, but it’s filled with what look to be good stuff to eat. BTW - in case you were wondering, kangaroos and wallabies have really nice coats - very soft. And no, I’m not gonna eat one.

First time I’ve ever seen a Wombat close up. Friendly little guys - they do that dog thing when you scratch them where their back leg starts going.

So after the zoo, we stopped at a cliff overlooking the Blue Mountains called Govett’s Leap. There’s a folk story about it being where a guy (Govett) jumped over with his horse and survived the fall, but really, if he had, he’d be an oily smear on the bottom. It’s a long drop. In reality, it’s just named for the first guy to find it. Pretty spectacular views though. The Blue Mountains get their name from the eucalyptus trees giving off oil that dissapates and makes the blue haze you can sort of see hanging in the air. Smells nice tho.

Lunch was in a small village called Leura. This was an opportunity to get the hell away from the old folks for awhile, and I had a nice lunch at a local cafe.

After lunch, we went to a place called ‘Scenic Land’, which may be the absolute worst theme park name ever. Really, it’s a national park that encompasses what used to be the Koloomba Coal Mine and the rainforest that surrounds it in a valley. To get down to the floor of the valley, you take a cable-based railway that runs damn near 90 degrees. It’s hard to describe just how steep it is, but when you’re going down the main part, you’re looking straight out through the roof of the car. Note the sign, btw.

There’s a famous rock formation here called ‘The Three Sisters’ which features prominently in Aboriginal lore. I was going to retell the story but I’ve already forgotten it…something to do with a pissed off spider. Ah well.

On the way back to Sydney, we went through what was the Olympic Park when Sydney hosted in 2000. While most of the buildings have been repurposed, you can see where the landscaping in a lot of areas has gone to hell from disuse. But, I suppose that’s what happens afterwards.

The final bit of the tour ended at the ferry, and I took a river cat (kind of catamaran) back to Darling Harbour where I left behind the old folks. In all, a nice day and a good end to my stay here.

I arrived in Sydney late last night, so I pretty much went out long enough to grab some food and crash. My first observation upon stepping outside for the first time in Sydney was, “Holy fuck it’s humid.” We’re talking the kind of humidity that causes your skin to get condensation on it when you step out from something air conditioned. Then again, the condensation doesn’t really matter because you start sweating your ass off in a few moments anyways.

With hopes of drier air, I headed out of my hotel this morn to be confronted with 90+ degrees, 100 percent humidy. Fuck. Where Perth was pleasant and dry, this was just nasty. But, at least it was sunny out, so I headed over to Darling Harbour, which is where my hotel is this time.

…and another view from the ground. My hotel is the white bowed-out one in the middle, and my room overlooks the harbour. Along the right side are tons and tons of restaurants of all sorts that turn into nightclubs at night. There’s also a couple of large nightclub-only places that attract queues of tarted-up girls. They wouldn’t let me in. I’ll have to try more makeup tomorrow.

I found a place that had sails around the entire harbour, so I signed up for one with the intent of just chilling out in the seabreeze with a margarita and maybe snapping some pics of the sights. But, I had a couple of hours to burn, so I did a bit of shopping and wound up in a kind of strange little zoo-ish place in Darling Harbour. It’s all indoors, but they have stuff like koalas and reptiles and such….and biggest plus - cold cold air conditioning. Sold - I’m in. Besides, it was right across from the salboat’s mooring.

Just a couple more critter pics. First one is a Horned Devil as close as I could get.

And the second is something a little softer - a koala. Looks like a man-eater, doesn’t it?

After a quick walk through the exhibits, it was time for the boat to depart. Know that phrase ‘One is the loneliest number’? Yeah, well, I was the only one that wasn’t a couple getting on the boat. Ah well. So as I’m getting on the boat, as soon as my foot hits the deck, the skies open up. Everyone runs inside the cabin area for cover, and it looks like we’re going through a carwash. But, apparently, the sail must go on, so we do a kind of halfhearted cruise around.

The rain let up long enough for me to snap a few pictures, and I caught one that would have been good if it weren’t for the rain pissing down. You can see the Opera House, Harbour Bridge, and Fort Denison in the shot, along with a ginormous cuise ship docked at Circular Quay behind the Opera House.

…but then the rain started coming down hard again, so that was that. At least it’s cooler now, but I hope it stops soon. Tomorrow (my last day here) I’m heading out of the city for the day to the Blue Mountains so I can get a taste of what the countryside looks like.