Sydney: Sunshine and Lollipops, well, sorta.
Work’s put me up in Sydney for 3 weeks to do knowledge transfer on one of their products.
The accommodation booking lady booked me into Carrington Apartments in York St, which if you look up the pics on Tripadvisor is just disgusting.
Well it’s not that it’s bad.. ok it is bad. But at least it’s not filthy. It’s just OLD. It would have been a nice place 30 years ago, but I think everything IN it is still FROM 30 years ago.
My main gripe was the bed. The bed too, was 30 years old. I think. As soon as you lay on it, it would sag. If there were springs in the matress, they’ve long been sprung. Try and sleep in a hammock and wake up without a sore neck. This was pretty much the same.
As soon as I checked in I told our accommodation lady to get me out of there, and find me somewhere decent. Unfortunately I had to spend the first 3 nights there, and my neck is still hating me for the experience.
The replacement place was somewhere a co worker was placed previously… so why didn’t they book that in the beginning! Argh!
Apart from the accommodation, everything’s pretty good. Even the weather, for the most part. I’ve only required the use of my umbrella once, which was on Sunday. I’ve also even worn tshirts, it’s been that warm on some days.
On Friday night I went clubbing at the Midnight Shift, which was kinda fun. More fun than I would’ve had in Melbourne anywhere, anyway.
Saturday night a friend took me to Stonewall, where some queen managed to spill beer all over my leg. He then proceeded to pat my leg, as if that was going to dry it off. If anything, it rubbed the beer in more. I’m not quite sure what the look in my eye was at that moment, but they sure fucked off quick. I went upstairs to the toilets, to unsuccessfully rid myself of the beer smell. At least my hands weren’t beer-sticky.
After we left there, we went to some hideous place called The Palms. If you’re into Campy Bottoms who love all music prior to 1900 1987, this is the place to go. Unfortunately I do not. I lasted a total of 7 songs in there, during which I sat at a table. The music wasn’t danceworthy. As he went past, some old queen barguy (this place can’t even get decent barboys) told me to get up and dance and get off my best asset (arse), and probably received a scorning look in return.
Then we headed upto Shift. I got asked for ID, so I think the bouncer was bored, rather than me looking a youthful twinkish 17. As much as the locals pay Shift out as being dodgy, it’s funny how they still come along. I really can’t see how it’s that bad. If all they had was the Peel, Market and Exchange – then they can whinge. Loudly.
Apart from the ’straight’ asian club down the road, there’s no other club in Oxford St which can boast a large populous of asian bodies in one place. (I use the word ’straight’ coz i’ve heard rumours of some of those boys nicking down to the gay sauna while their girlfriends continue dancing inside… heh.)
Of course anywhere you have a club full of asians, you also have old men (as well as the occasional asian admirer. 
). It’s like Salt and Pepper – very rarely you see one without the other. But for the most part they’re reasonably behaved, and the ones that aren’t soon get told where to go. Of course i’m talking pre-4am here. Post 4am is another story – the freaks just seem to come out of the woodwork. So if your hunger hasn’t taken you to The Rocks for pancakes by 4am, (or you haven’t picked up and left already), you may as well just call it a night. Unless you’re into freaks.
Sunday was spent sleeping until early afternoon, at which time I got up and went in search of food. I met up with a friend and we had Thai for (late) lunch, which was pretty good. We wandered around everywhere until our feet started getting sore, then we settled into a Starbucks sofa to drink their mediocre beverages and talk crap for awhile.
Dinner was at a place called “Mamak” near chinatown. I’d been past a few times and noticed a queue out the door, so I wanted to see if it was any good. In short, it was. Although missing the signature Rendang Curry, they still had good Rotis and other Malaysian staples like Chicken Curry, Teh Tarik and Cendol on the menu.
After we waddled out of there, we walked around a bit more, then to the bus stop. The bus took ages to come along, but finally it did. I guess tardy public transport isn’t just a Melbourne thing.
Last night was washing night. Coin operated machines in the basement, at $4 a load. Powder was $2, so instead I went to a nearby Coles and got some decent liquid. On the way back I got a McFeast Deluxe meal for dinner, simply because there’s not much else around me – hence why I walk down to Chinatown most nights for dinner.
While the machine was rumbling I surfed with my dial-up internet (GAH!) and ate my burger. Clothes finished. Hung them up to dry – screw paying $4 for the dryer as well.
Now i’m not drawing any conclusions in that I was served by Indians at the Maccas, but I started getting a bit of indigestion. That kept up all night, as well as my voice getting croaky. Which was weird, it’s like an onset of the flu except I didn’t have the headcold. Food poisoning? Who knows. I’ve been chowing down on vitamin C today, and my voice has gone from Barry White back to normal me.. almost. No more maccas. Nuh uh.
Tonight my co workers are taking me to Ichiban Boshi, a place i’ve reviewed on Candid Cuisine previously.
Should be fun.
16.Sep.08 
Food, Holiday, Random, Work
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