I've been in Sydney for over two and a half months now, and until last weekend, I probably hadn't been more than 10 km out of the center of the city. In retrospect -- now that I've passed that threshold -- waiting so long was lunacy.
Took off work a little early on Friday and hopped on a train to Forster, a small town on the beach about five hours north of Sydney, to meet up with my friend Jez. (You may best know Jez, real name Jeremy, as the person accompanying me in what I believe is the only remaining photo of my brief -- and some say ill-fated -- blond phase.) The weather was looking good and Jez' parents have a sweet penthouse apartment up there, only three minutes from the beach, so all was ripe for a good weekend.
Saturday was a tour of a few beaches, including the secluded Treachery Beach and the accurately-named One Mile Beach. (Apparently there's also a Seven Mile Beach and Nine Mile Beach nearby. Why the beaches are named in miles when Australia is on the metric system, I don't know. No one could offer a satisfactory answer.)
At Treachery, Jez and I had a little shrimp barbecue, which was delicious. However, it led to quite a contentious debate. You see, most Americans are familiar with the phrase, "Let's throw another shrimp on the barbie!" We've all grown up to believe that's an Australian phrase, right? But there's a problem. Because Australians don't refer to shrimp as shrimp. Here, they're prawns, and only prawns. I've called them shrimp on a few occasions and have actually been flat-out scoffed at. So how did we ever come to believe this was an Australian phrase? Was this Paul Hogan's doing? Again, no one could offer a satisfactory answer.
As the day gave way to night, Jez and I headed up to some headlands overlooking the ocean with some alcoholic beverages. This is where we saw the sign to the left. We're pretty sure this was trying to communicate that you're on a cliff and could fall off. But really??!? Let's forget for a moment that the figure (which I can only assume is meant to be a person) is not in scale to the rest of the sign. Just look at him! What kind of head is that? And is that his penis??!? Since Jez strongly maintained that there was nothing wrong with this sign, I felt a strong sense of redemption when this kid walked up to the sign and said, "Why is the ninja jumping off the cliff?"
This drama aside, the headlands were good. I got my obligatory self-photo with open mouth and took a nice, classy, sepia-toned picture of Jez. Of course, his seedy mustache (courtesy of Movember) and pre-mixed rum and coke kind of ruined the effect. Maybe I'll airbrush that stuff out.
The rest of Saturday is a blur. Wolfed down some Indian food, couldn't find a single bar open at 10:30 (!!), so we went back to Jez' place to drink some more. And some time around 12, as we
watched a movie about a gang of tap dancers from Newcastle (I swear, this is what the movie was about), I passed out.
And then, with Sunday mostly consumed with travel and a brief stop in the actual Newcastle (kept my eye out for tap dancers but didn't see any), it was back to the work and the real world. Which is fine, I guess.
All in all, an excellent weekend. And I'll remember it for years to come. But what I have planned for later on this month, it's turning into quite a beast. And I'll touch on that in a few weeks.
Took off work a little early on Friday and hopped on a train to Forster, a small town on the beach about five hours north of Sydney, to meet up with my friend Jez. (You may best know Jez, real name Jeremy, as the person accompanying me in what I believe is the only remaining photo of my brief -- and some say ill-fated -- blond phase.) The weather was looking good and Jez' parents have a sweet penthouse apartment up there, only three minutes from the beach, so all was ripe for a good weekend.
Saturday was a tour of a few beaches, including the secluded Treachery Beach and the accurately-named One Mile Beach. (Apparently there's also a Seven Mile Beach and Nine Mile Beach nearby. Why the beaches are named in miles when Australia is on the metric system, I don't know. No one could offer a satisfactory answer.)
At Treachery, Jez and I had a little shrimp barbecue, which was delicious. However, it led to quite a contentious debate. You see, most Americans are familiar with the phrase, "Let's throw another shrimp on the barbie!" We've all grown up to believe that's an Australian phrase, right? But there's a problem. Because Australians don't refer to shrimp as shrimp. Here, they're prawns, and only prawns. I've called them shrimp on a few occasions and have actually been flat-out scoffed at. So how did we ever come to believe this was an Australian phrase? Was this Paul Hogan's doing? Again, no one could offer a satisfactory answer.
As the day gave way to night, Jez and I headed up to some headlands overlooking the ocean with some alcoholic beverages. This is where we saw the sign to the left. We're pretty sure this was trying to communicate that you're on a cliff and could fall off. But really??!? Let's forget for a moment that the figure (which I can only assume is meant to be a person) is not in scale to the rest of the sign. Just look at him! What kind of head is that? And is that his penis??!? Since Jez strongly maintained that there was nothing wrong with this sign, I felt a strong sense of redemption when this kid walked up to the sign and said, "Why is the ninja jumping off the cliff?"
This drama aside, the headlands were good. I got my obligatory self-photo with open mouth and took a nice, classy, sepia-toned picture of Jez. Of course, his seedy mustache (courtesy of Movember) and pre-mixed rum and coke kind of ruined the effect. Maybe I'll airbrush that stuff out.The rest of Saturday is a blur. Wolfed down some Indian food, couldn't find a single bar open at 10:30 (!!), so we went back to Jez' place to drink some more. And some time around 12, as we
watched a movie about a gang of tap dancers from Newcastle (I swear, this is what the movie was about), I passed out.And then, with Sunday mostly consumed with travel and a brief stop in the actual Newcastle (kept my eye out for tap dancers but didn't see any), it was back to the work and the real world. Which is fine, I guess.
All in all, an excellent weekend. And I'll remember it for years to come. But what I have planned for later on this month, it's turning into quite a beast. And I'll touch on that in a few weeks.
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