Lire l’original en français
Who would have thought a simple bike would have caused so many headaches … We are, after all, in one of the most industrialised country on the planet, but, contrary to the rest of the civilised world, this country doesn’t make any effort to recycle rubbish, (don’t even think of taking up the topic of composting here…) so, it’s easy to believe the government will do nothing to promote the green option of using a simple bicycle.
We finally found a used bike in a garage sale. At the cost of $ 30 Australian dollars, it was a pretty good deal, at least, at first sight. Since we already have a plastic storage box on the roof of Shocker, we decided to buy a bike rack to put on the back of the car in order to haul our new mount. First snare: if we put the bike there, it hides the vehicle registration plate, which is a Traffic Regulation infraction. So we are being advised to put a mini plate provided by the Roads and Traffic Authority, the local Automobile Department. At first glance, a simple and logical solution…
Second snare: said plate must be bought at the cost of $ 75, because the $ 300 paid for front and back registration fees is not enough to cover the cost of another 2 × 6 in piece of metal. A bit frustrating, but still, acceptable… So we order the third copy of our precious alphanumeric code. And that’s when the third snare came up, just before finalising the transaction.
Since this small plate is of irregular size, we must modify the type of the entire car registration to reflect the “fantasy” type, like the ones who adorn the back of their car with cryptic messages where numbers replace vowels and make their remark completely illegible. The whole of it represents an annual rate increase of another $ 150 and they don’t even let us change our plate for “RT4SuX”. How unfair!
To end this transaction in a blaze of glory, the lady at the counter finally announces that, since we bought the car in another Australian State, we cannot do any of the prior options until we modify all registrations to Queensland, the state where we bought said bike rack… And, of course, before we can do that, we must have the car inspected by a State certified mechanics to make sure everything is A OK. Then, I will have to shop for new insurances, since the ones I have don’t cover cars licensed elsewhere than New South Wales. All and all, this rusty ten-speed bike would cost us about $ 600 Australian dollars. Splendid!
As we were leaving the RTA office, a municipal worker, who had witnessed our ordeal, takes me aside and gives me another option to fix my problem : he suggests I take a piece of cardboard and write my registration number with a black marker pen. Police officers like tourists, and my foreigner driver’s license will ensure me a “No worries mate!” instead of the usual ticket. Considering the alternative, it just might not be a bad idea…
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See His and Hers Pictures
Monday, December 28, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Drop the anchor!
Read the French translation
To many people in Agnes Water, a town less than 30 nautical miles from the Great Barrier Reef, their first scuba diving experiences can be described with colorful adjectives like “exhilarating”, “jaw-dropping” and “fish filled”. For me, when I look back at the first time I donned on my scuba gear in the southern hemisphere, I will always remember it as the hour and a half I spent in the murky waters of the 1770 Marina, scraping barnacles off the hull of the local dive center’s main passenger ship. I agree, it’s not as glamorous, but it’s a good way to learn the ropes of everything revolving around the diving industry. And besides, that bought me a full day of diving on the reef tomorrow, so I can’t really complain.
So it is how we decided to settle down for a little while in this little peninsula town while I do my Dive Master internship. If it was good enough for Captain Cook back in ’70, it should be good enough for us. Stephanie has already found a job in a bakery and is bringing back home a steady supply of sweets rolls and tasty cakes every night. We should be morbidly obese by the time we skip town, in two or three months from now.
Agnes Water library is also where I bought a really cool science fiction book. It’s a collection of three short stories written way back in 1930, back in a time where it was still politically correct to refer to African Americans as “colored people” and that1999 was considered to be far enough in the future to think that scientist would have built machines to make vehicles go through walls and that we’d have colonized ALL the planets and asteroids of our solar system. It’s a pretty interesting read; and a great insight on the ambition that mankind has toward its own evolution.
For the past couple of days, I have been assigned the very important role of head gardener here at the Southern Cross Tourist Resort in exchange for accommodation and free food. When they first asked me if I knew how to tend to a garden, I just nodded, not really believing it myself. But as it turns out, after only two days of pretending I knew what I was doing, I ended up really liking it and actually being very good at it. As it happens, I am apparently a naturally skilled hedge sculptor, turning bushes into nice geometric shapes, those of which can never be found in nature; the owners of the resort seem to like them though. It just goes to show, it’s always worth it to pretend that you know what you’re talking about, it might turn out that you actually do.
See HER view
See His and Hers Pictures
To many people in Agnes Water, a town less than 30 nautical miles from the Great Barrier Reef, their first scuba diving experiences can be described with colorful adjectives like “exhilarating”, “jaw-dropping” and “fish filled”. For me, when I look back at the first time I donned on my scuba gear in the southern hemisphere, I will always remember it as the hour and a half I spent in the murky waters of the 1770 Marina, scraping barnacles off the hull of the local dive center’s main passenger ship. I agree, it’s not as glamorous, but it’s a good way to learn the ropes of everything revolving around the diving industry. And besides, that bought me a full day of diving on the reef tomorrow, so I can’t really complain.
So it is how we decided to settle down for a little while in this little peninsula town while I do my Dive Master internship. If it was good enough for Captain Cook back in ’70, it should be good enough for us. Stephanie has already found a job in a bakery and is bringing back home a steady supply of sweets rolls and tasty cakes every night. We should be morbidly obese by the time we skip town, in two or three months from now.
Agnes Water library is also where I bought a really cool science fiction book. It’s a collection of three short stories written way back in 1930, back in a time where it was still politically correct to refer to African Americans as “colored people” and that1999 was considered to be far enough in the future to think that scientist would have built machines to make vehicles go through walls and that we’d have colonized ALL the planets and asteroids of our solar system. It’s a pretty interesting read; and a great insight on the ambition that mankind has toward its own evolution.
For the past couple of days, I have been assigned the very important role of head gardener here at the Southern Cross Tourist Resort in exchange for accommodation and free food. When they first asked me if I knew how to tend to a garden, I just nodded, not really believing it myself. But as it turns out, after only two days of pretending I knew what I was doing, I ended up really liking it and actually being very good at it. As it happens, I am apparently a naturally skilled hedge sculptor, turning bushes into nice geometric shapes, those of which can never be found in nature; the owners of the resort seem to like them though. It just goes to show, it’s always worth it to pretend that you know what you’re talking about, it might turn out that you actually do.
See HER view
See His and Hers Pictures
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
K91809
Lire l’original en français
As I am writing these words, we’re driving at 80 km/h on a secondary road to a village named 1770 in honour of the year Captain Cook accosted his ship there for the first time. Stéphanie is driving, having taken driving on the left side of the road right away. Fifteen minutes after we left, we realised in horror that we had left her hiking boots on the roof of the car. After a moment of panic, we turned around, going back sadly on our tracks, only to realize when we stopped that they were still on the roof. Needless to say, anti-skid soles of North Face boots are second to none.
A few days ago, we went to Mon Repos Conservation Park where, this time of year, you can find tens of giant turtles nesting on the beach every night. During de period of about 100 days, 350 of the 700 Loggerhead turtles remaining in the whole Pacific Ocean will come and lay 400-600 eggs each on the hot sand. Only one out of 1000 of them will reach the adult age of 35. The turtle nice enough to let us come close to her is musically named K91809 and she entertained us for a good hour and a half, even letting us hold her eggs in our hands. Strangely, I was expecting to find soft and slimy eggs, like the ones found in the rest of the aquatic world. In fact, it’s the exact same type of egg hens lay, white, rigid and fragile. The only difference is that they are perfectly round, like the ping-pong balls used to replace them in the display stand of the reception center.
The heat, these days, is almost unbearable. UV Index, for its part, hit the roof yesterday with a rating of 15. I didn’t check, but I would bet an index of 16 can only be reached on the melting surface of the Sun. No surprise here if I tell you that there are more skin cancer clinics here than tanning salons. So we took advantage of this hot day to take refuge under water and go see the first glimpse of the reefs beginning under this latitude. Because of the last days’ rains, unfortunately, the water was too cloudy to take good pictures, but I was pleased to discover about fifteen new species I had never seen before! I’ve also found a diving center willing to give me really groovy courses at a very no-nonsense price, and all this under the tropical waters surrounding the first islands of the Great Barrier Reef, just an hour from the coast by boat. This augurs VERY well.
It is also under this extreme heat that we attended our very first Christmas celebrations with a Christmas carolling concert in one of Bundaberg’s parks. Except for the uneasiness of not feeling like December AT ALL, we were pleasantly surprised to learn that here, in traditional carols, Rudolph doesn’t help Santa to control his sled in a snowy, but rather a FOGGY Christmas night. What a great local adaptation!
See HER view
See His and Hers Pictures
As I am writing these words, we’re driving at 80 km/h on a secondary road to a village named 1770 in honour of the year Captain Cook accosted his ship there for the first time. Stéphanie is driving, having taken driving on the left side of the road right away. Fifteen minutes after we left, we realised in horror that we had left her hiking boots on the roof of the car. After a moment of panic, we turned around, going back sadly on our tracks, only to realize when we stopped that they were still on the roof. Needless to say, anti-skid soles of North Face boots are second to none.
A few days ago, we went to Mon Repos Conservation Park where, this time of year, you can find tens of giant turtles nesting on the beach every night. During de period of about 100 days, 350 of the 700 Loggerhead turtles remaining in the whole Pacific Ocean will come and lay 400-600 eggs each on the hot sand. Only one out of 1000 of them will reach the adult age of 35. The turtle nice enough to let us come close to her is musically named K91809 and she entertained us for a good hour and a half, even letting us hold her eggs in our hands. Strangely, I was expecting to find soft and slimy eggs, like the ones found in the rest of the aquatic world. In fact, it’s the exact same type of egg hens lay, white, rigid and fragile. The only difference is that they are perfectly round, like the ping-pong balls used to replace them in the display stand of the reception center.
The heat, these days, is almost unbearable. UV Index, for its part, hit the roof yesterday with a rating of 15. I didn’t check, but I would bet an index of 16 can only be reached on the melting surface of the Sun. No surprise here if I tell you that there are more skin cancer clinics here than tanning salons. So we took advantage of this hot day to take refuge under water and go see the first glimpse of the reefs beginning under this latitude. Because of the last days’ rains, unfortunately, the water was too cloudy to take good pictures, but I was pleased to discover about fifteen new species I had never seen before! I’ve also found a diving center willing to give me really groovy courses at a very no-nonsense price, and all this under the tropical waters surrounding the first islands of the Great Barrier Reef, just an hour from the coast by boat. This augurs VERY well.
It is also under this extreme heat that we attended our very first Christmas celebrations with a Christmas carolling concert in one of Bundaberg’s parks. Except for the uneasiness of not feeling like December AT ALL, we were pleasantly surprised to learn that here, in traditional carols, Rudolph doesn’t help Santa to control his sled in a snowy, but rather a FOGGY Christmas night. What a great local adaptation!
See HER view
See His and Hers Pictures
Saturday, November 28, 2009
One month!
Lire la traduction française
One month! It’s already been a full month that we’ve been orbiting the globe with our heads upside down. I can’t believe how fast things are moving. Just this week, we’ve had enough surprises and wonderful meetings to fill two or three! Coffs Harbor has been one of those places that you thought you’d only be passing through but end up sucking you in for four days; but what four days… It all started when we found this really nice spot to spend the night, right on the ocean’s edge, on one of the long dangling arms of a U-shaped bay. The strong salty winds alone would have kept us there, but it was a chance encounter with a local artist of aboriginal descent at a nearby farmer’s market that sealed the deal and made the jetty our home for nearly 96 hours.
His name is Kristian Benton. Although his skin color wouldn’t betray it, his great grandmother is pure Aborigine and he grew up in the middle of the bush. What made Kristian special for us is that instead of just peddling his touristy wares like most places we’ve seen around major urban centers, he offered to spend the next day with us and show us how to make our own Didgeridoo; and what more, for far less than the price we’d seen all the other pre-made instruments in the oh-so trendy aboriginal shops! Now I wasn’t planning on buying a Yidaki in the first place, but the chance to learn how to make one of the oldest musical instruments in the world, that was one thing I couldn’t pass up! Click here to see Stephanie and me turn a termite eaten log into Jean-Paul, the all mighty Didgeridoo.
That night, while the varnish was drying on Jean-Paul, we also had a chance meeting with two very nice fellow Québécois: Sebastien and Phillip who had been living in a tent in the woods, next to a railroad track on the outskirts of town. The week before, Sebastien’s tent was torn open by a wild turkey that went crazy and flew into it. He patched it up with some palm leaves, but it was unfortunately no longer waterproof. Just before parting with them, Stephanie told them that you can make couscous without hot water. You should have seen their amazed looks. Apparently, they had been eating cold noodles with ketchup for the last couple of days, not having realized, when buying it, that tomato sauce is not actually a sauce around here. That night, I realized how lucky we are to be living in the comfort of our roomy car, with all our things dry and within reach at all times and having lots of traveler’s knowledge to back us up on our trip down under.
See HER view
See His and Hers Pictures
See His and Hers Videos
One month! It’s already been a full month that we’ve been orbiting the globe with our heads upside down. I can’t believe how fast things are moving. Just this week, we’ve had enough surprises and wonderful meetings to fill two or three! Coffs Harbor has been one of those places that you thought you’d only be passing through but end up sucking you in for four days; but what four days… It all started when we found this really nice spot to spend the night, right on the ocean’s edge, on one of the long dangling arms of a U-shaped bay. The strong salty winds alone would have kept us there, but it was a chance encounter with a local artist of aboriginal descent at a nearby farmer’s market that sealed the deal and made the jetty our home for nearly 96 hours.
His name is Kristian Benton. Although his skin color wouldn’t betray it, his great grandmother is pure Aborigine and he grew up in the middle of the bush. What made Kristian special for us is that instead of just peddling his touristy wares like most places we’ve seen around major urban centers, he offered to spend the next day with us and show us how to make our own Didgeridoo; and what more, for far less than the price we’d seen all the other pre-made instruments in the oh-so trendy aboriginal shops! Now I wasn’t planning on buying a Yidaki in the first place, but the chance to learn how to make one of the oldest musical instruments in the world, that was one thing I couldn’t pass up! Click here to see Stephanie and me turn a termite eaten log into Jean-Paul, the all mighty Didgeridoo.
That night, while the varnish was drying on Jean-Paul, we also had a chance meeting with two very nice fellow Québécois: Sebastien and Phillip who had been living in a tent in the woods, next to a railroad track on the outskirts of town. The week before, Sebastien’s tent was torn open by a wild turkey that went crazy and flew into it. He patched it up with some palm leaves, but it was unfortunately no longer waterproof. Just before parting with them, Stephanie told them that you can make couscous without hot water. You should have seen their amazed looks. Apparently, they had been eating cold noodles with ketchup for the last couple of days, not having realized, when buying it, that tomato sauce is not actually a sauce around here. That night, I realized how lucky we are to be living in the comfort of our roomy car, with all our things dry and within reach at all times and having lots of traveler’s knowledge to back us up on our trip down under.
See HER view
See His and Hers Pictures
See His and Hers Videos
Saturday, November 21, 2009
The coast
Lire l’original en français
Here we are at last. It’s true, the first two weeks here were filled with bureaucratic red tape and procedure, but this third week in Australia really feels like travel. It will have taken us about twenty days, but we finally are at the point where the notion of time no longer has meaning. We eat when we’re hungry, we stop for sleep when it’s near dark (just before kangaroos come out of the woods and become a real hazard on the roads). The only indications of a weekday are school crosswalks blinking on schooldays.
Our whereabouts are very random and we let ourselves be guided by the wind and advices from people who randomly cross our path. A simple conversation with the Mountain Food Coop’s cashier sent us on a 300 km journey to the coast, in a small touristless village where you can find some of the best beaches of all New South Wales. The day after, discussing with a garage sale proprietor, we found out about a free flight festival opening the next day, two villages north, where tens of paragliders, hang-gliding and long-range radio-guided airplane fans would meet. The day after that, while taking advantage of their free wireless Internet service, we were having a conversation on Quebec politics with the notorious Ronald McDonald who was brightening up the day for children during the annual McHappy Day. Every day, the universe is sending us its share of surprises and up till now, they are for the most part, positive.
Notwithstanding its delay at the start line, Shocker is coming back in force. The last 800 km were driven without concern, and we have always found a safe haven to dock for the night. So much so, that for the last 25 days, we only had to pay for one night stay under a roof and it was on my birthday so it was more for the luxury than anything else. Fuel is rather expensive here, but since this is our only spending, our travel-expenses are kept rather low. Most definitely, we will have enough money when we arrive at the Great Barrier Reef to allow ourselves the indulgence of a few boat outings in less frequented reefs! So it’s in that perspective that we finally started our journey to the Far North. It’s strange to say, but in the southern hemisphere, it’s the way to the Tropic. Vegetation has already started to change, birds are not quite the same and I definitely get the impression we’re heading in the right direction.
See HER view
See His and Hers Pictures
Here we are at last. It’s true, the first two weeks here were filled with bureaucratic red tape and procedure, but this third week in Australia really feels like travel. It will have taken us about twenty days, but we finally are at the point where the notion of time no longer has meaning. We eat when we’re hungry, we stop for sleep when it’s near dark (just before kangaroos come out of the woods and become a real hazard on the roads). The only indications of a weekday are school crosswalks blinking on schooldays.
Our whereabouts are very random and we let ourselves be guided by the wind and advices from people who randomly cross our path. A simple conversation with the Mountain Food Coop’s cashier sent us on a 300 km journey to the coast, in a small touristless village where you can find some of the best beaches of all New South Wales. The day after, discussing with a garage sale proprietor, we found out about a free flight festival opening the next day, two villages north, where tens of paragliders, hang-gliding and long-range radio-guided airplane fans would meet. The day after that, while taking advantage of their free wireless Internet service, we were having a conversation on Quebec politics with the notorious Ronald McDonald who was brightening up the day for children during the annual McHappy Day. Every day, the universe is sending us its share of surprises and up till now, they are for the most part, positive.
Notwithstanding its delay at the start line, Shocker is coming back in force. The last 800 km were driven without concern, and we have always found a safe haven to dock for the night. So much so, that for the last 25 days, we only had to pay for one night stay under a roof and it was on my birthday so it was more for the luxury than anything else. Fuel is rather expensive here, but since this is our only spending, our travel-expenses are kept rather low. Most definitely, we will have enough money when we arrive at the Great Barrier Reef to allow ourselves the indulgence of a few boat outings in less frequented reefs! So it’s in that perspective that we finally started our journey to the Far North. It’s strange to say, but in the southern hemisphere, it’s the way to the Tropic. Vegetation has already started to change, birds are not quite the same and I definitely get the impression we’re heading in the right direction.
See HER view
See His and Hers Pictures
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Blue Mountains
Lire la traduction française
Meet Shocker. Shocker is a 1995 Mistubishi Verada. I know, before buying it, I’d never heard of anything like it myself. We named Shocker after the grand champion race horse that won this year’s Melbourne Cup on exactly the same day that we bought her. We thought it would bring us luck. For us, Shocker is many things; a means of transportation to get us to all the most amazing sights that Australia can offer (which are plentiful, but far between), a house in which we sleep whenever we can’t find a decent camping site and a place in which to store all our belongings when we go hiking or go out to a park to have a picnic. But most of all, shocker is a huge pile of trouble. On the very second day we’ve had her, we already received an 84$ parking ticket. About four days later, it started emitting slight, but still noticeable blue smoke, a sure sign that the engine is starting to burn oil and would slowly but surely degrade to a point where it would need replacing. Jolly good fun… So we are faced with a couple of options:
1-Mechanics have suggested we put in a “NO SMOKE” additive, a honey like substance that masks the problem and sell it to somebody else. Needless to say, I fear the karmic resonance of such an action.
2-Have the engine replaced with another one; a costly expanse but a really common thing that is done in these parts, where cars are kept well into their 300,000kms because of the total lack of rust. I could then drive it for a year and sell the car just before leaving at minimal loss. Good thing we got the car really cheap in the first place…
But don’t be alarmed; things are not all rusty nails and poisonous bite out here down under. By making sure that oil levels are always toped up, we’ve managed to come and see some of the most stunning mountains and canyons that I have witnessed as of yet. We’ve hiked more than we’ve ever done before and we had the chance to go to places “regular” tourists will never see. Why, just a few minutes ago, I almost stepped on a snake! Exciting! As I write this, we’re sitting in this desert-like little cove overlooking a 900m drop into a bird filled jungle. Rainbow colored parrots and scurrying lizards are common every day encounters around these parts. The sights and sounds are spectacular and I’m not going to let a little limping horse ruin all the fun we’re having.
See HER view
His and Hers Pictures
Meet Shocker. Shocker is a 1995 Mistubishi Verada. I know, before buying it, I’d never heard of anything like it myself. We named Shocker after the grand champion race horse that won this year’s Melbourne Cup on exactly the same day that we bought her. We thought it would bring us luck. For us, Shocker is many things; a means of transportation to get us to all the most amazing sights that Australia can offer (which are plentiful, but far between), a house in which we sleep whenever we can’t find a decent camping site and a place in which to store all our belongings when we go hiking or go out to a park to have a picnic. But most of all, shocker is a huge pile of trouble. On the very second day we’ve had her, we already received an 84$ parking ticket. About four days later, it started emitting slight, but still noticeable blue smoke, a sure sign that the engine is starting to burn oil and would slowly but surely degrade to a point where it would need replacing. Jolly good fun… So we are faced with a couple of options:
1-Mechanics have suggested we put in a “NO SMOKE” additive, a honey like substance that masks the problem and sell it to somebody else. Needless to say, I fear the karmic resonance of such an action.
2-Have the engine replaced with another one; a costly expanse but a really common thing that is done in these parts, where cars are kept well into their 300,000kms because of the total lack of rust. I could then drive it for a year and sell the car just before leaving at minimal loss. Good thing we got the car really cheap in the first place…
But don’t be alarmed; things are not all rusty nails and poisonous bite out here down under. By making sure that oil levels are always toped up, we’ve managed to come and see some of the most stunning mountains and canyons that I have witnessed as of yet. We’ve hiked more than we’ve ever done before and we had the chance to go to places “regular” tourists will never see. Why, just a few minutes ago, I almost stepped on a snake! Exciting! As I write this, we’re sitting in this desert-like little cove overlooking a 900m drop into a bird filled jungle. Rainbow colored parrots and scurrying lizards are common every day encounters around these parts. The sights and sounds are spectacular and I’m not going to let a little limping horse ruin all the fun we’re having.
See HER view
His and Hers Pictures
Sydney
Lire l'original en français
To go to Sydney from North America, some might say an average transit takes 30h by plane, including at least one or two stop-over for a few hours to allow you to bring the circulation back to your legs and for them to fill the different planes’ fuel tanks. If this average is correct, it would mean that someone was able to cross these 16,026 km in less than 2h, because our trip to Oceania took us 58h… As we recently learned, it seems that New York JFK’s airport doesn’t tolerate well rain on its landing strips. As a result: A 4 hr-delay on our first flight and cancellation of every following connection. I’m siiiiiiiiiiinging in the rain…
So we arrived in Sydney quite dishevelled, but in a surprising good mood, largely due to Virgin Australia’s EXCELLENT service and to its lounge atmosphere that would have Montreal’s most hip night-clubs blushing with envy. Who would have thought that a concert lighting system and Daft Punk’s mesmerizing rhythms would be at home in a Boeing 747… All that, paired with a console allowing documentary screenings on various topics and chatting with any other seat in the plane, made the 15h flight seems shorter than the 6h one to L.A.
Our first impression of the place? A priori, it was difficult for us to realize we were not on the west coast of the United States any more… Differences were there, but subtle enough to evade us the first days. Little things, like the fact that Burger Kings are called Hungry Jacks here (probably to avoid treading on the British royalty, I didn’t see any Dairy Queen either…) and that Interac is replaced by an unpronounceable Eftposs packed our daily routine with exotism. There are some more obvious things like the constant fear of driving a car that legally should stay on the left lane at all times, but systematically refuses to do so. Joke aside; it’s like learning to drive all over again from the start. Distances are weird. Rear-view mirrors are not where they should be and when you want to signal to change lane, the wipers act like crazy. All this require an unexpected concentration. I just came back from my first drive from downtown Sydney to the suburb where we stay and I’m totally exhausted. This being said, I’m going at once to crash on the nearest couch, making sure I sit on the right side of it.
See HER view
His and Hers Videos
His and Hers Pictures
To go to Sydney from North America, some might say an average transit takes 30h by plane, including at least one or two stop-over for a few hours to allow you to bring the circulation back to your legs and for them to fill the different planes’ fuel tanks. If this average is correct, it would mean that someone was able to cross these 16,026 km in less than 2h, because our trip to Oceania took us 58h… As we recently learned, it seems that New York JFK’s airport doesn’t tolerate well rain on its landing strips. As a result: A 4 hr-delay on our first flight and cancellation of every following connection. I’m siiiiiiiiiiinging in the rain…
So we arrived in Sydney quite dishevelled, but in a surprising good mood, largely due to Virgin Australia’s EXCELLENT service and to its lounge atmosphere that would have Montreal’s most hip night-clubs blushing with envy. Who would have thought that a concert lighting system and Daft Punk’s mesmerizing rhythms would be at home in a Boeing 747… All that, paired with a console allowing documentary screenings on various topics and chatting with any other seat in the plane, made the 15h flight seems shorter than the 6h one to L.A.
Our first impression of the place? A priori, it was difficult for us to realize we were not on the west coast of the United States any more… Differences were there, but subtle enough to evade us the first days. Little things, like the fact that Burger Kings are called Hungry Jacks here (probably to avoid treading on the British royalty, I didn’t see any Dairy Queen either…) and that Interac is replaced by an unpronounceable Eftposs packed our daily routine with exotism. There are some more obvious things like the constant fear of driving a car that legally should stay on the left lane at all times, but systematically refuses to do so. Joke aside; it’s like learning to drive all over again from the start. Distances are weird. Rear-view mirrors are not where they should be and when you want to signal to change lane, the wipers act like crazy. All this require an unexpected concentration. I just came back from my first drive from downtown Sydney to the suburb where we stay and I’m totally exhausted. This being said, I’m going at once to crash on the nearest couch, making sure I sit on the right side of it.
See HER view
His and Hers Videos
His and Hers Pictures
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