So, I’m writing a blog. Not because I want to be a “blogger” (I think that’s all a little overdone now, no?), or even because I think I have anything particularly interesting to say. I’m writing a blog because I’m getting too lazy to message every bugger on Facebook every week telling them what’s happening over in Australia. It’s repetitive. It’s repetitive.
As cities go, Sydney is not all that daunting. It’s big, yes. It’s busy. It’s so expensive it’ll make your eyes water (about £6 for dry shampoo, and I don’t even dare look at nail varnish). But it’s sparkly clean, it’s easy to navigate, the people smile, the sun shines, the parks are leafy and plentiful, the buses are air conditioned and chav-free, the harbour bridge noses into every panorama, and there’s a real koala who sits in a tree in the middle of the city for whenever you need a little fluffy reminder that you’re in Australia. It’s a lot like England, but better at EVERYTHING (except accents and fashion).
Sydney advertises itself as a city of villages, which is both endearing and accurate. We started our time in Sydney in Kings Cross aka The Cross. I’ve heard this place described in many ways. “Colourful” is my favourite. When we told people we were living there most responded with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile, some let out a long exhale of air and nodded wisely, others just patted our shoulders sympathetically. It’s 30% hostel, 10% kebab shop, 20% bar/club, and 40% brothel. Venturing out after dark means a stream of “you coming upstairs sexy?”s. The residents of The Cross all appear to be addicted to some sort of drug that gives them hollow cheeks, thin hair and sunken, staring eyes. Basically, it’s a village full of sex-crazed Gollums.
We managed nine nights in The Cross before making a break for the altogether lovelier Surry Hills. For every one of The Cross’s sex shops, Surry Hills has a café, a bookshop or an indie bar (or a hybrid of all three). Australians are big on breakfast- and it’s not greasy breakfasts like England- it’s smoked salmon, scrambled eggs and avocado, or banana bread with ricotta, or organic yoghurt with honey and muesli. There’re a lot of bearded men, emaciated girls and fluffy white dogs here. It’s amazing. I’M IN HEAVEN.
