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It was almost dark by the time we got into Katoomba. The sun was dropping gracefully behind the outlines of spider branches, and among the now flickering neon motel vacancy signs and deserted main street, we were on the hunt for some food, finding only a narrow, dimly lit restaurant with the typically Australian rule of BYOB in operation. The Pizza was rather fine though.
Our Singapore Airlines jumbo skirts along the eastern most reaches of the Indian Ocean and then swings all the way across the full width of the Australian continent to grasp New South Wales. The 7 hours from Singapore were breezy ones, and soon we’re touching down on a bright spring morning at Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport, ready to venture into the city.
It’s ANZAC day here in Australia, and for some reason everyone’s gone a bit crazy. I’m not exactly sure why. I always thought it was a day for remembering fallen war dead! Yet walking the streets of Sydney earlier, it felt more like a festival than a day of respect! For every quiet service I witnessed, far more people were in the bars, getting drunk and playing something called “two-up”!
I am having a great time here in Sydney. I’ve seen a lot, done a lot, experienced a lot. This is what living is all about. I’ve chatted with a multinational variety of cool people in the hostel, explored the surrounding area, and utilised my free transport to ride the convenient train and bus systems and travel downtown as much as physically possible.
I took a day out of the city, on my birthday, and joined a tour (headed by a Scottish tour guide who incidentally hates Scotland) bound for the area famously known as the Blue Mountains, about 70 miles west of Sydney. The ‘Mountains’ are named so because they do actually have a strong blue tint, caused by the release of eucalyptus oil from the surrounding forests.
