For some reason, there have been helicopters running dark over Sydney Harbor all evening. Part of me wants to think they’re the local military’s special “Russel Crowe” squad, and they’ve had word he’s been seen in town headed for a pub and/or a telephone.
I’ve seen and done some pretty cool things over the past couple weeks. I’ve run across the Sydney Harbor bridge and around the Opera House at sunset, I’ve walked through a grove of trees hung with thousands of the largest fruit bats in the world, I’ve met people from every corner of the world except Iceland, attended both some of the best and hands down some of the sketchiest places Sydney has to offer, and have yet to eat at the same place twice. I haven’t even been that upset I couldn’t climb or surf while I was here, which is saying quite a bit, because there’s great conditions for both, and you don’t even need a car to get to either.
Sadly, it rained for almost all of Easter weekend, which apparently has become something of a running joke when it comes to one of Australia’s only 4-day national holidays, since it does the same thing every year, but they still pretend like this year will be the good one. Undeterred, toured Darling Harbor to get my souvenier shopping done, went to the zoo to finally see a damned kangaroo, because I was beginning to think the Australia tourism board had made them up as a gimmick, and ran into Timmy O’Neill at a climbing festival and compared notes on the local beer, namely just how much they fucked you up. Timmy was quickly becoming an authority on the subject, 30 minutes before having to talk in front of hundreds of unsuspecting Aussies. Monday at least turned out pristine, just in time for a BBQ at my co-worker Steve’s place with his family, who made 3-inch steaks for lunch, fed me beer and mojitos all afternoon until it was time for Thai food a couple blocks away, and talked music and everythng else. Cool people. Hell, his kids even knew more Smashing Pumpkins than I did, and the oldest one is 6! All this was punctuated with the occasional introduction to local watering holes off the tourist track by Adrian and his girlfriend Becky.
And day after tomorrow, I head back home, knowing I’ll almost certainly look the wrong way when I try to cross the street as soon as I step out of the airport.