Christmas in Sydney

I flew in early Christmas Eve and navigated the train system to the one bedroom apartment the ABF had rented for me for the week. It’s located one block from Kings Cross (perhaps Australia’s most famous street of pubs/debauchery). With a full kitchen I headed straight for Woolworth’s to stock up on food, then to the bottleshop for some beer (a 24 pack costs a robust $43 aussie), and then to Westpac bank to make sure I had enough money for the week because I wasn’t sure how many places would be open for Christmas and Boxing Day. I went out that night to the pubs at King’s Cross and I was a little disappointed at first that a lot of places were closed and others didn’t look too busy. I asked a girl on the street if I was in the right area or if there was a certain spot I should be headed for, she ended up inviting me to drink with her four friends who were all British backpackers, and we headed for a pub that was starting to fill up as it was about 10pm. I drank/danced with them as they were happy to meet a non-backpacker, some one “real” as they said (there is a pretty strong anti-backpacker sentiment amongst locals who view them as trite and disrespectful, but this was the first I heard of backpackers being fed up with backpackers). We counted down to Christmas at midnight and then all the pubs closed for the holiday. The girls invited me to spend Christmas with them drinking at Bondi Beach and I got their number and said I might meet them out there (I knew that drinking on the beach was banned, but they allegedly had a plan).

The next morning I woke up slowly and started heading for Coogee Beach by bus which someone had told me was a must see. It was an overcast morning/early afternoon and when I got to Coogee I was mildly impressed and figured I’d call up the Brits, they were just getting to Bondi so I hopped on the bus and headed over to meet them. There was a good amount of people there when I arrived but not as packed as I expected (apparently in 2004 a ban on alcohol has quelled the crowds that used to top 50,000 on Christmas day). There was a line headed into the Bondi Hotel that spanned a couple hundred meters and had to have 500 people at least. I made my way to the front to see what it was for and saw it was the “world’s largest orphan party” and it looked like it. With my head still throbbing and the weather less than perfect I tried to call the brits and made one lap to find them but I figured they were inside that party which I didn’t really have an interest in (I later heard it was $70 to get in) so I headed back to my apartment for a nap (of course, as I was getting back my head was feeling better and the weather had cleared to a perfect afternoon). I had plans to meet up with Anna (the polish girl of Sydney Part I fame) and had turned down an invite to Jacob’s (the Swede also from Sydney Part I) place in Bondi for a Christmas BBQ. At about 5pm I got a call from Anna saying she had been asked to do a double shift, meaning the café made her work 12 hours Christmas eve and then 13 more on Christmas day (or she just really didn’t want to hang out with me for Christmas) but we made plans to hang out Saturday and I called Jacob to tell him I was on my way. An hour later I was back in Bondi and the beach was jumping by this point (6pm). We hung out on the roof of Jacob’s apartment building with his Australian wife Georgina and 8 swedes ranging in age from 19-21 (7 of which share a 2br apartment in Bondi). We hung out and drank wine, ate chicken, steak and salad as they asked me about America (the question on most foreigners minds has to do with Obama and specifically whether I think he will be assassinated...sad state of affairs) and I asked them about Sweden and how right now they’d be getting three hours of light rather than 14 down here in Oz. After the other Swedes left I was cordially invited to hang out with Jacob and Georgina a little longer (I think whatever Swedish blood is on my mother's side must intersect with his because we are long-lost brothers). A little later, I felt like it was time to head back to Kings Cross and see some Christmas belligerence.

Turned out I didn’t have to get all the way to Kings Cross to see it. The party on the beach, slated to go til midnight, had been broken up early and the streets were littered with drunks trying to find their way home. I was looking for a cab for a good while as I walked back towards the beach-side bus stations. It was impossible to get out of Bondi...the bus stations were packed (Christmas night buses were running once an hour) and cabs were a two hour wait. I grabbed a map from a backpackers hostel and started making the 7km walk back to kings cross to try and find a cab outside of Bondi. After about a mile walk I found one and made it home safe for just under $20…however 30 seconds after I got out of the cab I realized I had left my phone in it and I had no way of tracking down the cab. There was no answer when I tried to call my phone on Skype...so I joined the masses this morning in Boxing Day shopping buying a new prepaid phone from Vodafone for a cool $200 (more than I had spen on my entire Sydney trip so far). All in all, a good Christmas Day in Sydney.