First impressions of Sydney
Trip Start
Nov 28, 2004
1
54
57
Trip End
Jun 11, 2005
Sydney,
New South Wales,
Australia
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Martin is a lot wider than the last time I saw him at work in London's Canary Wharf. And his reaction is of similar amusement - I am a lot hairier. We knock back a few beers at the Empire Hotel, at the top of Sydney's Kings Cross - that infamous strip of go-go bars, sex shops and massage parlours. Cheap hostels, hookers and bums. It's often said that Sydney is the arsehole of the earth and this must be the very centre of it. Where better to enjoy it all than from our current perspective ? Sitting on bar stools behind a large curved section of wall, windows wide open to the pantomime of illicit activity that unfolds before us.
Martin's rented apartment is a small one bedroom jobbie close-by. In a modern fully serviced building, the Rex, which looks more like a hotel. Because until recently, it was one. After a very congenial evening with him and his girlfriend, I crash out on the sofa - my new bed for a while. But I wake in the night, restless, wanting a cigarette. Returning from the 24 hour convenience store next door, I enter the lobby of the Rex using the computerised key pad - I notice that there is no member of staff on duty, which is strange for an apartment building. I step into the elevator and take the apartment's smartcard from my pocket. And let out a big sigh when I see it doesn't have the apartment's door number written on it. I can't remember which room is Martin's. I can't even remember which floor it's on. I'm lost inside what is still basically a hotel building, where every turn of a corner presents the same long corridor of numbered doors.
I try a few doors in hope and wake somebody's dog, causing me to scarper. I go outside the building again and round to the back. To look up and at least try to identify the right balcony by it's barbeque and chairs. If I can do this, perhaps I can map the floorplan in my head to get to the right door. But this is Sydney - every single balcony has what looks to me like the same barbeque and chairs. There's no fire escape. There's definitely no night porter and no number to call. Martin's phone is switched off, he's asleep like most people. I am locked out and have to crash in a very uncomfortable steel mesh chair in the lobby. Early risers pass me on their way out of the building as they head to the gym before starting work. They glance at me and clutch their belongings, like I am some vagrant who has slipped into their lobby to commit a crime. Finally, at about 8am, the elevator doors open again to reveal Martin, on his own way to work. He shakes his head in disbelief as he utters three magic numbers. I suppose it's amusing in a way, that I have become so unaccustomed to big city life. It's all Lego land to me. I'd considered sleeping in my car - because that's my home these days.
Next ; Kings X
