The one noticeable difference between setting foot outside an airport in Sydney and one in say, Luton, is the heat. The wonderful, spine tingling heat that envelopes your entire body like a small blast furnace. The sky was a deep shade of blue that stretched, unbroken by cloud, over the expanse of the horizon. Our porcelain skin was left unprotected from the scathing rays of the Aussie sun. This was exactly why we left the lush and green fields of Normandy and the hypothermia inducing cold of Edinburgh.
Our youth hostel (not really our cup of tea but a necessary burden to suffer), is but a short walk from the train station and yet we arrived covered in perspiration and with heavy breath. Despite the heat and the dry tarmac underfoot, the trees were losing their leaves. Sydney in Autumn. The platan trees, the wide streets, the inviting cafes and the colonial houses gave a distinct New Orleans feel to our new neighbourhood. Our Youth Hostel is certainly not a five star, but perfectly acceptable. After a quick shower, there was only one place we could go... the world famous Bondi Beach.
Twenty minutes by public transport (a youth hostel and public transport in one day? How are we coping with this peasant-like existence?) and we are delivered to a long expanse of rich golden sand and the inviting pacific ocean ... Our initial thoughts of swimming were shattered by two concerns. The first, those pesky Great White Sharks that must surely be patrolling the shore line, damn their eyes. The second, the natives. After a brief scan of the beach, it became clear that we did not fit in. All the people were deeply tanned. The men were tall and had physiques that parallelled ancient statues of Greek gods. The woman were clearly genetically (or cosmetically) modified and quite frankly, they made Ajacciennes look like pathetic runts. A few less M & M's for Phil then ... and a more greens for Ju ...
Our youth hostel (not really our cup of tea but a necessary burden to suffer), is but a short walk from the train station and yet we arrived covered in perspiration and with heavy breath. Despite the heat and the dry tarmac underfoot, the trees were losing their leaves. Sydney in Autumn. The platan trees, the wide streets, the inviting cafes and the colonial houses gave a distinct New Orleans feel to our new neighbourhood. Our Youth Hostel is certainly not a five star, but perfectly acceptable. After a quick shower, there was only one place we could go... the world famous Bondi Beach.
Twenty minutes by public transport (a youth hostel and public transport in one day? How are we coping with this peasant-like existence?) and we are delivered to a long expanse of rich golden sand and the inviting pacific ocean ... Our initial thoughts of swimming were shattered by two concerns. The first, those pesky Great White Sharks that must surely be patrolling the shore line, damn their eyes. The second, the natives. After a brief scan of the beach, it became clear that we did not fit in. All the people were deeply tanned. The men were tall and had physiques that parallelled ancient statues of Greek gods. The woman were clearly genetically (or cosmetically) modified and quite frankly, they made Ajacciennes look like pathetic runts. A few less M & M's for Phil then ... and a more greens for Ju ...
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