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Sydney, Australia. It may not be the capital of this country, but it's the city that everyone thinks of when first hearing about the land down under, and I am in it. To be honest, it isn't as great as it has been made out to seem. I really did become a Melbourne lover during my time here, so poor Sydney has been shafted.

My first morning, awake at an early 6:30 am, I made my peanut butter and jam sandwiches for the day, packed my bag, and with map in tow I started out on my adventure around this iconic city.

As I ventured out into what is the bohemian and burlesque area of Sydney by night, I was greeted with well suited businessmen and women rushing through their commute to work. It was a completely different scene than just a few hours before.

First stop was the El Alamein Fountain right in King's Cross. I took my time having fun being a photographer and capturing the fountain with different shutter speeds before beginning my long walking tour of the day. My tour next took me past the Woolloomooloo (yes that name is real) naval base, where I caught a glimpse of many of the nation's huge warships. Very impressive. It was here at Finger Wharf that I stopped to enjoy the first half of my pb&j breakfast. The area is known for a multitude of al fresco dining spots that cater to the rich and famous. I just thought I would join the in crowd for a few moments, before I snapped a pic of Harry's Cafe de Wheel's pie place and continued on my backpacking journey.

It was still early morning here in Sydney, and quite a chilly Autumn morning at that, but the hike out to Mrs. Macquarie's Point and past her chair. The view across the harbour were spectacular, but as I rounded the point and looked towards the city, it was the sight of the Opera House that took my breath away. My entire life I have seen images of this iconic structure, and here I was looking across at it, and having my picture taken by it. The experience really was the crowning jewel on my entire trip.

But of course it wasn't enough to view it just from a distance, not when I could actually go right up to it. So after finishing the rest of my breakfast sitting on a sandstone formation that had been worn by the tides, and in full view of the Opera House, I set out on the path to this icon.

As I trekked around the harbour, I took in the sights of Fort Denison, the Sydney Skyline and the Royal Botanical Gardens. It was at the gardens that I received a pretty good shock. I was wandering the paths when I heard the strangest sounds coming from above me, it was unlike any bird that I had ever heard. And it wasn't a bird. Glancing up I took in the sight of thousands of bats resting in the trees, fighting over branches, and swooping amongst the foliage. It was extremely creepy.

After a few more detours I finally made my way up the steps of the Opera House, and there I was standing on the icon. I have to admit that the most exciting part was realizing that the sails are all made with tiles. I don't know what material I thought they would be, but tiles just didn't ever come to mind.

The rest of the day was spent wandering the city and taking in more of the free attractions, while capturing them on camera. I had fun, and plenty of memories were created, including a short visit to St. Mary's Cathedral.

I'm not going to lie that I did a bit of praying surrounded by the solitude of that cathedral. It may just be a building, but I did feel as if I was closer to God while I sat there and asked him to take a more prominent role in my life. To just show me a little more obviously that he was there. Strangely, as I left the cathedral and walked through The Domain, I said hello in passing to a man sitting on a bench. We exchanged pleasantries, but in response to my query on how his day was, he responded that God is good. I just felt it wasn't coincidence.

By the time I made my way back to the hostel at only 5pm my feet had been done in and I was exhausted. After enjoying some more rice crackers and canned chicken I settled in for an early night, and more adventures the next day.

How do I get there from here?

Well I made it to my hostel in Sydney in one physical piece, although I think I left my sanity at the airport. Flight ended fine. I was one of the first off, and then it was straight to the toilet before a detour to maccas for some much needed sustenance and then on to baggage claim.

I devoured my mcchicken burger as I watched my case go around the carousel a couple of times. I was too starved to bother putting the burger down even for a second. A quick phone call to the hostel informing them that I had arrived and it was off to the shuttle meeting point to get picked up.

That’s where the problems started. Now I’ve always found that when traveling in a new place the best way to not make a bunch of mistakes is to ask a bunch of questions. That policy didn’t work this time. Not at all.

The first shuttle driver I met I asked if he was the one who was supposed to take me to the Funk House Hostel. “Oh yes they just called me” he replied. Then my massive case was loaded into the back of the van, I was loaded into the front and there I remained in the shuttle bay for the next 2o minutes. The next thing I knew my case was back on the ground and I was told that I had to wait another few minutes for a different shuttle. “Do I go back to the terminal meeting point?” I queried. “Nope stay here.” And that’s what I did – for another hour. I asked every driver what was going on. No one knew. I called the hostel, and they were less than helpful.

Finally I made my way back to the meeting point. There I waited for another 45 minutes. And after another 3 calls to the hostel my driver finally arrived. I was fuming. Two hours waiting all because a shuttle driver from a different company had thought he could make a quick buck off of me and confused the hell out of me. I was not impressed.

On the up side the hostel is decent. Cleanish, and not too noisy considering it is on what is basically the sex strip of Sydney. Only for a few nights, I keep reminding myself, and hardly any time will actually be spent at the hostel.

After somewhat settling in I started on the task of making my bed – not fun when it’s the top bunk. Why does the shortest one always end up on the top bunk? It just doesn’t make sense. I then made my way past all of the glowing signs for gentlemen’s clubs, VIP rooms and lingerie shops to the Coles, where I purchased my dinners and lunches for the week.

So now I have once again returned to the security of my top bank to chow down on rice crackers and canned chicken. It really isn’t as bad as it sounds. I’ve met my bunk mate Kyle, and he seems decent.

Now to go about planning the next couple of days so that I keep myself busy and not get too homesick before Saturday rolls around.

I hate scales

I’ve made it through check in, through security and onto the airplane – and now I’m airborne on my way to Sydney for the first time.

Luckily my wait in line for check in was minimal, not giving my sense of dread about weighing my luggage to build to too great of a level. As I very awckardly hoisted my monster of a case onto the platform I crossed my fingers as the numbers of the scale crept higher and higher. Only 500g over, not bad at all. Until the wonderful attendant informed me that it would be an extra $26 charge for that 500g. Being flustered I ridiculously paid the fee instead of taking a few seconds to consider what I might be able to remove. Well at least they didn’t bother to weigh my carry on, which was well above the 7 kilo limit.

From there it was quickly through security. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve passed through those ominous metal detectors. It doesn’t even phase me anymore.
Whew only an hour until boarding now. Got my pain killers and water for my developing headache; although, now that I’m on the plane it really isn’t doing much. Plus my refusal to purchase any more food products is starting to annoy me as the smells of snacks being consumed are filling the cabin. Hopefully my hunger can hold out for the next hour and a half.

I had an exciting moment during my wait. Two girls that are on the Aussie show Winners and Losers were at the airport. First Australian celebrity sighting.
One good thing came of my extra baggage fee. I think the host took pity on me and I’ve been placed in row two with a window seat and no one beside me. That’s not too shabby. There is a man in the same row as me, he seems to be a washed up surfer who still thinks he’s really cool. I was drumming my fingers on my laptop while I was waiting for it to start. The glare he gave me informed me that he didn’t appreciate my expression of boredom. I’m sure that this tip-tapping of keys is trying his patience to the extreme, especially because my latest quick glance across to him showed him with closed eyes and a furrowed brow. You can’t please everyone.

I’m really starting to get hungry now. Too bad the only menu in this row is in the seat pocket in front of mr. grumpy. He doesn’t look asleep enough for me to reach over and grab it. Alas I will continue to sit here, belted into my seat for the next hour. Can’t we just land already?

The only game that I have on this computer is chess. I hate chess and am horrible at it. I can’t even win when I’m playing on easy mode with the computer giving me hints. Why didn’t I think to download another more exciting game? I could watch a movie, except those are all packed in my case, which is (hopefully) stowed under me in the plane. I really hope it is, because what am I going to do if my luggage gets lost?
This is what happens when I have too much time on my hands and nothing to do, or to eat. I ramble.

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

This post is coming to everyone via the Hudsons Coffee stand at Adelaide Airport. It really isn’t that exciting. Getting here nice and early to save money on a shuttle seems to have backfired, as I just spent over $10 on coffee and a breakfast muffin, and with three hours until my flight I’m guessing hunger is going to set in again. It isn’t helped by the incredible boredom at all. All of the shops are through security. To get through security I need a boarding pass, and to get one of those I need to be able to check in for my flight. That’s not going to happen for another hour yet… well 56 minutes, but who’s counting?

Sadly this isn’t even an area where a great extent of people watching can be done. There’s the old man with his wife who is sitting over by the foreign exchange booth. He seems to be suffering from some sort of allergy, as he is constantly rubbing his very red and watery eyes. There is the friendly, but half deaf information man, who was the one who kindly directed me to the coffee stand. He’s doing a fair bit of wandering and directing. Other than that there are just a bunch of other bored looking passengers waiting for flights, or lifts from the airport, or people to arrive on flights.

Oh, that was interesting. This short little man that obviously works here just came out of the secure area with his hood all pulled up around his face and a very suspicious garbage bag in his clutches. I know that it’s nothing… he’s probably the cleaning man, but I’m bored and have to make up something to keep entertained.

There is the cute guy that came to the coffee shop after me. The unfortunate part is that he chose a spot to enjoy his beverage that is directly behind me. Therefore, if there is to be any ogling it would be extremely indiscreet… so again I must just imagine.

It isn’t even the boredom that is making me want to just be through security already. I know that my poor luggage is overweight and I just want to get through check-in without having to pay exorbitant fees. It’s just eating away at me that I might have to toss even more stuff than the three bags left at Ally’s and the two left in Melbourne. How on earth did I accumulate so much in only eight months?!

Hmm I’m almost out of coffee. Now I am out of coffee. Forty-five minutes until I can check in. Do I splurge and buy another cup for a crazy $4, or maybe get that yummy chocolate muffin that has been calling my name since I sat down? Or do I suck it up and just keep waiting without sustenance to take my mind off the slow moving hand of the big clock over the international arrivals area?

There goes a backpacker. He was kind of cute. I don’t know how people can cram enough into those packs to last for their travels. Volume wise I seem to have been able to consolidate my stuff down, but I’m still lugging around about 35 kilos, and I wouldn’t be at all happy to have all that weight on my back. I should mention that my limit for this flight is only 32 kilos, and for my next flight it is a measly 30! That is unless I suck it up and pay the $50 for excess, and get a whopping 7 kilos extra. Woohoo!

Sadly it will be this weigh in today that will determine whether more of my hard earned money gets sucked up by the multi-billion dollar travel industry.

Down to 39 minutes until check in. Now I think I’m almost glad that I have a little bit longer because that coffee really isn’t sitting well. Or perhaps it was the apple I attempted to eat for breakfast. It taught me a very valuable lesson that you shouldn’t eat fruit right after brushing your teeth because it makes it almost impossible to tell if it’s rotten or not.

Oh a plane just got in. There are the pilots and flight attendants. They don’t look as tired as I would have guessed. Maybe I should learn French so that I can be a flight attendant in Canada. That might be fun. Or I might want to shoot some of those annoying passengers that seem to freak out over every little noise and complain about everything. That wouldn’t be so fun. I might become famous like that flight attendant that jumped from the plane after getting pissed off. Not sure I want to become famous for that reason.

Well it’s now only 34 minutes until I can check in. Time to get my belongings together, make my way to the toilet and stand in line, before waiting for another two hours. Yay.

If I roll it will it fit better?

This post is courtesy of my procrastination in regards to packing... once again. At this point I think I have repacked at least a dozen times, and I'm wholeheartedly sick of it. One conclusion I've reached: I am definitely not a backpacker. I like my clothes (and shoes) too much, and it's heartbreaking to even think of leaving one skirt or sandal behind. Alas that is what must happen, unless I'm willing to pay a few hundred dollars in excess luggage fees... which I'm definitely not.

I'm down to technically only 10 days left here in Australia. I'm not counting today because it's half over and I'm doing nothing except packing which is boring, and the last day I'll be at the airport by 10am so that doesn't count either.

I've had a good time here in South Australia, and I'm looking forward to the next few days. Hopefully see some more of the beautiful countryside and visit a few more friends before it's off to Sydney.

I finally was able to meet up with an old friend from Golden, who I hadn't seen in years. She now has a baby. All these babies and weddings are definitely making me wonder what I've been doing with my life. Then I look back at all my memories and smile. I've done a lot.

I picked my last bunch of grapes (hopefully forever) last Friday, and then got to enjoy an end of season bbq with my fellow pickers. I am now officially unemployed here in Australia - and am loving every minute of it!

Well, my guilty conscience is starting to nag again. I really should at least move all of my crap off of Ally's bed before she gets home. That's my incentive to do something with all of my accumulated stuff. And in only 12 or 13 days (depending on how you want to calculate with all of the time changes) I will be unpacking again back in Canada.

Blood, Sweat and Memories

I believe that this blog is past due for a bit of a light-hearted post. I've packed up from my travels and moved down to Adelaide for a bit of a different scene. And the scene has been everything that I hoped it would be.

After dragging my suitcase through the Melbourne public transit network, I settled down to wait at Southern Cross Station for my overnight coach ride from Melbourne to Adelaide. And then I was lucky enough to have a friend come and visit after work to see me off on the next leg of my journey. It was the perfect ending to my time in Melbourne and made the change a lot more bearable.

As I sat in the Adelaide Central bus station waiting for my coach transfer the next morning, I took a few moments during my few hours wait to take in the scenery. It really only did take a few moments. That's one thing I've realized while traveling: transportation centres look just about the same wherever you are. I have to admit that it was a little depressing, even once I was on the coach. As many highlights as Adelaide might have, it is still just another city.

And then the coach moved into the South Australian countryside and my heart lifted. Even dragging my broken bag (the wheels broke) up the main road of McLaren Vale didn't seem too bad when I had hills, vineyards and the ocean for my scenery.

I spent the weekend indoors searching for a job, and catching up with friends. Monday arrived, and I found a job that I started the next day. I would be picking grapes for wineries in the region! How very Australian backpacker of me.

I awoke on my first day of my new job at a wonderful five in the morning. It was dreadful walking along the Main street to my pick up point in the cold dark of night. I wasn't very impressed with my choice of job.

Standing around for another hour before catching a ride out to the vineyards didn't increase my expectations; however, I couldn't help but smile as I picked grapes at a dreadfully slow pace while looking out at the beautiful South Australian scenery. The second day I got a treat when a kangaroo hopped up the rows of vines while I was picking.

I'm not going to lie, grape picking is definitely hard work. There is my blood in the 2011 vintage to prove my dexterity at handling the clippers. I come home sweaty and dirty and exhausted every day, but I also come home with memories of great people and gorgeous views.

One thing that I have determined is that after I finish the 2011 Vintage I will never be picking fruit again! Unless of course I'm in another country and desperate for cash... then I might once again consider it.