Sydney was a lovely mistress

After about a day of solid travel 2 books later and a number of cups of tea I arrived in Sydney airport. I took the very convenient train right into the city and headed directly for my hostel stereotypically located in close proximity to the beach. Bondi Beach to be exact. On the bus ride in two other backpackers who would become known to me later as Dustin and Justin, approached me on the bus. It turned out that they had met in the airport, were both Canadian and almost (save a letter) shared a name. They ditched their hostel reservations and decided to throw in their lot with me as I had a place right by the beach! We ended up staying in the same room and spent the next few days together.

The hostel was lots of fun. YHA Bondi Beach was the name if I recall and they just had a lovely set up. It was 9 am when we got there so we ditched our bags in the room and headed for the ocean and in search of food. No we weren't going to catch it. We just knew that's where the restaurants be!

It was cold but it wasn't that cold in the ocean. I mean here I was, in the ocean, in September. Bad ass. We swam around in the strangely rough waters for a while and decided to get some food. I don't know what we ate but it was good. We grabbed a few bottles of wine and headed back to the hostel where we drank them. Hung over and in a daze the next morning we woke to find that the whole of Sydeny was covered in Red Fog. Apparently it had never happened there before. We all thought it was normal.

The next few days fell into place with a similar sort of reckless abandon. We toured around the city, saw the opera house, checked out the big bridge and all tried our hand, with epic non-success, at surfing.

The nights in the hostel were a lot of fun. You couldn't throw a rock in any direction without hitting a Canadian. They were like geese during migration season. I've heard Canada is not the most hospitable during winter, hence the Exodus to Oz.

<-These are actual Canadians in the wild.

However the highlight of my hostel stay was definitely our two other roommates. Derek and Rob were two Irishmen that had been living in the hostel for about a month before we got there. They were hilarious. Rob told stories like he'd been doing it professionally since he was young. Wild embellishment frosted over with a thick Dublin accent makes a tasty auditory cake. Derek was absent minded but funny as well. For the last two days we simply drank together and told stories. We drank more beer between the 5 of us than I thought possible for 10 men to drink. Secret Weapon? Irishmen.

After staying in the hostel for 3 lovely nights there was an ever-so light rapping at my door around 9pm on that Friday. There standing in the hallway were my friends. Tyler my old friend from Seattle who I had come to visit and my new friend Jill who I had yet to have the pleasure of meeting.

I waved goodbye to my international buddies and began a raucous and unexpectedly crazy weekend involving a wholly different side of Sydney.

P.S. It involves the backseat of a mini cooper.