Sydney Day 2

After a good night's sleep I woke at seven, futzed on my tablet for an hour off and on, showered and dressed at eight and then headed out to buy a jar of instant coffee, milk and cereal. I added a packet of sweet biscuits and a packet of crisps, which over the week, only half were eaten. 

Once R was up we went out to buy wine for that evening. This was a nice welcome, and yes, R did have to stand there with his arms outstretched.

The jacarandas had begun blooming and I think peaked later in the week. This is looking down Riley Street from Oxford Street. 

Looking over Darlinghurst to Kings Cross.

The Australian white ibis, aka bin chicken, are thriving. I wondered what an ibis chick would look like. Well similar but they start life with a short beak. Keeping a proportionally sized chick beak inside an egg would be difficult.

Let's go to Bondi Beach, by bus. Most of the buses on the very busy route are long reticulated articulated models, and old and noisy. The hydrogen powered buses seem just as noisy. Some electric buses are appearing in Oxford Street and if they all become so in the street, it will be much quieter. I liked the cutesy image of a drowning swimmer waving to a life guard on the bus destination display. No?

The University of Notre Dame Australia! Really!

Brunch at Bondi Beach.

For the first time in my life I had a waffle. It was ok but I don't feel any need to have another.

A footbridge towards the beach over a car parking area, with its height being marked in imperial and faintly metric. The sign must have been painted as we converted.

Looking south.

A passer by told me this statue represented earlier life savers and how they would run down the sand while pulling a rope from a reel. Behind the life saver is the sand being kicked up by his feet. Behind the statue is a sunbathing lad with loose shorts.

Looking north. There were many more people at North Bondi, it is said where gay men strut their stuff. For you pervey fags, the scenery anywhere at Bondi Beach is good with delights to be seen everywhere. 

We were once so poor in the 1980s we drove to Sydney and stayed here. It was cheap and shabby chic, and only had a shared bathroom per floor but we never saw anyone else use the bathroom on our floor.

There was a wash basin in our room, which was kind of a good thing and not such a good thing. We went out to a French restaurant which cost quite a bit for the poor couple we then were. As a person then unused to strong liquor, I drank a glass too much of French vino and threw up into the basin in the room and then had to stuff all that lovely French food down the plug hole. It took quite some doing. I should have gone to the shared bathroom but that is not how vomiting necessarily works. It was such a romantic evening. 

The metal fire escape at the rear back then looked ready to collapse with rust caused by the sea air. I'd rather take my chances with a fire. 

Harbour views, our hotel host told us in advance. She was technically correct. 

But if we go up two levels to the recently renovated swimming pool and spa, the views were terrific. I managed to stay upright, which wasn't the case the next time I visited. 

This used to be called Centre Point Tower but it is now called Sydney Tower. It was my birthday soon and there was a reason to take this photo...in another post.

Looking down on the beautiful and lush Hyde Park.

Someone I know on the Gold Coast asked if I could take a tram ride with a mind to note tram traffic light priority. As R took his afternoon rest, I walked through Hyde Park behind the war memorial to George Street where I caught L2 tram to Randwick and back. I didn't think ahead well enough and as I returned, schools had come out and the sixty metre two part long tram was packed and I could no longer see any traffic lights. 

I can't remember seeing this reflection pond behind the war memorial and it is quite lovely.

The rear of the war memorial.

I remember these bullets from past visits. We are prepared, Putin.

A kookaburra had just finished a feast and other hopeful birds hung around but there was nothing left. The kooka then flew up into the tree to be with its mate or chick.

We had a nice and inexpensive dinner at the very gay Oxford Hotel after a drink first at the Colombian Hotel.

This a roofed area outside on the side street.

Smokers are catered for with this outdoor space.