Sydney Day 1

We were only in Sydney last October but as I think I said in a previous post, R wanted to avoid being here for his blah blah blah birthday along with what would have Mother's 90th birthday. For 44 years they celebrated their birthdays together. It was a pity he didn't actually tell me this, instead of me asking why he wanted to return to Sydney after six months of being there. Apparently I should have been in tune enough to understand. Well yes, but why Sydney? It mattered little where we went.

This time we used the long term carpark at Melbourne's airport rather than a taxi cab. The price is cheap if you book well in advance but you do have to allow more time to be bused from the carpark and the airport, and then for us it was a long walk to Terminal 3 to catch our Virgin Australia flight. 

We had our boarding passes as a QR code on our phones. Both our phones showed but at check in, R's had disappeared. Fortunately mine had stayed on my phone for both of us. As we boarded the aircraft, mine had disappeared too. We knew our seat numbers and the welcoming flight attendant wasn't bothered and just said to go through to our seats. 

The 1.5 hour flight was uneventful, as was the train to Museum Station, nearest to where we were staying. 

We went to the shops for provisions after meeting with mien host. 

Aside from in a comment, I've not explained properly where we stay in Sydney. It is the Oaks Sydney Hyde Park Suites. The building is divided into a normal hotel and quite a number of individually owned studio apartments, and we stay in one of the individually owned apartments. These apartments are managed by a woman who turns up to greet you and take you to your room. She then takes the balance owing on her portable device and she talks, and she talks, and she talks. We know her life. In the lift on the way up she greeted a male couple who were returning guests who lived overseas, with big hugs. They loved her dress, yes quite nice, and her shoes that I can't remember. She may well talk a lot, but she is very nice. Gay men used to have a name for women like her but I don't like to use it. A better and just as descriptive name needs to be invented. Gay friendly, I suppose. 

We decided an easy dinner at Kinselas would be nice. We sat outside and fortunately under shelter. Big rains came and some had to flee inside.

Across the road is the very gay Oxford Hotel. 

The Darlinghurst Court House, with the Darlinghurst gaol within where the first Mardi Gras marchers were held after their protest march that went on to become the well known Mardi Gras Parade. The gaol is now something called QTopia. 

 

There is such a nice feature fountain in the street.

The meals at Kinselas come from the Courthouse Hotel, the building nearly next door. 

With a regular client discount, this room that could sleep five with this drop down bed cost us AU$172 a night. It has a separate kitchen and bathroom and a balcony with a nice view. It is bargain accommodation.

The place isn't flash. Everything is worn and shabby, but we find it suits us well. I thought the kitchen drawers might be interesting to photograph. The teaspoon compartment is empty because there were only two teaspoons. There was only one wine glass, and so I took Hyacinth's advice and drank my wine from a beaker. Hmm, this is interesting from Wikipedia. I never noticed a buckling. Did you? Hyacinth "acquired cultured accent which buckles under stress."^[

Some helpful cooking utensils, including a bottle opener.

Of course there were knives to carve a roast, that you might cook while on holidays, all blunt. 

But the most brilliant items were two wooden rolling pins, just what you need when you are on holidays and feel an urge to make pastry when you are making a large pie for your family. One of those rolling pins might have been used to bonk me on the head if I suggested R cook. We brunched and ate out for every meal. R does not cook when on holidays, and we have stayed in some places with really good cooking facilities. 

No, we didn't make scones. I was fearful to open the oven door.