Sydney Nightlife

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Silent Disco at Scary Canary

It was a Saturday evening and we wanted to go out. The patrons of Sydney were of the general opinion that Thursdays and Saturdays were the designated going out nights, while Friday was a rest night between them. We could walk to the Rege, the classic uni favourite approximately two steps from the edge of campus. That was a truly essential destination that acted like a club during O Week, but a trusty bar at which to hang out with friends on any night of any week.

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Toga Party at Roundy (AKA The Roundhouse)

We could dress up super fancy and make our way to Ivy, a lavish club with at least seven floors and a rooftop pool, but that was far better on Thursdays when we wouldn’t have to pay cover. This iconic Sydney club greeted you with a trek up many flights of stairs upon entrance, followed by several rooms decorated in various expositions of extravagance. Hanging from the towering ceilings were chandeliers that would be described by my good friends Ryan and Theresa as striking light fixtures. On one such Thursday, our friend group got split up as soon as we passed through the door. In hopes of expediting our reunion, I dropped my not-yet-boyfriend a pin. Obviously it did not help whatsoever because GPS location will give you zero vertical clues about which floor the pin was sent from. At least we found each other on the main dance floor in time to dance to Work from Home by Fifth Harmony with my best friend Rachel.

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Rachel, thrilled to have found the pool on top of Ivy
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Looking down from a balcony over the main dance floor of Ivy

This April night, we were in the mood for something different. When Bojana suggested we go to a Gatsby-themed party she had heard about, we immediately dove for our closets and dressed for the 1920s. Paired with my short hair, a loose dress I had recently purchased from a secondhand shop made me look convincingly like a flapper.

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I do not have any pictures from this night, so here is a scene I sketched.

A bus ride later, we arrived at an unassuming bar in an offshoot of Sydney I had never been to. But not all was as it appeared. Through an unassuming door the real party was revealed. Downstairs in the speakeasy, festivities were in full swing. A band played onstage, bartenders mixed cocktails, and patrons weaved between small wooden tables, everyone in costume. This place could easily have existed in the Roaring Twenties. I dragged my friends to the dance floor and immediately began to teach them how to swing dance.

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Surfless Paradise

“Swag on down to the commo jawn for some trip planning!” A rallying cry in the group chat gathered the troops in the common room. The long weekend coming up was begging to be filled with an adventure. With a diverse group of students committed, we rented a suite at a hostel and flew to the famous Gold Coast. It was our Aussie friends’ turn to be tourists in their own country.

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One budget airline trip later (I was hesitant, then overjoyed when they gave out free sweets) we rendezvoused at the hostel. It was a bit chilly, so a quick jog on the sand was required to warm up before a night swim. The water felt warmer than the air, making us reluctant to get out.

On day two, the waves greeted us overzealously. They were much too strong for our mediocre surfing skills. Ignoring the original plan of renting surfboards at Surfers’ Paradise, we instead stuck with body surfing. My Canadian friend Ryan taught me how to front flip into the waves!

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Dinner was a group effort pasta dish made in our little ensuite kitchen, supplemented by several hostel-provided sausages. Now what is the Gold Coast known for? Surfing, amusement parks, and clubs. Well the waves were not cooperating, and our student wallets did not feel strong enough to pay for roller coasters, so naturally we ended up at a club. We felt fancy when the photographers took our photo at the entrance before we wove our way through the shiny establishment to claim a spot on the dance floor.

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The next morning faired even worse for our surfing dreams: the water was closed due to dangerous conditions. Instead, we played ball on the beach, or at least attempted; more often than not we ended up sprinting after the ball after it was snatched by the aggressive wind. Our resident Aussie, Jake, insisted that we watch the big rugby game on Anzac day, so we claimed some seats in a pub in front of the game playing on a large projector screen and let him narrate what was going on.

Tuesday morning we rose early to catch our flight back to Sydney. I pushed my friends to leave before seven so we could catch the earliest bus to the airport and have a calm, stress-free trip back home. However, I was outvoted by people who wanted to eat brekkie at the hostel before we left. What a mistake.

First we had trouble finding the correct bus stop. I should have scouted it out the day before. When the bus finally opened its doors at the tiny airport, we tumbled out and sprinted in towards the check in. The sign said, “CLOSED”. We were two minutes late. Two minutes past the mandatory 15 minute before flight check-in time. TWO. MINUTES. I asked the lady for an exception. That was a no. I asked her what I could do, and she said she had another flight available departing tomorrow evening. Well that was not going to work for me because I had an exam in Sydney to take! My friends settled with a 12 hour bus ride back to Sydney. I went around the little airport, asking every single airline if they had a seat open. They were all booked on this popular travel weekend except for a more expensive airline, way over budget, even if we ignored the money lost on the missed flight. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I pulled out my emergency credit card, mentally appologised to my dad, and charged it. School comes first. I studied on that overpriced plane ride, slept in my room, woke up, and took that exam.

 

Waving to you from my Surfboard

Four months after graduation, I am finally finished unpacking from college! Woo! It took me a while because during those brief times living at home between several jaunts of awesome post-grad travelling, I wanted to go through my junk thoroughly, organising and donating what I no longer needed. When I found my 2016 calendar, I realised it has been a year since I posted anything here. Oops! Let me continue…

My first experience surfing occurred years ago in a bay on the coast of Costa Rica. Those baby waves were a pleasant introduction to the sport, and I was hooked. So of course one of my goals to accomplish in Australia was to advance my surfing skills. I was thrilled when several friends from UNSW Hall were interested in signing up for a surf weekend with a camp. Without further ado, on a Friday afternoon we found ourselves being herded from the Sydney YHA onto a coach bus that would deliver us to camp!

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(Since there were professional photographers at the camp, I didn’t take any of my own photos, so here is a beach scene I painted)

Camp was majorly reminiscent of summer camp, with picnic tables and eating in shifts and reminders to slop on sun cream. When we campers were asked to split into groups of 7 for cabin sleeping, our group of 6 expected to welcome a loner into our circle of friendship, but instead we were lead secretly past the camp cabins. Our destination: UPGRADE! Oh yeah we got a fancy shmancy cabin with AIR CON! After a few games in the common area, a few of us strolled with some new friends to the only establishment nearby. Picture a yacht club wedding reception area with a bar and dance floor. Now picture us playing limbo on said dance floor.

Bright and early, we got in line for brekkie, quickly wetsuited up, and bustled off to the beach. While tides change everyday, the wind is also an important consideration in surfing, and happens to often be ideal early in the morning.

1! 2! 3! Nipples! Press-up! Chicken wing! Kick! Am I yelling random words? No! That was the sequence of actions involved in standing up on a surfboard. The instructors were fantastic and the majority of us campers were up and feeling awesome in no time. Two hours later, my arms hung, dead weights at my sides, and I was grateful when it was time for a break. Surfing was exhausting.

The most memorable thing about the food was my inability to identify most of it. However, surfing made us so hungry that we joyously welcomed any type of calories into our ravenous tummies. We needed fuel for the next session. During break, we mustered our energy because at the camp playground, there was a rainbow bouncy rectangle. It was huge. We flipped. We bounced. I was elated. Bouncing brings me joy.

Although our skills may have improved, surfing got progressively harder due to soreness and less favourable tides. By the end of the weekend, we were drained yet triumphant, eager to try our new surfer dude skills on our own…but maybe after a week or so off. We did have classes to go to.

Mountain Mission

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Mid semester break was coming up, and I was ready for an entire week of adventure. During my pre semester trip to New Zealand with my parents, we only hit the north island, so when I heard Theresa, a girl living in UNSW hall with me, was looking for buddies to go hiking with in the south island, I signed up immediately. My good friend Rachel decided to join us too! Theresa had posted about her plans in a very large Facebook group full of international students, so it was funny that our group ended up consisting of three tallish, light-haired American girls who all study engineering and admire Emma Watson. But that is something I learned in statistics class- sometimes random doesn’t look so random. (See Dad, I did go to a few lectures between all my traveling!)

Our hiking packs packed lightly, it took a 3 hour plane ride to get us to the Wellington airport, which is exquisitely decorated to the theme of Lord of the Rings. Pulling out our sleeping bags (which make excellent carry-on items: instant pillow or blanket on the plane!) we entered caterpillar mode and slept between the seats in the airport waiting area. Although the airport technically closed from 2-4 am, they let us stay, where we experienced an inconsistent sleep, waking up to  vacuuming and a consistent barrage of music, which included the ever catchy Istanbul (not Constantinople) multiple times on the playlist. In the morning, at a reasonable hour of 6am, Theresa woke us up to excellent news: our flight was delayed an hour, and due to the inconvenience, the airline gave us food vouchers for breakfast, which we spent on cake!

 

One flight later, we went grocery shopping in Nelson. We became those people in math problems who buy 14 sleeves of crackers, 12 bags of mac n cheese, and too many granola bars to count. The shuttle picked us up in town and dropped us off at our starting point: the visitors centre. “Waterproofing” our map in a ziplock baggie, we set off onto the  Travers-Sabine Circuit.

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If you want breathtaking nature in the form of mountains, forrest, or lakes, I recommend New Zealand. Whenever we summited a mountain, we chowed on Summit Scroggin: a delicious mixture of nuts, dried fruits, and chocolate lollies, which we meticulously divided into portioned baggies before we set out. Each night, we slept in a different cabin, signing in with our cabin passes, which would allow us to sleep in any of the 900 mountain accomodations available for the next 6 months. Easter Sunday consisted of hiking along the trail, with the added treat of hiding Cadbury Eggs for each other to find during breaks and at the cabin we reached in the evening. On Easter night, we partook in the most glorious stargazing I have ever experienced.

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We took a detour  from our loop to go to see a lake full of the clearest water in the world. It was extremely cold in the cabin that night, but it was worth it. We saw some endangered ducks! After several days of canned salmon on crackers for lunch and 2 cut thumbs, we all became experts at opening a can with a knife. We met the coolest trampers in the cabins each evening. I once borrowed a spatula filled with holes- the owner was serious about minimising pack weight. Each of us allowed ourselves a frivolous item. Mine was the chocolate eggs. Rachel’s was marshmallows (the Aussie/New Zealand kind that are pink and sugary), which we roasted over a fire of slightly damp wood. By the way, Rachel is an excellent marshmallow roaster. Theresa brought avocados- when you add them to your mac n cheese, a feast is created.

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Plenty of bug bites were acquired, and I could not tell you if Theresa’s solution of slathering them with toothpaste helped or not.  After 6 days of no showering (jumping into a couple bodies of cold water does not get you clean), we returned to civilisation. The first thing we did: purchase and eat Magnum bars and Cadbury Creme Eggs at the general store. That night we slept under the stars, with a tarp below us and bugs above. We survived the cold by cuddling with hot water bottles. The next day, the shuttle retrieved us and we got to our hostel, where I met up with my UConn friend Eleanor. We shared stories over to-die-for hot pudding and ice cream, complimentary of the hostel. These people were serious about pudding: all the guests lined up outside the kitchen a bit before 8 (Pudding Time) and we were asked to socialise and not use our phones during Pudding Hour. It lived up to the hype.

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Boree Log

I spend a good portion of my time in train stations sprinting for trains. I can’t even imagine a leisurely stroll to a train that I know for sure is the one I want to board. Rachel and I leaped off the bus, sprinted towards the trains, and managed to arrive, panting, at the platform, only to sadly watch the train pull away. Luckily, some other people also going to the Outdoors Club Boree Log trip were also late, and we were able to ride together on the next hourly train. One of the greatest things about the Sydney transit system: it only cost us about $5 to travel 2 hours to the Blue Mountains.

In the Blue Mountains, it was chilly. We all pulled on pants and fleeces, and Rachel happily donned her green knitted hat. Another outing club member drove up in a car and we piled in. After a quick drive, all of us on the lookout for kangaroos, we arrived at the campsite. Rachel and I were directed through the city of small tents (and in Theresa’s case, a hammock) to the huge communal tent.  We located some sleeping bags, and attempted to sleep. If we snuggled close enough, shivering was reduced to a minimum and only our feet were frozen. It was quite the relief to wake up to the laugh of the kookaburra.

Carrots and peanut butter make an excellent breakfast food! (Even though Australian peanut butter will never live up to American peanut butter standards. I read the ingredients. It’s just ground up peanuts, and a little bit of salt. How it tastes so different remains a mystery.)

Saturday was my first experience with canyoning. What a glorious sport! We hiked down into a canyon, blew up some li-los (floaty air mattress) and floated on them down the river, occasionally climbing over boulders and through crevasses, tossing the li-los ahead of us. Since this was a typical outdoors club, we used li-los that did not want to hold up to our abuse, and they popped, one by one, until we were all sharing, 2-3 people per discouraged, deflating li-lo. Around midday we did some cliff jumping. I was warm and comfortable, since I was wearing not one, but two wetsuits. The warmth was totally worth the reduction in mobility.

Upon our return to camp, scents of stew and couscous wafted up our noses. The most difficult part of eating this supper was finding and sharing items that could function as plates and utensils. I grudgingly admit, sporkifes occasionally come in handy. We began to worry when the last group of canyoners had still not come back by nightfall. A search group assembled and set out with head torches. Thankfully, everyone made it back by 9. We celebrated with an elderly-themed party around the campfire. Rachel and I got our hair talced, so our heads were white and powdery for the remainder of the night. Ryan made us chocolate mousse with his trusty powdered milk, which accompanied the pink and white roasted marshmallows nicely.

Sunday was a climbing day! We piled into cars, eager for some glory. But first, to town. Charlie and I walked into a café with a lovely atmosphere and sitting area, yet we could tell that the morsels of food were above our price range. Instead, we went to a cheaper bakery, bought some pastries, and casually walked back into the first café, sitting down by the window. We nonchalantly opened our bags, but as we opened our mouths for the first bite, we were ushered out of the premises. Apparently, they did not sport a bring-your-own-pastry policy.

Climbing occurred, and glory was achieved. The views earned by climbing were beautiful. Nice vertical. The sandstone was a bit crumbly, and it would have been nice to have a few more veins of iron, but I would not ask for much more. On the higher routes, the wind had carved incredible flutes in the sandstone. On this trip, I was introduced to the tradition of buying your friends ice cream when you achieve glory.

Wishing for Wind

I am addicted to signing up for things. When I go to a club fair, I will, without a doubt, sign up for at least 8 more activities than can feasibly fit in my schedule. But this form-signing enthusiasm paid off when I got on the list for the Surfing Sailing and Windsurfing Club trip to Jervis Bay! We carpooled, which meant I got a chance to befriend more international students. The group was mostly comprised of Norwegians, with a few French, English, and American.IMG_2277

After breaking the trailer filled with water sports gear on a speed bump, and subsequently fixing it with string, the 25 of of us arrived at the rental house. Yes, we fit 25 in a house that claimed to sleep 10. The next morning, I carefully stepped through the tetris of inflated mattresses carpeting the floor, and emerged onto the deck. One of the guys walked past me with 2 fistfuls of bacon, which he threw onto the grill. Everything can and will be grilled here, from eggs to toast. Red solo cups make acceptable cereal holding vessels.

After lathering up in sun cream, we walked to the white sand beach. I attempted to windsurf, but there was simply not enough wind. Paddle boarding was a much more fruitful activity. My new friend Malvika volunteered to be my passenger/goPro holder. The water was so clear, and it was easy to watch the fish. I also did some skim boarding. After several failed attempts, I got the hang of it again. In the afternoon, I got to skipper a catamaran! I loved sitting on the trampoline. WE SAW BABY DOLPHINS!! I tried my best to follow them, but there was not enough wind to keep up.

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The club leaders pumped us up for a sunset walk. We traversed across beaches and rocky planes. When we arrived at our destination, we were greeted with pizza, which we ate while gazing at the sunset. We then walked blindly through the woods to get back to the house. The night ended with a bonfire on the beach, late into the night.

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Sunday was surfing day. Splitting into cars, we drove to Cave Beach. After acquiring some surfboards, we carried them on our heads down a long path to the beach. After an extremely brief lesson, I entered the water. The waves could not have been more perfect. I stayed in the water the entire time, catching as many waves as possible. I was exhausted by the time I was called out of the water.

Right at the campground near the showers where we were rinsing the boards, there were wild kangaroos! They were über friendly and let me pet them. They are so soft!!

It’s Better at the Beach

IMG_2222Sydney is a glorious city. I went with a bunch of international friends to do the Coogee-to-Bondi beach walk. We started at Coogee beach, and walked along a path that took us to beach after beach, interspersed with sneaky lagoons. It took us about two hours because we kept jumping into the water at each different location. There were lap pools filled with sea water, but I would not want to swim in those, since they looked slimy and the inviting ocean was right there next to them. When we finally arrived at the famous Bondi Beach, my Canadian friend Elyssa and I swam, diving off the drop-off and letting the waves wash us up into the shallows.

I was lucky enough to go to Manly Beach to watch the final day of the Australian Open of Surfing! My American buddy Pringle (yes that is what we call her) and I hoped on the ferry, taking advantage of the $2.50 all day public transportation in Sydney, and enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the touristy Manly area. It was hot sitting on the sand, watching talented surfers do amazing things, so we got up several times to jump into the refreshing water. For lunch I experienced Cheeky Nandos for the first time. I like spicy, so I enjoyed trying all the sauce options.