Sydney, Day One

Four-hour bus ride from Mollymook to Sydney. Mostly uneventful, except for the mentally disturbed, bushy-bearded fellow sitting right behind us. His on-the-road odour was, thankfully, overpowered by the chemically septic scent of the onboard toilet, which was close to overflowing, according to an overly perky, thin, pigtailed woman in her early 40s. The bearded fellow’s only luggage was a dirty cloth bag and a plastic bag filled with at least four boxes of crackers. The bus driver didn’t want him to bring the crackers on board because you’re not allowed to eat or drink on Australian buses, but he told the driver, “That’s not my snack, that’s my luggage,” so he was allowed to board, crackers and all. His habit of repeatedly punching his fist into his hand and muttering/laughing to himself was somewhat disturbing, but we were able to change seats after about 30 minutes.

The overperky woman also almost ran afoul of the no food or drink rule with her coffee. Informed by the bus driver that she was not allowed to drink it on the bus because she might spill the coffee once the bus started moving, she replied, “If I spill any of it, I’ll use my head to mop it up,” and proceeded to chug the hot coffee before holding the empty cup triumphantly aloft.

We kept our fruit in our bag.

It was raining, cool and overcast when we got to Sydney, but our hotel was only a few blocks from the bus station, so we didn’t get too wet. We’re staying at the Pensione Hotel, which advertises itself as a “boutique hotel.” This “boutique” hotel’s style is best described as Dorm Room/YMCA: cramped, clean and utilitarian. The bathroom is almost as large as the main “room” (I hesitate to use the word “room” because it implies “space”). The room has an Ikea-esque wardrobe and dresser, a tiny desk, a ceiling-mounted television (hospital-waiting-room style), an ottoman chair and a Rothko on the wall. That must be the boutique part.

We were upgraded from a double to a triple, which is a double bed plus (I kid you not) a bunk bed. So if you can get to Sydney before the end of the week and don’t have a fear of heights, you can stay with us. On the plus side, while 95 percent of the floor space is occupied by bedding of one kind or another, we have a great view of a roof and can hear the late-night screams of partiers along George Street, Sydney’s main strip. The location’s good, though, right in the heart of Chinatown.

Last night, after some tasty conveyer-belt sushi at Sushi Rio, we walked around Darling Harbour and checked out its myriad shops, bars and restaurants. It’s the launching point for harbour tours (I believe) and many other things besides, so we’ll be back and will describe it in more detail later.