As I signed off from my last post, I was a little worried that the pace I had set for myself in Sydney would not ease off. And as the last week has progressed, my fears have been realized. In fact, it was only minutes after signing off that I was "coerced" back into action. The problem (if you want to call it a problem) is that my hostel is very communal and around 3 in the afternoon, there's always about a dozen people outside sitting in the sun and enjoying a few bottles of Toohey's. After some hours of that, everybody gets motivated for a night on the town. People sleep, bum around in the morning and then it starts again. Lather, rinse, repeat.
So anyway, when I signed off from the last entry, it was about 1 in the afternoon. I was hanging out outside talking to some Germans who were in my room the night before when this English guy, drunker already than I've probably ever been, stumbles over to introduce himself. All the Germans had unusual, very German names that he couldn't even come close to pronounce, so (and this is my theory anyway) when he got to me and my nice easy name, he proclaimed that we had made a special bond, were best friends, and after 30 seconds it had felt like we had been friends for a million years. Needless to say, I got roped into going to the pub with him and a bunch of other not as drunk but still tipsy people to play free pool. That night I got talked into going out with the Norwegian girls, Heidi and Kristin, I had met earlier in the week. Peer pressure is a bitch.
Friday was a casual day because I had already walked everywhere I wanted to see for daytime activities and I had to wake up at 5:45 the following morning to work, and even I'm not stupid enough to go out with that facing me.
Normally, I wouldn't mention a day of doing manual labor for cash-in-hand, but this turned out to be an exceptionally infuriating day. I had to be at the site (a house) at 7 am until 3:30. The guy whose house we were working on was a total French prick, but I was willing to overlook it if he stayed out of my way, and I didn't mind the backbreaking work since I saw it as a way to make some money and get some exercise and sun.
The work was brutal and non-stop and around 2 or 2:30 my arm started cramping up really badly. I had been pushing a wheel barrow when my arms just locked up on me and when I let go, my middle fingers bent in and I couldn't move them at all as if they had been broken. Most human beings with an ounce of decency, you would expect, would understand that cramps are injuries of exhaustion and not make a big deal when someone with a cramp takes some time to drink water and stretch it out and also realize that they might pop up every so often. Alex, the French prick, told me I should just go home, but I was afraid he would use that as an excuse to not pay me, so I told him I could keep going, and actually managed to do some pretty strenuous jobs in between cramps. It wasn't till 3:30 though, that things got really ugly. We had been warned by one of the regular construction workers not to work past 3:30 because we wouldn't get paid overtime for it, and other people had learned that lesson the hard way. But Alex insisted that we clean up the bricks and cement and soot from the walls we had been knocking out because the walkway needed to be used by other people. The five of us who had been working all day weren't exactly thrilled with the idea, but we figured if we all just sucked it up for another 20 minutes we could get the job done and never have to deal with the asshole again.
Meanwhile, though, the professional workers continued to knock out walls. A few people complained that there was no point in cleaning if more mess was just going to be created (aside from the fact there was no way in hell we were going to be there with bricks and other debris flying at us). Also, it was Christmas Eve, and we wanted to be back having dinner, not donating our time and effort to a thankless prick. After Alex came out several times to ask why we weren't working, I finally stood up to him, asking us how he expected us to do the work with the walls still being knocked out, as well as the point that we were supposed to be done half an hour ago and several other points that would have appealed to anyone with an ounce of logic. Finally he told me he was sick of me and never wanted to see me again and told me to go home. Once I made sure I would be paid in full, I told him I'd be just as happy to never see him again and got exactly what I wanted -- which was to go home. Unfortunately, I have no idea when all the other guys I was working with were able to escape.
If anyone had earned the right to go out that night, it was me. I went downtown to Cheers and Three Wise Monkeys (which only means anything to those who have been to Sydney). I'm always used to Christmas Eve being a quiet, slow night, but the downtown was as busy as I'd ever seen. Three Wise Monkeys is a four-story bar and the only place where you could move with any space was the stairwell.
The next day, I had what I can say, without any question, the best Christmas I've ever had. The Chinese out here is delicious and the movie theater was very comfortable.... Just kidding. I woke up around 10 and people were already downstairs drinking. After several bottles of water, and a few beers to follow, I went with about 10 people from the hostel to Bronte Beach. We had absolutely perfect weather (not to make you guys jealous, but the degrees Celsius out here was probably higher the degrees Fahrenheit in New York) and the ocean was supplying great waves. We hung out on the beach for about five hours, each of us saying, "This is the life" at least once every half an hour and then went to the park behind the beach for a nice Australian barbecue. As you might expect, we weren't the only ones with the idea and the park was filled with people running around playing soccer, frisbee, volleyball, all sorts of things. All in all, I couldn't have drawn up a better Christmas. That night, a bunch of us found the only bar open in Kings Cross to put a cap on the day. We only stayed out for a drink or two, but it was great having another one of those UN nights (I was with Marco from France, two Dutch girls Yolinka and Rika, Bob from England, Tom -- the lunatic from the top of this post -- from England as well and his Swiss girlfriend Sevi, who might be even crazier than him).
I hope all of you had great Christmaseseses as well, and for all the fellow Jews out there, have eight crazy nights.
Cheers
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