I swear this house is haunted . I heard a thump and a bump downstairs, and I thought to myself - wow, JQ got up earlier than me? I will never hear the end of it - I'd better get my lazy butt in gear. So I stopped lounging around, and I headed downstairs, and it was empty. A faint snoring sound issued from upstairs. Huh. So JQ is still asleep? Then why have I been hearing phantom footsteps??? The obvious answer, my friends, is GHOSTS. Angry ghosts who are not amused by our shenanigans while visiting their prisons. What else could it be?
(I mean, I guess there is a remote possibility that the strange knocks and bumps and noises are just a feature of row housing, the sharing walls on both sides, but... Nah. That's too boring and rational. Haunted sounds better, doesn't it?) 👻
On our first day here (now one full week ago), I had stopped on the steps of the Town Hall, and the guard told me to come back next Tuesday for a tour. Ergo, our reason for heading downtown to the Town Hall today. Not even a hint of rain in the sky, so we decide to hoof it. We arrive at 10 a.m., which is a half-hour too early. Instead of waiting there in the sun, JQ is enticed away by the promise of coffee at the QVB, whereas I decide to search through Woolworths to see if I can find some sunglasses. I can't find my other pair, and I'm already feeling squinty from the sun. No luck! I return to find JQ at the cafe, who now does not want to tour, she just wants to commune with her coffee.
So I return to the Town Hall, sans JQ and sunglasses, and the tour starts at 10:30 a.m. There are 7 old ladies, me, and another guy from Canada. Our items go through a scanner, and we walk through the metal detector. Security is tight at Town Hall (which I presume is called Town Hall instead of City Hall because of history stuff and all that).
The front vestibule is a massive, gorgeous room dating to 1880 (that was unfortunately painted over with cream-coloured paint in the 1920s, and then restored back to its original state much later), and it also has a massive chandelier. It's the original chandelier, from Bohemia, and was lit with gas at one time, although the tour guide has no idea how that was done, so don't ask him.
Just beyond the vestibule is a large concert hall that has a freaking massive pipe organ that takes up the full wall - and, fortunately for us, someone was actually playing it that day. IIRC, the organ has 8768 pipes, including some pipes that are 64ft long. They are so long that they have a bend in them (hidden behind the wall). Crazy!
From there, we went on to view a number of reception rooms, beautiful stained glass, and staircases. We visited a suite of rooms that Queen Elizabeth visited on her two(?) state visits, and got to see the fancy doorway to a washroom that she used, and which has only been used twice by her. "That seems like a waste," I commented. "Can we use it?" They found that amusing, but no colonials were allowed to befoul Her Majesty's Royal Toilet. Hmph. I furtively attempt to fart in her general direction.
Side note: JQ is a fan of being in the commonwealth. Personally, I think it serves no purpose and would be happy to jettison the monarchy from its official role in Canada. The only thing that gives me pause is the Pandora's Box of opening constitutional discussions, because that's always a gong show. I just want to excise the monarchy, but JQ wants to hug a royal. Maybe she would be allowed to use the toilet.
On another unrelated note: The cruise ship Queen Elizabeth is in port today. I tell all the boat people to go use her toilet.
Back to my tour: Yet another reception room has what are, in my opinion, some really interesting paintings on the wall. There are a set of three featuring people in 18th century dress, with some decidedly non-historical neon green mixed in, and some snarky titles. I quite like them.
"There used to be portraits of [somebody] in here," the tour guide says, "but a year or so ago they put up these paintings." "Absolute rubbish!" says one of the old ladies. You'll be pleased to know that I am actually able to keep my opinions to myself, and I did not debate the old lady.
Anyway, the tour goes on, and I begin to get antsy. We talk about the bell tower. We sit in the council chambers. The tour guide is an old guy, and he likes to sit down a lot. We go downstairs to see the vault, and I am peeking at my watch. We head toward the catacombs. This seems like a good time to tell the guide that JQ has given me up as dead, and I have to bail. Fortunately, there is an exit nearby, and I make my escape. I love history, but apparently, I am not that interested in the minutia of municipal politics. Talk to me about the building and the grounds (fun fact: they built their Town Hall over a cemetery - cause that never goes wrong - and yes, some people think it's haunted), but yeah, that tour could have way shorter.
JQ seems pleased to see me alive, most likely not from any personal affection, but rather because all of the bookings in New Zealand are in my name. We walk down to Circular Quay and use our pass to book "The Shark Attack Thrill Ride" from Oz Jet Boating. This is an $85 ride, so we definitely want to knock it off our list. Also, it looks super fun! There are four of us waiting, and we're kept waiting, because there's a tour group of 11 who are late. The tour operators are annoyed. Eventually, the lollygaggers show up, but the operators get us loaded first so that we get the best seats.
We have the option of suiting up in the world's least stylish red waterproof ponchos. JQ asks how dry will they keep me? 70%. How wet will I get without them? 100%. We put on the not-stylish ponchos. The two people who were waiting with us were feeling bold and decided not to get unfashionable. We were all given life jackets, then loaded into the back of the boat.
Our boat driver is a super-white guy - as in, he's a guy with so much sunscreen plastered on his face, he is a deathly, chalky white. He shows us the hand signals he's going to give us - this one means he's going to spin the boat, that one means he's going to do the sudden stop. I don't know if any of the foreign tourists understand what's happening. Everyone aboard, put on your seatbelts, and vroom vroom, the boat backs up and turns around. It's a highly maneuverable boat with a big engine.
Once we're out of the harbour, the boat really picks up speed. We're zigging and we're zagging, and the wind is crazy in our face, and we're bouncing over the waves at a great rate of speed. The driver spins his hand, and we brace ourselves, and the boat spins around on its bow. "Blearghy-bloo-bloo!" I yell at JQ, "there is salt in this water!" Yes, I am extremely perceptive; not much gets by me. I should be, like, a marine scientist, or something. 😎
Apparently, that was a 'baby spin', to get us used to it. Captain Chalk-Face revs up the engine, and off we go again, zig-zagging, spinning like lunatics, and then the sudden stop. At first, it doesn't seem like a big deal - the boat just comes to a sharp stop, and it tilts down a bit. Then a giant wave crashes over you. So much water! The bold couple next to us who declined ponchos? Covered with water, and with the wind whipping around us, they're shivering and huddling together to keep warm.
The ride lasts about a half hour, and it was a blast! Not our usual activity, so I'm glad we had the passes, because otherwise I doubt we would have paid to do it.
After that, we choose a more sedate boat ride (although any other boat ride is likely to be more sedate). A few wharves over, we hop onto the Captain Cook sightseeing tour, which will take us out as far as Watson's Bay. Apparently, this is the boat you take if you want to visit Fort Denison, Shark Island (which really is surrounded by sharks), and Garden Island. Pay attention to the departure times, though. These boats don't run as often as the ferries, and if you miss the last boat, you're staying overnight. And I can't swim (and even if I could, I wouldn't advise swimming from Shark Island, for obvious reasons).
Our sightseeing boat ride takes us past Rose Bay, where there was a house we'd looked at staying in on AirBNB. There are some really expensive homes in that area - up to $100 million. Crazy money! You pay all that money, and you watch grubby tourists parading back and forth in front of your house every day. Ha ha!
When our cruise returned, we got to take a "free" ride home on the Hop On Hop Off Captain Cook operated boats (I call that the HO HO CO CO. It doesn't work exactly, but it's close enough and it's catchy).
When we alighted at the wharf at Pyrmont, JQ decided that she was played out, and went home.
By the way, did you know that koalas sleep up to 20 hours a day? I wonder if JQ's parents adopted her from a koala farm and raised her as mostly-human. She's maybe a bit too tall, but on the other hand, perhaps they used some giraffe DNA to make her taller so that she could pass as a mostly-normal human. I will make a note to ask her family about it when I get back. Although they will probably deny it, as I'm sure it's illegal to bring a koala home (much less shave it and try to pass it off as human). JQ did say her parents visited Australia many times. Hmm. I am suspicious.
(I mean, I guess there is a remote possibility that the strange knocks and bumps and noises are just a feature of row housing, the sharing walls on both sides, but... Nah. That's too boring and rational. Haunted sounds better, doesn't it?) 👻
On our first day here (now one full week ago), I had stopped on the steps of the Town Hall, and the guard told me to come back next Tuesday for a tour. Ergo, our reason for heading downtown to the Town Hall today. Not even a hint of rain in the sky, so we decide to hoof it. We arrive at 10 a.m., which is a half-hour too early. Instead of waiting there in the sun, JQ is enticed away by the promise of coffee at the QVB, whereas I decide to search through Woolworths to see if I can find some sunglasses. I can't find my other pair, and I'm already feeling squinty from the sun. No luck! I return to find JQ at the cafe, who now does not want to tour, she just wants to commune with her coffee.
So I return to the Town Hall, sans JQ and sunglasses, and the tour starts at 10:30 a.m. There are 7 old ladies, me, and another guy from Canada. Our items go through a scanner, and we walk through the metal detector. Security is tight at Town Hall (which I presume is called Town Hall instead of City Hall because of history stuff and all that).
The front vestibule is a massive, gorgeous room dating to 1880 (that was unfortunately painted over with cream-coloured paint in the 1920s, and then restored back to its original state much later), and it also has a massive chandelier. It's the original chandelier, from Bohemia, and was lit with gas at one time, although the tour guide has no idea how that was done, so don't ask him.
From there, we went on to view a number of reception rooms, beautiful stained glass, and staircases. We visited a suite of rooms that Queen Elizabeth visited on her two(?) state visits, and got to see the fancy doorway to a washroom that she used, and which has only been used twice by her. "That seems like a waste," I commented. "Can we use it?" They found that amusing, but no colonials were allowed to befoul Her Majesty's Royal Toilet. Hmph. I furtively attempt to fart in her general direction.
Side note: JQ is a fan of being in the commonwealth. Personally, I think it serves no purpose and would be happy to jettison the monarchy from its official role in Canada. The only thing that gives me pause is the Pandora's Box of opening constitutional discussions, because that's always a gong show. I just want to excise the monarchy, but JQ wants to hug a royal. Maybe she would be allowed to use the toilet.
On another unrelated note: The cruise ship Queen Elizabeth is in port today. I tell all the boat people to go use her toilet.
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"There used to be portraits of [somebody] in here," the tour guide says, "but a year or so ago they put up these paintings." "Absolute rubbish!" says one of the old ladies. You'll be pleased to know that I am actually able to keep my opinions to myself, and I did not debate the old lady.
Anyway, the tour goes on, and I begin to get antsy. We talk about the bell tower. We sit in the council chambers. The tour guide is an old guy, and he likes to sit down a lot. We go downstairs to see the vault, and I am peeking at my watch. We head toward the catacombs. This seems like a good time to tell the guide that JQ has given me up as dead, and I have to bail. Fortunately, there is an exit nearby, and I make my escape. I love history, but apparently, I am not that interested in the minutia of municipal politics. Talk to me about the building and the grounds (fun fact: they built their Town Hall over a cemetery - cause that never goes wrong - and yes, some people think it's haunted), but yeah, that tour could have way shorter.
JQ seems pleased to see me alive, most likely not from any personal affection, but rather because all of the bookings in New Zealand are in my name. We walk down to Circular Quay and use our pass to book "The Shark Attack Thrill Ride" from Oz Jet Boating. This is an $85 ride, so we definitely want to knock it off our list. Also, it looks super fun! There are four of us waiting, and we're kept waiting, because there's a tour group of 11 who are late. The tour operators are annoyed. Eventually, the lollygaggers show up, but the operators get us loaded first so that we get the best seats.
Our boat driver is a super-white guy - as in, he's a guy with so much sunscreen plastered on his face, he is a deathly, chalky white. He shows us the hand signals he's going to give us - this one means he's going to spin the boat, that one means he's going to do the sudden stop. I don't know if any of the foreign tourists understand what's happening. Everyone aboard, put on your seatbelts, and vroom vroom, the boat backs up and turns around. It's a highly maneuverable boat with a big engine.
Once we're out of the harbour, the boat really picks up speed. We're zigging and we're zagging, and the wind is crazy in our face, and we're bouncing over the waves at a great rate of speed. The driver spins his hand, and we brace ourselves, and the boat spins around on its bow. "Blearghy-bloo-bloo!" I yell at JQ, "there is salt in this water!" Yes, I am extremely perceptive; not much gets by me. I should be, like, a marine scientist, or something. 😎
Apparently, that was a 'baby spin', to get us used to it. Captain Chalk-Face revs up the engine, and off we go again, zig-zagging, spinning like lunatics, and then the sudden stop. At first, it doesn't seem like a big deal - the boat just comes to a sharp stop, and it tilts down a bit. Then a giant wave crashes over you. So much water! The bold couple next to us who declined ponchos? Covered with water, and with the wind whipping around us, they're shivering and huddling together to keep warm.
The ride lasts about a half hour, and it was a blast! Not our usual activity, so I'm glad we had the passes, because otherwise I doubt we would have paid to do it.
After that, we choose a more sedate boat ride (although any other boat ride is likely to be more sedate). A few wharves over, we hop onto the Captain Cook sightseeing tour, which will take us out as far as Watson's Bay. Apparently, this is the boat you take if you want to visit Fort Denison, Shark Island (which really is surrounded by sharks), and Garden Island. Pay attention to the departure times, though. These boats don't run as often as the ferries, and if you miss the last boat, you're staying overnight. And I can't swim (and even if I could, I wouldn't advise swimming from Shark Island, for obvious reasons).
Our sightseeing boat ride takes us past Rose Bay, where there was a house we'd looked at staying in on AirBNB. There are some really expensive homes in that area - up to $100 million. Crazy money! You pay all that money, and you watch grubby tourists parading back and forth in front of your house every day. Ha ha!
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| Rich people's houses! They're not just large - they have large mortgages, too! |
When our cruise returned, we got to take a "free" ride home on the Hop On Hop Off Captain Cook operated boats (I call that the HO HO CO CO. It doesn't work exactly, but it's close enough and it's catchy).
When we alighted at the wharf at Pyrmont, JQ decided that she was played out, and went home.
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