After safely landing in Sydney, Jacqueline happily declares, "I can't believe we're not dead!" All the flight crew glares at her, and everyone else sitting around us just gives her weird looks. I just shrug. Jacq's gonna Jacq - what are you gonna do? Eventually you get used to it. 😉
As we are sitting in the last seats in the plane, it is not surprising that we are also the last people off the plane. I am sure I am not imagining that sigh of relief as we exited.
As per usual, when landing in a strange international airport, you just start walking. Eventually, you'll find the way out (unless you're in Chicago O'Hare, in which case, I had to actually stop at an Information desk to ask for directions to get out). There are all kinds people lined up at e-passport kiosks, but we don't know what those things are, so we keep going. Eventually, we get to the big snaking lineups of people. Now THAT looks familiar. We get in line, spend some time slowly wending our way forward, and then an airport official wandered up looking for Canadians and Americans. Canadians? Oh yes, that's us! She points us in another direction, and we go. (Ours is not to question why - we just do as we're told.)
We have been selected for super-security-screening or something. Put your passport into the machine; it spits out a ticket. Take the ticket. Walk to the next machine and stare at it, as it takes a picture of you and adds your mug shot to its "Potential Criminal" database. I can't believe that a country founded as a penal colony is so untrusting. 😕 (Okay, that was mean. I just got filed into the "probable smartass jerk" section of the database.)
Anyway, since I'm ahead of her in line, I stop to watch as Jacq is getting her picture taken. She stares at the camera of her robot overlord with a dead-eyed expression, so I yell "You look like a joyless replicant!" Now her photo probably has a weird squinchy smirky face. Ha ha!
One last hurdle - do I have anything to declare or not? As you probably know, Australia has really strict laws around entry to the country. No food comes in - not even the food from the plane (no food hoarding allowed, Monica). Were you on a farm in the last 30 days, and are you wearing the same shoes you were wearing on that farm? Welcome to Australia, shoeless Joe. Don't mess with the Aussies; the have a lot of biodiversity to protect, and they take this very seriously.
I declare that the only threat that I am carrying to Australia is my travelling companion, Jacqueline. She is shunted to the red I Declare line, while I breeze through the green I Don't Have Anything to Declare line. I exit the secure area at last. Life is good!
Eventually, JQ shows up as well. First thing we do is walk through the front doors to see the trees and smell the summer air. This is not the way out, but we just want to take a quick look at our new surroundings.
Wow, it's so different here - like we're on the other side of the planet! 😉
Super happy to be out and about, staggering along on our little shrivelled legs, like peg-legged pirates. Hopefully those muscles grow back.
First order of business: get money. Usually, I travel with money, but JQ talked me out of it earlier, and by the time I'd changed my mind and decided I wanted cash, it was too late for the banks. So, back inside the airport. We trundle along with our luggage until we find an ATM, then withdraw some Aussie cash. Next on the agenda: find the trains, and charge up an Opal card with money so that we can ride the trains. Also done! Since I can't use data in Australia, I planned ahead and printed off the Google instructions on how to get to our AirBNB place. With that in hand, we hop on the trains at the airport and exit at the Town Hall stop.
Wow, look at those amazing old buildings - let's go see! But no, Jacq is a wilted water lily who needs coffee to re-energize. So we walk down the street until we see the pivotal word: The Coffee Club. Because of the laws against airplane food hoarding, I had to eat all my food before exiting the plane - I am not hungry. Because JQ has some dim idea about a fasting diet that prevents jet lag (and she keeps telling me she will get the last laugh when I suffer debilitating jet lag), she is hungry as an Aussie herbivore.
She eats her food, and drinks her coffee, and claims that she can feel her lost brain cells rejuvenating. I am unconvinced by her sudden protestations of returning intelligence. She stills seems somewhat travel-addled to me. Maybe it was all that sleeping on the floor of the plane. Anyway, I just drink what we would call a "float" (ice cream and pop), but which this establishment calls a "spider". I JUST DRANK A SPIDER. Maybe they aren't really tough in Australia - maybe they just sound tough, because they give fluffy things non-fluffy names. (Uh oh, another smartass demerit point has just been added to my mug shot at the airport.)
Okay, time to go, super-smart-coffee-enabled JQ. Let's go back and look at those old buildings! The Town Hall has security guards in front. I go up and ask what's up with this place, can I go inside? Yes, I can, because it's Tuesday. It's Tuesday?!? WTF happened to Monday? (I forgot about that whole disappearing day thing.) It is in fact Tuesday, and you can tour on Tuesdays for $5, but you should probably show up at 10 a.m. next Tuesday. Okay! Thank you kind security guard!
Next door is St. Andrew's Cathedral, which I wander through, while JQ sits on a chair outside and communes with her coffee. There are very strange birds wandering through the flower gardens outside. Google tells me it is an Australian White Ibis.
Queen Victoria is hanging around outside a big old shopping mall, which is a total tourist magnet. The forces of its tourist magnetism draw us inside. I try to take pictures, but JQ warns me that people will steal my luggage while I'm not looking. I explain to JQ that it's not a penal colony any more - these are good people.
It's getting close to the time when we can check in, so we wander over to the bus stop, and catch the B289 (just like Google told us to) to Harris and Allen streets. Now... can we find our house?
As we are sitting in the last seats in the plane, it is not surprising that we are also the last people off the plane. I am sure I am not imagining that sigh of relief as we exited.
As per usual, when landing in a strange international airport, you just start walking. Eventually, you'll find the way out (unless you're in Chicago O'Hare, in which case, I had to actually stop at an Information desk to ask for directions to get out). There are all kinds people lined up at e-passport kiosks, but we don't know what those things are, so we keep going. Eventually, we get to the big snaking lineups of people. Now THAT looks familiar. We get in line, spend some time slowly wending our way forward, and then an airport official wandered up looking for Canadians and Americans. Canadians? Oh yes, that's us! She points us in another direction, and we go. (Ours is not to question why - we just do as we're told.)
We have been selected for super-security-screening or something. Put your passport into the machine; it spits out a ticket. Take the ticket. Walk to the next machine and stare at it, as it takes a picture of you and adds your mug shot to its "Potential Criminal" database. I can't believe that a country founded as a penal colony is so untrusting. 😕 (Okay, that was mean. I just got filed into the "probable smartass jerk" section of the database.)
Anyway, since I'm ahead of her in line, I stop to watch as Jacq is getting her picture taken. She stares at the camera of her robot overlord with a dead-eyed expression, so I yell "You look like a joyless replicant!" Now her photo probably has a weird squinchy smirky face. Ha ha!
One last hurdle - do I have anything to declare or not? As you probably know, Australia has really strict laws around entry to the country. No food comes in - not even the food from the plane (no food hoarding allowed, Monica). Were you on a farm in the last 30 days, and are you wearing the same shoes you were wearing on that farm? Welcome to Australia, shoeless Joe. Don't mess with the Aussies; the have a lot of biodiversity to protect, and they take this very seriously.
I declare that the only threat that I am carrying to Australia is my travelling companion, Jacqueline. She is shunted to the red I Declare line, while I breeze through the green I Don't Have Anything to Declare line. I exit the secure area at last. Life is good!
 |
| Just stepped outside the airport to see the trees! |
Wow, it's so different here - like we're on the other side of the planet! 😉
Super happy to be out and about, staggering along on our little shrivelled legs, like peg-legged pirates. Hopefully those muscles grow back.
First order of business: get money. Usually, I travel with money, but JQ talked me out of it earlier, and by the time I'd changed my mind and decided I wanted cash, it was too late for the banks. So, back inside the airport. We trundle along with our luggage until we find an ATM, then withdraw some Aussie cash. Next on the agenda: find the trains, and charge up an Opal card with money so that we can ride the trains. Also done! Since I can't use data in Australia, I planned ahead and printed off the Google instructions on how to get to our AirBNB place. With that in hand, we hop on the trains at the airport and exit at the Town Hall stop.
She eats her food, and drinks her coffee, and claims that she can feel her lost brain cells rejuvenating. I am unconvinced by her sudden protestations of returning intelligence. She stills seems somewhat travel-addled to me. Maybe it was all that sleeping on the floor of the plane. Anyway, I just drink what we would call a "float" (ice cream and pop), but which this establishment calls a "spider". I JUST DRANK A SPIDER. Maybe they aren't really tough in Australia - maybe they just sound tough, because they give fluffy things non-fluffy names. (Uh oh, another smartass demerit point has just been added to my mug shot at the airport.)
 | |
| The deadly Australian Spider. |
Okay, time to go, super-smart-coffee-enabled JQ. Let's go back and look at those old buildings! The Town Hall has security guards in front. I go up and ask what's up with this place, can I go inside? Yes, I can, because it's Tuesday. It's Tuesday?!? WTF happened to Monday? (I forgot about that whole disappearing day thing.) It is in fact Tuesday, and you can tour on Tuesdays for $5, but you should probably show up at 10 a.m. next Tuesday. Okay! Thank you kind security guard!
 |
| Australian White Ibis |
Queen Victoria is hanging around outside a big old shopping mall, which is a total tourist magnet. The forces of its tourist magnetism draw us inside. I try to take pictures, but JQ warns me that people will steal my luggage while I'm not looking. I explain to JQ that it's not a penal colony any more - these are good people.
 |
| QVB! The Queen Victoria Building |
It's getting close to the time when we can check in, so we wander over to the bus stop, and catch the B289 (just like Google told us to) to Harris and Allen streets. Now... can we find our house?
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