Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone!  We will be heading to Port Stephen's for Christmas tomorrow for a few days. Port Stephens is 2.5 hours north of Sydney. We will be in back for Boxing Day  and New Years eve in Sydney, which is supposed to be great. I hope everyone had a great Christmas and Happy New Year!

Happy Christmas

The banners around Sydney say Happy Christmas and I will try to be only happy and will definitely not be merry this Christmas after having our apartment broken into.  We live on the bottom level and I was naive to leave the window in the lounge room cracked for fresh air.  While we seeped someone came into our place and took both of our computers, my ipod Emily's bank card, her prised bag, sunglasses, a gift card, my credit card and some new shoe inserts. Yes someone took shoe inserts. So now one week before Christmas we have to deal with this. Someone took their time. They thumbed through Emily's purse, my backpack and my wallet and selected things to take. They then placed my wallet back inside my shorts pocket. They took time to take the computer charger cord for Emily's computer.  Things are not any value to anyone else, the computers are over two years old and likely worthless at a pawn shop. This all happened as we slept. We have a fan running on out room and did not hear a thing. Needless to say this is very disturbing.  We will go away to Port Stephens for Christmas and get away from this gritty, grimy city.  Hopefully our stuff will still be there when we return. 

Bridge Tavern

I have been in Sydney for almost two months now and I have been a bit slow writing about my last night in Nowra in late October.

On the last night of my Nowra experience I got a crash course in Australian bogan culture. Melbournians pride themselves and their city with the abundance of culture. The culture I experienced firsthand in Nowra was the real deal, not a faux city culture. My workmates kept telling me about the “awesome” Thursday nights at the Bridge Tavern. Thursdays at the local watering hole involved topless barmaids serving drinks. I had been to the establishment in question about two weeks previously. The first experience at the Bridge was one to forget, I had been kicked out of the bar after I ignored an middle aged rather portly looking Aboriginal woman who said “hey baby” to me at the same time she was blocking the doorway leaving the men's restroom. I ignored her and within 30 seconds a hand was on my collar and I was escorted outside and greeted by the drunk hoards of locals who were refused entry. I was not drunk when this transpired. I later learned that the door man was mates with the woman and she was obviously looking for some action.

So I did have my reservations about going back inside this same bar and especially at the same time as their busiest night of the week. I arrived alone, expecting to find my workmates inside, they would be easy to find because of their high-viz shirts, or so I thought. Once inside I realized that I never should have went home to shower because everyone in the bar was wearing high-viz tradie garb. I looked around the bar for several minutes before ordering a beer from a non-naked male bartender and settling in and sitting nervously in the corner of the room all by my self. I had a view of the entire place, two pool tables and about a half dozen tall round tables with bar stools on a green carpeted floor. Two women were in stripper attire, topless and g-string bikinis. These girls were the highlight of the bar, the top attraction in town, the beacon of light for many patrons inside, the highlight of their week.

I tried to strike up a conversation with a couple guys playing pool but they were only emitting inaudible noises that only escalated when the girls approached. Their billiard skills were terrible and I was about to leave when I finally saw my workmates entering from the smoking area. I was relived to fine some familiar faces. They were slightly drunk and just had been hanging out in the 'pokies'(video poker room, I guess they tired of the scene quickly too). They challenged me to a game of pool and I obliged. We had an odd number, they sleeked out another player, my workmate Ben had no trouble finding one: The outback dust slid off wide brimmed hat as sand ripples remained. His weatherbeten skin would put an elephant to shame. An eye patch over his left eye partially covered a full facial tattoo, akin to blackbird wings fully outreached. Feathers in his hat were a likely extension of his face. A metal rod on his right leg kept him upright. Covered in rags his bony frame hid his inner pirate.

“G'day, Pirates' the name,” he cracked as I was introduced to my playing partner. "Guess why they call me Pirate? I am missing an eye and have me peg leg!" He revealed his bare eye socket to me and did a small jig on his feet. It turned out that I was facing my workmates, not allies like I expected. Ben added, “you look like you can hold your own in a game of 8 ball, I'm always weary of the quiet ones.” I was ready for this night to be over before the first que was even racked up. My game went terminal, and I missed every shot I took and Pirate and I were easily routed by my two workmates. Pirate was none too pleased and after the end of the game he came over to me and screamed: “I thought all Americans had big balls!” At the same time he reached and groped me with his bony fingers. I felt totally violated, but I remained calm to remind him that that it was an AC/DC song and that they are Australian not American.  

I had my chance to leave again when the topless bar maid made her way to the pool tables and one of my workmates told her all about my pool ablities and how I missed every shot. She turned to me: She was tall and slender with silky tan skin and roubust breasts that were soft and real. She had long dark wavy hair reaching to the middle of her back: her face was pleasant until she opened her mouth and revealed crooked yellow teeth and said in a very nasal Australian accent: “Wow you suck!”

She collected all of her tips from the pool players and moved on. In the middle of all the commotion I saw a very confused older gentleman with the name tag wondering around looking lost. He came from the other room and was a part of a group party. Barry was his name according to the white sticker, his face was even paler as he struggled to find the restroom.  I peered into the door he ventured from and it revealed a family restaurant in the very next room! I was wondering why so many normal looking people were walking through the bar to the restroom and back, then disappearing again. I followed Barry inside the restaurant and looked around and was about to order some fish and chips when a familiar voice cried out: “Joe!” It was one of my roommates' girlfriend. She was leaving Nowra just like me and she was hosting her going away party that same night. She was with a group of friends and it was much more comfortable to hang out with this group. She was going to attend flight attendant school starting the next week in Sydney. I was told that the food at the Bridge Tavern was some of the best in town so people just figured that boobs and beef just go together well on a family Thursday night in Nowra.

I had to walk back through the bar to use the restroom and was trying not to let the door hit me on the way out when I was accosted by a man who was peddling porno dvd's. Later I learned that he sponsored the entire event every week and his company is known as Blue Rocket. I told him that I was not interested in his blue penis pills or sticky dvd's and went on my way. Everyone I met before Australia told me that Melbourne was the mecca of culture when I found real Australian culture in the middle of nowhere. The guidebooks have it wrong. Off the beaten path lies some of the weirdest places that many travelers never see.