Saturday, 9/8

Fun in the library

     After breakfast we headed back to the library for more internet time. As usual, internet wasn't working too well. And in trying to not be lazy I went to the stairway to go down to see how Diana was doing on the library computer, not realizing it was a fire route, not to be used by the general elevator going public. When I got to the door of the next level down it was locked. I went back up to the doors of the next three levels and each was also locked. No windows, no security cameras, thick steel doors, I was becoming convinced that I would be spending a good portion of our trip down under lost in the stairwell. Not really panicking, but working up a little sweat and imagining making a fool of myself by pounding on a door until someone came to rescue me I went all the way to the bottom level and breathed a sigh of relief when I pulled it open.

Sydney subways are expensive and we are skinflints

     We stayed a little longer to research where we could find a bank open on Saturday to cash some traveler's checks so we could buy a car that weekend if we found one. While there are a few in the suburbs with Saturday hours, the only one in Sidney was a bank in Chinatown, over a mile away. With about a half hour to closing so we decided to take the subway.

     But when we found out that the tickets for the short trip would be $3.40 each we headed back to the street and quick walked there. Sweating and panting we got there about eight minutes before closing, cashed the checks and stuffed the loot into our money belts.

      We had a nice casual stroll back to the hostel, spending some sobering time at the ANZAC war memorial set in a beautiful park downtown and using our new phone to call a couple car dealers out in the western suburbs.

     We got back to Kings Cross, bought some more wine, reheated the leftover rooganoff, and were in bed by 8. I got up around 2 AM and went down to the common room to work on the blog. I overheard two well oiled guys in the other room talking about life, one slurring at random times “F***ing Scottish, the scum of the earth”. I'm pretty sure he was a Scotsman himself. He had the character of someone who would have been picked last at Dodge Ball in grade school. (I myself was usually chosen well in the middle of the pecking order, not for my cannon arm or my Johnny Bench-like catching ability but rather my willingness to run back and forth near the front like a crazy man and actually trying to dodge the balls and usually taking one for the team).

     Talking about jobs good and bad he said, “You know, I've tried manual labor, but it's hard. It's better to find a job that is knowledge based. You know, I had a job once and I came in one morning hungover only to find out I had been fired. I never found out why. But now, I try to work really hard so I don't get fired again.” Go figure.