A Lens on Sydney

We are in the heart of Sydney. Or, at least the tourist version of Sydney. We can see the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge from our hotel room and in between the two is the wharf for cruise ships and other ferries.

It's warm and balmy and we take our white, pasty tourist legs and american tennis shoes and go join the Saturday morning throng of people. Our plane landed at 8am in the morning and we are anxious for "real food" as Mia calls it. No matter how nice the airplane is, the food is never good. We find a farmer's market close by and dive into gyozas, sushi, meatball sandwiches and roasted pumpkins and feta cheese. It is heavenly.

Now it's time for serious tourist action. The camera comes out. The very one I bought the day before the trip. It's our first camera that's not a point-and-click. Actually, it is, but you can also zoom and it looks like you know what you are doing. As with everything in our family, the camera is now a major point of negotiation. The kids take control and there's a camera rotation between Kai and Mia, with Rob and I getting a chance to take pictures one in eight turns. There is a very skewed sense of equality. The kids instinctively know how to use the camera and are soon explaining the settings to me. Which is so much better than reading the manual.

• 

Ghetto Parking at LAX

 

"But LAX is the other way off the freeway."

"I know, but this is the direction for the long-term parking."

A half a mile later, deep in the heart of Inglewood.

"Are you sure?"

Irritated. "Yes."

"So how much was this parking?"

After circling it twice, we realize that the TradeWinds Hostel for Backpackers is the home for our long term parking.

Clever online marketing and low pricing drew us in. As we passed more buildings with bars over the windows on the way to the hostel, I began to wonder if this wasn't the most dangerous part of our journey. And to think, I didn't realize our adventures could begin before leaving US soil.

As we pull in and speak with the lovely woman behind the counter, there are young international twenty year olds playing pool in the background patio with the heavy scent of marijuana wafting through the air. I suddenly feel like I'm twenty years old again, carefree with nothing but $5 and a backpack. The sense that anything can happen.

That feeling is still with when when I turn as my kids ask me where the bathroom is. While I fill out forms releasing the hostel of responsibility of damages to our car, Rob asks where the car will be parked in our absence.

"Oh, we have some off-site garages around town." She says with a gold-grill grin, before continuing her conversation with the fellow attendant in spanish.

Rob looks at me and asks "Do you think we'll ever see our car again?"

It's debatable but the decision is made.

We then pile into a 1970's party bus with the happiest driver in the world blasting his favorite hits from the 80's and singing along wildly. We are the only passengers and we all join in, dancing and humming as we make the multiple mile drive to the airport.

It's going to be a goooood trip.

 

Posted with Blogsy