2 Feb 2007

"Are you Scotland in disguise?"

Today I'm off to the iconic Sydney Cricket Ground to watch England's hapless cricketers take on their tormentors Australia, in what is odds on to be another trouncing for Freddie Flintoff's men.

Why bother going? It's certainly a question I asked myself, but the case for this potential flagellation is quite compelling. I may never get the chance to see England in Australia again. In fact, I probably will not. Plus, a day at the cricket is a day in the sun having a few beers as much as anything else. And SCG night matches are some of the most renowned games in World Cricket. For the equivalent cost of around 30 quid, it's worth putting the house hunting on hold for just one more day.

The main street leading up to the SCG is Oxford Street (aka Sydney's answer to Old Compton Street). Hence anybody looking for a pre-match alcoholic pit stop has to call in at one of the area's many gay bars, although it has to be said the establishments called 'Camp' and 'Aussie Boys' still get ignored. In one bar I pop into, I have to chuckle as groups of butch Aussie cricket fans gulp down their scrooners next to the free condoms and lube. And the advert for this evening's drag act.

The SCG is set in acres of parkland next to the Aussie Stadium, which since the building of the Olympic Stadium only really hosts football (soccer) games these days. Both are ageing somewhat, but still cut a very impressive sight in the baking hot sunshine.

Once inside, I am greeted with some extremely depressing news. There is only one alcoholic drink on sale inside the ground - a light, to the point of being hardly alcoholic at all, lager. Locals protest, and I am left ruing not getting tanked up prior to entry. Over the course of the day I must get through about 20 of the buggers - to little effect.

I can understand why drink, hot weather and a partisan clash like Australia v England may ring a few alarm bells. But, seriously, when do cricket matches EVER result in crowd trouble? You can drink yourself stupid in the sun at a game in England - and thousands do - but the worst it ever results in is somebody putting on a pair of comedy breasts.

The grub isn't up to much either. For luncheon at the SCG, sir, one can choose from the following: chips, burgers, pies, crisps and pop corn. At Lord's (bit of an extreme comparison, I know) you can choose from a vast majority of foods from all over thew world, drink whatever you like and can even bring it all in yourself if need be.

The food and drink are the only downsides of a day's cricket here. The atmosphere is great, the weather is even better - and England even play some good cricket.

After winning the toss, England amass 292-7 from their 50 overs. Ed Joyce hits a ton, and is ably supported by the rest of the batsmen. It is a thoroughly professional batting display from England, and puts them in with a great chance of beating Australia for the first time since 2005. It certainly sticks two fingers up at those Aussies who, after hearing England were batting first, joked that the game would be over and we'd all be home by 6pm.

Australia's hopes of over-hauling England's total are largely dependant on Adam Gilchrist, the wicket-keeper batsman capable of scoring at a phenomenal rate. "It all rests on Gillly," says more than one local as I succumb to heat and hunger and queue up for pie and chips between the two innings.

As the first ball of the Aussie innings is about to be bowled, it's impossible not to look at the vast parts of the ground that Gilchrist could end up smashing the ball to. As it happens, the only thing that gets smashed is his stumps, as Plunkett dismisses him for a first ball duck.

England don't look back from here under the floodlights. More wickets tumble, and despite some belligerent hitting from Hayden and Symonds, England are always in control. The crowd turn to Mexican waves and constructing mammoth tubes from empty beer glasses for entertainment.

Eventually England dismiss the Aussies for 200 and claim a 92 run victory - one of their biggest ever in one day cricket over the auld enemy. It may be far too little too late for this tour, and indeed this team's reputation, but it is still a win on Aussie soil. From my perspective, I feel jammy as fuck to have witnesses this - not least after thousands of fellow poms ventured out here and saw nothing but defeats.

As I wander out of the SCG, England fans break out into ironic chants of 'Are you Scotland in disguise?' and 'Can we play you every week?' at the Aussies. It's all take in good humour. I think that most Australians are relaxed enough with letting us have just one night of glory. Perhaps.

1 Feb 2007

Find me a bed to shit in

Right. I've spent too much of my trip on the beach - drinking. Now is the time to sort out a place to stay, my Aussie bank account, mobile etc. I resolve myself to be up and about by 10am on Wednesday to get going.

Finally get out of bed at around 1pm, with the cleaning lady - who looks like an extra from Bad Girls who's been involved in a car crash - practically kicking me out of my room. I make my way towards the nearest internet cafe to start the search for a place I can call home until July.

As I browse the various web sites advertising both places to live and people looking for them, it rather depressingly reminds me of dating pages. Not because I have unhappy stories to tell about them, but because EVERYONE is so exceptionally boring. It is now an undisputed fact - backed by UN Security Resolution 44/wank/07 - that every single entry on a personals site must read like this:

'Outgoing, friendly, easy to get on with girl/guy seeks similar for flat share/friendship/maybe more(!!!). I'm fun to be with, relaxed and enjoy having a good time. I like socialising, but also enjoy a quiet night in with a DVD and a nice bottle of wine.'

It doesn't matter if you're gay, straight, male, female or what you're looking for. All posts read like variations of this. Only the perverts are staying true to themselves. Are we honestly expected to believe that EVERYONE is like this? Is nobody out there moody, difficult, uptight, occasionally obnoxious and boring?

My favourite line that everyone uses - and I do truly mean everyone - is the 'I like socialising and going out, but I also enjoy a night in watching Love Actually' esque nonsense. There are two reasons why more people have adopted this mantra of presenting themselves than have started believing in God in recent years:

1) If you say 'I love to go out and party to the small hours all the time and live life to the full' you are basically admitting to being an utter piss head. It's ok to say these things to your mates, but not online. It makes you appear like an irresponsible alcoholic that neglects your body and your career. Heaven forbid you might actually be enjoying yourself - to a prospective flat mate/partner, you're vomit in the bathtub at 2am every night material.

2) If you say 'I like to stay in every night of the week and enjoy my own company' you are, at best, admitting to having no social skills and, at worst, a potential weirdo who could be found sniffing people's underwear. To a potential flat mate, you give the impression of not allowing the other person any space. To a partner, well, where do you start?

It is for these reasons , my friends, that the internet has banished from us any honesty and individuality. We all now like a quiet night in with a nice bottle of red (just the one, mind) and the odd 'wild' night where we might steal a traffic cone. You can imagine this 'person' that we have become at a festival:

'Yeah I went to Glasto last year, it was wicked. Coldplay were fab! We stayed up really late each night, till 2am, and smoked a few spliffs - nothing more major than that. I really liked the whole experience and I'm so into falafal and pitta now, but it was a bit muddy and I was glad to get back to the comforts of home.'

Urgh. Anyway, back to my house hunting. I look round the normal traveller sites, and also places listing gay friendly accommodation. There's always a sting in the tale with these ads, so to speak. The flat always sounds fantastic, the photos look good, the location convenient, the price a bargain, and then you come to the householders:

'My partner Brian, 52, and I would just love to welcome a lovely young lad to help us look after our pride and joy - our two gorgeous kittens, Kylie and Danni.'

I do actually end up seeing a few suitable places, and it doesn't look as if finding somewhere decent and affordable is going to be too much of a problem. I guess it's just a case of when I make a decision. I'm booked up in my hotel until next Monday, and ideally I don't want to carry on paying hotel prices much longer - even if it is only 30 quid a night.

On Wednesday night and Thursday lunch time I meet up with some people I have met/already know in Sydney, which is good. Monday and Tuesday at Bondi were fun, but the only social interaction I had with anyone was with bar staff, so it's nice to have a natter with people.

I get myself an Australian pre-pay Nokia - 40 quid for the phone, sim and $30 worth of top-up cards. Result.

31 Jan 2007

Surf's up mate

Monday and Tuesday are gorgeously hot days, and so I head off to Sydney's most famous beach - Bondi.
Snobs either from Oz, or travellers from Britain, have been known to turn their noses up at this beach. It is the most popular and therefore the most stereotypical, and many people seem to prefer the more quieter beaches to the north.
When I get off the bus, my immediate feeling is one of depression. Some of the buildings have seen better days, and a group of local chavs screech past on motorbikes. Shit. I've arrived in Newquay by mistake...
A closer inspection of the place tells a different story, however. The beach itself is stunning, with gorgeous white sands and the famous surf building up ahead. The area is also littered with scores of really nice bars and restaurants that belittle the image other people had given me of the place. It seems the area has had a face lift in recent years, which may also be a consequence of the 2000 Olympics, when the Volleyball tournament was staged on the beach.
My thoughts are dominated by when I should start looking for somewhere more permanent to live, and then of course somewhere to work. I promised myself when I arrived on Friday that I would spend a few days enjoying myself and getting to know the city, but I don't have an endless supply of money and I did come here to live/work - not arse around.
Still, arsing around here is not exactly a chore. My thoughts are already turning to what I will do if I get a job and somewhere to live that I enjoy, as the city itself appears the perfect place to live. Hmmmm. Shouldn't really think like this too early in.

28 Jan 2007

Eternal youth

It's baking hot today and so I catch the ferry to Manly beach (miles out of Sydney, but supposed to be one of THE places to live round here). Catching a ferry out of Sydney Harbour couldn't bore somebody who had done it 5000 times, I'm sure. It is truly amazing. The views are on a par with anything I have ever seen in my life, and it merely serves to underline the feeling of happiness I have felt ever since I arrived. The journey to Manly takes no time at all, and it is stunningly beautiful. However, it only takes an afternoon there for me to realise that - gorgeous though it is - I can't live there. It has a nice selection of pubs and restaurants, the beach is lovely and it's nice and quiet. But perhaps too quiet. Also, if I wanted to go clubbing - perish the thought - a cab back here would cost an utter fortune. I like the place lots, but it seems like somewhere I would enjoy on a Sunday rather than want to call home. Plus, a hangover on a ferry to work in the morning would be seriously bad news. My afternoon was brightened up by a very similar encounter to the night before (no chuckling at the back please). Again I was asked for ID entering a pub - that's twice in less than 24 hours. I like Australians.