At Max Brenner Chocolate Bar in central Sydney (just off George St), photographed by Mikey. We had hot chocolate in boat mugs. Mmmm! What a treat.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
The First Day
Having taken the bus from Canberra to Sydney the night before (Thursday 10 February - and may I just say that that felt like the LONGEST BUS TRIP OF MY ENTIRE LIFE), I arrived at our hotel in Potts Point (which was so close to Kings Cross that it was practically in the lap of the brothels - certainly within earshot!) with my friend Mikey, who was escorting me. We then went to a nearby bar, where we proceeded to enjoy a loooovely red wine sangria... I got back to the hotel after midnight and spent a sleepless night, eagerly anticipating the arrival of Joseph!
I got up early, got dressed, hopped on a train from Kings Cross to Central (thank you, kind ticket seller, for telling me where to go), then onto a train on the Airport Line. Had a few panicked moments where I wondered if I was on the right train, but soon I reached the domestic terminal, and then got off at the international terminal.
Wandered up the frillion escalators required to reach the terminal itself, and immediately found myself in the arrivals area for Gates A and B. It was 8:40am. I walked around, familiarising myself with the place, and sat down to wait. At 9:15am, I checked the arrivals screen, and saw, to my joy, that Joe's plane had landed!
Heart pounding!
Excited grin on my face!
Palms sweating!
Terrified!
... And then nothing happened!
I was on edge for over forty-five minutes, expecting him at any second. Endless streams of passengers from planes coming through, greeting family members and loved ones, and still I saw no Joe. I began to wonder if it was all some sort of beautiful dream, if maybe I was schizophrenic and had invented this lovely American man who was coming to visit me, but then... shortly after 10am... as I was looking around the crowd for the hundredth time... there he was, smiling at me.
Taken a couple of days earlier at home.
I got up early, got dressed, hopped on a train from Kings Cross to Central (thank you, kind ticket seller, for telling me where to go), then onto a train on the Airport Line. Had a few panicked moments where I wondered if I was on the right train, but soon I reached the domestic terminal, and then got off at the international terminal.
Wandered up the frillion escalators required to reach the terminal itself, and immediately found myself in the arrivals area for Gates A and B. It was 8:40am. I walked around, familiarising myself with the place, and sat down to wait. At 9:15am, I checked the arrivals screen, and saw, to my joy, that Joe's plane had landed!
Heart pounding!
Excited grin on my face!
Palms sweating!
Terrified!
... And then nothing happened!
I was on edge for over forty-five minutes, expecting him at any second. Endless streams of passengers from planes coming through, greeting family members and loved ones, and still I saw no Joe. I began to wonder if it was all some sort of beautiful dream, if maybe I was schizophrenic and had invented this lovely American man who was coming to visit me, but then... shortly after 10am... as I was looking around the crowd for the hundredth time... there he was, smiling at me.
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