The fifth chapter in our new series called “Short Travel Stories”. To start the journey with us from the very beginning, visit our home page or the Short Travel Stories section and begin in Chapter 1. We think you’ll like it!
Chapter 5: Back To Sydney After The Roadtrip
The roadrtrip came to an end and I’m back in Sydney, truth is I missed this city.
My friend was gonna move full time to Sydney and I was looking for more fun and experiences, so I got o stay at the same hostel I always do, the Blue Parrot. It’s small, clean, well located (Kings Cross) and with a very friendly vibe. Plus, that’s where the first friend I did in Australia, and let’s just says my best friend here, is staying.
And so the fun began. The weather was great; we are going to the beach everyday and partying almost every night. The people at the hostel are also really nice and cool, there’s a good mix between British, American, French and to my surprise, Latin Americans.
It’s not like you don’t find Latinos in Sydney, but compared to the amount of Germans or Brits, I end up not seeing them or speaking Spanish at all. Even though I was speaking Spanish everyday during the roadtrip, I always feel more comfortable with people that share my language and culture, I guess we all do, it’s just easier to socialize, to sympathize. Perhaps it’s not as mind opening or fascinating as hanging out with other cultures, but it’s definitely helpful when you have to adapt to a new environment.
Therefore, I was quickly settled down in this new hostel.
On Mondays we go for karaoke night at a pub in Kings Cross called O’Malley’s, Tuesdays to a shitty club called World Bar, Kings Cross Hotel on Wednesdays, The Ivy on Thrusdays (free entry before 11pm people!) and on the weekend either to Home Bar or any pub in Newtown.
On a Wednesday morning I wake up to find a Canadian friend laying on his bottom bunk, completely fucked up by alcohol, with no bed cover or sheets, laying straight on the naked mattress, his bag on the floor with all his clothes spread around the floor, cellphone also on the floor. A mess, a total mess, a mirror image of how things are going.
We wake up and head to Bondi beach, or another day we go to Coogee to get some sun, go into the sea, go back to get sun, do a BBQ in front of the beach, sleep on the sand for a while and then back to the hostel to drink and repeat it all over again.
Sydney allows you to do that, fun every night. It might have the lockout laws, a very silly law that restrain you from going into any bar after 1:30am, but apart from that the city is full of restaurants, bars, pubs and clubs. It has venues for those who like comedy shows, or speak-easy bars, or fancy venues with expensive cocktails, or shitholes like Scrappy Murphys, or backpacker bars like Sidebar, or hipster bars like the ones you find in Newtown or Surry Hills.
The city offers everything, period. Problem is that it’s really easy to tip over and end up falling in love with party sprees and forgetting the fact that there’s so much more to the city and life than just goon, loud music and blond girls with high heels.
I wake up, it’s Sunday and I feel like shit. I start thinking about how at the beginning Sydney was my epicenter of motivation, of new feelings, positive energy and transmitted me the thrill to live more. Now, it’s dragging me into this black hole of partying and stupidity. I have to stop.
I have to leave. It’s the best idea. Go and find new motivations in new places, new adventures that might also involve partying and drinking, but with days rich in productive conversations and mind-blowing experiences.
And so, like a good backpacker, that same day I buy a bus ticket, find a new hostel in Newcastle and start a new trip up the East Coast.
Behind I was leaving, again, the city that so much fascinates me, as well as great new friendships, and old ones like my good English friend, whom I hope to see again soon.