Sydney at night

Sydney at night

I'm sure the Na’vi and the Smurfs must not worry of their dark circles. This is an advantage of being completely blue.

However, I paddle them something expensive that I paid for at a tattoo shop, since I can not make them disappear. With little sleep due to " environmental factors" previously explained.

Quiet week that just passed, the rain does not give up now and despite few hours of sunshine, the weather remains bad. Despite this, in Sydney you can always have fun.

Yesterday afternoon, coming home from school, I happened to see one of the strangest things since I walk in the upright position. While I'm on the way back, ipod in plain sight, I notice that in front of me a lady is walking . At first I did not care much, but after a while, she caught my attention because she kept turning back to me. I turn back too to see if she was looking for someone behind me, but it was only the two of us on the sidewalk.

I keep observing the strange character, when suddenly she jerks to the side and runs, literally runs , ending up hiding behind a tree. I take a look around looking for cameras. Nothing.

With the indifference that you would use in attacking a chewing-gum on your Latin language professor’s chair, I keep walking, pretending not to look at her. In fact my face is pointed forward, but my eyes completely to the side, chameleon-type, to see what she was up to. She step forward and after a while I decided to turn around, because I feel that she started walking. As soon as I turn around, the lady jumps back behind another tree! And when I say jumps, I mean just run raising her knees. She actually looked like a taking off flamingo.

The scene was repeated five or six times. I walked for a few meters, I turned around and suddenly she jumped behind the nearest tree. Now, if I were a gentleman I could have thought: whatthefuckareyoudoing? Instead, since I am a normal person I thought: Oh my gosh , what's this amazing person up to do?

Probably the answer is hidden in some tome of psychopathology.

The day passed with no other hallucinations until five o'clock, when, after a meeting with some classmates, I finally went to see the inside of the Sydney Opera House, on the occasion of an aboriginal dance show.

High expectations, normal impressions. This show took place in one of the smaller rooms, so I had not seen the main structure of the building. The visit is still among the things to do. The structure looks brand new, there are workstations with computers and big-screen almost everywhere, including corners with sofas and public ipad to chill out during the waiting.

The Sydney Opera House is amazing. At least in my opinion. After the show we moved to a club for a drink near Circular Quay , almost deserted at ten o'clock and I finally found a place where I could enjoy a good mojito. On the way back I have the unfortunate idea to casually throw a chip to a seagull, finding out that it is the equivalent to tie a virgin up to a pole in the center of a military barracks in the desert.

In five seconds I find myself walking toward the bus stop escorted by about thirty seagulls. I do not know why, but I instantly think about  the lady seen on the afternoon. Identifying myself with a modern Francis of Assisi having fun throwing chips at will to see seagulls killing each other for a McDonald's meal. This for the first ten seconds, then the whole thing bored me.

At the bus stop, I take a seat and wait for the 380.

After about thirty seconds I am literally surrounded by a cloud of steam shot from somewhere behind me by a loyal road cleaner. August 18, 2011: World Day of strange characters behind me.

After emerging from a swirl of various paperworks, overloaded handkerchiefs, packs of happy- meal and a few assorted spittle chewing -gum, I decide that maybe it's time to move. While I’m  waiting for the bus I enjoy the cleaning operations.

I guess the Council wants the job must be managed by hyper manic-obsessive-compulsive hypochondriac cleaners. The employees walk around with pressure spears, shooting steam in every single nook and cranny, hole, gap, crack of roads, sidewalks, benches and even tree trunks they encounter.

If you have the misfortune to be in the shade , not moving, thinking of your fucking business, you run the risk of being mistaken for some signage and ended up with a jet of hot water in your ass. The result, however, once you have finished cleaning, is that you find yourself with new underwear and a clean city. Your call which one interests you the most.

I think seeing rip your undies off by a jet of steam without taking off your pants is an acceptable price for this public service.

Here comes the 380I take a quick look at his hat - Crocodile Dundee Style - I sit and I enjoy the ride through a still asleep Sydney. Another weekend is coming and I must get some reinforced undies. I would not like to see them flying away my ass and end up on an old lady’s face, a little farther on, waiting for the 380.

Writer wannabe, mojito and absinthe lover, one day I want to see the Earth from space. I’m a ESL Teacher.