Great Cities of the Past Week
I was required in Sydney for work on Tuesday. My flight was at half one, following a frantic morning of preparation, errands and making an Elliott Smith tape (yep still obsessed). My flight was delayed, and I spent the time writing a letter. How quaint.
The first thing that struck me about Sydney, apart from how easy it was to get through the 'something to declare' aisle (honey for my sister), was the intense brightness. I swear the light is different in Sydney.
I had a spare half hour in the afternoon, so I did my standard hotel time-killer: took a bath. I don't know why baths are so much better in hotels than at home. There wasn't even any bubble bath but it was still good. After that it was time for a myspace tutorial, and then my sister showed up and we went for a catch-up dinner and drinks. We headed along to the Basement about ten and caught Bic Runga's solo acoustic set - beautiful.
Next morning when I woke I discovered my right leg wasn't working properly; I had a strange not-quite-memory of excruciating pain in my calf muscle. Evil cramp. Red wine?
Work duties not being terribly taxing, I had a free morning. I'd forgotten that being on tour means sleeping as much as possible if there's no travelling to be done, so it wasn't until 11am that I'd managed to wake enough people up for breakfast. Eggs benedict banished any remaining traces of hangover. I was running along Market St clutching a rasher of bacon when the boss called to say that our midday meeting was cancelled: shopping time! Unfortunately my plastic wouldn't stretch, but I made a good spectator.
My overwhelming impression of the trip was a constant sense of confusion over which city I was in. I guess 24 hours isn't long enough to get a handle.. either that or the crack.
In contrast, I just spent 36 hours in Rotorua. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision made after work on Friday - a clear weekend, no plans, so when the chance for an adventure presented itself I didn't think twice. Compared to the six-hour drive to Wanganui and surrounds, a quick three-hour jaunt is a breeze.
The weekend was spent in lockdown mode, with only the occasional mission out. On one of these I remembered something important - the purpose of my last visit to Rotorua, five years ago - my father and I took my mother's ashes to be buried in the same plot as her parents. I drove to the cemetery and found the headstone. I'm really glad I did. Here's the sky directly above.
The first thing that struck me about Sydney, apart from how easy it was to get through the 'something to declare' aisle (honey for my sister), was the intense brightness. I swear the light is different in Sydney.
I had a spare half hour in the afternoon, so I did my standard hotel time-killer: took a bath. I don't know why baths are so much better in hotels than at home. There wasn't even any bubble bath but it was still good. After that it was time for a myspace tutorial, and then my sister showed up and we went for a catch-up dinner and drinks. We headed along to the Basement about ten and caught Bic Runga's solo acoustic set - beautiful.
Next morning when I woke I discovered my right leg wasn't working properly; I had a strange not-quite-memory of excruciating pain in my calf muscle. Evil cramp. Red wine?
Work duties not being terribly taxing, I had a free morning. I'd forgotten that being on tour means sleeping as much as possible if there's no travelling to be done, so it wasn't until 11am that I'd managed to wake enough people up for breakfast. Eggs benedict banished any remaining traces of hangover. I was running along Market St clutching a rasher of bacon when the boss called to say that our midday meeting was cancelled: shopping time! Unfortunately my plastic wouldn't stretch, but I made a good spectator.
My overwhelming impression of the trip was a constant sense of confusion over which city I was in. I guess 24 hours isn't long enough to get a handle.. either that or the crack.
In contrast, I just spent 36 hours in Rotorua. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision made after work on Friday - a clear weekend, no plans, so when the chance for an adventure presented itself I didn't think twice. Compared to the six-hour drive to Wanganui and surrounds, a quick three-hour jaunt is a breeze.
The weekend was spent in lockdown mode, with only the occasional mission out. On one of these I remembered something important - the purpose of my last visit to Rotorua, five years ago - my father and I took my mother's ashes to be buried in the same plot as her parents. I drove to the cemetery and found the headstone. I'm really glad I did. Here's the sky directly above.
posted by Jessie at 11:17
4 comments
4 Comments:
There's something about shots of the sky - if you know where it was taken, or you explain to someone where it was taken, like you kjust have - that bit of sky is unique, even when it looks the same as any other bit of sky.
Nice touch :)
Thanks Paul. My other photos of the cemetery all seemed a bit morbid :)
I agree with Paul's comment.
Hey, it was cool to hang out with you in my fave city :-)
Sometimes I post comments too.
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