I should be sitting down to tell you about all my exciting adventures in Sydney, but instead I find myself with nothing but further evidence that my life is perpetually underwhelming. Tell me… why do you still come here?
Before we even stepped on the plane I had a little nagging sense of dread – which is, of course, just what you want when you’re about to head up into the sky. The niggling anxiety pulled its usual trick and turned into mild nausea. Yaaaaay. So, I spent the first forty-five minutes of the flight clenching my teeth while conducting an internal monologue that went something along the lines of “don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up”. Because there’s nothing like thinking about throwing up to take your mind off throwing up, right?
I’m actually pretty good with flying – I’ve flown a lot and I don’t get nervous about crashing or anything like that, but because I’m completely petrified of throwing up the idea of being stuck on a plane while feeling nauseas is about as appealing as sticking a pencil in my eye. Each to their own.
About halfway through the flight the nausea subsided and I realised that God does love me after all. I relaxed into things, watched a couple of episodes of Modern Family, and then proceeded to develop an almighty headache.
WHAT A TOTAL WHINER. I know. And it gets worse…
So we arrived at the hotel, which is very swanky and we jumped on the bed and played with the lights and opened all the cupboards and drawers. Then I noticed something. My throat. It was doing that nasty swollen thing it’s been doing a bit over the last couple of weeks. Then I get it. The hot and colds, the nausea, the headache, the throat… that m’fing cold still hadn’t fully disappeared.
You know what can really ruin a holiday? Well a plane crash would I suppose. Or being bitten by a poisonous snake or rabid monkey. Any sort of natural disaster too I guess. But also, having a cold. Not as bad as that other stuff, sure, but still sucky (and definitely not as good a story as that other stuff).
So our first day here I pretty much just left my sick bed for meals. Then… THEN! It got better (thank goodness, right?)
On Wednesday I woke up feeling gross but not as gross, so we went shopping. We walked around for ages and I pretty much spent craploads of money on stuff I probably don’t actually need. It’s funny how we convince ourselves to buy clothes we wouldn’t ordinarily buy at home simply because we’re on holiday, right? Then we get home and we’re all WTF? What possessed me to buy that Ra-Ra skirt?
No, really, I actually bought a Ra-Ra skirt.
Anyway, so I spent money and was feeling better – though the feet were a little sore from all the walking – and then it was time to go to the Pulp concert. Now, I suppose the concert is really all that matters in the greater scheme of things because that was the whole reason we were in Sydney in the first place. So you’ll be pleased to hear that it was all kinds of amazing, and I love Jarvis Cocker even more now than ever before. It was absolutely worth every penny of this not-altogether-economical trip.
You will not be so pleased, however, to hear that I woke up today feeling like rubbish again.
I got up for breakfast (complimentary at the hotel, so pretty much obligatory because otherwise, what a waste) and then slunk back to bed for a few hours. My throat was all gross, I was coughing up nasties and my whole body ached. Pretty sure the air-conditioning in the hotel room keeps taking my germs, messing with them so they’re even meaner, and then delivering them back to me.
By lunchtime I decided that I wasn’t going to waste any more time in bed so we meandered the streets and caught the monorail to Darling Harbour. Both of us had sore feet from so much walking the day before and for standing up for yonks at the concert so we were a wee bit miserable. In fact, several times today I have entertained the idea that I have inexplicably broken a small bone in my right foot – because, oh the pain when I put weight on it. I’m pretty much 99.99% certain that any medical professional worth their salt would laugh me out of their exam room because obviously I haven’t broken anything – except my dignity. Needless to say I was rather vocal about my misery today. At times I annoy even myself to the point where I think a good self-slap to the face might be in order.
We had lunch and then monorail’d to the Chinese Garden, which was really nice – and I’m not just saying that because I’m Chinese. After cruising around there for a bit I admitted defeat and we headed back to the hotel so I could climb into bed and watch bad Australian TV. Which is just endless channels of news and sports, by the way.
A good few hours later and here I am writing this entry. It’s half past one in the morning where most of you are, and eleven-thirty here in Sydney. Joel is out making the most of our holiday on my behalf – he kindly bought me some instant noodles before he left, just in case I get hungry. They are sitting beside the telly untouched, I just can’t stomach anything right now (though I did manage to force down a Snickers bar earlier – in about 3.5 seconds).
Tomorrow we head home. I’m sad to leave Sydney because I had been so excited about this trip and to feel crappy for most of it has been a real buzzkill. That said, I definitely take comfort in the fact that I was feeling okay for the concert and it really was everything I hoped it would be. Plus, Joel and I managed to have fun around all the bits where I was Sir Compliainalot. We ate yummy food, soaked up the sunshine and just generally enjoyed each other’s company – which is a bit awwww. So yeah, it wasn’t a terrible trip by any means, I just wish I’d been firing on all cylinders that’s all.
Hooboy, can’t wait to get back to work. Yeah. Heaps.