It’s day 2 in Sydney, about 11am on Tuesday morning, and it’s raining. I don’t really mind this because it gives me an excuse to be lazy and prevents me from being touristy. Yesterday took a positive turn, and gave me the boost I needed to keep my head up.
I first got a text from my Ozzie friend who was supposed to meet me, saying that she couldn’t come after work because of an event. I immediately got stressed and upset, wondering when I’d get my massive bags out of the hostel (seriously, the room is so tiny, there’s not even room for all my crap. I’m feeling very “Troop Beverly Hills,” compared to the other three girls’ “Outback Jack” vibe). I then realized I’d have no one to hang out with. I texted a friend of a friend who also lives in Sydney, and he said he wouldn’t be able to meet until Wednesday. Boo. Hiss.
I then went to the IEP office, where yesterday’s post was created, and then came back to the hostel, where I tried to look breezy and social while reading David Sedaris in the lounge area (which is huge—this hostel is hard core!). My eyes started to droop, but being only 2pm, I knew I couldn’t give in. My energy briefly peaked when I noticed a scruffy-faced bald man sitting on the couch. We made eyes a couple of times, but it was unclear whether he was looking simply because I was looking, or because he was feeling a blacktress’ sleep-deprived flava.
I worked up the nerve to chat up the foreign hottie as we waited for the elevator (my opening line: "Is it good?" I asked, as he ate an ice cream cone. For serious. I've got more game than Milton-Bradley). I learned that he was German, and actually working on building some big... building not too far from the hostel. I still, however, don’t know his name.
I simply planned to put my book down and take another walk, but all hope for beating jet lag went out the door when I went back to my room and saw that no one else was in there. I instantly went into freshman-year-of-college mode, where you immediately do something you hadn’t planned on doing simply because you now have the privacy to do it.* I went to lay down, and I was out. I figured sleeping was better than lamenting being lonely and wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Soon, though, I received a call from my Ozzie friend, just checking on me. This instantly warmed my heart, and I felt like someone did care whether or not I was dead in a ditch.
Shortly after that (time is unclear when one is half asleep), I received a call from a young man I’ll call “J-Date.” I will call him this because he’s Jewish, we discussed J-Date at one point, and he said he really didn’t want his name on the blog.
A friend I haven’t seen in years put us in touch before I left, because J-Date was coming to Sydney on business for a couple weeks and would gladly hang out with me. We’d exchanged some emails, and I gave him my Aussie number, but was unsure whether or not he’d use it. One of the benefits—or downfalls, depending on how proactive you are—of my new Aussie pay-as-you-go phone is that incoming calls are free, so I’m pretty much waiting for everyone else to make the first move for financial reasons.
J-Date asked if I wanted to hang out, and noticed I sounded groggy. He urged me to wake up and fight jet lag, and said he knew exactly what I needed to see on my first night. I immediately woke up, put on something half-decent, and chatted with roommate Sonya, who I discovered is not Dutch, but German.
“I met a really hot German boy in the lounge,” I said, to connect with her culture.
“Did you?” She said.
“YES!”
She laughed. This could be because she didn’t know what else to say, or because she actually could handle Sojourner’s truth.
J-Date arrived 20 minutes later. He immediately ushered us into a cab, and told the driver “Opera Bar.” It was very bad-ass and James Bond-esque. He’d explained that he’d been to Sydney several times on business, and knew what was what, and “we’ve got to get there before sunset.” I mean, of course gut reaction was, “Will J-Date propose me? He is moneyed, and lives an international lifestyle. Granted, I’ve only known him 4 minutes, but we could make this work.”
We got out of the cab and there I was, in front of the Sydney Opera House. It was gorgeous. It was the icon. We managed to catch the final minutes of sunset, and the Harbour Bridge looked all magical and dynamic as the sky turned.
It finally hit me that I was actually in Australia. I got excited. It felt good.
We got drinks at the opera bar, which has a beautiful view, and J-Date and I chatted. I could tell I was pushing his boundaries, making him refer to me as “blacktress” at all times, and telling him I wanted to become an Oprah-like figure, but he rolled with the punches. He even revealed to me that he secretly watched “I Love New York,” and he agreed with me when I called her a tranny hot mess. He’d only arrived the day before, so we were equally tired, but managed to entertain each other and find a random outdoor burger place for dinner. As he asked me about “my plan,” he assured me that I’d be okay, and at times even told me I could probably be a stripper or turn tricks if things ever got really dire. I appreciated the vote of confidence.
I headed back to the hostel at 10:00pm, proud to have made it through my first Aussie day, and not having to go it entirely alone. I managed to sleep pretty well, although I was woken up by another vagabond who’d taken the bed below me and seemed to just be crumpling plastic bags, for, like, half an hour.
Today is looking up, and I’m feeling energetic enough to try and make out with a foreign stranger. The hot German guy is sitting next to me, using his computer. Wish me luck……teeehee.
Here's me. The direction from J-Date was, "Japanese Tourist."
*No, I don’t mean masturbating—but, whatever tickles your pickle (in this case, it would be you).
Sidebar: as I write this post, the radio in the lounge is blasting Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable.” If that’s not a sign that I’m a strong black woman, I don’t know what is.
