Final Night In Australia

Wow I’ve been home for two weeks and have said hardly a word about the experience I’ve just had on the other side of the world. There are three reasons for this: 1) It’s been a whirlwind, both on our trip, and our life since arriving home, 2) I am a slow processor and have given myself nary a second to digest, and 3) I’m a procrastinator.

I’ll address point three now. (Like, instead of talking about Australia.)

My procrastination is borne of a need for perfection. A kind of perfection that I will NEVER achieve. I am waiting for a day when I simultaneously have: 1) access to a computer, 2) tonnes of time to have quietly processed my experiences, and 3) a serene moment on the deck, in the shade of our beautiful tree, in a crisp kind of summer morning, when the neighbourhood is quiet, with a fresh steaming cup of coffee before me (you know, like most people’s awesome morning posts… I’m a sucker for those, btw). This last scenario is mainly the one I’m waiting for. And it will never happen. Mostly because I don’t have a laptop. If I’m going to write, it’ll have to be in our home office (aka: our home’s second bedroom). So, it’s considerably less social-media-posting-worthy.

It is in this haphazard, half-assed, last-minute kind of way that I give you my first post on our most recent trip. And the topic is… our very last few moments in Oz, when we returned to Sydney (where we began our journey) and endeavoured to get a photo with both the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge… a photo you can really only take if you go to Mrs. Macquarie’s Point (or unless you’re on a boat… and then the world is your oyster!). The Opera House and Mrs. Macquarie’s Point each sit on their own peninsula, with Farm Cove between them. And in the four days we first spent in Sydney, I had fully intended to make my way to Mrs. Macquarie’s Point and obtain this fantastic view. Never happened. Now, three weeks later, right before getting onto the plane back home, we made it. Behold, the resulting magnificent photos!


Oh dear.

IMG_7479 (1)

Well to be honest I’m only posting this one because it gives a very neat look at my haircut from behind.


Perfection achieved!

This whole time, I had spent obsessing about what it would be like to venture forth, past The Domain (marked as such on the map), past the Botanical Gardens, and over to the mysterious Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair. Yes… because there is an actual chair carved into the sandstone there. You can view this all from two levels: one up high, by a stone structure that even now I’m too lazy to look up, and one below, at water-level, with the ocean lapping at your feet. We chose the lower level initially because there were no lights to get in the way of our awesome photo-taking. Also it felt really private. Until we realized there was another couple close by… whom I think we effectively scared off by arguing with each other about how to best take a romantic selfie (which never happened): I felt it was possible, Andrew refused because it’s too fake anyway. He’s right of course. I knew it, but wanted to power through and do it anyway. Plus, arguing is fun sometimes. Invigorating! Plus it frightened that other couple and then we totally had the view to ourselves. Except for whomever was above us, at hill-top level. At one point I heard a tonne of screaming and I thought maybe someone was being assaulted! We ventured up the stairs to investigate. Nothing. Just serenity. So we began walking down the path in the dark (I said before that there were lights at this upper level… and there are… but once you’re on the path, the lighting is spotty at best, not really lighting up the inky darkness at all). There are lots of trees here. We heard rustling in the trees. And then it happened. It was MY turn to scream.


Possums! These nocturnal cuties love to nibble on trees at night and we were walking beneath them in the dark and one seemed to have lost its footing as we were wandering below it and seemed to have dropped something onto us…? I DON’T KNOW. I really don’t know what happened there but I know it was possum-related and after I was done screaming, we got the heck out of there. Not that possums are scary. They’re not. But they are kinda rodent-like and they only come out at night and they rustle in tree branches above your head in the dark and drop things on you when you’re trying to have a romantic walk.

I figure that’s what the screaming was that I’d heard earlier: possums surprising couples by dropping presents onto them in the midst of a otherwise serene moment.

And then we decided to shut it down. Our time in Australia was officially over. We hailed a cab, went to a beer place, then back to our hotel by the airport for our early morning flight back home across the ocean.


4 responses to “Final Night In Australia

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