Woolloomooloo and Kings Cross Sydney

I am drunk, but in a good way, if there is an excellent way to be drunk. I am supposed to write my Sydney diary for today. But, unfortunately, I can’t write from the beginning to the end. I can’t recall it now because I am sloshed. Not as much as my cousin, who is snoring beside me, complete with her shoes and winter coat. I managed to peel off my clothes and slipped into my monkey PJs, but nothing more than that, so I lay down and wrote this Woolloomooloo post because of COMMITMENT!

Woolloomooloo and Kings Cross

Today we explored the Kings Cross neighbourhood. I saw a Turkish coffee shop, a tour agency with cute ducks as their logo, a cozy little restaurant, and, my favourite, the second-hand bookshop. They have an impressive collection of rare books.

We stopped for breakfast at the Pie Face to try the meat pie Australia must eat. I had a beef pie. It was delicious.

We went to the Royal Botanical Garden and the NSW Art Gallery in the afternoon.

We then rode to Woolloomooloo to check out Harry’s Café de Wheels. Russell Crowe was spotted a few times here in Woolloomooloo since he lives at the nearby harbour.

We went to Rocks Café again this evening. The initial plan was just a short stop for a cup of coffee, but it was a cake, a plate of calamari, and fifteen glasses of wine. We spent hours there having a heart-to-heart. We talked about marriage, exes, friendships, and friendships with the exes. We told each other things we had never discussed before; we couldn’t help it, we were so drunk, but it was fun and liberating. Unfortunately, I left my favourite sunnies here. Gah!! I have to call them tomorrow to see whether they still have it.

We went home. One of us bought cup noodles from a store nearby; None remembered who or whether we paid for it. We had it in the hotel room. I didn’t know the flavour, but it was good enough for me to like it.

I sent postcards to essential people today. So that was good. Okay, I am going to pass out now. We have an early flight to catch. We are flying to Melbourne tomorrow, and that is if we manage to wake up.

Afterthoughts: A full disclosure, I have only eaten less than five hotdogs in my entire life; Julian McMahon must be a gazillion years old now; Woolloomooloo is such a cute word.

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