| Saturday |
| the last bits |
I write this as I sit at the departure terminal of Sydney airport, tipsy. These are the last hours of this city, and god I am glad. Sydney is indeed a beautiful city albeit too busy and rowdy for my liking. From the dodgy bitumen roads, to the drunken idiots and sleaze-bags roaming the districts and taking night life out of all others who value their lives, and train stations with no rubbish bins…there is nothing I will miss here.
I don’t understand why Melbournians would consider flying all that way into this city for shopping, as one of my friends had done last year. The shops are spread out, your feet needs to cover more distance between shops, clothes are more expensive and essentially, shops are identical to that of Melbourne. Though, with time on our side, shopping has been a haven, managing to stock up on a couple of shoes, tops and a painting or two.
The four weeks have gone by in a flash, mostly taken up by clinical placement, cooking and grocery shopping. We were lucky to have been offered shelter with a mate of a mate’s mate’s place to stay for the month at a relatively low cost. This guy has moved up from Melbourne eight months ago, empty and alone. Admirable that he is a highly ambitious freak with plenty of potential, despite his verbal diarrhoea. He is a knowledgeable guy who wouldn’t shut up, even when clearly we had loads of homework to do. Arrogant is he, but with reason.
Hot pot has been the favourite dish of the month. Seafood, thinly sliced beef, taro fish balls dumped in a preservative-filled chicken broth, enough to feed a family, but cleared by three.
Clinical placement at the navy base has been rewarding beyond words, and is the sole reason why my time here has not gone to waste. It’s not all about treating polite guys in uniform with good build, though quietly, that did add the cherry to the cake. After these two years in clinical hospitals around Melbourne, my faith in good supervisors has dwindled. I didn’t believe that any supervisors can get the correct balance between expectations, independence and guidance. This placement in Sydney has changed my mind. Topped off with a grand exiting present consisting of electrodes, latex gloves, lip balm, bandaids, knee brace and condoms thrown into an innocent looking brown paper bag. Talk about random. Some of the best and most creative presents need not be expensive. In return, we bought them a cactus in a pot. Whatever happened to chocolates and flowers…
Aside from knowledge and skills we stole from the force, we scored two awesome discounted tickets to the grand Billy Elliot musical. First musical I’d been to in twenty-one years, and it has undoubtedly set the bar high for pleasing me in the future musicals. Stemmed from an inspiring movie set in the mid 1900s, it is a story of will-power, individuality, success and courage. Feelings of anger, happiness, grief, tears of joy and laughter, tears of sadness flowed through with the cast and crew showcased the amazingly talented young ballet dancer, Billy. The spiral staircase on which Billy’s bunk bed laid rose through the hole in the ground, sets came to life with aptly selected lighting, meticulously practiced British accent and the truly laughable moment as a cubby young lad accepted his unique sexuality, and danced away in female clothing, amongst gigantic headless dolls; it was worth every dollar I paid. |
posted by sciurine @ 6:44 PM   |
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| ABOUT |
Thoughts, ...flowing slowly and gracefully, ...awakening the senses, ...keeping you up in the night, I sometimes wonder why people write. To express? To reflect? To be heard? I write, to free myself from a world of thoughts.
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