Memories of home

I was thinking about Australia today, how much I miss it there. Since moving away all things Australian, that I once took for granted, have become more precious. Vegemite is worth it's weight in gold, and almost costs as much. Even small grocery items that one thought nothing about back home are precious simply because they are unavailable. They don't know what dessicated coconut is here. I had to order it from an Aussie grocery store online just to make a lemon slice! I want to whip some Anzac biscuits for Anzac day but have no idea what Golden syrup equivalent is over here.

I was ruminating about a trip to I took to Sydney several years ago with my friend, the lovely Teja. She was from Sydney, so we stayed at her parents place and did typical Sydney things, you know like meet with her former drug dealer in Cabramatta. My friend had been clean for many years, so it was a catch up meeting for her. She felt sorry for the guy still stuck in that world. So I am sitting in a KFC, and am told that there are no bathrooms. What? Apparently all the druggies go in to shoot up so you can't eat your fast food and then use the facilities. Nice huh?

The drug dealer guy, with a sweet angelic face, was telling stories of getting robbed by prostitutes and so on, and had to get up during our lunch to go and sell drugs to the crazy looking guy who was banging on the window. It was probably the most scary place I have been.

As we left he walked us to our car. Now I was thinking, how very sweet of him, but at the same time, the cops might come by and drag us all into the back of a divvy van, I am way too pretty to go to prison. Or perhaps some rival dealer might do a drive by. Let's just say I was very happy to get out of Cabramatta. What a dump.

Teja and I headed down to King's Cross the next day because I insisted on seeing the legendary place, the Prostitution center of Sydney. NO, we were not looking for part time jobs, as standing around on a street corner all day is way too much work. I mean, my feet would hurt. Not to mention the looks of the potential clientele around that place. A very gruesome crew indeed.

I was harrassed by several, amorously inclined drunks, and it was only 10 am. We passed a bank and on a post in front of the door was a rather large joint of meat. Huge in fact with flies buzzing around it. We were taken aback by this unusual sight. As we stopped to look I was accousted by a rather malodorous fellow who grabbed a breast as he breathed stale booze smelling breath into my face saying, 'Hello Darling'.

I was calling my friend for help, pushing him away and generally feeling disgusted. She didn't do a thing to help. As she explained later, it's Kings Cross, you get molested by drunks all the time, that's normal, but hey you don't see a huge joint of meat everyday, that was weird.

Oh Sydney, you crazy city.