Don't you expect to see a child appear on a big wheel?
The fine mural which assaults you upon exiting the elevator onto our floor at the Vera Adderly Residence for Cancer Patients.
Today we move out of the lovely Prince of Wales Hospital Residence which we've been at for the past week and a half. We had decided to go with Brian's employee housing because Kanga House raised it's prices for Christmas. Essentially we saved ourselves a few hundred dollars but in exchange we had a home that was something like a cross between The Shining and One Flew Over the Cookoo's Nest. Above is a pic of our lovely hallway, that carpet looks like it's been scrubbed of a few bloody murders, eh? Actually many deaths do occur here, since it happens to be where cancer patients and their families stay between hospital visits. Not the happiest place on earth, but it does make you appreciate that you are alive and well, even if stuck in a depressing place!
The lovely kookaburra Brian and I found ourselves suddenly upon while cruising La Perouse beach.
The first night at the residence I expected to hear howls of tortured souls, so you can imagine my horror when I was promptly awoken at three in the morning by what sounded like an insane banshee laughing outside our window. Of course, I don't really believe in ghosts but this was uncanny. It sounded like children screaming or chimpanzees being murdered, but in several octaves. As it turns out, this is the distinct call of the unmistakeable Kookaburra. Aside from the lulling sway of a grove of eucalyptus, there really was no noise to disturb our slumber at our new residence- save for the maniacal kookabura who obviously claimed this her home long ago. Without fail, each night at three in the morning these birds gathered for some kind of variety comedy hour with the patients and ourselves being their unwilling audience. Oh I would get used to the curious little beasts, after unsuccessfully trying to hit one of them with a rotting orange the first night. I have to say they are still much more cute than the occasional hysterical barfing teenage girl in the parking lot, now there's something to laugh, kookaburra, laugh about.
As it turns out, Brian and I actually got to see one of these birds up close in the wild during a hike at La Perouse beach. I did manage to snap a photo but it's not currently on my camera so I will remember to add it later. Basically this thing looked like a ferocious stuffed parrot, with a sharp beak (evidently these carnivores are known for devouring other birds' babies among lizards, and mice). It did not move once until I decided to walk away, and Brian noticed it follow us with a stare and quick head turn. Talk about freaky eh?
Studly Bri posing for the camera at the south point of Sydney, La Perouse Beach
Our new address is 5/2 Bellevue St, Surry Hills, 2010 NSW, Australia... hint hint
Our balcony is the one above with the two lemon trees
Our street, as seen from in front of our building
So anyway, as I said before we move into our home today in Surry Hills- a long time coming and something I still won't believe until we are there. It appeared for the past six weeks that all signs were indicating that this would not be a smooth transition moving to Australia. My plans to start triathlon training were hampered by my accident, as was my hunt for new work and search for housing. I am still in recovery, and my chances of seeing better than 20/30 out of my left eye are diminishing each day. At least it's within legal driving limit I suppose. But I must also report that I had several good prospects for work approaching for 2007, one of which might see me traveling to another country. I won't disclose details until it's a sure thing, in the meantime I have found work with a charter boat company cruising Sydney Harbour- serving drinks and canapes. Last Saturday I was even able to serve the members of Daft Punk and 100 of their friends in the after party which followed their concert in Sydney. Everyone asks me what they looked like, since the public never sees them outside of robot costumes. The French dude was lithe and greying with long hair, in his 30s. He smoked of course, and we had to tell him to not do so in the boat. The German is a little pudgy but totally friendly, I promised him a refill on his champagne while he chatted on his cell phone outside- he wore thick rimmed glasses and had a mop of curly hair. I promptly forgot to bring the refill when upon descending the stairs one of a myriad of coked up, tore back, ate up, toe-up-from-da-flo-up groupies crashed into me sending champagne flauts breaking all over the stairs. It really made me reconsider any hard drinking for the holidays.... yeah, that will last. 
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