The jet lag’s now pretty much gone, I managed to stay awake until after 10pm last night but couldn’t hold it together much more after that. Woke up today feeling refreshed and ready for new challenges, so snagged a lift into the city with my uncle. FYI, the following bit is a little boring, but will be useful on the off chance that anyone reading this ever decides to follow in my footsteps.
Wasn’t supposed to be a sightseeing day, the plan was to get a bank account sorted and get my Medicare card. Moderate success with these; Medicare needed to see my Visa, which being electronic and tied in to my passport number, I thought wouldn’t need to be produced as a physical document. I just assumed that they’d have access to the appropriate records.
This turned out not to be the case, they in fact needed to see the email I received from immigration, which I naturally didn’t have with me. Worked out ok though, I had my laptop, and was able to utilize the services of a copy shop to call up the email and print it out. So got the Medicare sorted, even though I’m hoping I’ll never need it.
The bank account turned out to be a different scenario. Having done some research on the Internet, I discovered that banking here is substantially more complicated, and potentially expensive, than banking in the UK. Either that or I’m just unaccustomed to the style in which they disguise the blatantly criminal exploitation of their customers; I’ve gotten used to the subtleties of the way the UK banking system does it. Nonetheless, I managed to narrow down the options to Sydney Credit Union, not least of all because the MD is one of my uncle’s clients and they’re on very good terms, but mostly because it was the simplest to understand. So went in with pretty much all the identification and official documentation I could scrape together, only to be told that I couldn’t open a bank account unless I had proof of my Australian address!
This actually isn’t as bad of a Catch-22 scenario as it might at first seem. First of all, you don’t need to be an Australian resident or citizen in order to open a bank account here. So if you’re sensible, and organized (and I’m neither), you can open the account online long before you even leave. Secondly, I’ve already applied for my Tax File Number online, and I should have the Medicare card coming. Either of these can be used. The problem for me now is that I don’t have an Australian bank account, so not only can I not get a job until I do, but more importantly, I‘ve only got a (rapidly diminishing) limited supply of cash, so I’m going to have to fork out a fortune in commission/international penalties from my bank in the UK any time I pay for something or draw money out. Meh. It’s all a learning experience.
So, having got that boring stuff out the way, I grabbed some lunch and then decided to start exploring the city. Wondered around the Central Business District a bit, which is a lot like any other super-charged capital city centre, it’s got the same buzz and liveliness that you get anywhere that’s densely populated with busy people, except the atmosphere is somehow at the same time relaxed; at least, compared to somewhere like London or Tel Aviv. So, checked out the Apple Store (of all places!), which is bigger and more awesome than any in the UK. Also checked out the Queen Victoria Building, which I saw 13 years ago, and has only changed in as much as all the stores there now seem to be the big international retailers, albeit the more upmarket ones, as opposed to the sole traders I seem to (possibly incorrectly) remember dominating the place before. It’s still a breathtakingly spectacular building, and while the style is present throughout, as you move between the floors there’s a distinctly different feel and atmosphere, reflecting both the types of retailers and their target demographic. The difference is subtle, but when you notice it, you can’t help admiring it’s ingenious design.
Following that, I decided to head north along George Street, towards The Rocks for a bit of a wander round. After about twenty minutes, I realized I’d actually been heading south. By this time I didn’t have much time left, and figured I really wanted a full day in each of the areas of the city that I wanted to explore anyway. So I stuck with where I was, and wondered round Chinatown for a bit. This is, disappointingly and at the same time impressively, a rather average place. It lacks the distinctive feel of its London counterpart, and just seems like any other part of the city, only with the people and businesses being predominantly oriental. On the other hand, it’s a genuine hub of the Chinese and Asian communities, as opposed to a simple tourist attraction, with nothing more than souvenir shops for local people looking for something to occupy their day.
Following a quick meander around there, I decided to head back towards the CBD, as I’m getting a lift back from my aunt and didn’t want to keep here waiting. With still an hour and a half to spare, I managed to track down the place where I’m meeting her, only to discover that opposite this very corner is a comic book store. Being that I’m on the other side of the world, and didn’t travel several thousand miles just to look around a comics shop just like I could back home, I did what any self-respecting nerd would do. I walked in and had a look around. This place was like a journey through time! It seemed almost like a newsagent that hadn’t quite found itself, and had ended up appealing to comics and sci-fi nerds and therefore stocking generation-spanning collections of comics, pulps and posters. Having looked around and found nothing particularly of interest (it was all interesting in terms of it’s context, but not a great deal that I’d actually buy or read), I headed for the door. This is the point at which the shopkeeper decided to insult me.
“Can I help you?”
“No thanks mate, just looking.”
“Fair enough. Some days it’s hard to tell the lookers from the hunters.”
Fantastic! It literally was like stepping back 10 or 15 years into a comic shop in the UK, complete with disorganized and incoherent collection of Nerdorama and societally aggrieved comic-book-guy! You’ll have to excuse me while I wipe away a nostalgic tear…
Anyway, having finished in there, I walked back out into the sweltering heat. I checked the time, saw that I still had close to an hour left, and considering the heat, the heavy bag on my back, and the limited time left, I decided not to continue wandering round essentially the same streets, which would be about as far as I could get in the time I had left. I did what any self-respecting Englishman would do; I crossed over the road and went into the pub. I ordered a beer, which came served in a measure referred to by the barmaid as a ‘schooner’, which is about 2/3 of a pint, sat down at a table, got out my laptop, and began writing this blog post. And that brings us up to now…
More to follow folks, thanks for reading!
Matt x
