Sydney - It's Vivid!

I've  been lucky enough to be invited to Sydney to work the week of Vivid. Sydney's a beautiful city any time of the year but to be amongst the lights of Vivid this year is pretty spectacular. There's an air of excitement and anticipation in the air.

Hotel QT in Market Street was superb. It's the place to be, whether for coffee in Parlour Lane, Cocktails in the Bar or a sumptuous dinner in the restaurant. The rooms are well appointed, far flung from the same same approach of the large Chain Hotels. The rooms display an individuality and flair, and from the stage costumes on the ground floor, to the eclectic wall display of suitcases and clocks, this hotel exudes confidence. Staff were for the most, friendly, and although all obvious backpackers, aside from the odd language barrier, were attentive and helpful.

Our vivid experience started on a wet, windy and very cold Friday evening with a cruise through the harbour to celebrate the official Lights On! Moment. Under the iconic Harbour Bridge, past the gaping mouth of Luna Park and into the laser light show on the Opera House and buildings surrounding Circular Quay and Darling Harbour.

Whilst we were shown a bright array of colour and laser light, the display paled in comparision with Brisbane's King George Square and Town Hall Christmas Light Show of 2014, and I was left a little underwhelmed. Perhaps the wet weather was a contributing factor, and after a hasty retreat into a nearby Italian Resturant, to shelter from another downpour, we decided over dinner and a wine to try again tomorrow evening. 

Saturday morning found us wandering the back lanes and alleyways of The Rocks. The cobblestones, the wooden block section of George Street, the bakeries and fresh food stalls of the early Rocks Market, all make this area my favourite place in Sydney. The promise of freshly baked Butter Crossaints lured us into a French Bakery for breakfast as Hugo once again became the object of a photo opportunity.

The Rocks Museum houses some amazing artefacts discovered over the years through archeological diggings in the area. How does a 2000 year old Egyptian relic end up in an area of Sydney only inhabited by the Europeans for the past 200 years? If you ever find yourself in Sydney with an hour or two to kill, make your way to the Museum, it's free and a very interesting place to wander. 

Spoilt for choice in coffee, food, souvenirs and market stalls, The Rocks is a bustling area on a weekend, go early to avoid the crowds but make the time for a pot of Irish Tea n Scones, reported to be the best in Sydney. 

Sitting in the sun, listening to so many different dialects, accents from tourists from around the world, I give thanks that this life is so easily accessible to us as Australians. We have enough food, enough warmth, enough opportunity in this country for all to share. It is the lucky country, still. 

Making our way through the city, watching buskers and fire twirlers reflected in the dark waters of the Bay, we settle in to spend the evening at the Opera Bar, anxiously awaiting the nights light show on the Opera House. Luckily we arrived early enough to secure a fantastic view of both the Bridge and the Opera House, and although we were still convinced Brisbane does it better, it was a pretty cool way to spend an evening.

Thanks Sydney, it's been a fun, albeit a mild Vivid experience. 

Sydney, beautiful Sydney

May 2015... Brisbane to Sydney

Flight to Syndey went very quickly as a great meeting of the minds, with the man in 9A proved to be one of my all time fave people to travel with. Jeremy Coldhands, from Flycookie Fame. What a great man, world traveller, sky diver, risk taker, legend. It was a flight that went oh so quickly due to an endless banter of philosophy, laughter and deep insights of the workings of the human mind. Is it possible that the best way to make someone want to lose weight is for their partner to have an affair? Loved his insight, loved his humour, loved his views on life. 

We covered it all. From life changing falls, to donuts, to the meaning of life and alcohol abstinence. Yep, we talked the whole flight. Best flight partner I've ever had and the Fastest 1.5 hour flight I've ever taken. He's one of those blokes at you would add to the list of 5 people living or dead that I'd invite for dinner. Hopefully Jeremy, we cross paths again, maybe when you're a great author. That said, I'm coming to your book launch for sure.

QT Hotel... OMG, I'm speechless. It has wowed me and so far I've only made it to the ground floor and reception.

It's to be my home away from home for the next few days.. And I am impressed!! 

I booked online, then rolled into reception a little earlier than expected due to fog delaying Hugo's arrival. Eventually I gave up waiting for him at the airport and headed into town to check in.

Gorgeous girl met me at the car, another at reception  and offered to hold my bags whilst I caught up with a dear friend for lunch at Darling Harbour

30 years just slipped away as we laughed and chatted over lunch. It's funny where the world takes us, and somehow the bullied, end up being the most resilient, and the most successful. She exudes confidence, Looks fantastic and has an incredibly wonderful Bondi Life.. Take note high school bullies, one day the bullied may end up being your boss. 

It's prob the first time I've have ever had the time, or the inclination, to mentally examine my high school years. I knew there was a pecking order just as I knew my place within that order. I know I wasn't one of the cool kids, and now that I am 50, I realise I am actually thankful for that. It allowed me the freedom to be who I was, rather than who I should be. And for that I'm pretty grateful. I knew I was funny, I knew I wasn't hip n  happening, but I also knew I wasn't one of the picked on, the bullied. Looking back I enjoyed a kind of anonymity that allowed me to grow as a person without too much drama. And after today's conversation, I'm bloody glad of that. 

I was born in a small town, I grew up and went to the public school and high school in the same town. My grandad was the Shire President. I kinda grew up knowing I had a place in society. A niche. Looking back now, I realise what a fantastic opportunity I was given. I grew up and into a community that knew me, that respected me, and that also expected great things for Me, as a person.  That became the basis of my life's values, and my thinking I was put on earth for a purpose. Hopefully I've instilled that into my children.  And whilst my Grandfather had a huge community spirit, my grandmother was an artist, who travelled round the world. She was tough, and commanded a respect from people without uttering a word. She had, what we now call Executive Presence. She was scary and she meant business. I'm a bit chuffed that some of that has rubbed off on me!

So here I sit, once again at the Sydney Airport, for the second time today but the difference is that I now feel energised, excited at the possibility of meeting up with my old friend again on Saturday, of old lives evolving into new, perhaps of two glasses of wine mellowing me out to a point where the world seems a much less abrasive place to inhabit, and again I find myself counting my blessings.  

Wherever you find yourself today, I hope it's been a great place to hang. 

My name is Jaki Mac and it's been 27 days since I ......

Yep, I have a confession to make. I'm a flight junkie. 

It's been 27 days since my last flight and I am suffering the ill effects of being in one place too long. I'm edgy, snappy and finding myself becoming increasingly addicted to Trip Advisor.  I check SkyScanner to see where the jet flying over my clothesline is headed. I loiter listlessly outside Hello World. 

I've written apology letters to Qantas, as I've noticed the Check In man, has had to take on a second job of delivering parcels around town.  The baggage security ladies have stopped me in the street to tell me they have been laid off due to decreased traveller numbers. I look away nervously, and offer my condolences before skittering away quickly to avoid any further embarrassment. I feel ashamed that my lack of effort has had such an effect on the wider community.

I have endured 27 long days without a QF club coffee, without the thrill of smuggling out a slice of Big Sister Fruitcake to enjoy on the plane. My thighs are grateful for that, but my heart yearned for the adventure and excitement. 

Today, I caved. 

Just like every recovering addict, I was tempted by the possibility of being able to withstand just one more. Instead of a just a small sip of a full bodied red to warm my soul, or a quick inhale of secondary smoke, I opened the Qantas specials email, after all it was sent directly to me, it would be rude not to at least read the email.

The bright red promise of adventure and excitement flashed onto my screen. Within seconds I had lost all resistance, all endeavours to withstand the temptation were lost at the words QT Sydney Hotel.

So, here I stand before you, once again with my best friend Suitcase, and discussing options of warm clothing for a week in Old Sydney Town.

My name is Jaki MacDonald, and it is 6 sleeps till my next flight. 

It's my suitcase's fault... I'm sure.

Years ago I was borderline OCD. 

The house never ever had a thing out of place. I fed the babies in the bath so they wouldn't make a mess. Yep, I was one of 'those' people. 

Now, my suitcase lays half packed with the basics, ever ready to go at a moments notice. My clothes live in piles, there are bagged work shirts at the end of my bed ready to be flown to their destination for distribution.  My OCD is being cured, one short notice flight at a time. 

My daily internal dialogue to my suitcase makes for interesting conversation. Seriously, suitcase, If I give you my fave bra today, will you promise not to gobble it up and render it unlocatable if I need it before Saturday? 

Conversations go like this all the time, well in my head anyway. Maybe Suitcase and I need to be better friends.

Maybe I need to learn that I do not need to over feed him to bursting point, then get angry when he lets his zipper out a little. Maybe I need to remember that he gets motion sickness being thrown about on the carousel and would prefer to spend the flight nestled into the overhead locker. I need to show more compassion toward him and the great job he does. 

Each journey I try to pack less, trying to allow him to feel the joy of being a little under full, rather than the discomfort of being stuffed to the limit. We all know that feeling....I try not to stuff in the whole contents of my wardrobe, just in case. I should try harder. For Suitcase's sake, poor fellow. 

Maybe I don't really need my black stilleto's on the off chance that Hugo will take me for dinner, if I'm headed to Sydney for a week, does it really matter that I wear the same pants a couple of times? Who do I think would even notice? 

My next journey, I will do better. I will treat Suitcase with the respect he deserves. I won't drag him along on his one good leg, as he favours the one that broke last journey. I won't make him go in the cold, dark under hold with all the other luggage. 

I will honour him and treat him well. He and I have been through a lot together and he tries his best, he really does. I have put him into some difficult situations before, and now I'm sorry. 

I will do better. Suitcase, I promise you, I will. 

Or, Maybe I just need to realise that my suitcase is an inanimate object and I'm actually nuts. And my rooms a bloody mess.