Tag 59: She doesn't let the bear dance

27.08.2016

Welcome to the life of luxury, and yes please, I want to stay here. Since we were allowed to wash our clothes, we at least smell like normal people, which doesn't mean that we fit into our house, which smells more like Chanel and Dior, but still. The color combinations of our camping and outdoor clothing are probably the most colorful ever worn in these sacred halls - the modern Asian (I dare say) chooses black. The information that we live directly above a slightly more upscale Chinatown food court, and therefore a significant portion of the residents seem to come from the East, is probably not insignificant in this context.

Early in the morning, Gudi and I defy the feeling of being unwanted or not fitting in and explore the fourteenth floor. There are nice facilities here, such as a gymnasium, fully equipped fitness center, or two cinemas. It goes without saying that these are exclusively for the residents of the building. Today, we make use of the swimming area, which includes a sauna, a steam bath, a whirlpool, and a fifty-meter swimming pool that extends from the inside to the outside. Since there is absolutely no one else there except us, we are free to spread out a bit. Gudi swims five hundred meters using the breaststroke, but tries not to go underwater because of her ear problems. From the outside, she looks more like a puppy trying not to drown. I, on the other hand, am a bit more sporty and complete four hundred meters using the crawl stroke. The consequences of my pseudo-professional aspirations are served to me twice. On one hand, I am once again far too close to the brink of drowning, as I have a very commendable body tension, but my feet align more toward the pelvic floor than the end of the pool. By the way, I am on the verge of patenting the swim style "starfish crawl". Finally, after completing my desired four hundred meters, I realize that I can hardly see anything anymore. The only light that I can make out is mistakenly interpreted as the well-known end of the tunnel, and I am convinced that I have drowned. In the end, it turns out that my eyes are incredibly swollen because the chlorine content of the water resembles that of a chemical factory. I therefore enjoy the minutes in the outdoor whirlpool blind, unfortunately missing the visual aspect and the fantastic view.

Even in the city, Gudi has to guide me for the first few hours because my vision is still very blurry. The theory is that the same thing will happen on land when fishing, which is why I may have undergone the beginning of a transformation after four hundred meters of swimming.

Blind and with bloodshot eyes, we spend the day in the city. First, we go to Chinatown where I probably attract the least attention with my swollen eyelids. In a rather funny market, I discover a shirt that I have to buy for my grandfather. We then take a walk through the extremely sunny and oldest district of Sydney, where on this day, not only are there numerous alternative street stalls to admire, but also some Grammy-worthy street performers showcasing their skills. Gudi especially likes the boring blonde girl playing the violin to classical guitar. I probably don't need to describe in detail the outstanding toothless Rastafarian who will probably soon be represented everywhere on radio and television.

Tired as we are, we take advantage of the convenience of living right in the city center and walk only a few minutes until we can lie down and rest a bit. It is only shortly before sunset that we go out again to view it in front of the Sydney Opera House. Unfortunately, halfway there we realize that the ship has sailed and I was simply too slow once again. Gudi claims that she is constantly waiting for me. I am of the opinion that good things take time, or that the best comes last. Besides, I can't stand waiting for someone, so I prefer to arrive late myself - at least for Gudi, who can't run away from me that easily here.

As compensation, we book a ferry ride past the nightly illuminated landmark of the city to Luna Park. This is an amusement park that cannot even come close to the Viennese Prater, but still has its own charm in some way. I have set my mind on shooting the biggest teddy bear for my sweetheart, which Gudi doesn't find funny at all - maybe she didn't understand that she is the one.

Together, without Gudi but with a giant bear, I ride the subway home - I would write that if I, and not Gudi, were the guardian of the Australian dollar treasure. But maybe this is for the best, otherwise we would still be standing there today or begging on the roadside for a long time.

Gudi's brilliant (stingy) rules:

The prices at shooting booths are just ugly and everything is expensive.

Only one sentence, but my heart is broken - and the bear is still there.