My cousin, who has been living in Melbourne on her working holiday since September, had the opportunity to pop back up to Sydney for a few days last week. This meant I had the equivalent of a roommate, except this one cleaned up after me, stocked my fridge with groceries, made me breakfast, and happily entertained my pup while I was at work (read: best. guest. ever). It also meant I had companionship for dinner three nights in a row, which we took advantage of by way of delicious sushi at Sushi St. in Bondi and a giant plate of carby goodness at Mad Pizza Bondi Beach (I’m minorly obsessed with their truffle mac and cheese).
On Friday night, I had been invited to a farewell dinner for a new friend’s boyfriend who was heading to Canberra for a year to work for the Australian Government. Since I a) highly enjoy this couple’s company, b) saw an opportunity to meet new people and make new friends, and c) wanted to show my cousin a good night on the town, I dragged her from the Eastern Suburbs to Surry Hills to have Thai food and hit some hipster bars. Dinner was at Lemongrass Thai – amazing green curry (but I imagine it’s pretty hard to mess that up, no?) and a really fun group of people.
In Sydney, it’s a very common and allowable practice to bring your own booze to a restaurant – many restaurants advertise that they are BYO. And none of the wine-snob rules that apply in the US when you bring your own bottle to a restaurant apply here (thank god, because I usually didn’t understand them anyway). You can bring anything you choose, even if it’s something offered on the menu. Pay a small per-person surcharge (usually about $3) and whatever you have at home can accompany you to dinner. It’s a great way to save some cash when dining out (just check with the restaurant first to be safe) and since Sydney is ridiculously expensive, I recommend this practice to any visitors.
So we BYO-ed (I think some of the group actually made a liquor store run between spring rolls and the main course), then headed to a bar called The Forresters, a restaurant-bar a few blocks away. Since I was recovering from another nasty Australian mega-cold and had a big night planned the next evening, Kelly and I begged off around midnight.
The next day, after Kelly’s departure, I had to prep for a concert – Swedish House Mafia’s farewell tour, Sydney stop. This is apparently a big deal in House Music circles, but since I only recently began running in these circles on occasion, I have to admit the significance was a little lost on me. Nevertheless, we headed out to the deep West to have some pre-concert drinks at my friend Ricky’s condo, then went into the show. It got a little blurry after that but I remember lots of dancing, losing some people, then finding them again, then everyone surging the stage past the hapless security guards when the most famous of the group’s songs started playing. Since the show ended at 11, by midnight we found ourselves smack in the middle of Kings Cross, which could best be described as “the seventh circle of hell” on a Saturday night. Imagine streets packed like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, except instead it’s all drunk kids spilling out of bars and clubs. It’s a recipe for disaster, and there are usually several fist fights (and occasional resulting fatalities) every weekend. However, on Saturday, I fit right in. I managed to vacate myself of about $50 in cover charges bouncing from one club (yes, I bypassed bars and was straight to da clubs) to another and finally dragged myself into a cab somewhere around 4 a.m.
Needless to say, my sore throat is back with a vengeance and I’ve solemnly sworn that I will be going straight home after work every day this week because it’s a big week and I have to seriously have my shit together. Plus I’m going down to Melbourne on Friday to see Kelly, and our little cousin who is studying abroad up in Queensland is finally joining our shenanigans for the first time since she arrived last month, so I have to show them how it’s done.
Til next time, xoxoxo!