Little Hotel of Horrors

After the Big Hit in Hamilton Island, I flew to Sydney and took the airport train to Central Station, where I caught another train to St. Peters Station, where I set off on foot to find the little hotel, Formule 1, that Alan had recommended that was "just a few blocks" from the train station. I kept walking and walking in what I felt should be the right direction (according to my little map). Sure enough, just as I was about to give up hope, there was the motel, sandwiched, as promised, between a McDonald's and KFC. A blind person could find this joint. Can't miss the smell of french fries and the colonel's oh-so-special secret recipe!
By the time I checked in, it was about 7 p.m. The hotel clerk gave me a key code for the key pad lock on the room, and told me to use the same code on the hotel door if I came back after 10 p.m. (after which time there would be no one on the desk). So off I went, back to the train station, to meet Russ (that's him above) for dinner in Kirribilli. We ate at an Indian restaurant and I must say that it was the best meal I'd had in 10 days. (After the bowl of frozen prawns I sent back to the kitchen on Hamilton Is., anything would have tasted great! But I digress.) A bottle of wine and a few stories later I was on the train again heading back to the hotel. I use the term hotel rather loosely. It was more like a dorm room hybridized with a port-a-pottie. (See the photo of the room and the bathroom below.) But it was all I really needed--just somewhere to shower and sleep for the last 2 nights in Sydney. I returned to my room to sleep off my goose egg.
In the morning I woke up slowly, showered, and had some muesli I'd brought along from Hamilton Is. Then I prepared for my last outing in Sydney. That included camera, sunglasses, book, maps, sweater, etc. etc. I'd be out all day and well into the evening. I did a lot: hopped on a ferry to the Maritime museum in Darling Harbor (see photo of Capt. Cook's Beagle replica below); walked to the Art Museum of NSW; walked back to the Quay via the botanical gardens (where I got a bit lost as the sun set...and the hordes of bats took to the air...and a park "ranger" told me the park closed at dark, but didn't offer to guide me to the gate!); walked to the Rocks and found a good ole pub where I had a pint and waited for Russ to join me for dinner on my last night in Sydney. We ate some sort of hybrid middle-eastern and Italian meal--a pizza with cous-cous and lamb? Anyway, the beer was good! And I was very happy to have company.
Russ had to rise early for a tennis match. I had to rise early to catch a plane. So I walked Russ to the Quay to catch a ferry back to Kirribilli, then I boarded a train back to the hotel. Except that I went the wrong way when I transferred, so had to back-track to Central Station and try again. It was sort of late and the trains weren't in any hurry to get me home. Then there was that walk from St. Peters station. By the time I arrived it was probably around 10:30. I was beat. I entered the code to get into the hotel "lobby." Hmm...that didn't seem to work. So I tried again. And again. Still no joy. Some other "guests" walked in, so I finally gained entry that way. Walked to my room, entered the key code, and hmm...that didn't seem to work either. So I tried again. And again. Still no joy. I was tired and was not enjoying this little challenge. I walked outside, wedged my knapsack in the door so I wouldn't me caught out again, and tried to retrieve my internet reservation from the ATM-like reservation kiosk. It kept refusing my information. I tried another credit card. No joy. In desperation I made an on-the-spot reservation for another room, thinking that at least I could sleep somewhere and then get things straightened out when the clerk returned to the desk at 7 a.m. So, the machine spat out a new room number and a new code, which actually worked to get me inside the hotel. With renewed confidence, I found the new room, entered the code (which worked!), opened the door, and found that the room was not made up. In fact it looked so recently-abandoned that I wasn't sure if the guests were coming back or not. The room spelled like smoke. There was an empty bottle of Moet on the counter and several other items of merriment strewn about. I've slept in some unsavory places before, but I wasn't about to sleep in that room...not even on the floor. Back to square 1. By now a few people had figured out that I was having a great deal of trouble. One of the "regulars" offered me his room for $4o AUD. He didn't need it and could stay with his friends in their room. $4o was all I had left in my wallet. I'd need some of it to get to the airport in the morning. Still, I really needed to sleep, so I took him up on his offer. He took me to the room and gave me the code. It was smoky, but the bed was made, so I felt like things were looking up! (No towels, or anything, and of course all my luggage was in a locked room--my room.) So then it was about midnight. There was but a flimsy latch on the inside of the door that served as a lock. That wouldn't offer much protection against someone breaking in, especially if that someone had the key code! So I slept fully dressed with all the lights on. I didn't have my Swiss Army knife, because I'd forgotten to remove it from my carry-on pack at the airport and had to hand it over to Mark in Canberra.
I set a cell phone alarm for 6 a.m. I wanted to call Qantas to see about getting a business class seat. After waiting on hold till almost 7 a.m., my phone ran out of minutes. (to be continued in the next post)