Train to Nowhere

Saturday morning I checked out and bade The Glenferrie Lodge farewell.

A half hour later I was sitting in a cafe at the Central Railway Station. From here you could catch a train to any spot in the city or a coach to Brisbane, Adelaide, Canberra, Melbourne, Darwin, Perth, or most anywhere else you’d like to go. In addition there were bus and taxi stands, as well as cafes and food vendors, so I ate something before the long trip ahead. Even though a dinner would later be served on the train, that was still several hours away. I made a meal of a fruit cup, a coffee, and ham and cheese toastie (toasted cheese sandwich). As mentioned in an earlier post, the people here are very careful about conservation, as evidenced by the power outlets which could be turned off or on whether they would be used or not. But here in the cafe was another example, as the cutlery and straws were also recyclable.

As for the music selection, a lot of what is played here is imported from the US and the UK. So as I sat eating and journaling, I was mostly listening to familiar tunes, Up on the Roof making me especially nostalgic for home. But then Meatloaf came on as I was preparing to exit the cafe and I had to pause to shake my head at Sydney disapprovingly.

I hauled my bags to the platform I had been directed to and took a seat on one of the pews to await the arrival of the train. After several minutes, the people seated around me all began to get up and hastily move to another platform and head through the gate. Fortunately something clicked and I made an inquiry and got things sorted out. It turns out that the helpfully apathetic attendant had put me on the wrong platform. I was excited to be boarding the train, but a little nervous about who my seat mate would end up being for the very long ride ahead. Fortunately it turned out to be a nice lady whose kids were seated across the aisle. She was bound for a place called Broadmeadow, two hours North. We were on whats called a tilt train; so named because when going around curves, the track tilted a bit to compensate for centrifugal force much as racetracks sometimes do.

The man taking the tickets came and then we were off. Two hours later, two things happened.

First, we arrived at Broadmeadow and my seat mate left the train and went home. Second, we were informed that because of the raging bush fires we could go no further and that the trip was officially cancelled. We would reverse and return the two hours back to Sydney, where we would be furnished with accommodation at the expense of the train company, as well as transportation to said accommodation and help with refunds or rebooking. At this point two more interesting things happened.

First we learned that the seats could be turned around to face the opposite direction since we were now going backwards on the track. Second, people who had previously been tight lipped and insular, now became friendly and talkative. Perhaps it was the fact that we were all enduring a hardship together, but there was now a sort of comradery between all of us.

I talked with a woman from Fiji named Maria. Then there was ‘Ellie Jay’ who was an Aborigine and very interesting to talk to. She explained to me that her people used to burn off dead bush in a controlled way and that one could tell if something would burn or bounce back by looking at features of the plants. She thought, as did many people, that the government was mishandling things and creating more problems because of mismanagement. She also explained how family structure and titles work and how they are all just one ‘mob’. She used that word a lot. She was from Kakadu. She also spent time in an asylum during a rough patch in her life. She was interesting. Then there was Anna from Bavaria. She was quiet because she felt her English wasn’t very good, but we talked for almost a half hour about random things.

I had very much hoped to be able to have these kinds of conversations on this trip, so I was very happy that it was working out that way.

In Sydney we were herded into an office, then another office, and then into cabs to get to our hotels. I ended up with an older man from Australia and a middle aged man from Germany. We stayed at a hotel called The Ibis along with others from the train, though there was bit of confusion as to which hotel the cabby was supposed to take us to since there are several Ibis hotels in Sydney. We soon learned that we would be staying in the heart of China town. The older Australian man’s name was Nick (I don’t recall the German man’s name) and he said the last time he roomed with an American was while he was in Vietnam. While he set about getting ready for bed, I went out to get food since the promised dinner on the train never happened and I was starving.

Just around the corner was New Thainatown and so I dropped in. I was the minority and I got some curious looks from the mostly young people sitting at tables inside. In fact while the woman at the counter who took my order spoke English, I’m really not sure the waitress did. But it was another unique experience, and I enjoyed it. As I’ve said before, I hope to one day learn Chinese so I can speak to people in their language. But here in the moment I was an island and just tried my best to look approachable. The food came and it was quite good. By the time I got back to the hotel, my roommate was sawing logs, and so I quickly dropped off to sleep as well.

The next morning at breakfast, which was included, I finally got my first taste of Vegemite. There was plenty of food and I ate outside on the balcony. I also had my first crumpet, which had plenty of holes and irregularities to hold the butter spread on it. The Vegemite was good, but I later found out I had eaten it wrong. You’re supposed to spread a lot of butter on first and then just a little Vegemite. I had thickly smeared on the whole container. It was still good though. Maria from Fiji brought out her breakfast when I was nearly finished and sat across from me. After a short and pleasant round of conversation, I went back to my room, gathered my things and checked out.

I still had a return pass for a free ride to the train station and hailed a cab, making sure to hide my pass while I did so. (I figured no one would stop if they knew they wouldn’t actually be getting cash) The driver was, by process of cabby-guided elimination, from Mongolia, and sounded more Australian than almost anyone I had talked to in Sydney. He must have called me mate ten or twelve times on our five minute trip to the station.

I climbed onto the train again and hoped that the second attempt would go better. I was once again nervous about who my seat mate would be. It actually turned out to be…wait for it..Maria from Fiji. We both laughed. At least it was someone I already knew. Since we were, again, right next to the food car, we actually had many of the same people from the day before walk by and say hello.

We sat for about twenty minutes until an announcement came over the intercom saying…wait for it…that the train had again been cancelled and we would not be going anywhere that day. So I got up, wished Maria well, and went back to Glenferrie again. I decided I would wait a couple days for the fires to get handled and then try again. This was ludicrous given the scale and spread of the fires, but it seemed reasonable at the time.

But returning to Kirribilli would actually give me two more days to see the rest of the things in Sydney I didnt get to before.

This turned out to be a very good thing indeed.    

It was about five by the time I got checked in to the hotel again. I decided to go for a walk in the city center since I had a free night and no plans until tomorrow.  I looked around for a place to eat and almost went for a burger and chips at Hungry Jacks (mainly to save money), but soon realized that the prices were twice that of Maccas (McDonalds) so I went the cheaper route instead. I was all for new experiences, but even so I couldn’t bring myself to order the ‘El Maco’. (A big mac with sour cream and chunky salsa)

If you look at the Hungry Jacks logo, you will immediately notice that it is essentially the Burger King logo with different verbiage. This is because when Burger King decided to expand into Australia there was already a trademarked ‘Burger King’ and they couldn’t use the name. So they instead borrowed one of their pre-existing licenses (for Pillsbury pancake mix, no less) and ran with it. Not exactly sure why it’s so much more expensive than McDonalds though. As with Burger King in the US, the burgers are far superior in quality. Not that I would actually know, not having tried them…yet.

I made the mistake of staying out too late and missing the ferries, so it was a long, late night walk back over the bridge, but I got some decent pictures for my trouble, including four strange, life-sized holograms outside of the Police Museum.

And so Sunday ended quietly. Tonight the sun had set on Sydney in the West, but tomorrow it would rise on Guangzhou’s sister city in the East.