Lunchtime Wanders in Chinese Gardens

  I've fallen far too easily into following a routine, now that I've settled down in a location, and have weekly commitments. After spending 3.5 years making plans from day to day, I moved to Sydney and started studying again. It's interesting to wake up one morning, 9 months after moving here, and realise that I've become very complacent in my curiosity and exploration. I'm becoming a creature of habit again. Things like class 3 days a week, lunch breaks at the same tables, on the same days, with similar food. Yoga two evenings a week (free at the community centre). A regular, and normal job. You know, habits. Sure, I had habits on the road, and in the other places I lived for the times I lived there, but it feels different here. Too comfortable.

But last week, things got mixed up a little. Not crazy mixed up, just the tiniest little amount, but enough to break the equilibrium. With an unusually long lunch break, and a partner in crime equally eager to do something different, I went for a wander. Instead of the usual metal bench, my comrade, Reni, and I, ended up at the Chinese Garden of Friendship. While I usually carry a certain disdain toward paying entrance fees, the recent granting of a student ID, and subsequent student discounts have made me slightly more compliant. That, and Reni shouted my ticket.

There's not much for me to say about the gardens. They're pretty, and look like Chinese gardens. Very relaxing, and their juxtaposition against the hotels and skyscrapers behind is entertaining. They were also very quiet, but that may have been because it was Tuesday.

But all this is just an introduction for photos. Yes, I took photos.

Jamming on George.

Friday night, George Street, Sydney. German 6 packs and Coopers longnecks on the ground. Josh, Chris and I are leant against a wooden construction door, waiting. The dolled-up party crowds are starting to thicken on the footpaths around us, ready for their new chance to 'paint the town red'. The drummer, Tom, arrives, welcoming us through the wooden door into the unfamiliar darkness beyond. We stop in the expectedly hip office on the first floor, searching for, then creating, a makeshift pick. Once armed, we start the ascent. The remaining 8 floors are empty, abandoned. Office space unutilised, unpowered, unoccupied. The building, apparently, is nearing its expiry. Waiting to be gutted, and built over the top of. Wrapped in fairy lights, an extension cord runs up the centre of the stairwell. The only power supply available at the roof, wrapped in the only light source for the rest of the building.

On the rooftop, a room awaits, a single worklight looped over the empty light fixture. 2 guitars and a drum kit, surrounded by a sea of leads, splintered drumsticks, woodchips and empty beer bottles. Beers opened, the room is enveloped by sound.