Well, here I am in Sydney again. I don't know why.
At the start of the year I looked at the timetable and thought 'They're holding
the nationals in December ?! Are they crazy? It'll be hot!'
And, in accordance with prophecy, it is hot. 34 degrees, in a glorified tin
shed devoid of airconditioning or even adequate airflow, attempting to fence
sabre in full FIE regalia. I really don't know why I bothered, I knew I'd do
badly, I always do in the heat, and I was right. (Of course, no training or
lessons for most of two months probably didn't help either). It wouldn't have
bothered me so much except that I did quite well to start with and hope was
briefly rekindled. Ah well, that's fencing.
The teams event went better for me, it being substantially cooler, but we were
robbed by the worst presiding I've ever seen. I'm told he was once a decent
sabreur, so I guess he does know the rules, I can only assume therefore that he
is no longer capable of following the phrase.
To backtrack a bit, this year I'm staying at the Liberty Plains motel, the
closest one to the venue. I was warned about this place, but chose to give it
the benefit of the doubt, it being so close and relatively cheap. As usual,
cheap motels are cheap for a reason. I have gotten the hang of Sydney public
transport now, so getting there was a breeze, but at the reception door I hit a
snag - it was locked.
I rattled the door a bit, peered into the darkened interior, banged a bit,
nothing. Well, maybe it was like the Markets hotel, where service had to be
hauled away from the bar. Nobody in the restaurant though, no one in sight.
Back to the door, it was definitely locked, but ever hopeful I rattled some
more. I noticed a buzzer, and pressed it with vigour, nothing! Peering in
again, I noticed someone walk in. More rattling, but he seemed to be a guest so
in the end I decided to wait until he came out, as he inevitably must. When he
did, I was ready, and launched myself in through the door.
Hauling my bag behind me up the stairs, I almost collided with a plant that had
clearly not been positioned with fencing bags in mind. Careless of them. As I
hauled it over to the desk I noticed a pair of eyes over the counter, attached
to the person of one of the staff sitting on a low chair behind a high desk.
How long had he been hiding there? Hmmmm.
His computer screen appeared to be absorbing all his attention, so I started
forming some suitably cutting opening remarks but just as I came up with one I
liked he decided I wasn't going away so he'd better serve me. It soon became
apparent I was dealing with the shallow end of the gene pool, I slipped into
"explain the obvious to simple minded" mode (something I seem to be getting good
at), and eventually he seemed to understand that not only was my single room
changing to a double in 2 days, but that someone else would actually be sharing
that double with me, that someone being the David in whose name the booking was
made.
Over the course of my stay I was left with the distinct impression that all the
staff felt their lives would be much happier if the nasty guests would just go
away. They struck me as the sort of souls who in less civillised times would be
sold into slavery, and be grateful for the job security. The room was adequate,
but in desperate need of ventilation. On the plus side the food in the
restaurant was very good, it was just a pity about the service.
I was here alone since David still had to work, and they will insist on putting
Women's Sabre in the middle of the week. He did however manage a few hours off
to drive me to the airport. On the way I realised my flight was at 3, not 3:30
as assumed, which made for an entertaining drive and fast drop off at the
terminal. Thanks to the wonders of Citylink and E-tickets I rolled up at the
baggage check-in right on 3, only to be told my flight was half an hour late.
Turns out they were having a bad day, I was joined on my flight by another
sabreur, who was supposed to leave on another flight that was cancelled. The
delay wasn't such a bad thing, but it did mean I ended up navigating Sydneys
public transport at peakhour, which isn't comfortable.
Back to post-competition, I arrived back at the motel at about 9:30pm. Since
I don't eat much if at all during competition I was a tad ravenous. I spent the
next hour roaming the streets of Lidcombe trying desperately to find something
to eat. Eventually located a cafe in the "Catholic Workers Club" that was due
to open shortly and got some cheese on toast in lieu of dinner. Needless to
say I was not a happy fencer that day and was fast redeveloping my dislike of
Sydney.
The following day I trained into the city to meet up with David and do some
shopping. Afterwards we took our haul back to the motel, explained to the
receptionist that David was here, that no, he wasn't before, and how long for
(though why he computer couldn't tell him when our booking ended I don't know).
We then dined in the restaurant which was filled with fencers. I made up for my
lack of food the night before, and David caught up with the Adelaide contingent.
Next day was Davids Epee, I amused myself by practicing my fencing photography,
mostly on him. That night we caught up with the Adelaide fencers again at the
Catholic Workers club, while the Victorians and Queenslanders following us got
turned away for lack of collars. We had some very nice steaks, they went for
pizza.
Sunday was epee teams. I took more photos, now back in practice I had more luck
with my timing and got some good shots. While I'm at it, thankyou to the fencers
and refs who ignored me as I ran around the periphery pointing a lens at them.
A trip upstairs saw the purchase of foam sabres, fencing shoes for David, epee
pommel, Sydney 2000 fencing poster, and a T-shirt. I love merchandise:-)
That night we went wandering in search of food again, and determined there was
nothing in the whole of Lidcombe for us to eat (us being fussy eaters and all).
Why don't Sydney pubs serve meals? Why is the Television full of annoying
low-budget screaming sale ads? How can Sydney be so completely different to
Melbourne? It's really quite remarkable. Eventually we ordered pizza, one thing
which does tend to be constant within Australia.
Anyway, next day we packed, checked out, and rolled back into the city. We
checked our bags in at Central Station and went wandering through the CBD,
seeking a place to laminate my poster (to ensure it a safe journey home), and
more opportunities to spend money. We're such good little consumers. Back to
the airport, and home to our beloved Melbourne where it was a crowded shuttle
bus ride to the long-term car park, and dump the bags in the car.
Then, oops. David had locked his door. His keys were swaying gently in the
ignition. All our stuff was in the car, but not us. Hmmm.
David started to walk to the next shelter in search of a phone (the shelter nearest
being a very temporary affair). On the way he flagged down security, who once
again proved that our car is very easy to break into, even for amateurs. Thanks
guys!
Then home we drove with a brief delay in the CBD at peak hour,
the end of another fencing saga.