Days Like these, Sunday Sept. 18th

I awoke to Kat, and the other german girls packing and getting ready to go on their work stays. Buffy wasn't there so no uncomfortableness to operate around.  As it turns out I guess she had been there as long as my German friends, they said she was french and that she routinely walked around the dorm and floor nude. I joked by inquiring if the perision nudist had changed their own ways during their stay...I think Kat was the only one that understood me as she laughed and said no...clothing much more acceptable way of opperating during daylight hours.  It never gets old hearing different verbs in translation....if not careful I will find myself saying "taking pie and coffee please" the next time I order. 

I was still very tired and planned to take it easy today...turns out the girls had been up all night...or morning rather as they thought it would be easier to sleep on the long bus and train rides they were about to take.  We all exchanged goodbyes and well wishes as having made new friends is always a good thing and welcomed.

I went back to sleep and awoke a few hours later deciding to do some laundry and get my thoughts togther.  I know my mom says I take after (in looks) the spanish grandfather side of her family...but I am thankful for good Irish, scottish and german innereds on trips like this!!!  Anyway the day passed and I did some random errands and enjoyed what was left of the day.  I tried catching up with a work friend of one my friends who now lives in Sydney....but they had worked together in CA.  He was nice enough to write me back a few weeks back prior to my trip and give me some suggestions on things to do while I was in town. I had hoped to grab a beer with him and catch up and thank him in person...but it just didn't work out.  I was however, going to check out a particular bar and restaurant in an area down near the Old Sydney harbor.  I remember seeing the area while on the tour and thought it would be a good sunday evening top off.  I was very hungary so the timing was right.

I had a  nice cab driver down to the area known as the "rocks"  He had some nice stories of people, places and general events that had happened along the way.  The cabbies here like many places are well dressed and this one you could tell very much enjoyed his job.  He liked meeting other people and learing where they were from and where they were going....besides its an easy way to pass the time as it was about 15 minutes drive.

Sunday night is typically a locals night out in an area like the rocks...so I was excited to catch an "irish jam" at one the cities finest pubs THe Hero of Waterloo.  I could tell the moment I stepped up onto its large sandstone steps and peered inside it was going to be a good place....and evening.

You could probably look the complete history up on this place on the web, but my general understanding of it from reading the back of the menu is that a dude who was a builder owned the land adjacent to a church he had built...he decided to build a proper bar and drinking establishment.  Yea I know at first in conservative thinking this would seem odd...but hey its 1833 and this is a land of convicts, so why the hell not build a bar next to a church. So he did and apparently the cut he used was called Argile or something which I assumed was to described how it was cut from the quarry which it came.  Because you could see the diagonal chips or cut lines in the dark sandstone rock.  Apparently there are lots of tunnels below the place that run to the waterfront and as legend has it...there were plenty of stories of nefarious types of people getting shanghied on to ships in an enslavement type of deal.  It wasn't unusual to get drunkenly and lured into the cellar...probably in hopes of getting more booze, but instead getting ferried onto a boat and before one knew it you would awake at sea.  Yup, pretty much a done deal...work or get thrown off.

Clearly I was looking for a much more luxurious drinking experience and no endentured work tonight....and it didn't take long in the way of a story from a unique lady that was taking a break from the Irish Jam. 

I had just orderd a nice cool Porter and meal....and needed a table to sit while listening to the music.  Only one spot was available and it was at her table.  She gladly ableiged when asked and again after hearing the accent asked where I was from...turns out she had met some other americans this night.  The conversation quickly turned as she mentioned her new found friends through travel and music in the states and with the wonder of Facebook...she hoped to look them up and stay with them....as she very much liked traveling to the US and enjoying what it had to offer.  After a few more questions from me, I soon found out just how interesting traveling by yourself can be...when you are forced to meet and talk to people you absolutely wouldn't otherwise if in a group or with friends.  In this case...Lilo had a very cool story.
Turns out she was originally from Sydney and like some of the bigger cities in America its unusual, but when found these local are very prideful and not only know their history but are willing to tell you about it.  With Lilo, it was more about Herritage as she was a Direct Deccendant from the "First FLeet" which was the first 8 boats that landed in Sydney with the convicts from England.  In fact the Manifesto of sorts hang on the wall right beside our table.  She even pointed out her 4times Grand Father...THomas (last name forgotten) who was a prisoner on the ship from past days of traveling or highway robbery.  But the story gets more interesting as it goes because her grandmother who married Thomas was also a prisoner on the ship.  Her last name beign Blyton.  She had been convicted of stealing lines from the hotel where she worked in London....and selling them to Hock for money to survive on.  She was apprehended by the authorities because apparently they were able to trace her handwritting and name off the sales reciept in the place where she pawned off the linens....well easy case, done....off you go to Australia.  Well after time served... I really couldn't get ALL the details because the music was quite loud...and not so much traditional Irish Folk music as it was more American Folk Music...otherwise known as Good Ole Rock n' Roll.

Anyway...I got the crux of the story but was amazed by which all the details of this story had come and where she found all this out.  Well again here, bits and pieces were lost in music cover up and thick accents...but apparently Blyton is a big and famous name back in England.  SHe didn't know it but one day found out about her Heiress family name who apparently was quite a writter of sorts and amassed a fortune doing so... I missed how this connection to how she got on the trail of her family history in Austrailia back to the Blytons in England...but regardless she had the curiousity, did the research and stumbled into one great story herself. 

I could tell it was only the tip of the iceberg and there were many more facets to it....none the less I appreciated it like any good story.  Not different their mine or anyone elses presently.  I'd like to think I am making or have made good stories to pass along one day...as well as knowing my family history.  Just like the cabbie on the ride over and his history lessen, they come in all different shapes and sizes...and connect lots of different people from worlds appart.  Somehow they never get old of hearing or being told....and I think its our general need as humans to be connected in some fashion if not to feel some sort of belonging...then to maybe understand where we are going, and only doing so by learning who we are and what makes us tick certainly can help  that along.

I don't know if any of that makes sense or you are able to understand my logic...I may like alot of things in these blogs...have to go back and make clearer.
What I do know is that I enjoy traveling because the people I meet and the stories I hear about their existence along the way....much like I enjoy biographiical represenattions.  I think this comes from the sense of faimly and direction my mom knew about her own roots and our collective family whereabouts through being a member of D.A.R, Daughters of the American Reveloution.
Regardless and innocent mellow night out had turned into a pretty special event that I can only imagines happens quite frequently at this establishment...after all it was built on that very same thing.  So its with great pride and reason I had to steal a line from a Van Morrison Title and name this entry.  I can't think of a better way to describe my travels to this point and what I am feeling or have felt through the years.

............Croí follain agus gob fliuch !