they shoot horses (emus) don't they?

my mouth is dry, either from the dry heat here or from chatting nonstop with the amazing french girl I met here.
There are waaay too many Germans in Sydney, and they are too young; the girls in particular have the habit of crying homesick tears in public payphones. Yesterday it was freezing. waiting to have a drink with the English couple I'd met in Thailand, Chiang Mai, and again here at the local supermarket, I was sitting at "Pie face" (not the only name that reminds you forcibly of the UK and that is simply lovely, what about "hog's breath"?!). this was in the King's Cross area - a formerly sleazy area, now between the Meatpacking district and Camden, sort of. Thus I had time to marvel at Australian girls' resistance to coldness (why isn't it coldity? or coldth? or colth, if you must?). must be a British gene, or the girls were imports for it was truly freezing with a nasty wind, not only in comparison to Thailand.

anyway, the gorgeous and smart French lady and myself enjoyed sydney by treating ourselves to terrific scones and tea in the chinese garden, shopping at paddington markets and fresh seafood at the fish market. Thanks to her I moved, into an area that reminded me of some great places in brooklyn. the hostel is virtually encircled by bakeries. I feel like thanking god on my knees for hot showers every morning. that's what has happened to my "decadence breeds decadence" credo - no aircon, no need for hot shower"...
My first night at Florence's guesthouse was peaceful and soul-soothing: I lay down in the bed which smelled safe and kind and like when I was a kid at my grandmother, and I dreamed of having a fit of laughter with one of you...
strolling around manly beach on the last day, we got some looks - although I got them for my eccentric half-backpacker outfit I think.
now I'm in Cairns, this unprouncable,in-enunciable city and we're back to hot, which my irrational, I-love-to-be-tortured body rejoices in...
to be continued