We spent an hour on the top floor of the library where all the literature was stored. The books were beautiful - much older than any edition of the same books that I had ever seen. The shelves gave the aesthetic of a stereotypical dusty library. It's beautiful books like these that make me actually want to read literature.
My sister picked up an interesting-sounding book about a gate from which you could see the world from start to finish, end to end; like looking through God's window. I picked up Jane Eyre, only because I like the line, 'Reader, I married him."
We visited a distant grand-aunty and uncle in a retirement village. On the uncle's wall were photos of their grand-children, who are in my generation, and being the curious person I am, I obviously gave them a little Facebook stalk. I now know that one of my third-cousins is an Olympic level gymnast, who, due to her Asian culture, was forced to give up and not go to the Olympics this year because she should be studying instead. Another one of my third-cousins is a year older than me and seems to be the typical Australian boy (but Asian). Sometimes I forget that not all relatives in my generation were born in Malaysia, and that some of them have been given exactly the same cultural identity as me.
Looking at slightly older photos in the photo albums is also interesting, because I get to see photos of those two generations before me when they were younger. They all seem to have the perfect bodies - extremely leggy with skinny waists. They're all beautiful in their traditional Malaysian dresses, but their hairstyles are a little bit strange.
The alley next to Chinatown, which we always pass on our way back to the hotel, is covered in graffiti of blue swirls, and angels lit up above. Apparently this alley has been named In Between Two Worlds, and is a piece by Jason Wing. The artwork incorporates both Chinese and Aboriginal elements.
The photo above was taken in the N2 Extreme Gelato shop, where they make the gelato fresh and freeze it with liquid nitrogen before adding toppings of whatever flavour you choose. I had the 'Anzac Sanga' which was basically honey-joy (butter, honey, caramel cornflakes) mixed with gelato between two Anzac cookies. It was delicious.
This sixteen year old boy got really into his drumming on upside down buckets in the middle of Pitt Street Mall. He was pretty good - better than the girl singing Let It Go on the other end at least.
It started raining so we took shelter in a maritime museum, where we read about two guys who kayaked all the way to New Zealand in 2008, because Australia has no real history to commemorate and has resulted to this.
When we went out for dinner before the musical, there was this table next to us with a whole bunch of guys and basic white girls all wearing the standard minimalistic clothing paired with various items of denim. While most of the guys were cute but much older, there was one sitting closer to us who looked younger. We had bets on what his age was, and finally, when they were about to leave, I asked the Adidas and Nike clad boy how old he was, and the standard white girls started laughing and yelling that he has a girlfriend. He told me he is 16 though, which means I won the bet. Here is yet another embarrassing M-harrasses-the-public moment that gives me a story to tell, and those people a story to tell too.
Those quiet moments in the hotel room where I write in my diary, or rather question why even though I've left home, I can't ever seem to really leave it behind, even for a few days.
There were all sorts of strange signs from all over the world on display at Darling Harbour, and snide, comedic comments made right underneath.
We took a spontaneous trip to Bondi Beach on the last morning, but only spent an hour there. I want to go back and explore some time.
School starts tomorrow, and I don't think I'm ready.