The Sunday at ACB

Sunday came and I felt a little woozy after the night before but I had to get up and going. I had promised Tati that I would come with her to her bungee jump. So we ran there, late as usual to where the bus was due to pick us up and we hopped in. There was another Brazilian girl there and as soon as they realized that in each other, they started chatting away in Portuguese. We arrived at the base of the harbour bridge about 10 mins later and it was busy. People elated and wet were leaving and a slightly older set of people were checking in for the bridge walk.
‘Yeah! …you can go in up to your ankles if you like just ask the guy when you’re up there!’
That explains the wetness! I thought. Head first into the river, up to your ankles! I was checking in as an observer I was not bungee jumping that day. But I failed to have there correct footwear and was not allowed to go on to the bridge without closed shoes. So I stayed as the base of the bridge and convinced Tati that she would be just fine with the other Portuguese girl to take pictures and give moral support, I’d wait there for her and make some phone calls.
I got through to my old PGCE teaching mentor’s best friend Lynda. I introduced myself and asked if she knew of me or Gail, she knew Gail of course but had no notion of me! I froze a little not knowing what to say and there was a brief silence before she said ‘Are you at the airport?’
‘No’ I’m staying at the ACB hostel at the moment and I don’t really know anyone here so I’m looking up some contacts that I have been given.’
I felt self conscious and like I was imposing myself. I didn’t know what to say. Then to my horror we got cut off! I didn’t know if it was at my end or hers but I was mortified. Not only was I imposing myself on people who had no idea who I was or what I’m about but I just hung up on her!!!! AAHHHHHHhhh!
I had to reconnect, now convinced that it must be me who had run out of the credit that was already on my phones sim card. I had run out of credit! I had hung up on her! She must think of me as VERY RUDE! Oh Sh*t! I looked about for a person to ask and after the desk girl, who was a tall Maori looking Polynesian I set out for the local shops. I walked reasonably quickly in the direction that she had given me and came across a harbor and a car park… the road was running out and I was now unsure of my route. There was a guy walking the opposite direction and I asked him if he knew of where I was meant to be heading. He didn’t but he had a map, his name was Simon and he was English! I asked him if he was traveling alone and he was, we got chatting and he mentioned that he painted a little and at the comment that I was an art teacher… ‘Oh! Good! You can show me where I’m going wrong then!’ We arranged to meet that evening at my hostel reception.
I walked on and seeing a little shop front for big posh motor yachts I popped in and asked if I could use the phone in exchange for some cash. They were very obliging and refused any cash. I got back in touch with Lynda and arranged to meet her in the centre of the city the following day. Brilliant! I was excited to meet a local who could give me some inside knowledge. I was back from the shops in plenty of time and Tati was thrilled by her bungee jump but said it was more boring than the sky dive that she had done so she had no problem jumping off the bridge with only a glorified elastic band to save her from a watery grave.

After a few phone calls I was much more relaxed. We had come back to the hostel and I had rung up Liz Fulton, Penny Birchall’s great friend in the area and persuaded her to meet me the Monday this side of Friday for I was keen to hit the road and I didn’t know how long I was going to be around. I also was able to get hold of Penel (short for Penelope) Elliot. I had already e-mailed her and she was very friendly and said that she had an empty house did I want to stay for a few days. Well I didn’t need asking twice. I said yes please at once! She would pick me up Tuesday morning at 10.30am from beneath the sky tower.

Simon and I met at 8pm. ‘It’s like an airport in here!’ he said. Indeed he was right, at the ACB there were always people coming and going and cues of people lining up to talk to someone at the counter. We walked to the lounge area with its complex jigsaw of long faux leather green and blue couches, butted right up to one another back to back and adjacent to each other. It was still vastly busy, impersonal and I noted due to the number of people, difficult to strike up an offhand conversation and get to know people. I asked him what he had got with him and he produced a sketchbook with two acrylic paintings, one of a landscape and another of a cricket pitch. I asked him how he went about his image making and while he explained I chewed on a piece of bread and jam. The jam was red and of a nondescript fruit and the bread had spots of white green mould every now and again. This wasn’t surprising since this was the remains of a loaf that was my main source of food for nearly a week. I had found little else in the supermarketless Queen Street. The last two days had been cheese and ham days (luxury!), the days before: cheese and New Zealand marmite, the days before that was cheese! That was all I had found so that was all I put in-between the wholemeal, pre-sliced bread. Amongst this I had found a little salad and a few strawberries, apricots and kiwifruit. The main staple of my diet was cheese… humm how healthy was that I wondered!
I finished the meager meal and I went back to my room to apply a little mascara and change my shoes. I met Simon down stairs again and we walked to the harbor front in search of a beer. We found a Moroccan styled bar and a cold beer and watched a restaurant ship; a square rigger moor up. It was aided by a motorized rubberdub pushing hard against the bows of this vessel to make it twist enough to be able to face in the correct direction I had never seen it done like that before, But it was a tight turn and wouldn’t have made it otherwise. After talking about traveling alone and why, Simon exclaimed that he had to get his courage up together to do this and why was it so easy for a girl?! This amused me and I replied that I only decided to get up and really do it only weeks earlier. We wandered the streets a little and I was aware that I was quite comfortable with this chap and how foolish I was that I did so! He could have done anything if he had wanted. It was Sunday night and most of the pubs and bars were closed for their weekly night off, it was also getting late and there was hardly anyone around. The only place we found was “Father Ted’s” an Irish bar and I enjoyed the irony of it, the only place being open at that time of night on a Sunday. He walked me back to the hostle safely and I was in bed by midnight. No pumpkins this evening!