Lost. Again. Thanks, Google.

Go home Google, You're Drunk 

 I am so f--ing sick of being lost. Google Maps is an absolute shitshow. Thursday I tried to do a practice run to the Great Synagogue, which as far as I could tell was about a 15-minute walk. I followed Google's instructions even when they seemed to be taking me out of my way. I knew I was was backtracking but I figured I had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Google's measurements were all off--they would say that a certain cross street was 60 meters ahead when I was actually a few steps from the corner. Finally Google said I was almost at the synagogue. Five minutes away. Then three minutes. Then...eight minutes? ...10 minutes? A giant synagogue isn't the kind of thing you could walk past without noticing. Especially if you were looking for it. I eventually gave up and went home. 

Today I looked at the simple map they had you at the front desk and walked straight there. Fifteen minutes. Two turns.

I did manage to get slightly lost again on the way home, since I had gone in the front door but left by the back door after kiddush. 

More absolute insanity from Google:

This morning I thought I'd check again for straightforward directions to the synagogue. The route twisted around and doubled back on itself and made no sense. Estimated time was over half an hour. I almost wonder if they're trying to make sure no terrorists ever find the place.

Then I started over and managed to get "Your Location" in the From field and "ParkRoyal Hotel" in the To field. I was sitting in the restaurant of the hotel. Google said I could drive to the hotel in seven minutes. Or walk there in 20 minutes, if I preferred

Even more absolute insanity from Google:

On a cruise around Sydney Harbor, with a little pop-up map in the tour company app that offers to give you directions to the thing you're looking at. Apparently I could either walk or bike to Clark Island. From the boat to the island. Across the water. Jesus Christ!
Oh yeah, I could get him to take me.

Day 1

 Sydney Beaches are closed because there have been four shark attacks in 48 hours; the chyron on the news is telling West Australians which way to flee from the wildfires; there was a record high temperature in the NW: 120.5 F

And I'm really glad to be here!

I got up enough courage to ask for preboarding privileges on both flights, and the answer was "of course." I guess I actually qualify under two criteria: "old person" and "need extra time." Violin in overhead locker--no problems at all.

I slept so heavily on the plane that I missed the midnight snack and missed breakfast. That's really weird--I have to attribute it to Zyrtec. 

I paid extra for bulkhead seats for more legroom. That turned out to be a very mixed blessing. On the plus side: There's more legroom. On the minus side: (1)There's no place to store your carryon so it has to go in the overhead locker. I can't really reach the overhead lockers, so I had to ask the airline staff for help. More than once, because I kept discovering something else I needed. (2) There's no window. Flying is surreal enough as is, but it's even more so if you see the takeoff and landing or look down at the tiny houses. (3) The armrests don't move. The bulkhead seats weren't all filled, so they moved some people around, and I wound up with three seats to myself. But I couldn't take advantage of them!

Sydney

Getting There 

Getting started isn't easy. I'm in the airport, I've cleared security and I'm on my way to the gate, and I get a text notification from Qantas: the departure time for the PHL-DFW flight has changed to from 12:08 to 4:10. Heart-attack inducing--that means I'll miss the flight to Sydney and be stuck in Dallas overnight. 

 But wait! Now there's another text: departure time changed back to 12:08.

Nope, don't get too hopeful. Changed again: to 2:08. At least I can still make the connection.

At 1:30 the gate is mobbed, the clock is ticking, and there's another change (the fourth change, for those of you keeping score at home). Technical problems with the airplane. Boarding delayed for 20 minutes, then another 20 minutes. I join a long line for customer service to find out what happens if I miss my connection.

All's well that ends well? Eventually the plane actually departed, and I still had three hours to make the transfer in Dallas. 

 

ParkRoyal Hotel

Full of tourists and showing signs of wear, but really a lovely place to stay. The room is spacious and comfortable. No kitchen stuff, but apparently that's normal for Australia. There's a free breakfast that has something for everyone. East Asian (steamed dumplings, fried rice); English (baked beans, cold toast); European (cold cuts). Scrambled eggs, friend eggs, omelettes. Whole fruit, cut fruit, canned fruit.

There's a surfeit of front desk staff, but the excess of manpower is cancelled out by a deficit of competence. Part of the problem (but by no means all) is that more than half of them are not native speakers of English. TBF that's also true of the hotel's guests, so I hope there's enough language competency to go around at least.

Sydney 

Looks like NYC only cleaner. Or maybe looks like NYC had a baby. All the skyscrapers look like they were just built yesterday. And they are trying to outdo one another with exotic shapes and patterns.

It certainly is a lot less White that it was 30 years ago. Around the tourist areas it's actually very rare to hear an Australian accent. Lots of South Asians and East Asians. Even AAPI--that acronym I always have to do a double take to remember what it means. I met two Tonganese in one day: one a limo driver and the other an attendee at synagogue services (what???)