Day 215 - Coogee Carols

How beautiful is Coogee Beach?



So, last night in Stonewall (the gayest of gay bars in sydney - it has a surfing tarzan statue attached to the wall), I bumped into another friend from home. unprepared. again. this keeps happening. This time its Neel. Neel was mark and angie's mate from Brighton who I never really hung out with but always spoke to when we crossed paths in Boogaloo on a thursday night.



Anyway, Neel and I didn't always see eye to eye, so when Mark suggested I call him up when I'm in sydney, I didn't bother. Not out of spite - just because I don't really know how well we'd get on. But here I am, stood in Stonewall, chatting to my friends, and Neel is right next to me, oblivious that I'm creeping up on him. And we chat and laugh, swap numbers and agree to go for a pint tomorrow night.

So, after sleeping off another hangover, Neel calls me the next day to suggest I come down to this neck of the sydney woods (coogee beach) and watch the Coogee Carols. Frankly, I can't imagine anything worse. I HATE carol services. Hate them. But I was assured it would be fun, and it was a nice day. And christmas is practically around the corner, so I should do something 'christmassy'. So I jump on the 30-minute bus and arrive to see this...



The beach is rammed. People everywhere. A massive stage. Christmas songs playing to the hoards of picnic-eating, santa-hat-wearing, already-in-the-christmas-spirit revellers. Its nice. And the late afternoon sun is perfect.

Now, I don't really know how to describe what actually happens next sufficiently without failing to capture the magic. Basically, the show is almost like the last show of a series of Pop Idol. Every song is a different style - Jingle Bells is Jazz style, Good King Wenceslas is all bluesy. The singers are all local heroes - home and away stars, opera and musical people, news reporters and artists. and they're all from coogee originally. And just 2 songs into the show - this happened...



right. the pretty girl on the microphone announces - to raucous cheers and standing ovations - that SANTA CLAUS is arriving at the show. And sure enough, a huge fire engine - sirens blazing - shoots around the side of the stage and Santa jumps out. What happens next was possible the highlight of my christmas so far. Santa starts a CONGA through the crowds, with hoards of people joining on. Its amazing. kids are screaming. parents are pushing through the crowds to join the line. Neel is pouring vodka while I'm jumping to see through the crowds. Watch the video again. You can just see him at the bottom of the screen. It was amazing. This stuff NEVER happens back home.



Anyway, I'm reeling over the santa conga for ages, so Rachael and I decide to head for a walk around the beach. Its so beautiful guys. Its my favourite beach in sydney. Bondi is old and run down and a bit nasty. and way too big. But coogee is so special. I love it.







Anyway, christmas carols over, I shoot home to change my clothes and have a shower before meeting neel again for a night on the town. First stop - a wicked bar called Central Station which has one of those old-school photo booths which take 4 different photos in a strip. Last time I saw one of these was the Mexican subway about 2 years ago (our photostrip got robbed off us the next day).



And about 4 pubs later we ended up in Arq - sydney's biggest (I think) gay club which was rammed with sweaty, shirtless, gurning gays dancing to boring repetitive house music. In a bid to make the night a bit more fun, neel and I decided to have our photos taken with as many shirtless guys as we could, telling them it was for a magazine.



And we bumped into Matt too. He's one of my new Sydney friend's boyfriend. Me and him spend the rest of the night slumped on the sofas until we all decide to leave at 6am and wander back to the hostel. Not before being shouted at by one of the many crystal meth junkies at Taylor Square. It was pretty special.



And then the hard slog begins. Eddy (my boss) has given me a load of hours at work, so instead of doing the data entry job as well as the bar job, I decide to concentrate on bar work and have the evil, boring day-shifts to get through all week. 4 days of work are GREAT for the bank account, but hideous for my social life. I'm missing all sorts of stuff. But I get the day to myself (I usually start around 5pm), so when I've finally woken up I tend to get out and do stuff. Thursday was spent with Matt (from Arq). We went looking for new, better work shoes and ended up eating food that looks like alien eggs, lazing in the park listening to Mogwai and Sigur Ros and drinking slush puppies in the shade of massive trees.