Age versus Experience?



It’s a miserable morning here in Sydney and I’m still running on kiwi time so despite the fact its only 530am here, three days ago I would have considered this a rare lie in so I’m making the most of it as I'm sure once I do hit the streets, there will be an action-packed day ahead. I've lost a bit of my staying power since I last travelled overseas, but I think that has probably more a bit to do with this bloody broken foot slowing me up than an ageing frame.


I’m holding my own mostly with my young charges except at the end of the day when they are coming alive and I have enough sense to know that partying all night is a waste of a good traveling day when you have only allowed yourself 4 days to play up in the beginning.

The tour party has grown to three now after meeting up with another young work colleague who was wandering aimlessly around Sydney in transit from his home in Ireland on his way back to New Zealand waiting on lost luggage to arrive from Dubai. I’m enjoying it immensely as I learn the real value of life lessons, age and experience have versus the enthusiasm of youth and exuberance. They will be crook as dogs today, moaning their arses off about sore heads and empty wallets and while I am slightly envious of the snap chats I was receiving long after midnight , I know full well from experience that my recovery from such a night out would be days in the making, unlike theirs. They will bounce back after swigging back a few red bulls and a card of Panadol and we will be off on another adventure.


The Moulin Rouge show two of us went to the first night we arrived here was spectacular and had all the glitz and glamour of a slick Hollywood production. People were dressed up to the nines and Capitol Theatre was a sight to behold. Such a beautiful building with numerous bars, glitzy entrances and formidable staircases everywhere. It was a packed house and the raunchy moves of the men and women slipping around in burlesque costumes had the eyes of my young theatre companion rolling initially until he started to appreciate the beauty and wonder of it all and realised the he did infact know many of the modern day songs that had been included in the show to give it a much wider appeal.


Unlike me, he hadn’t taken the opportunity to have a half hour nana nap at the hotel in the afternoon, so I did catch him nodding off in a couple of quite moments in the performance. We had left on the red eye flight from NZ after setting off from home about 2am in the morning and I knew that I wouldn’t last that long without a kip so that was 60 mins well spent. I didn’t have any nod off moments and enjoyed it all immensely, right down to the outrageous green cocktails that were being served draped in green candyfloss and the quirky get ups some of the theatre goers had donned.


Public transport is such a novelty to these lads from the country, and what fun we are having zipping about on ferries, buses and trains covering much of the city seeing the sites. I was stoked yesterday to secure a senior discount on the hop on hop off bus tour we took out to Bondi Beach when I said I was showing my sons around the city. Didn’t matter that one of them spoke with such a broad Irish accent you could hardly understand him!

The boys from the country are all about the labels in the city. Wandering around Westfield mall at Bondi Junction, I left them to drawl at the Rodd & Gunn, RM Williams and Tommy Hilfiger shops with all their fancy clothes and price tags. When they met me later laden with bags it was pretty cool seeing the delight on their faces with their purchases. I learned a long time ago the delight and longevity of a good quality purchase far outweighs a cheap bargain often so as I sipped Corona and admired their purchases, I was slightly envious those days of carefree spending are behind me.


Id been sitting in some fancy food court drinking beer and swiping in Tinder profiles. You see the pair of experienced Tinder users I was travelling with had given me a lesson earlier on the train. For them it’s a numbers game. Apparently you must get the subjects into the yards and then do the round up and draft off the ones you are interested in. To do this, you don’t read profiles, you just swipe, swipe , swipe until you run out of your daily quota then you sit an wait to see if you have made any matches.

I have a more calculated approach, preferring to read profiles and look at photographs before wasting my swipes so you can imagine the look on their baby faces when at dinner last night , I got asked out on a date this afternoon by some wealthy syndeysider? The disbelief on their faces was priceless and I thought to myself – Watch and learn boys! I don’t know if I can be bothered following through to meet Stan but only time will tell. They have suggested taking a table at the same bar we are meeting at and viewing from afar as a learning curve.


I think I would sooner have a root canal done than sit through another fruitless date when I could be visiting the Blue Mountain Ranges today so I might just open the drafting gate and release Stan to the minefield of tinder in your 50’s. Before I make that decision, I think I will go downstairs and rouse those two babes from the depth of sleep and get this show on the road.

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