Back in Sydney

We hit Sydney at about 11ish at night. We've organised a shuttle bus to a nearby hotel as it's much too late to ask anyone to trudge down from the Northern beaches and pick us up. The shuttle bus is late and is driven by the type of truculent, ignoramus who really shouldn't be dealing with tourists, especially ones who've just travelled about 5,000 miles.

The hotel is, well, pretty crap really. I appreciate functionality and especially in what is essentially a stop-off for businessmen, but this feels more like a disused hospital. The bar is empty, apart from two pissed-up businessmen who feel the need to trumpet their puny attempts at humour as loud as possible to compensate for the lack of atmosphere. They are, of course, POHMs. The 'hilarity' is further enhanced by the introduction of a Swiss man into the bar. Hitler jokes and World Cup jibes abound, which only serves to confuse the Swiss guy, who remains predictably neutral.

The bar shuts early and we head for bed.

The next day we're up and off back to Avalon, where we started this journey, and, weirdly enough, it's a year to the day since we arrived.

We spend some time chilling out and figuring what our next step is.