Beware the bearded woman, Olav!

Olav, if you're still out there at that Irish pub/dance club right's a trick question. None of the 3 phone numbers is a winner. Don't do it! There's a reason she has a man's name!
It's 4 a.m. in Sydney now (all the folks back home in the States are getting the wrong time and date stamps on my posts; extrapolate a day ahead and 3 hours back peeps), and I have to get up in 3 hours to cruise around town on some tour bus. Aiya! But what do they say? We'll have plenty of time for sleep when we're dead. I'm certainly not going to get much these next few days. Sleep is a luxury on vacations.
Sydney is an impressive city. I've just been here about a half day, and it has already made an impression. Reminds me of San Francisco in some ways, but any such comparison would be simplistic. There are bats flying around here at dusk. I looked up and saw what looked like a bat and thought I was dreaming. And then I read in my guidebook that there are indeed bats flying around at night. How cool is that? I could move here, except I have no idea what I'd do.
It's good to see Laura, Olav, and Kjetil again. After about 10 beers, some fun confessions come out. I learn more about the New Zealand trip everyday, and it only gets funnier. We cruised around from club to club in the rain tonight, all through the Rocks and all around Darling Harbour, and then back to the Rocks for more. Damn if all of them don't make me feel old, with Laura being 21, Olav 23, Kjetil 24. Oh well, I missed my mid-twenties so perhaps I get a mulligan. I was in the office for 7 years increasing shareholder value.
The other thing I find incredibly funny is hearing some of my new friends using the English language in some creative ways. Not that my Norwegian or German would be good enough to even string together a coherent thought, but sometimes Olav or Kjetil or Corinna will say something, and I'll know exactly what they mean, but some unintended double meanings just leave me gasping for air. The literal translation of pre-party in Norwegian is "foreplay" according to Olav. I've made sure he understands not to ask new friends over to his place for "foreplay" at any point in the future. It could ruin a good night before it even begins.
Damn I'll miss all of them.
My travel agent did me right on this hotel in Sydney. I'm right at the foot of the harbor, at the start of the Rocks here. I'm within walking distance to all the major city sites, and I have a view of the harbor from my window. Best of all? Ethernet high speed Internet access in the room. For once I don't have to put coins in a machine to surf the Internet at prehistoric modem speeds. Some days I feel like some senior citizen feeding my social security check into slots machines.
Laura brought by all her photos from New Zealand. Seeing them again brought back a lot of fond memories. Seeing myself in print also made me realize I miss my bike. Yikes! By now I've usually put in a few hundred miles in the early winter season, and instead I'm fattening up at nice restaurants across the Southern Hemisphere. Boot camp starts the day I get home.
I'm so exhausted it's ridiculous. Vacation is hard work, not that anyone working should sympathize. I've drank more in the past 3 weeks than I did in the entire previous year in Seattle. On the other hand, I've also just finished an entire bottle of sunscreen in these 3 weeks, and in 5.5 years in Seattle I'm still working on the same bottle which is still sitting on my nightstand. Our bodies kick into high gear on vacation--it's like shifting into 4WD to go offroad.