Oct. 28th, 2013

jeanvieve: (Default)
Captain's Log, supplemental. I have spent many, many hours of my life dragging a suitcase behind me up and down dark streets on this nifty planet. I hope I may for many miles more before I die. I stopped at the Symantec site early this morning because it was between the train stop and my hotel, and ended up staying to hang out and listen while they fixed my laptop downstairs. The guys at the SOC were also bewildered that I took the train. At rush hour. Which was it's own adventure in firmly pressed humanity. Everyone else apparently took a taxi.

I'm on a stricter budget. On the other hand, having no work laptop, I've blown through my budget on roaming charges for the phone. And yet on a third hand, I'm informed my manager never sees those charges. Hm. I want to see if I can believe after I get back and the expenses system returns online after it's current month long outage.

The talks were good, the south pacific team is fun, and we had delicious Thai for dinner. Then I walked off to find my hotel in the dark. If anyone wants to know, in Sydney they number the streets and buildings exactly like they do in Canada. Which is to say, they are strict adherents to consecutive order and be damned to details like the end of a block. Going from 80 to 310 was many, many blocks of walking. But the sidewalks were beautiful, starting from inlaid stone and transitioning to patterned brick.

I can't seem to stop giggling. My 'affordable hotel near the SOC' would, in real estate terms, be called 'Charming'. I found my key because it was in an envelope with my last name on it left at the front reception desk, which is apparently not manned after 7pm. My suitcase very nearly didn't fit up the narrow staircase to my room.

The owner/operator of the hotel is a nice man named Wade, who has a daughter named Sophie. I know this because of the password for the internet for my room, since I couldn't get the main temp login to work. I looked up his name on the business card tucked into the introduction to the hotel, and called the reception answering service number to ask if he had any kids - the woman nominally on duty to take care of guests told me so. So at last I am internet-enabled (for free because I'm a horrible person who guesses really well), and can lounge here listening to a neighbor practicing the bagpipes.

I was promised a hotel above a bar, but staying in the Bates Hotel is a complete scream. I am having a grand adventure.


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