I'm glad I waited until my last full day here to go the the Sydney Fish Market, or I would have spent many days feeling compelled just to drop by again to pick up a bite of lunch. I saw so many wonderful fish, and I got to watch the workers cut up the larger ones into fillets. There were seagulls and pelicans walking casually about, stealing fish skin from the garbage tins when they could figure out how. And there were several food booths selling all manner of cooked seafood. Actually, the fish shops sold various prepared fish as well, including cold tiger prawns (very much like lobster).
One of the fish stands sold oysters, several types of oysters piled in abundance for what amounted to about 75 cents each. I had six Pacific oysters -- large and sweet and meaty. Then I went back and had 12 more, of different types: sweet or briny, but plump and fresh. Yes, this was enough, but only because I had eaten a small order of spiced fried "bait fish" and some lobster and some prawn already. But there were many things that looked enticing, if only I weren't stuffed to the gills (ha ha).
I always like good fresh oysters, but maybe this morning's passion was my body's wish to restore nutrition and order after my wild night. Last night I went over to visit Peter and Declan, my b&b hosts from my time here two weeks ago, and they seemed embracingly happy to see me. Then I went back to the Newtown Hotel, the local neighborhood gay pub. But it turns out that the Newtown closes at 10pm on Sunday, which would have been fine by me (I'm reaching a state of end-of-trip exhaustion) but instead of going home I was pretty much Shanghaied and driven over to Oxford Street, which is the center of gay nightlife here. The guy who insisted I join him (Colin) took me on a tour of various clubs, some of which were loud and smokey and some of which were casual and quiet and all of which were fun.
At the gay clubs here, unlike what I've seen in my admittedly limited experience in the US, the majority of people are smiling and happy. When I pointed this out to somebody he said it's because they are all on drugs. Oh.
In any case I had various small encounters with strangers such as I sometimes enjoy and a whirlwind tour of Oxford Street and I even got a ride back home.
I type this from a supermarket and Internet cafe near the Maritime Museum. I'm torn between going through with my "what I should do" plans of the Sydney or the Australia Museum or simply returning to my hotel to nap for a bit. I suspect the fatigue will get the better of me.
Counting down and thinking of counters upon counters of picture-perfect sea creatures,