St. Patrick’s Day, the Aussie Way

2 Apr

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March 17, 2012

After the previous day and night’s festivities and it being gray and rainy outside the motivation to get out and do something was at all-time low. Our day basically consisted of J.J. making us omelettes for breakfast followed by hanging out with a the television on in the background  that was airing shows that are no longer being filmed (think Sabrina the Teenage Witch and older still, Family Ties).

The 6 of us (J.J., Jonny, Tal, Kiera and Dave) made moves in the late afternoon/early evening to head to New Town and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. We walked the 15-minutes to the train station near Kiera and Dave’s, downhill this time, and rode the train to where we caught the connecting bus into New Town.

The first item on the night’s agenda was dinner and we headed to a burrito joint that Kiera and Dave suggested called, Guzman Y Gomez, that was, as Jonny put it, Craft Burger meets Z-Techa in terms of atmosphere (only this place served Mexican beer and cocktails). The burritos were amazing and we tried the Pacifico beer which I liked but I still prefer Corona.

Next up was a 2-level bar, also in New Town, called Cooper’s Hotel for beer and cocktails. (Note: often times ‘hotel’ means ‘bar’ in Australia.) The venue itself was similar to that of The Drake Hotel in Toronto with its open-air patio on the second level, combined with a bar area indoors. The crowd contained fewer hipsters, though the hipsters that were there were hipsters through and through. There were also groups of girls dressed in vintage, groups of guys having a sloppy boys night out and a few groups of well-dressed preps. A mixed bag if you will.

We started off with a round of beer and cider, followed by the special of ‘cheap jugs’ of cocktail concoctions that we read about on the chalkboard above the bar. One of the mixes was good, one bad (I had the bad one), but we soon discovered that mixing the 2 together made for a much better drink than either one on its own. I guess a few drinks inspired the mixologists in us.

Then it was off to The Courthouse, a pub similar to the Fox and the Fiddle just south of Bloor Street in Toronto, to meet Mike (a Canadian high school friend of Tal and I). On the way there we ran into Mike and his friend on their way to the bank machine down the street. Kiera, Dave and Tal also needed to take out cash so I waited on the street with J.J. and Jonny. Bored, Jonny and J.J. tried their luck at pole dancing on a street sign pole outside of the local fire station as 2 firemen watched the show from the station balcony above. When we walked into the bar we got to meet some Mike’s university friends including, as Jonny put it, the drunkest girl in the Southern Hemisphere, but the rest of his friends seemed nice (some even from Toronto).

I guess no one told The Courthouse that it was Saturday night and that it was St. Patty’s Day because they closed down the bar at 11:30pm so it was time to pound the pavement in search of our next party locale. Mike’s uni crew led us to Kelly’s, and Irish bar that was absolutely jam-packed with 18 – 22 year olds, festively dressed, which for some included green, white and orange body paint. Feeling a bit claustrophobic, not to mention old, we set off in search of someplace we could hang out amongst people our own age.

For the life of me I can’t remember our final destination but we queued up to show the bounced ID. When it was J.J.’s turn he pulled out the photocopy of his passport as he hadn’t brought his driver’s licence with him (why he didn’t ask me to toss it in my purse, and by purse I mean fanny-pack, I’ll never know). The bouncer seemed determined not to let him in, telling him he had to go around the corner to the police station, have them validate the photocopy with a stamp and signature and only then would he be allowed into the bar. Someone in our group started arguing with the bouncer until eventually someone said “He’s 31!”. For some reason those were the magic words that allowed J.J. into the bar, but only after he promised he wouldn’t turn up there again without proper ID.

There wasn’t anything much that was special or noteworthy about the bar aside that it was one of the few open past 11:30pm (The Courthouse wasn’t the only one closed up early – we ran into the same situation at a number of places), so when it was time to head back to Ryde, Kiera got on the phone to call a Maxi Taxi (aka a van cab). The cab company wouldn’t guarantee a van cab but when we exited the bar through a side door, there was an empty Maxi Taxi waiting for a fare.

Tal, Kiera and I were in the very back of the van and so we were only catching bits and pieces of the conversation the driver was having with the boys, but I’m told he was awesome. His name was Cofi and he was from Ghana, like our friend from home, Nana, and told us that babies are often named according to the day of the week that they’re born. Ama, Nana’s sister, he said, meant child of Saturday so we’ve meaning to ask if she happened to have been born on Saturday and if that was the reason for her name.

When we pulled up to the house we said our goodbyes to our friendly cab driver and then our goodnights to each other before crawling into our respective beds. By the time we’d gotten home J.J. and I had about 2 hours to sleep before we had to be up to catch the train to the bus that would take us to Canberra for a special family birthday party.


One Response to “St. Patrick’s Day, the Aussie Way”

  1. Nana Sechere April 4, 2012 at 04:57 #

    haha yes! She was born on Saturday… and it’s spelled Kofi 😉 Glad to hear you guys are having a blast! I have a feeling I know who the drunkest girl in the southern hemisphere was if it was one of Mikey’s friends hahah… I miss all of you! Maybe… just maybe I’ll get some funds to meet you all somewhere? We shall see 😉

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