Arrived in once piece last night, even after my dubious shut-eyed experience with Aeropelican. I didn't even know such an airline existed, and I was barely prepared for the reality of flying on small aircraft. I was just attempting to explain the wonders of air travel to a coursemate earlier on in the day, who'd never flown anywhere before. I found it quite difficult to explain the joys of taking off and landing in a giant miracle of modern man's invention. Thankfully he didn't witness the partial terror of mine at thinking of various light plane disasters as we chugged down the runway in a seemingly altogether too tiny thing with propellers. Propellers! It didn't feel like 2008 at all.
Got some help from base security lugging my 25.5kg bodybag upstairs, and ran into a couple of medics in the hallway, who seemed to be having a bit of a quiet drink of a Friday night. After graduating as Dux that morning, saying some rushed goodbyes back at base, going on an epic bus trip from Cerberus to the airport and making it through the check-in line, then saying more goodbyes in Melbourne before flying to Sydney, miraculously figuring out how to get from Sydney to Newcastle, running into one of the intermediate cooks I'd met in Latchford a week ago who was the Student of Merit for his course, then scamming a lift on the Newcastle Airport shuttle service to the front gate of RAAF Williamtown, I was exhausted. Yet I still stuck around, leaning in a medic's doorway, listening to some tales of war as a child in the Sudanese infantry. This guy intends to write a book on his experiences, and I have a feeling it'd put any of my words to shame!
After a decent stint of sleep, I got up this morning and decided to get a cab into town so I could explore. I had an offer of a drive into and around town, but I figured I should at least try and see some things for myself before I take someone else's tour. In the small space of a week I've partially regretted giving up the benefits of an automobile, albeit temporarily. With NSW taxi tariffs being what they are, and the main part of town not as easily accessible as I thought it might be, exploring my new 'hood could be a lot more expensive than I expected. I'm already guessing that hiring a car for the day would be cheaper than cabs to and from Stockton, where I've caught the ferry across to the city today.
The vibe of this place is pretty good so far. I've spent most of the day wandering around and stopping at anything that looks remotely interesting. Kicked off with a not-too-shabby coffee and wrap at Newcastle Bakehouse (without thinking I should try some of their bread, as I imagine they don't bake the stuff that wraps are made of!), stopped by the old police building which houses a museum and a gallery, trotted up to the Newcastle region gallery and city library, and popped into a handful of cool little shops in and around Darby Street. I'm happy that I've found a place to splurge on secondhand books, as well as bling for my room, and some local designer clothes to help rebuild my wardrobe.
Not sure whether it's a good or a bad sign that I'm living in the seventies, or so it seems. What is with the RAAF and asbestos? Sure, it lends a somewhat potentially-hazardous charm to one's accommodation, but underneath the nostalgia factor lies the slimmest of possibilities that some day, someone, somewhere, will decide to upgrade the living standards for singlies on base. Hate to be a whinger, but. Yeah. No amount of redecoration can take away the dormant dangers that await in my ceiling. Whee!
I'm hoping that in a couple months' time, or at least by the point when friends or relatives may see my accommodation willingly, it will look a little less like a military bachelor hovel. Everyone needs a project.
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