Part 2: In Which Kings Cross has Nothing to Do with Trains

So, the first leg of break was spent in Sydney, and after walking around a bit, I decided that it was the illegitimate child of London and San Francisco with reminders of Brisbane and, according to Rachel, bits of Chicago (where I have  never, so I can't confirm). Some hills, some older architecture and all that jazz.

Giant Coke sign. Probably the most identifiable landmark in Kings Cross

We arrived in the city a little late in the evening and settled in at our hostel before doing a little night-life exploring. Oh goodness. I'm going to assume everyone who is reading this understands what the Row is at USC (or at any college in general). I didn't believe it existed in the real world. I didn't WANT to believe it existed. But alas, it does in the form of Kings Cross, also known as the train station with Platform 9 ¾ in London Sydney's red light district. Skin-tight skirts and dresses, too tall heels and wedges (seen both on feet and in hands), douchey-looking guys, lone pukers, and all other things associated with the Row. Only instead of houses, there were clubs. It was definitely an interesting atmosphere with fantastic people watching. I'm more of a bar person myself, so I can confidently say that I prefer my hipster-y, bar-filled West End area of Brisbane better than this form of nightlife and going out. But Sydney is a far bigger city, and  a bigger clubbing scene was expected. Plus, I heard a few locals talk about other areas in surrounding suburbs that are a little more low-key. I'll have to make my way over yonder at some point. Anyway, I don't want discourage anyone from going there. If you want to party hard, it's definitely the place to be. Just avoid the prostitutes and strip clubs. Or don't if that's your thing.

For the record, I do really like Sydney a lot. I just wasn't expecting what I saw. Lesson learned.