GROUND ZERO

After fumbling around at the airport trying to get some local currency, we caught the airport bus into the city. The challenge of bundling the aforementioned excessive baggage onto the bus in time was topped only by the challenge of getting it all off. 'You'd better hurry mate' was the helpful exhortation from the driver. I feel a little unsettled leaving Kath, Lucas and the mound of bags on George Street as I head off to find an ATM and a cab. The cabbie knows 'Albion Place' and we set off. The beautiful facades and flash retail outlets give way to progressively grungier old apartment buildings and we arrive, tired and bewildered, at number 11 Albion Place. The door is locked and 1/floor 3 is not marked on the intercom so we buzz a few of the places hoping to get lucky. Nope. The arrangement was to meet the landlord out front at 8 and by 10 past we are talking about getting another cab to a hotel. But when some guys arrive and someone buzzes them into the building, I follow them in and head up to 1/floor 3. I pass a shady looking guy on the stairs, get to the top and knock on the door a few times. No answer, but the shady looking guy asks who I am looking for. He turns out to be the landlord of course. We lug the bags up and he shows us around the little apartment. The place has a fresh coat of paint and a new faux timber 'floating' (rolling, creaking) floor. I am wondering what we've come to. After beans and eggs on polish bread, we try out the beds. The morning's assessment is much brighter. The apartment is actually pretty charming. We overlook a graveyard ('the neigbours are quiet' was the landlord's gag) and some beautiful old buildings. The kitchen is well kitted out and there are some interesting little shops on the main street. Muggings here seem less certain than they did last night. And the weather is warm and clear. Like in the 20's. The locals don't know what's going on. Fine with us for the moment though.