To clarify, the visit with the dragon was intentional. Who could be better at guarding treasure than a dragon? I hope no one.

Having barely survived the requisite two days within room 1408, I managed to check out with my life in a sack, along with the rest of my possessions, to a day full of items to be enumerated.

Firstly, my checkout was followed, and I wouldn’t say closely, by a check-in. To, as Lisa would appreciate, a hostel.

I didn’t feel that I’d adequately prepared myself, I am sorry to say. I’d never even seen the cautionary film of the same name.

It seems like something they really should have played in Career and Personal Planning. More useful than some vaguely recalled Christmas movie about angels and suicide (which I actually fell asleep for, so some of that might have been dreamed up).

Secondly, Flight Centre and a ticket booked to a land ruled by the iron fist of some nameless Queen. (I imagine it’s the one of hearts, though I have no rational basis for that assumption.) A ticket booked to a coast that is allegedly carved of gold.

Thirdly, muffin break. Now, you may be wondering why I felt that was worth sharing. Or maybe not.

Fourthly, a stroll through some sort of gardeny-area. A chance glance upward brought to my attention a remarkable and wholly unexpected sight: bats.

And no, not a single bat or even a small number, but trees full of the cute little creatures.

But upward is not the only direction in which wonders can be found. It was not long later, in fact, when a decidedly unflora-like contour, caught in the periphery of my field of vision, caused a quick glance downward, on my part, and to the left.

What did I find but a lizard lounging on a rock. Sadly, I cannot with any authority describe the make of the lizard, as my formal knowledge in lizardology is just a little lacking. Fortunately, I captured its image digitally for Tim.

Other than that, there were plants and also birds. The seagulls, for example, in Sydney were shockingly different from their monstrous Canadian counterparts. They were so little and seemed to be more friendly.

There, and in various other parts of NSW, I bore witness to a curious aviary experience: these pretty white birds with bright yellow hair and the most horrendous squawk imaginable.

Fifthly, a large structure — half boat, and half building — bordering the water. An unholy amalgam that, combined with its location, brings to mind nothing so much as The Fly. I wonder why.

Sixthly, the rocks. I was confused, at first.

Seventhly, a quick walk through the QVB

FLY REPORT: hopefully this trend in flactivity (fly activity) will continue.