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Published: March 22nd 2012
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Heathland
Booderee National Park Falling deeper We spent the previous afternoon and evening with friends of Kristy’s in Mollymook, a small ocean town. The friends are a Swiss woman and Australian man, a married couple trying out living in Aussie-land for a while before returning to Switzerland. It’s Christmas morning so the entire household (us, the couple, and grandparents) are focused on the six-year-old girl. Who's clearly bathing in the glow of attention. The baby isn’t old enough to realize what presents are, much less Christmas. This sunny, warm Christmas is throwing Karen, the Swiss wife, for a loop. It’s clearly hard for her to get into the Christmas spirit. I can understand. Christmas in the south of Texas always felt a bit off as well, even if it’s technically winter.
After making the family breakfast, Kristy and I set off for Sydney but with one last habitat stop at Booderee National Park. It’s located on Jervis Bay which supposedly has some of the whitest beaches in the area. I instantly fall for the place on the short nature walk trail. There’s something about this heathland habitat with its chaparral-type bushes (dense and scrubby) and a bayonet yucca-type species strewn about (one of
Ocean view
Booderee National Park
the "grass trees"). Bushes with bright red-orange blossoms dangle over the path, gum trees sweeten the air as usual, and there are twittering birds everywhere. There’s such a mish-mash of habitats (to my eyes) here that fascinates me. Desert, arid bush, forest, marsh. There are even ground parrots here! But I don’t get to see those cryptic fellows. Just the loud, fast-moving wee birds. Even moving slowly, Kristy soon outpaces me as I stop continually to bird-watch. I watch avidly as posses of small passerine birds squabble and flit about. I count four species in one go, all scolding each other and diving in and out of the greenery, totally oblivious to me. Not one meter away, a dapper eastern spinebill hangs upside down to fit his curved beak in the distinctive pinecone-shaped, feathery red bloom of a heath-leaved banksia. It’s muggy and oh so warm and sunny. I’m loving the warmth despite being hyper-aware of the havoc the sun can wreak here. We’re right in the area where the ozone layer wore away and skin cancer runs rampant in this part of Australia.
I leave Kristy on one of the famous white beaches which is steadily filling with
Bowen Island
Where the bay meets the sea. Booderee NP. families on their Christmas beach outings, sunbathing or paddling on neon-colored floaties. I head out to a point where the bay meets the ocean. I have the wide path almost entirely to myself. Giant eucalyptus trees stretch up and over everything, so tall and gentle and broad. I catch glimpse of the brilliantly blue sunlit bay through the scrim of trees. A yellow-tailed black cockatoo is gnawing away at some branch, giving me wonderful viewing opportunity. It’s male with a distinctive pink-encircled eye. So huge! I barely need my binoculars to even see that eye. At the point, I gaze across at Bowen Island that marks the mouth of the bay. In certain seasons, there are little penguins (that's the actual common name) that come here to roost but we’re just a few weeks too early. Another time! I love this place enough to know I will be coming back, taking time to sink into the land and not rush.
Christmas Day in Sydney We get back into the car and our energy ebbs quickly. We’re thoroughly tired of being on the road during this final leg of the journey. We see a Welcome to Sydney sign and
our hopes rise momentarily only to be quashed when we realize that the sign was, for some unknown reason, placed 50 kilometers away from the city…
We drop off the car, hop in a shuttle, and head to downtown. Kristy arranged our room here and we’re in a schmancy, cramped hotel (Castelraugh Boutique Hotel) right next to Hyde Park, only twenty minutes walk from the water and most tourist spots. The hotel is a former Masonic lodge and full of old timey photos of Sydney landmarks. The city is very happily metropolitan with fancy shopping districts lined with brand names even I recognize, unadorned proud skyscrapers, and expensive restaurants. However, as we make our slow way toward the water, we see more character and history. St. James Cathedral, in Hyde Park half a block from our hotel, looks like the cover of a puzzle box, flat and painted-on. We walk up Macquarie St past many Victorian-era monumental buildings, shadowed by trees and skyscrapers. We amble into the Royal Botanic Gardens, a huge swath of land that used to be the domain of the Governor. I marvel at the palatial Government House where the Governor used to reside, securely secluded
Monumental fig tree
Hard not to believe that tree has a spirit. Too grand not to. from his convict minions. Boldly-colored lapwings with dangling dewlaps and miners with their starling audacity hop underneath all sorts of great fig trees. I had no idea Australia had so many fig species. These trees are absolutely enormous, their girth comforting and solid, trunks smooth and all shades of grey.
We keep desultorily winding our way north until we see the, I mean,
The Sydney Opera House. And yes, it’s a mighty grand sight. Tourists are swarming over the steps. We start walking up the steps and I get the urge to start singing. And sure enough, I hear other lone voices rising up in self-conscious but happy interpretations of opera singing. Some even dance for the cameras. Sadly enough, there are no shows the next day or else Kristy and I would be there. I already checked at the hotel, as well as checked up on other major theatres in the city. But just like in the US, this is the off season for the arts. Ah well, another bucket list item: opera at Sydney Opera House!
Our stomachs nudge at us but we’re in an area that is bereft of all but the fanciest of restaurants
Opera house!
Requisite photo op or chain eateries. We want a sit-down dinner tonight so we move determinedly back south down George Street, past the block after block of intense shopping. On the way, Kristy just happens to glance to her left and sees dozens and dozens of bird cages hanging in an alley-way. We go toward it and as we near, we hear recorded bird songs. Turns out it’s an art installation dedicated to the extirpated (locally extinct) bird species that used to live in the Sydney area. Bricks along the street of the dead-end alley tell the names of the lost birds. A poignant reminder of the massive changes humans have on the landscapes they inhabit.
We keep moving south until we reach the Chinatown Sydney. Here restaurants are open! There are lots of people out and about in this area. I can’t help but be amused at the fact that I’m eating Chinese food on Christmas. I think it’s rather fitting considering my pending conversion to Judaism. I’ve decided not to eat meat in Australia unless I’m certain it’s sustainable (like that kangaroo in Melbourne!) so my choices are severely limited in this particular restaurant. However, we enjoy our Christmas dinner
and then wind our way back to our hotel, pausing to watch a lights display over the historical courthouse. I’m excited to explore this city more the next day!
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