Sydney, New South Wales

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July 4 - 8, 2006

If you have not been to Sydney you still probably have very vivid images of it. Every travel agent in America has a picture somewhere in their office of the famous Sydney Opera House. And what would a New Year’s Eve television broadcast be without showing the fireworks over the iron monolith that is the Sydney Harbor Bridge as the new year begins working its way west across the time zones? A note for our friends the Kiwis, if you build some massive public works project from which you can launch fireworks maybe Dick Clark will put you on TV once a year.

We pulled in from Canberra in the middle of a sunny July 4th afternoon. The mass of urban area that greats you from 20 kilometers outside of the city is probably unlike any in Australia, and certainly makes clear that you are not in the bush anymore. We were a little nervous about the Sydney traffic and were pleased to find that our hotel, the neat and tidy O’Malley’s Hotel, upstairs from O’Malley’s Bar in the Kings Cross neighborhood, was easily accessed without having to drive too much in the confusing web of streets and toll ways. Kings Cross is an edgy, cool area that attracts a healthy number of tourists and backpackers and the local businesses reflect it. There are lots of diverse restaurants, casinos, carry-outs, and porn stores (so many porn shops, in fact, that one begins to worry a little about our friends Down Under).

We took the municipal train in to Circular Quay (pronounced “key”) to do a little exploring before dark. From the busy waterfront transit hub of Circular Quay we caught our first glimpse of the famous opera house and the harbor bridge, both actually living up to their reputation as stunning and unique sights. Opposite the opera house and at the foot of the bridge lies Sydney’s oldest settlement, an area called The Rocks. While some archeological digs and historical sites are present in The Rocks the neighborhood is mostly slicked up for tourists in a combination of neat, new world shine and quaint old world bricks and mortar. We meandered around the area taking the first of about seven thousand photos we would take of the bridge and opera house as the sun began to set. The stark white leaves of the opera house, positioned on a narrow point jutting out of South Sydney into the blue of the harbor, capture the changing light of sunset magnificently. The entire harbor area is astonishingly clean and well-kept for a city of more than four million residents.

We returned to Kings Cross to search for a way to celebrate our nation’s independence, settling at last on a mediocre hotdog covered with cheese, mustard and onions. It wasn’t a very good hotdog but it was in the vein of several familiar American traditions - cheap, sold by an immigrant, and eaten quickly on the sidewalk. Had Toby Keith been there it could’ve been Anytown, USA.

After exploring the oddities of Kings Cross (and by oddities we mean exactly the kinds of shops and people you would expect in a funky, high backpacker / pornography / gambling district) we began looking for real sustenance. We surveyed a wide variety of menus for about an hour, ultimately settling on the tiny stir-fry place next to our hotel. We were skeptical as the place was empty but the steady stream of take out and the delicious, fresh vegetables so lacking in our Aussie diet put a rest to our skepticism.

July 5th

We started our day taking the train downtown to Town Hall before proceeding to the massive Queen Victoria Market. The market covers a long city block and features several levels decked out in the fine iron work and exposed brick that so distinctly identifies a lost era in shopping and commercialism. We had coffee and tea on the second floor overlooking the grand walkway of the market before setting out to Sydney’s Little Spain. The block that makes up Little Spain is charming, and houses a great used book shop and a quirky comic book store, but not nearly as impressive as Chinatown just a little further south. Not only are there several streets to Sydney’s Chinatown but there is also a large indoor mall and several food courts that seemed plenty authentic to us. We lunched at one of the food courts, a meal delicious and drenched in oil, before going to a large Asian novelty store in the midst of a going out of business sale. We picked up little essentials like Autumn in New York movie stationary and some Pooh toys for Amy’s mother.

From Chinatown we walked back to the Queen Victoria Market and around the central pedestrian mall. The mall, a pleasant break from the narrow, canyon-like streets of downtown Sydney, was a nice break from the shoulder to shoulder sidewalks but lacked the shops and food carts we expected. We did stumble upon, and spent some time watching, a crew prepare to film a commercial. As Sydney is the hub of Australia’s film production we were hoping for much more than the humble ad and, apparently, at one point Amy claims to have been convinced that the man standing in front of the camera was a stand-in for Hugh Jackman.

We continued to walk north, passing the opera house and circling around to Hyde Park where we visited the Anzac War Memorial. Our goal this night was Little Italy and, after much walking, we were disappointed to find just how little it really is. Disheartened for lack of tiramisu we went back to our hotel to do laundry, check e-mail, and procure take-out for dinner. Amy’s sandwich and Roger’s hot wings were not noteworthy but Roger’s “Pluto Pop” made up for the mild fare (somewhat). Pluto Pops are basically corn dogs, though it is difficult to tell if the tougher skin, redder meat and thicker corn coating denotes a culinary difference or just an old Pluto Pop.

July 6th

Our goal on July 6 was to visit the harbor bridge. On the way from the train to the south end of the bridge at the Rocks we passed a Krispy Kreme, the first we had seen in Australia. Regrettably Roger had already had a donut that morning (the only downside to the Aussie love of sweets is that sometimes a visitor may indulge in too many…) and we stopped only long enough for Roger to leave some drool in the windows.

There are several attractive views of the bridge from both sides of the harbor, and one adjacent spot on the north side even features an amusement park. Prices for climbing up and over the archway of the massive bridge range from $170 AUD to $295 AUD depending on the time of day you wish to climb (dawn and sundown are priced at a premium). The three and a half hour expedition features, what we would imagine to be, remarkable views of the attractive Sydney area, blue jumps suits, harnesses and guide. We opted for the slightly cheaper but still spectacular views of the free walk across the bridge. The sidewalk along the eastern side of the bridge is well traveled by joggers, business people out for a mid-day walk, and tourists, all enjoying the bridge and a view of Sydney and the opera house.

Even compared to the well developed skyline on both sides of Sydney Harbor the bridge is so large that it looks out of place. The four towering pylons at each corner of the bridge are themselves as big as skyscrapers and the top of the steel arch stands at 132 meters above the water (until 1967 the bridge was Sydney’s tallest structure). Our walk across the bridge and back took just under ninety minutes, a journey you could make a lot more quickly if you didn’t stop every few steps to photograph the view.

From the heights of the bridge we headed down to the Sydney Opera House. Surrounded closely by water on three sides the building sits separated from the rest of south Sydney by a large, open plaza. The plaza is loaded with tourists snapping photos, each trying to capture the angles, shapes and shadows of the building’s unique eaves. We walked around the building slowly, enjoying both the views of the architecture and of the harbor. We stepped into the box office to investigate the current offerings, which were a tad too pricey for our blood, before heading back in to the plaza.

Like the bridge, the opera house can seem both beautiful and strange (maybe even ugly?) at the same time. The harbor, which is clean and beautiful, especially for a city of its size, accentuates the beauty of the bridge and the opera house, particularly as the light changes in the evening. The opera house opened in 1973 and the bridge in 1932. It is impossible to imagine the city as it was without either of these icons.

From the opera house we walked along the fringe of the botanic gardens. The Sydney gardens cover a large swath of land between the harbor and downtown and include the Parliament of New South Wales. The trees of the park were loaded with a variety of birds every bit as unusual as those we saw around Litchfield National Park. As we made our way further into the park we came upon a number of people hoisting large nets beside a cluster of trees targeting, we believe, some of the enormous fruit bats roosting there. Further into the park we stumbled across a young man feeding several dozen cockatoos. The birds, stark white, large, and aggressive, were fluttering around in a feeding frenzy, demonstrating why the signs prohibiting the feeding of birds just might be appropriate.

After crossing the park we headed toward the Finger Wharf in Woolloomooloo (not only a place but also perhaps the name of our first child), a picture of urban renewal covered in plush apartments (Russell Crowe has a place there) and hip restaurants and bars. At the edge of the wharf we found our destination, the locally famous food cart called Harry’s Café de Wheels. This was to be our first real pie in Australia and proved far better than the gross frozen one that we had in the Northern Territory. For more than 65 years Harry’s has served up a variety of meat, veggie, and specialty pies for reasonable prices and our tasty dinners were prime examples. Harry’s allegedly serves up to 5,000 pies a day.

Walking back to Kings Cross we came upon a friendly but persistent drunk who insisted in chatting with us despite our efforts to move on. The man, probably in his fifties and a transplant from New Zealand, had a slew of questions for us after he discovered we were from the United States. Most of his questions pertained to the worst imaginable stereotypes from American police dramas and gang movies. Drunken but quite innocently our buddy asked us if he went to New York City and asked “a negro” for help would he be told “to go fuck himself.”

With our unique cultural experience and a brilliant day of sight-seeing under out belts we retired to our room above O’Malley’s Pub.

July 7

In addition to the miles of harbor front property that makes Sydney so beautiful, one of the greatest offerings to residents and guests is the proximity to prime beaches. Several beach communities lie on the fringe of Sydney, most or all within easy reach on the municipal transportation network. We paid a visit to the first of two Sydney beaches on the 7th by taking the ferry from Circular Quay to Manly Beach. After chugging out of the city center, passing the opera house and with a panoramic view of the bridge, the ferry enters a small stretch of water exposed to the direct forces of the sea. This three or four minutes of rougher passage before entering the safe confines of the bay leading to the dock at Manly provides all the understanding one needs of the value of a calm harbor.

After docking we walked about 300 meters across the thin strip of land that separates Manly Beach from the dock. The beach was beautiful and full of people despite the relative chill of the Aussie winter. Surfers were in the water, particularly along the edges of the beach where the rocky outcroppings of the shore made for more dynamic waves. The long strip of sand that is Manly’s beach is separate from the small town by a narrow road and a grassy stretch of park complete with tall evergreen trees. The combination of beach resort style village, tall green trees, and pristine waves and sand makes Manly a pleasant diversion from the city just 30 minutes away by ferry.

We spent the day exploring the beach and the town. At the far end of the beach Roger hopped around on the rocks and watched the body surfers while Amy read and relaxed. After a quick bite to eat we headed back to the ferry terminal and on to Sydney.

After our arrival in Sydney we further explored The Rocks, intending to get a drink at each of the pubs advertising themselves as “the oldest in Sydney.” As we walked around we found at least three pubs or hotels laying claim to the title. We also found a young man working in one of the numerous tourist shops who enthusiastically answered our questions about the Aussie love of rugby and some of the sport’s nuances (chiefly the difference between Rugby Union and Rugby League which we will not share with you as you should experience the joy of trying to decipher the differences for yourselves).

July 8th

We intended to head out of Sydney early in the day after making a short stop at Bondi Beach, the most famous of Sydney’s coastal recreation areas. Bondi was slow to grab us as it looked suspiciously like the overrun, over commercialized stop that it is reputed to be. A dense collection of bars, restaurants, and shops selling the latest novelty beach toys lines the main road through Bondi and at first blush it looks like any other place with sand, water, and truckloads of visitors. The beach itself is set below the road through town and is a tremendously wide crescent of sand. On the north end of the beach is a jagged, rocky cliff sporting posh private homes. The rocky cliff to the south contains a gleaming white health club, Bondi Iceberg Club, and a walking trail that extend up and over the rocks for beautiful views. The Bondi Iceberg Club features a beautiful public outdoor pool that is filled by sea water that comes rolling in over the rocks at the edge of the pool.

On busy days Bondi Beach may host up to 35,000 people. There’s a monument memorializing the events of February 6, 1938 when the lifeguards performed over 300 rescues after hundreds of swimmers were swept out to sea by a series of large waves. Astonishingly only five people died.

The beach is something of an enigma as the surf is not spectacular for surfers (though many are still present) and the tourist trade has wiped out a lot of the local color that made it famous, but it still manages to fascinate. We scoured the shops for a baby gift that prominently featured “Sydney” for almost an hour before giving up and moving down the road to a local shopping mall. After a nice early dinner at a terrific Asian food court in the shopping center and finally finding our baby item we began to head out of Sydney just before sundown. We didn’t get quite the jump on our drive north as we had intended, taking only a baby-step out of town before stopping for the night in Newcastle.

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Photos

Harry's Pies
Amy's, on the right, features mashed potatoes and red sauce. Roger's includes gravy and mushy peas in addition to the potatoes.

Looking South From The Rocky Edge Of Bondi Beach
In the foreground, on the rocks, you can see a surfer contemplating the consequences of jumping right in instead of paddling out from the beach "the old fashioned way."

Luna Park Nestled Near The North End Of The Bridge
On top of the bridge two flags fly, one the national flag of Australia, the other the flag of the Aboriginal people.

Just For The Heck Of It...
...here's a photo of the south side of Sydney that does not include the bridge or the opera. This rare image may be the only one of its kind in existence.

Comments

[Benben]

Sydney!
I currently am enraptured with "Finding Nemo," which features Sydney, and an episode of "The Wiggles" where they sail around Sydney Harbor. Plus, I guess, I have a kid sister named Sydney. But she isnt too much fun and mom always makes me be nice to her and she smells funny. But anyway, I like Sydney the City, so thanks for this.