Four Days in Wonderful Sydney, Australia

We decided we liked Sydney before we even arrived.

Technical glitches at the Sydney airport delayed many outgoing flights. Which meant incoming fights, ours included, wouldn’t have a place to land nor a gate to pull up to. But in the true efficient fashion that is everything Australia, the glitches were overcome in short order and we landed only an hour or so late. Had this been in a city that shall remain nameless (It begins with the letters C, H, and I and its airport code is ORD), a full day, if not more, would pass with disruptions felt nationwide. Only then (and if union bosses were agreeable) would order be restored.

The wonderful and easy to use Sydney train system delivered us only a short walk away from our neighborhood hotel in King’s Cross, which is part of the Pott’s Point area, next to Woolloomooloo (now, there’s a name!). Similar to many of the places we like to stay in, it was nothing fancy. But it was comfortable and affordable. After all, who needs an extravagant and expensive room when one spends so little time in it? 

A Welcome by Wonderful Sydneysiders

We had just finished freshening up from our travels when there was a knock at our hotel door. The Cheng’s had arrived to welcome us to Sydney. Andrew and Coliza Cheng are the parents of Emily, the girlfriend of MK’s son Clark. We had corresponded over the past month and agreed to meet for dinner on our first night in town.

And what a dinner it was. They and Emily’s sister, Elaine, took us off of a main street and down a non-descript back alley to Mr. Wong’s, a gourmet Chinese restaurant of first order. As a tourist, there would be no way you would ever find this place let along hear about it. But being locals, the Cheng’s as well as a lot of other Sydneysiders just love the place as evidenced by how crowded it was. And the food was out of this world delicious. Andrew made sure our plates were kept full with dumplings, fried rice, duck, pork and other goodies.

With bellies full, we strolled around the Circular Quay area to see the ocean liners docked at the pier with the Sydney Opera House in the background illuminated in the early dusk. Afterwards, they drove us over the harbor bridge to give us a flavor of what our walk there will be like tomorrow.

The following day, after walking over the bridge, we stopped at the Cool Mac café in the Kirribilli neighborhood. Emily’s cousin, Eugene, has owned the restaurant since buying it from Andrew about ten years ago. Emily’s aunt, Pam, happened to be there so we spent some time chatting with her as well.

On Sunday morning, on the steps in front of the St. Mary’s Cathedral, we met Tony and Molly Andrews, a couple we met four years ago when we were all part of group trekking along the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain. We had kept in touch since then and were so glad to meet up with them in their hometown.

After attending early morning mass together, they proudly showed off this wonderful city, first by a walk in the botanical gardens with a different perspective of the Harbor Bridge and the Opera House then with a ferry across the bay to Manly Beach.

The weather was glorious and, as such, large crowds filled the ferry to capacity.  We purposefully took the slower ferry to have the time to absorb and take in the spectacular views. The faster ferry would not have allowed this more leisurely approach.

Once at Manly, we had a delicious lunch of native Australian fish at the Manly Fish Café located near the beach itself. We had such a wonderful time catching up with each other that the time flew by. Before we knew it, mid-afternoon had come and gone and we had to part ways, saying our goodbyes back at Circular Quay after our return ferry had docked.

A Tour of the City

In our travels, we often visit big cities in between our treks and adventures. To get a lay of land and orient ourselves for the rest of our stay, we like to take a guided walking tour. There usually is a free tour available with no fee to pay upfront. Instead, after the tour is over, you tip your guide an amount you think the tour is worth. We’ve found that they are always worth it and tip the guide generously.

The free tour in Sydney traveled from the CBD down to the world-famous harbor (or harbour as it’s spelled here). Along with dozens of others, we started out by meeting our guide at a public square located adjacent to the Town Hall. Although no longer used for municipal functions, it is a popular space for conventions and other private parties.

Before its construction over a hundred years ago, the site it sits on was the city cemetery. After the bodies buried there began to stink with an unbearable odor (they weren’t buried deep enough), locals convinced the authorities to disinter the bodies and relocate them a fair distance. Enter the Town Hall as the replacement use of the area. In subsequent remodeling efforts over the years, we were told that they still uncover a body or two that were missed as part of the original relocation.

Interesting facts about other sites were shared by our guide as we went along. On the hour in the Queen Victoria building (now an upscale shopping arcade), the clocks that are suspended from the ceiling put on a miniature puppet show of sorts complete with the beheading of King George. Nearby is the Sydney Tower, or the “Golden Bucket” as it is called by the locals since it doubles as a water tower. We later learned that a man did a head first dive from it earlier in the week. Apparently, any splatter marks we might have encountered have since been washed away.

We detoured around protests groups (one a stand against violence toward women, another to protest China’s occupation of Tibet) and found ourselves in front of the “Rum Hospital,” the oldest remaining public building in Sydney.

When Australia was still a fledgling territory, the then Governor (Macquarie was his name, seen to this day on many street signs, public squares, and other points of interest) decided that that the populace needed a hospital. After being rejected by Mother England for the funds to build it, he came up with a creative idea. He knew that the one thing people most liked was to drink their rum. So, he approached three prominent businessmen with a proposition: he would grant them the sole and exclusive rights to all sales and distribution of rum if, in return, they would agree to finance and build him a hospital. Talk about a “win-win.” The town got its hospital, the businessmen made a fortune, and the population was kept liquored-up with their rum. 

After a somber stop at an ANZAC memorial, the site where many young Australian and New Zealand men were mustered before being shipped off to Turkey to meet their fates in the battle of Gallipoli in Turkey during World War I, we arrived harbor-side where we had great views of the iconic Sydney Opera House.

The Danish architect who designed the building died before returning to Sydney to see the finished product of his making. Apparently, there was a falling out between him and the local officials at the time and either he was banished from Australia or he quit in protest.

Pictures? We took many. First from water’s edge, then from the Harbor Bridge we later walked across, and then from the slow ferry we took when we traveled to Manly.

Observations from Our Neighborhood

The Lonely Planet guidebook says that a walk in the Kings Cross neighborhood where we are staying is a “risqué ramble” and that if walking down nearby Darlinghurst Road, “take a deep breath…. into the dark heart of the Cross” and to pay attention to the many historical markers “...if you don’t want to make eye contact with any strip-club touts, dealers, or hookers…” So naturally, after a long day of touring the city, it was here that I decided to park myself at a sidewalk café, drink a beer, and watch the world go by.

To be fair, I can’t say I saw a lot of what the guidebook warned of. While there were a handful of strip bars, a naughty novelty shop or two, and some scantily-clad women wearing spiked-heeled CFM shoes, the neighborhood was, for the most part, an eclectic area gentrifying away from its former red-light district glory.

The young and adventurous were many. Some walked with purpose, surfboards strung over their shoulders. Others had backpacks the size of a small closet hoisted on their backs. Young parents walked hand in hand, the mothers in sandals and flowing, loose fitting dresses, their enlightened husbands with their newborns in front loaded baby carriers. They strolled leisurely while harried workers hurried by, clutching their briefcases while still smartly dressed in their business suits.

Tourists, with roller suitcases in tow, were many. A man in a tourist bureau kiosk handed out maps and brochures. Gay and lesbian couples walked arm in arm. Young mission workers, in matching red t-shirts with print that said “Stop Child Poverty”, distributed flyers describing their efforts.  Hostels, grocery stores, ATMs, and travel agencies advertising cheap fares to south Pacific Islands, all co-mingled with hotels, apartments, residences, craft beer taverns, and restaurants both affordable and white table clothed. 

Nearby, some of the down and out drank from bottles hidden in brown paper bags. A man in a beret and very baggy blue jeans, sipping at a straw in his paper cup from a nearby McDonald’s, staggered and weaved, barely able to stand. It was clear he wasn’t drinking a McCafe.  Another man, sitting on a long park-like bench, ate loose-leafed lettuce from a cellophane bag while talking to himself. At his feet, long-billed white Iris-like birds (with a fingernails-on-the-chalkboard screech) stood by, waiting for any scraps that may fall at his feet.

After being nearly finished with my second beer, my vision and thought process began to clarify. I hurriedly downed my last sip and headed back to the hotel to share my epiphany with MK. “It occurred to me,” I told her once I arrived, “that I spent the majority of my city planning career creating and enforcing zoning and land use laws that would prevent these types of progressive, mixed use neighborhoods that surround us from ever developing.” I went on to tell her that my contributions, all 33 years of them, were to help produce the sterile suburban sprawl that is now the hallmark of many cities in America. “And for what?” I said. “The young people are shunning such areas. It is in neighborhoods such as the one we are in that they are flocking to.” Maybe, like us boomers in the past, they will yearn for a big house on a cul-de-sac once they settle and their kids start school. “But for now,” I told her, “I think they’ve got it right.”

She stared at me intently while listening with what I thought was an earnest interest in my conclusion that my contributions in the field of city planning had been faulty and unworthy. When I finally finished and looked for some sympathy and understanding, she reached for a pair of small scissors that she took out of her cosmetic bag and said, “Do you know you have some very long nose hairs that need to be trimmed?”

The Beaches

You can’t go to Sydney and not go to one of its many beaches. Doing so was how we decided to spend our final day here in the city. But first, what to do about a beach towel? We packed our suits, sunscreen, and snorkel gear but, due to space limitations in our baggage, we didn’t pack beach towels. Solution? MK came up with the brilliant idea to buy used towels at a local Salvation Army store instead of buying  new ones for what would be only a couple of uses. After spending only a couple of bucks, we were set. And the bonus is that we can just leave them behind at the end of our trip – no need to pack them up for the return flight back home.

After a short train ride and a connecting bus trip, we were delivered to the sands of Bondi Beach. This wide, crescent-shaped beach - famous for its surfing scene - is full of glistening, chiseled hard bodies and curvy, shapely ones. They came clothed, partially clothed, and unclothed. For the partially clothed, it seems there may have been a run on dental floss and fabric remnants at the local stores, for that is what appeared to be what their skimpy suits were made of.  

After a dip in the ocean and a go at body surfing, we left Bondi and walked south along the coast on the Bondi to Coogee Coastal Trail. The trail delivered us to many beaches in hidden coves, neighborhoods with fancy, high priced homes, a large cemetery overlooking the ocean, and coral reefs where we spent the afternoon snorkeling amongst the underwater sea-life.

Sipping a restorative pint after a long day in the sun, I asked MK how best to sum up Sydney and our stay here. “The town has something for everyone – scenery, culture, adventure, and fun. It is also very livable. It is absolutely beautiful and was a great experience.” She paused for a while as if gathering some more thoughts. “When do we get to come back?”