The merry old land of OZ.

In the Merry Old Land of OZ
Sydney
Tuesday, August 26

My alarm went off bright and early – at 3 a.m., to be precise. Why I thought that was a good idea, I have no idea. It was sort of necessary, however, seeing as I had to be showered, dressed, and packed up ready to go to catch my cab at 4:30. Since the Airport Flyer bus doesn’t start running until after 5:30 and my flight for Sydney left Wellington at 6:40, I had to hire a cab for the trip. Pity, too, as I paid an extra $17 for it. Oh well; it’s my fault for booking such an early flight.


I’m glad I went for the earlier flight, however. It was smooth sailing through the airport, and my 3-hour international flight was fairly empty. I had two seats by the window all to myself, which made getting comfortable easier. I didn’t sleep much on the flight, however. Instead, I watched the majority of “Prince Caspian,” listened to music, and watched the sun rise. As we descended into Sydney on a clear, sunny morning, I couldn’t help but smile.

Upon landing however, I had some misgivings. For one, I hadn’t caught sight of the infamous Opera House or Harbor Bridge during our descent, and, for two, the city seemed to have a slight haze over it in those early morning hours. Whether it was just a weather haze, or something more sinister like pollution, I couldn’t be sure. I had to remind myself I’ve been living in Wellington for two months – the air is remarkably clear there, and I think I’ve become a bit spoiled because of it.

I made my way out of the airport without a hitch and headed for the trains. I ended up buying a day tripper pass, which not only would get me out of the airport, but would also provide me with unlimited use of all city trains, buses and ferries for the entire day. Not a bad deal for $27.

I hopped a train to Central Station and spent some time wandering around lost, trying to find my hostel at Railway Square. I stopped in a café to ask directions, but the little Asian girl behind the counter had no clue what I was talking about. I tried the bus booking counter next door, however, and had much better luck. My hostel ended up being less than 5 minutes from the station.

I checked in to the YHA Railway Square, was given my bed sheets and a room key, and set off to check out my sleeping quarters for the night. I stayed in the carriage accommodation, which are literally that – old train carriages that have been remodeled into mini dorms, equipped with two sets of bunks each.

I was greeted by Nicola, a middle-aged woman who is in the middle of moving permanently to Sydney, and Chicka (not her real name obviously, but what she told us to call her), a newly-arrived Japanese girl in Sydney for a year-long working holiday. I quickly made up my bed, unpacked a few things, and got myself organized for the day. Having less than 36 hours in Sydney, I didn’t want to waste a minute.

I decided my first stop should be Circular Quay – where the Opera House, bridge, and ferry terminals all are located. It seemed like the most obvious spot from which to start my adventure. I made my way back to Central Station and hopped on a train.

As we pulled into Circular Quay Station, with the Harbor Bridge bursting into view as we exited a tunnel, all my previous misgivings from earlier in the morning were washed away. Sydney was beautiful.

The weather was certainly in my favor. Sunny, clear, and in the 70s, I couldn’t have really asked for much better. Shedding my jacket and donning my sunglasses, I actually felt like I was getting a small taste of the summer that I left behind in Ohio.

I spent a couple of hours exploring Circular Quay. I made my way in the direction of the bridge first, and discovered a lookout spot with a great view of both the bridge and the Opera House, along with The Rocks, the oldest area of Sydney. I then headed back down in the direction of the wharf, where two aboriginal men were performing, shirtless and marked with white paint, for a small audience. One was playing a didgeridoo.

I stopped at the Quay Café for a quick sandwich and coke before heading off again. I decided to return to the lookout near the bridge in order to find someone to take a few photos of me. Afterward, it was on to the Opera House, stopping for some delicious mango gelato along the way.

The Opera House is just as impressive in person as it looks in all the photos. The many sails were dazzling in the early afternoon sunlight, and the water in the harbor appeared an unnatural shade of blue. I took a ton of photos. I could have easily stayed in that area all day, if given the chance.

But I still had lots to see, so I decided to say farewell to Circular Quay for the time being. I hopped a ferry at 1:30, bound for Manly. Manly is about 7 miles outside of Sydney – a suburb, if you will – and it took about half an hour to get there by ferry. The ride was pleasant, with great views of the bridge and Opera House as we chugged along.

Manly itself was well worth the trip. I considered renting a bike for the afternoon to explore, but the woman at the tourist information desk suggested walking, as it was free. That sounded good to me, especially since I wasn’t planning on spending a ton of time there anyway.

I walked down The Corso – Manly’s main strip of shopping that leads to Manly Beach. It had a very quaint, beach-y air to it, and I found myself thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere, despite the slight amount of kitsch involved. I stopped to do some souvenir shopping along the way, picking up some things I think my family will enjoy.
Arriving at Manly beach, I found myself fairly exhausted. Those meager four hours of sleep and the 2-hour time difference were beginning to catch up to me. There was a trail along the beach leading to the next cove over that I would have loved to walk, but my feet just weren’t having it. Instead, I found a nice spot to sit, and simply watched families in the sand and the many wetsuit-clad surfers that dotted the water. This was definitely Australia.

Having had my fill of the beach, I headed back to the Manly Wharf to catch the ferry back into the city. Since it was, by then, evening, I had the pleasure of watching the sun creep towards the horizon on the ride back. It made the view as we returned to Circular Quay even more spectacular than it already was.
I had planned to try and make it out to Bondi on Tuesday, as well, but my sore feet and tired body suggested that I should perhaps make it an early night instead. I caught a train back to my hostel, dropped off my things, and went to the little shopping area around the corner to grab some dinner.

I sat in the lounge for a while, eating and reading my book (I brought Harry along for the trip), and began getting ready for bed near 8 p.m. Lame, I know, but it would have been 10 p.m. NZ time after a very long, busy day. I ended up getting into a conversation that listed toward the awkward with Nicola, however, which went on for nearly an hour. We talked about America, the fact that I’ve been to China, and the racial make-up of various countries. Nicola is one of those “I’m-not-racist-but” people that I really take issue with. As she was prattling on about how white people are going to become extinct, I did my best to remain polite, finally excusing myself to go brush my teeth and get ready for bed. I don’t think she meant to be malicious about it, but she did check to make sure Chicka wasn’t anywhere nearby as she was complaining about Asians, Muslims and blacks.

Luckily, by the time I returned from the bathroom, Chicka had also reappeared, and so I avoided any more awkward conversation. After a bit more Harry and the arrival of another roommate – this one a German girl – I welcomed my pillow and fell asleep.