Day 1 – Kangaroo and Cockroaches
We arrived at Sydney airport at 9.30am after a two hour flight from Melbourne. After discussion with yet another Very Nice Lady, this time at a travel advice desk, we purchased some multi-trip tickets for trains, buses and ferries, and caught the train into the city, where we dropped our luggage at our hotel, a couple of stops from the City Centre, before catching a train back to the Harbour.
Getting off the train at Circular Quay, on Sydney Harbour front, was one of the most awe inspiring moments I have had. Only one word was uttered by each of us. “Wow…”
The train approaches the station through a tunnel, and so there is no view until it arrives. The raised platform is open to the Harbour. In front of us was the huge harbour, glittering under a blue sky. To the right was the Sydney Opera House, and to the left, dominating the whole scene, was the Sydney Harbour Bridge, soaring up, much bigger than I expected. It was an amazing feeling – this view was so familiar from pictures, but at the same time was nothing like any photograph. I can’t really explain why – I suppose it was the whole experience, the details that cannot be appreciated from a photograph. The anticipation, the unexpected view of the harbour with such iconic structures all in one scene, the ferries crossing the harbour, the smell of the sea, the activity on the harbour front, the music from aboriginal street entertainers playing didgeridoos for the tourists. All this hits you in one moment as you get off the train. Not surprisingly it was love at first sight.
But I needed to get back to earth, at least briefly. Breakfast had been hours ago, and I was hungry. We needed something that was conveniently close, where we could eat quickly and go and explore. So I am afraid to admit that in such a world famous location, with harbour view restaurants and bars, we had a Big Mac Meal.
We had done our homework, and knew that The Rocks and Circular Quay together form the main area of interest around the Harbour. Circular Quay stretches from the Opera House back towards the City, curving round to the piers used by the Sydney Harbour Ferries, and then back away from the City to the Bridge. Between the Opera House and ferry piers is a development of shops and restaurants fronting onto the Harbour. There is a wide open area on the Quay by the ferry piers, with gardens to either side, which has the best view of the Harbour. Between the piers and the Bridge, stretching back inland, is The Rocks, named after the cliffs that can still be seen at the inland boundary of the area.
The Rocks is an area of historic buildings. Originally a working class area housing dock workers, by the mid 20th century the area had effectively become a densely inhabited slum, and plans were accepted to bulldoze it, and replace the buildings with the skyscrapers of a modern city. There was a massive protest organised by local inhabitants to save their homes, which was successful, and money was made available to improve the area. Ironically, the area is no longer really residential, although there are some flats. It is now occupied by a variety of shops, restaurants, museums, and historic buildings. It is a lovely area to explore.
We didn’t really have a plan – we didn’t really need one. We just explored, albeit with the help of a guide book. We visited The Rocks Discovery Centre, where we found out a lot more about the district. For example the “local” aborigines were the Cadegal clan, who painted with stripes, rather than the dots more commonly found in aboriginal art. At one time the streets of The Rocks were paved with wooden blocks, until the arrival of the car proved too wearing (and the local kids nicked the blocks for firewood). We learned all about the successful fight to save the homes in The Rocks, only to have them turned into restaurants and souvenir shops instead.
We visited “Susannah Place” – a terrace of four houses, each left in the state that they had been when the last occupants left, with various states of décor from the early to late 20th century, and some 19th century artefacts where improvements had been limited. It was more preservation than renovation. For Chas it was like doing a house inspection, except that she wasn’t allowed to require modernisation. It was a fascinating insight into the life of the original Rocks working community.
We spent a very pleasant afternoon wondering around The Rocks, exploring, and browsing shops. We found the steep paths up the cliffs at the back of The Rocks that gave the area its name, and followed a guided walk from one of my guidebooks. We discovered an area of road laid with wooden blocks, as all roads had been in the 1920s – a re- creation in a parking area. Naturally, we spent a lot of time taking photographs
I discovered kangaroo leather hats. I needed a new hat, to protect me from the hot Australian sun (during its brief, so far, appearances) and to protect me from the wet British rain when dog walking. Kangaroo leather hats come in a variety of styles and finishes, are waterproof, and can be folded. I normally have an aversion to browsing and shopping around, but I did some serious browsing in the hat shops of Sydney. Every time I found what I thought was perfect, I found a better one in the next shop. I was like a woman choosing shoes.
We returned to Circular Quay to watch the variety of street entertainers, including a juggler sitting on a bike on a tall pole, and in particular we listened to the traditionally decorated didgeridoo-playing aborigines. This was not your traditional Music-of-the-Australian-Desert. This was didgeridoo with a lively backing track. This was didgeridoo meets Bhangra. This was didgeridoo meets dance music. This was foot-tapping stuff that was the soundtrack to everything going on at the quay, and we loved it.
We caught a ferry to nowhere in particular. Well, obviously it went to somewhere in particular, but we just chose a circular route that travelled out from the quay for three or fours stops and then returned, because we just wanted a trip out across the Harbour to see Sydney from the water. You get a completely different perspective of the cityscape from a ferry as you pass the Opera House and look back to the Quay. The skyline is dominated by tall modern office and hotel tower blocks, glazed and mirrored and quite impressive. The Bridge still dominates the Harbour itself, but the Opera House appears much smaller and less significant. Whereas it is the sheer size of the Bridge that impresses, it is the design of the Opera House that makes it so memorable. I had always thought that the Bridge crossed the Harbour mouth. It doesn’t – it crosses the Harbour as it narrows to form a wide inlet going inland. The Central Quay, Opera House and city are on the seaward side of the Bridge.
We disembarked back at Circular Quay, and went to find somewhere for dinner. After perusing the various Harbour-side Venues we chose one with a large outdoor area (where earlier we had seen a seagull dive down and mug a customer in an attempt to relieve her of some of her main course). Our table was not far from the Harbour Edge, with the Bridge directly opposite, and there was kangaroo steak on the menu and a reasonable selection of Australian beers. Perfect
I like my steaks rare. I was advised that this is probably not the best way to enjoy kangaroo – a little more cooking is desirable. The result was, well, interesting. It was quite tasty, very lean, but without the strong flavour that I was expecting. I enjoyed it, but on the whole can see why most folk would prefer a nice Aberdeen Angus steak. Chas had opted for beef burger, but tried the kangaroo. She wasn’t impressed. As for the beer – it was Australian. Enough said.
During the meal, while it was still daylight, huge bats started launching themselves off the tall buildings behind us. We asked the (English) waitress about them, and were told that they were not bats, but were foxes. That would fool the Horses and Hounds in England. They were in fact flying foxes, a type of large bat that flies before dark. We saw more later in our trip.
After dinner, we had a session of attempting arty photographs of the city and Harbour lights, before returning to the Quay to catch a ferry to see the illuminated skyscrapers, Bridge and Opera House from the water. As it was getting late, we opted for the same circular trip as previously, as it was due to leave shortly. The lights were as impressive you would expect, with the office blocks and Bridge dominating, but on the whole I found that Sydney was more awesome in daylight.
It was bedtime, and so we caught the train back to our hotel. The receptionist was waiting for us with our room key, and we collected our luggage from the store room, before getting the lift up to our second floor room, eager to relax for a few minutes before bed. We unlocked the door, and turned on the light. The room was OK, although in need of decoration, and we started to unpack. “Er…Chas,” I said, pointing to half a dozen beetles running up the wall. “Aren’t they cockroaches?” They were. More were in the cupboard (with the coffee cups and glasses), and yet more in the bathroom. All together there were about a dozen of them. “Well,” I said, “It’s hardly an infestation – I’ve seen worse on St Matthews Estate in Leicester”. Chas was not impressed, pointing out that for every cockroach visible, many more would be peeking at us from well hidden hidey-holes. There followed an active half hour, as Chas darted round the room attacking every cockroach that dared to show its face, armed only with my shoe. She would turn round to see one grinning at her from behind a chair leg, and rush across the room to deal with it, turning to see another one legging it across the floor.
Soon no cockroaches were visible. Well, no live one’s anyway. “I’m not sleeping here!” announces Chas, and so we go down to see the receptionist to demand our money back, and a booking somewhere else in the neighbourhood. The receptionist had booked in his final guests, us, and gone home. We couldn’t really justify calling the emergency number, and so we returned to our room, where I made a couple of phone calls to confirm that alternative accommodation was available elsewhere on the next night. Chas was concerned that we would be attacked in our sleep (despite knowing that cockroaches don’t actually attack and bite), and so we slowly and gingerly peeled back the bed cover, to reveal a pristine and perfectly laundered white sheet on a very comfortable mattress. We actually enjoyed a very comfortable and sound night’s sleep, with no little rustlings from the corners of the room to disturb us.
Day 2 – The Bridge.
After showering, I went to reception to “discuss” the cockroach problem. The receptionist was very apologetic and helpful, and agreed to see if he could arrange alternative accommodation. He phoned our room shortly afterwards, listing the hotels that he’d tried, all of whom were full. The reservation desks at most hotels didn’t open until after 9.00am. However Chris was joining us today, landing at 9.30am, and we wanted everything sorted out before he arrived. The manager phoned us, very helpful, and very apologetic. He said he would refund our previous night’s room charge, but he was also unable to find alternative accommodation. However he owned his own hotel closer to the Harbour, and had a free two-floored 4 star apartment that he was prepared to offer us at the same charge as agreed at this hotel. We were tempted, but we needed a room for Chris. The apartment included a sofa bed. Chris is too tall for a sofa bed. I almost suggested that we send Chris back home.
Eventually we realised that staying where we were was the most practical option. The manager promised to call in pest control to treat ours and Chris’s room while we were out, invited Chas to inspect his kitchen (she didn’t), and was generally a Very Nice Man indeed. So we decided to stay. In any case, both rooms had a superb view of the Harbour, although the City and Quay were invisible, hidden by a headland.
After breakfast, we had an hour before Chris was due to arrive at the hotel, and so we explored. No we didn’t, we went shoe shopping. Chas’s sandal had fallen apart, and there were some very exclusive shoe shops in the area. She didn’t need exclusive shoes; she needed practical shoes, but eventually found a suitable pair, although obviously she didn’t buy them straight away, because that would contravene the rules on browsing. Instead we went to meet Chris, and installed his luggage at the hotel.
There was a ferry pier about 10 minutes from the hotel, and so we headed there, stopping briefly for Chas to purchase the previously selected sandals, and we had a pleasant commute across the Harbour into the city.
Chris wanted to catch a ferry out to Manley Beach, a famous “seaside” area outside of the Harbour. It was quite a long but enjoyable trip out, and when we got there we headed through the town centre towards the beach. This took a while, since Chas wanted to go shopping for a bikini. She was very frustrated because she had left hers in the UK, where it was snowing, and she really wanted it in Australia, where it was sunny.
While waiting for Chas, I noted a poster in a pharmacy window recommending vitamin D supplements. I had seen such notices in other pharmacies. Intriguingly the Australians spend so much time avoiding the sun, that Vitamin D deficiency is a problem. Will we see rickets in Australia one day?
It is traditional to eat fish and chips in Manley, and so we found a traditional fish and chip shop, and headed for the promenade. How British, especially since it had begun to rain. We sat in a bus shelter on the promenade, sheltering from the rain and onshore wind, eating our fish and chips and feeding the seagulls. Very traditionally English. But the rain stopped, it brightened up, and we had a walk along the seafront before returning to the ferry terminal, allowing Chas more bikini shopping time. She never actually bought one – Australian prices for clothes are high, and apparently quality is poor. Lucy buys as many clothes as possible for the girls from the UK.
Back at Circular Quay, the aboriginal toe-tapping entertainers were hard at it, encouraging tourists to have a photo taken with them in return for an unspecified donation. Chas and Chris did so, and I bought a CD, before we walked along the edge of The Rocks and into the City.
It started raining again as we walked across the central business district (as the Australians call city centres – in the UK it is a term restricted to Planners) and then back down to Darling Harbour, on the inland side of the Bridge. The modern business area of Sidney is impressive, but I felt was much the same as any other modern cosmopolitan city.
One difference that we noticed between Australian and European towns – there are few familiar retailers. No Marks and Spencer, Boots, Next or WH Smith, or other names that are now Europe wide. North Face has a presence, perhaps reflecting the outdoor life style. There is Woolworths, with the familiar logo, but it is a supermarket. Food items are also mostly unfamiliar. With the exception of Heinz, and tea brands, most brands available are not recognized by the average Brit.
We would like to have explored the Darling Harbour area, but we were clock watching. We had an appointment with The Bridge, and only half an hour to get there. It was a very brisk walk to the Rocks, where the Sidney Bridge Climb Company is (as you would expect) located. We had booked a Bridge Climb months ago, and were very much looking forward to it. The climb was booked for about 5.30pm, because with good weather we would get a view from the top, and then see the Sydney lights come on as we descended. The overall climb experience takes three hours.
We booked in, and were eventually invited through a door where each of us introduced ourselves to the rest of our party – about ten people in total. I think that we were the only Brits. Barbara, our climb leader, gave us a brief talk on what to expect, breath-tested each of us (Chris and I had abstained all day – the merest hint of alcohol would have precluded us from the climb) and we completed a health declaration and disclaimer. She issued us with overalls, waterproofs in a pouch, and an optional hat. Since it was warm and humid, just underwear under the overall was recommended. The hat and waterproofs were clipped to the overalls, so that they couldn’t become detached. No jewellery, other than rings, was allowed, and absolutely no cameras or anything else that could possible fall from the bridge summit and give a passing ship captain a headache.
We put on our safety harness, and a short cable that would keep us firmly attached to the rails on the Bridge. We were then led to the first ladders of the experience. These were just indoor practice ladders – two 20 foot ladders up, a walkway, and two ladders down, and we had a lesson on ladder climbing; three points in contact at all times, face the ladder, and don’t ascend until the person in front is off of the ladder. We then each had a go, clipping ourselves to the ladder rails, climbing, traversing the walkway, and descending. We all passed. And then it was out through a door, into a tunnel, and attaching ourselves to the safety rail. We would be connected to the Bridge for the next two hours. We emerged onto an open steel walkway beneath the Bridge structure, which continued for quite a way, twisting and turning, with some narrow squeezes, past the pillars supporting the Bridge, about 50m above the ground, and 10m below the road. We reached the fours consecutive 15m ladders that would lead us up onto the Bridge arch, and all donned waterproofs – it was still raining.
The ladders led up to an opening onto the arch on the Opera side of the Bridge, above the road and rail deck. From there steel steps led to the summit of the arch, not steep, but it was a long way to the summit. On one side was the framework of the Bridge with the road below, and on the other a view across the Harbour to the Opera House and Circular Quay, and an unobstructed 70m drop from the rail to the water of the Harbour. By the time we got to the summit, this drop would be more than 150m.
We stopped five times as we ascended, once before we got to the arch, a couple of times as we climbed the steps, and finally at the summit, At each stop we had brief commentary about the Bridge and what we could see. We were quoted the number of rivets used, but I can only remember that 60,000 of them ended up in the Harbour. 16 workmen were killed during construction, although only four actually fell from the Bridge. One lucky chap fell, missed all the girders, and survived. The road deck was built with six lanes at a time when there were only five cars in Sydney which, as Chas commented, was remarkably decadent for the time, but which showed considerable foresight. The Bridge is continuously painted, but longer lasting paints are being trialled. The very ugly tower block that we had seen through the Bridge from the Opera House, that reminded us of a block of Council flats, had won architectural awards. And so on. It was very interesting. At each stop the guide took photographs of each of us.
We stopped for quite a while at the summit where thankfully the rain had eased off. We watched a large ocean liner that had been moored next to the Quay, being towed out by a tug, and were told that liners are charged between £600 and £1000 per hour to berth close to Circular Quay. There was actually quite a good, if misty, view of the Harbour, although not much beyond it. On a clear day we would have seen the Blue Mountains, over 60 miles away.
We crossed the bridge to the other arch, and began our decent, as the rain resumed, becoming increasingly heavy. Again we stopped a couple of time for commentary and questions, and for Chris to flirt with the guide. “Has anyone told you that you have amazing eyes?” He redeemed himself by saying that the Guides eyes reminded him of his three year old daughter. Thanks to the early dusk, lights came on across the city, and on cars using the eight lane road leading to and across the Bridge, the lights all shining in soft focus through the mist and rain – quite atmospheric. At the base of the Bridge we crossed back to the tunnel leading back inside, entering the tunnel as another group left for a very wet night climb. Groups leave every 15 minutes, all day, and for most of the night.
Back in the dry, we hung up the safety equipment, changed out of the wet overalls, completed a de-briefing form/customer satisfaction survey, and went to collect our photos. One was complimentary, and Chas and Chris chose several others which were most definitely not. I squeaked a bit at the price, but we couldn’t exactly shop around for a better deal. The Climb Company pays quite a lot to the Government for access to the Bridge, the charge being used exclusively for Bridge Maintenance, leaving the road toll to be used for general road maintenance budget. I suspect the Climb Company makes most of its profits from the photographs. However the whole experience was well worth the expense. And yes, I bought the tee-shirt.
Afterwards we headed to the New Harbour View Inn for a beer and a meal. This Inn was demolished to make way for one of the Bridge pillars, but after an outcry from locals, was rebuilt next to the Bridge, although it no longer has a Harbour view. We sat outside, undercover, enjoying the meal, and watching groups of torches ascending and descending the Bridge arches in the darkness and rain, high above us.
After the meal the rain stopped, and we walked through The Rocks back to the Quay. We caught a ferry out to Balmain, about half an hour from the Quay. The ferry passed under the Bridge, and we got a good view of the illuminated Opera House beneath the floodlit arch of the Bridge – an excellent photo opportunity, but it was too dark. We resolved to take this trip again tomorrow, and stayed on the ferry for its return trip. Since the ferry to the pier close to our hotel did not operate late at night, we caught the train instead.
Back at the Hotel, Chas quietly unlocked the room door, planning on flinging it open and switching on the light with a loud “AHA!” to surprise any unsuspecting living cockroaches – her quality control assessment of the pest control measures. The light was already on, and she suspiciously wondered if this was to ensure that any life remained hidden. However the light in Chris’s room was off, and switching it on revealed just one living cockroach, a rather large one, lying on its back in the bathroom, and clearly not at all well. Successful treatment, we decided, and all slept soundly.
Day 3 – The Opera Hous
We travelled back across the harbour by ferry, and went straight to the Opera House to join a guided tour. The House is impressive from the outside, with the tiled “shells” of the roof, the huge glazed facades, and balconies and walkways.
Inside it seemed a little dated. Certainly no deep pile carpets, or plush décor. It should not really be described as an opera house – it is a theatre complex, with several auditoria and studio theatres. The auditorium used for opera is not actually the largest. The theatre with the greatest seating capacity is the one used for “popular concerts”. However the opera auditorium is the most superior acoustically. It was an interesting tour.
Back in the sunshine, we headed for circular Quay, and caught the ferry to Balmain, as we had done the previous night. The ferry passed under the Bridge, with plenty of opportunities to photograph the Opera House under the Bridge Span.
We realised that the ferry was actually going beyond Balmain before returning, but since we didn’t have time for the full trip, as we had to leave for the airport after lunch, we got off and relaxed in the sun in a small park, until the arrival of the next ferry heading back to Circular Quay.
We lunched at a pub on the edge of The Rocks, enjoying a beer with another view across the Harbour, a view which had been hidden until the previous evening by the docked liner that we saw leave when we were at the Bridge summit. We had a brief foray into The Rocks for me to buy my kangaroo leather hat, and headed back to the Opera House to collect our luggage, where we had left them before the Opera House tour, telling staff that we would be collecting them after the tour. We didn’t tell them that it would be three hours after the tour. Then it was a fond farewell to the Harbour, before catching the train to the airport.
Chas and I had multi-trip tickets that still had three days left on them. We decided to donate these to deserving back packers. Can you find a back packer when you need one? No. We gave them to a middle aged English lady who had just arrived. She was a bit suspicious, and probably threw them away.
We continued through to security, where, as requested I took the only aerosol I had packed in my hand luggage that morning, out of my case, for separate inspection, and waited for my bag to appear out of the x-ray machine. “Who’s is this shouted a security officer holding up my bag. “Err… mine” “It has an aerosol in it. You must take it out” “I did” “There is a small one in your bag”. I go back through the body scanner to retrieve my bag. Now bear in mind that I have just assured the security folk that nothing could have been put in my bag without my knowledge. The following conversation between Chas and I was shouted across the security area, as we were now separated by an x-ray machine, body scanner, several security officers, and lots of passengers:
“Why have you gone back?”
“They say I have an aerosol in my bag”
“You have”
“I took it out”
“I put my anti-perspirent in there”
“What?”
“I put my anti perspirent in there. There was no room in my bag”
“Where did you put it?”
“I can’t remember” By now the contents of my bag are spread across a steel counter
“I can’t see it.”
“It’s inside small toilet bag”
“It would have been helpful to know that”
I retrieved the offending item, and proceeded through without incident.
Our plane was delayed by four hours, due to storms in Melbourne, and so it was a late return home. However we had a lovely relaxing day afterwards. Chris and Lucy had one set of friends who had just moved to Melbourne from Zurich, and another friend about to leave for New Zealand, and so invited them to a barbeque. It was nice just to relax in good company before our early start the next day. Later in the day there was a torrential downpour, and the girls enjoyed playing in the warm rain. Obviously this meant more photos and a video or two.
Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.
