8/14
SYDNEY
The appointment with Hannu is at 8.00 at the Central Station. I see no trace of him, but I do not care that much. I am standing close to the Greyhound check-in counter and he jumps suddenly upon me, hugging me, ruffling my hair, making a mess. People look at us as if we were two idiots.
He tells me that he was first in Surfers Paradise, which, as I had predicted, is a ugly place, too touristy and not at all attractive. He took the opportunity to experience the thrill of surfing, he rented a board, an improvised instructor briefly explained how to stand at least for a second, and then he tried his luck with a lot of fun. More than the balance, he was worried not to take the board on his head when he fell into the water. Then he went to Byron Bay, which is one of the most picturesque places on the coast between Sydney and Brisbane. Not to miss anything, he had the wonderful idea to try hang gliding. Obviously together with an instructor. While flying, he was able to take pictures, then went to develop the film immediately. I look at the pics, the view on the extreme eastern tip of Australia, seen from the sky, is breathtaking.
Chatting animatedly, we head underground to Kings Cross, my intention is to find accommodation in Victoria Street, an ajdacent quiet street. The Kanga House, I had chosen looking at www.bugaustralia.com site, is fully booked. Too bad, but I can understand it. This hostel in fact, is the only accommodation on the south side of the road, the “good” one : windows on the backs of the buildings have a superb view of the city skyline. Everything else are private homes. Since it has nice double rooms at 50 Aud, obviously it is always full.
Even the Original Backpackers, on the other side of the road, which, nevertheless, won the award for best hostel of the year, is currently full, and invites us to return at midday to see if someone has left. Always nearby, we flush out the Victoria Lodge, an unpretentious inn run by a friendly Maori, who gives us an attic room a little worn out, but very romantic, for 50 Aud. We do not rest much. We are soon on the road again, this time directed to the heart of Sydney, within walking distance in rather short time. We cross in a hurry and without stopping the botanical gardens, and here we are at Circular Quay, in front of the sails of the Opera House, Harbour Bridge, and the skyscrapers of the City.
Since we are quite weary, we opt for a cruise in the bay. The least expensive is 22 Aud and lasts at least a couple of hours. The boat is the best way to admire the cityscapes and the beautiful houses in the residential areas, in particular Manly. Unfortunately, and we experience it on our skin falling asleep on hard plastic chairs, the cruise is too long and boring. It would have been better to take a ferry, from wharf nr. 3 at Circular Quay, which goes in the same direction and costs 5 or 6 Aud maximum.
The nap regenerates us enough. Once back, we walk in the commercial area, George Street, Pitt Street, etc, and we take a ride on the monorail (8 Aud). Nice views.
8/15
SYDNEY
At the King’s Cross station we purchase a special ticket for 13 Aud, Day Tripper, which allows us unlimited use, throughout the day, of bus, metro and ferries.
At 11.00 we head by bus to Bondi Beach. I find it rather disappointing, despite the beautiful windy day.
All around, the usual shops selling surf wear. We soon get fed up, and here we are back in the center, determined to reach and possibly cross the Harbour Bridge. Grooming between the various forums of the Lonely Planet, I learned that it is possible to do bridge climbing. Since it was described by many as a dangerous thing, to be done only if you if in perfect physical condition, with no heart problems etc., I thought it consisted in climbing with ropes. When I reach the starting point I realize that the operation consists of walking, properly harnessed for safety reasons, on the arch of the bridge, which is at least as wide as a sidewalk and protected by railings like a balcony. What really paralyzes me is the stratospheric price, about 150 Aud (I’m not entirely sure on the amount, but not much less), so I give up. However, with some flights of stairs we can reach a terrace at a discrete height which offers a great view, obviously not the same thing as standing on the top of the bridge. But we are pleased anyway.
Back down, we stroll along the Rocks, the village of the old port, the oldest part of the city, frequented, at the time of the foundation, by adventurers, thieves and whores. The former taverns, brothels, buildings and warehouses have now been restored and transformed into modern pubs, shops, a few hotels and fashionable homes. A small, not too busy and enjoyable neighborhood, with some hints to make beautiful pictures. Observing a black man who plays the didgeridoo at Circular Quay to earn some money, I consider that, in the whole holiday, I did not see any Aborigines who gave me the impression to have a normal life, normal at least for the concept that I have of this term. Perhaps one day a couple walking with a baby in the stroller, both sober and with tidy clothes who gave me the idea of being a bit wealthy or at least not marginalized. But maybe I am wrong and they were Maori …
At sunset, we have the brilliant idea to climb the tower (22 Aud each).
We return to Kings Cross, and, among drug addicts and sexy shops, we wander around the red light district
8/15
LEAVING SYDNEY
We wake up too late to do anything. The owner of our guesthouse proposes a budget (7 Aud) bus to the airport. Mindful of the traffic that already at 7.00 gripped the ring road, we opt for the more expensive (11 or 14 Aud, don’t remember) but rapid metro.
Not having the time to take a last tour in the city center, I’m happy to see for the last time the famous city skyline from the windows of the airport, which is very close to town. I immortalize the skyscrapers in my last picture, together with the stylized effigy of kangaroos tail on a Qantas aircraft.
My walkabout ends here.