I have recently met the end of yet another friend visit, and it was glorious. Two friends from school flew down to the ol' southern hemisphere for two weeks, and we packed more travel into those weekends than I could have ever imagined. Weekend one: Sydney. We left frigid Melbourne in the morning and were greeted, an hour and a half later, by our very first Opera House sighting. This was taken from the plane, and we were totally not expected that we'd actually fly over it, so it was a wonderful surprise. Plus the weather in Sydney was infinitely better than Melbourne's.
Our hostel--the Original Backpacker's in Kings Cross--was located in such close proximity to the Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the botanical gardens that it only took us about 20 minutes to get there by foot (give or take five because we dawdled). Unbeknownst to us, the hostel was also in the heart of "the Cross"--Sydney's major drug and prostitution district (I think it needs to be said that this discovery was made the evening after my friends and I had commented that we "would love to live on this street. It's so cute!" To anyone planning a trip to this lovely city, I would advise leaving Circular Quay
before 5:30 when they lock the gates to the botanical gardens and force you to navigate your way down poorly lit streets with discarded needles gathering a layer of leaves along the street gutters. Totally sketch. Anyhoo, this picture was taken from Mrs. Macquarie's Chair at the northernmost tip of the gardens, looking out onto Sydney Harbour.
There were dozens of these trees lining the footpath that wound around the top of the gardens along the harbor. If the weather had been more sinister, I think I would have imagined each bundle of fibers (spelled "fibres" here--"fee-brays" as I like to say) as the scalp of some innocent tourist that got to close to the temperamental tree. However, since the weather was
not sinister, these tiny coiled branches looked more like arborial mops, or spaghetti spilling through someone's fingertips.
I love this sign. I don't understand why every sign in the universe can't invite us to talk to the birds...which you can bet your butt I did. I don't think they liked me very much, though, because the cockatoos kept their distance and I'm pretty sure that the "crazy birds"--what Zoe and I later came to learn when we were flipping through the pages of a bird identification guide in our hostel were white ibises--were camera-shy. Or maybe they shared the aboriginal belief that photographs steal a part of your soul. Either way, they were having none of the whole situation.
Who knew that the roof of the Opera House actually looked like this? I always thought it was a patternless white! Each of these tiles is about the size of my fist, and they have a sort of yellow tinge about them. I also had no idea that the building itself is not entirely connected. Practically each arc is its own structure--I think there are about four in total. I guess every image I've seen of this building has been a profile shot, so I've never, until now, gotten the sense of disconnectedness. But what an incredible piece of architecture.
We were starving at this point, having spent hours in transit and even more hours wandering around Circular Quay taking 30 pictures of the exact same thing. I think right after I took this we headed off toward the ferry wharf to find dinner. From our table we had a lovely view (once the ferry departed, of course) of Luna Park--the amusement park that's a replica of the original in Melbourne--and the Harbour Bridge. Even though we later found ourselves winding through dodgy back alleys and up abnormally steep staircases to get back to our hostel, it was quite the successful evening.
At the onset of our second day, we decided it would be a splendid idea to walk across the entire city to the aquarium and the Chinese Garden of Friendship (I'll pause here a moment so you can collect yourself. The Chinese Garden of Friendship is nothing to be scoffed at). As we neared the end of Victoria Street, we noticed a mass of people gathering on the overpass that crossed above William Street. The closer we came to the intersection, the more people we saw. Then we heard the helicopters. Of course, being us, we were completely clueless. "Maybe the Prime Minister is in town?" we thought. We turned down William, weaving in and out of patches of onlookers, past policemen guarding red plastic barricades, to the one cafe in the entire city that was open on a Sunday morning. We still had no idea what all the commotion was about...until the starting gun. The City to Surf. 75,000 people, 14 kilometers. According to the baristo (male barista--duh), it's the largest timed race in the world. We had managed to find ourselves in the middle of the busiest street in the universe at the instant that it became so. Good work, team. Needless to say, we were trapped for about 20 minutes while the first heat swept through. We kept walking once the sidewalks were clear, only to be ambushed by yet another group of runners. We had to turn down a side street and go the long way (as if there were a short way!) to the garden and the aquarium. Personally I think it's a skill that we were able to find flights and accommodation over Sydney's busiest weekend of the year.
It was mind-blowing how much this city reminded me of Seattle. Maybe not so much in this shot, but this entire area of Darling Harbour looked like a slice of my beloved homeland. According to a family friend, the mayor of Sydney visited Seattle some time ago and officially declared the two to be sister cities. Apparently there's a plaque somewhere.
The Sydney Aquarium was a sight to behold. Amber had a hard time dragging me and Zoe away from the pot-bellied seahorses (yes, we spent the majority of our time staring at an animal that we can see in any aquarium at home), but it's a good thing she did because otherwise we would have missed out on the magical plexiglass tube that wound through the water where you could watch sharks and rays come at you from all sides. Who needs the adrenaline of skydiving when you have the knowledge that only a small piece of plastic separates you from a deadly underwater creature?
The most useful location markings I have ever seen. Although clearly, since you can read what it says, we are
not there. It should read: "You are five feet east of this point, leaning against the railing that won't let you actually stand here." This was long the Bondi-Coogee Trail the wound over the tops of sandstone cliffs along Sydney's coastline. It was absolutely breathtaking!
Looking out over Bronte Beach. We sat on that strip of sand in the distance and sipped our freshly squeezed juices from a shop up the street. Rather than write out "pineapple" whenever it was an ingredient, they shortened it to "pine." We were wary to order a drink that we though had some form of tree extract, but none of us are dead yet! It was the perfect way to say goodbye to a gigantic, beautiful city that I hope I'll have the chance to see again!
I have recently met the end of yet another friend visit, and it was glorious. Two friends from school flew down to the ol' southern hemisphere for two weeks, and we packed more travel into those weekends than I could have ever imagined. Weekend one: Sydney. We left frigid Melbourne in the morning and were greeted, an hour and a half later, by our very first Opera House sighting. This was taken from the plane, and we were totally not expected that we'd actually fly over it, so it was a wonderful surprise. Plus the weather in Sydney was infinitely better than Melbourne's.
Our hostel--the Original Backpacker's in Kings Cross--was located in such close proximity to the Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the botanical gardens that it only took us about 20 minutes to get there by foot (give or take five because we dawdled). Unbeknownst to us, the hostel was also in the heart of "the Cross"--Sydney's major drug and prostitution district (I think it needs to be said that this discovery was made the evening after my friends and I had commented that we "would love to live on this street. It's so cute!" To anyone planning a trip to this lovely city, I would advise leaving Circular Quay before 5:30 when they lock the gates to the botanical gardens and force you to navigate your way down poorly lit streets with discarded needles gathering a layer of leaves along the street gutters. Totally sketch. Anyhoo, this picture was taken from Mrs. Macquarie's Chair at the northernmost tip of the gardens, looking out onto Sydney Harbour.
There were dozens of these trees lining the footpath that wound around the top of the gardens along the harbor. If the weather had been more sinister, I think I would have imagined each bundle of fibers (spelled "fibres" here--"fee-brays" as I like to say) as the scalp of some innocent tourist that got to close to the temperamental tree. However, since the weather was not sinister, these tiny coiled branches looked more like arborial mops, or spaghetti spilling through someone's fingertips.
I love this sign. I don't understand why every sign in the universe can't invite us to talk to the birds...which you can bet your butt I did. I don't think they liked me very much, though, because the cockatoos kept their distance and I'm pretty sure that the "crazy birds"--what Zoe and I later came to learn when we were flipping through the pages of a bird identification guide in our hostel were white ibises--were camera-shy. Or maybe they shared the aboriginal belief that photographs steal a part of your soul. Either way, they were having none of the whole situation.
Who knew that the roof of the Opera House actually looked like this? I always thought it was a patternless white! Each of these tiles is about the size of my fist, and they have a sort of yellow tinge about them. I also had no idea that the building itself is not entirely connected. Practically each arc is its own structure--I think there are about four in total. I guess every image I've seen of this building has been a profile shot, so I've never, until now, gotten the sense of disconnectedness. But what an incredible piece of architecture.
We were starving at this point, having spent hours in transit and even more hours wandering around Circular Quay taking 30 pictures of the exact same thing. I think right after I took this we headed off toward the ferry wharf to find dinner. From our table we had a lovely view (once the ferry departed, of course) of Luna Park--the amusement park that's a replica of the original in Melbourne--and the Harbour Bridge. Even though we later found ourselves winding through dodgy back alleys and up abnormally steep staircases to get back to our hostel, it was quite the successful evening.
At the onset of our second day, we decided it would be a splendid idea to walk across the entire city to the aquarium and the Chinese Garden of Friendship (I'll pause here a moment so you can collect yourself. The Chinese Garden of Friendship is nothing to be scoffed at). As we neared the end of Victoria Street, we noticed a mass of people gathering on the overpass that crossed above William Street. The closer we came to the intersection, the more people we saw. Then we heard the helicopters. Of course, being us, we were completely clueless. "Maybe the Prime Minister is in town?" we thought. We turned down William, weaving in and out of patches of onlookers, past policemen guarding red plastic barricades, to the one cafe in the entire city that was open on a Sunday morning. We still had no idea what all the commotion was about...until the starting gun. The City to Surf. 75,000 people, 14 kilometers. According to the baristo (male barista--duh), it's the largest timed race in the world. We had managed to find ourselves in the middle of the busiest street in the universe at the instant that it became so. Good work, team. Needless to say, we were trapped for about 20 minutes while the first heat swept through. We kept walking once the sidewalks were clear, only to be ambushed by yet another group of runners. We had to turn down a side street and go the long way (as if there were a short way!) to the garden and the aquarium. Personally I think it's a skill that we were able to find flights and accommodation over Sydney's busiest weekend of the year.
It was mind-blowing how much this city reminded me of Seattle. Maybe not so much in this shot, but this entire area of Darling Harbour looked like a slice of my beloved homeland. According to a family friend, the mayor of Sydney visited Seattle some time ago and officially declared the two to be sister cities. Apparently there's a plaque somewhere.
The Sydney Aquarium was a sight to behold. Amber had a hard time dragging me and Zoe away from the pot-bellied seahorses (yes, we spent the majority of our time staring at an animal that we can see in any aquarium at home), but it's a good thing she did because otherwise we would have missed out on the magical plexiglass tube that wound through the water where you could watch sharks and rays come at you from all sides. Who needs the adrenaline of skydiving when you have the knowledge that only a small piece of plastic separates you from a deadly underwater creature?
The most useful location markings I have ever seen. Although clearly, since you can read what it says, we are not there. It should read: "You are five feet east of this point, leaning against the railing that won't let you actually stand here." This was long the Bondi-Coogee Trail the wound over the tops of sandstone cliffs along Sydney's coastline. It was absolutely breathtaking!
Looking out over Bronte Beach. We sat on that strip of sand in the distance and sipped our freshly squeezed juices from a shop up the street. Rather than write out "pineapple" whenever it was an ingredient, they shortened it to "pine." We were wary to order a drink that we though had some form of tree extract, but none of us are dead yet! It was the perfect way to say goodbye to a gigantic, beautiful city that I hope I'll have the chance to see again!
Sydney looks so beautiful - those waves on the shore are enchantingly swell!
ReplyDeleteYou go girl with the writing. So educational and humorous and laugh out loud funny (don't I sound like someone reviewing a novel!!!)
besos