Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Sydney

 

  
Maybe you love the city you live in, maybe you hate it, or perhaps its a love-hate relationship. But we all crave to escape the concrete jungle once in a while. For some, the hills offer solace, and for others its the beach. At times, persistent rain day after day affects your spirits, or the freezing cold holds you indoors. But what if you could live in a city which provides ample job opportunities as well as a home perched on a ridge, with a white sandy beach just a stroll away. Where the food is fresh, the sun is always shining and the people are always smiling. And where the nightlife is rocking.
 
Mark Twain described it best: "God made the harbour, and that's all right: but Satan made Sydney"
 
Before I left for Australia for a 10 day trip earlier in June, a friend had told me, in carefully chosen words, that Sydney is "freakishly beautiful". And it did turn out to be so, unlike any place I have visited.
 
 
 
Armed with a map, and willing and eager feet, we started our exploration of the city at Milsons' Point, a lookout at the northern end of the Harbor Bridge. As we crossed the bridge on foot to the south side, I felt a tinge of disappointmentI thought this would be the bridge to beat all bridges, but it was smaller than I expected. It didn't have the overpowering presence of the Golden Gate, the majesty of the Tower Bridge, the buzz of Brooklyn, or the character of Howrah. I was happy I had opted not to do the bridge "climb" with the hefty price tag of 220 dollars apiece.
 
 
 
 
 
Our next stop was "The Rocks", Sydney's original city center, full of cafes, art galleries and historic buildings.  I felt like I was strolling through some neighbourhood in Europe. At the street market, Jyoti bought square stone coasters, hand-painted with simple rustic scenes such as a bicycle parked in a yard, a vase by the window sill etc. At the stroke of 11 am, a man dressed in a period costume appeared at the crossroads, and advertised the opening of the adjacent café like they probably did two centuries ago.
 
 
 
From the Rocks, we walked to Sydney's other icon, the Opera House. This one too was smaller and less grand than I expected. We then ambled in the Royal Botanic Gardens before heading to Circular Quay, Sydney's hub for water transport, to board the ferry for Manly Beach. As we sailed away from the docks, the setting gradually grew on: the large expanse of the Darling Harbor making deep inroads into the city, the changing profile of the curvaceous Opera House, a couple of sailboats (in summer, there might be hundreds) passing under the bridge, houses perched along hillsides as far as eye could see.
 
 
Upon reaching Manly, we walked across the 500 metre boardwalk towards the crescent shaped beach, which, as someone has said is "Seven miles from Sydney and a thousand miles from care". The boardwalk itself was an impressive collection of trendy stores, sidewalk cafes, and art deco and classical buildings. We had lunch at a beachfront Mexican restaurant, drinking cerveza, eating fresh guac' n' chips and gazing into the water, melting our cares away. By the time we returned back to Circular Quay, I had a different opinion of the Opera House: it was a beautiful building, set beside a gorgeous harbour and next to an iconic bridge. And its bold, revolutionary design was apt for a new country forging its identity in the world.
 
 
 
We then walked to Darling Harbor, where we put our feet up, ordered $5 beer / cider during happy hour, and watched the docked boats swaying in the breeze, and making ripples in the water as the sun went down. As darkness set in, we headed back to the Opera House to see "VIVID", a light and sound festival whereby buildings around Circular Quay were illuminated by dynamic laser projections set to music. This was a unique show, with the interplay of images on the Opera’s rounded surfaces being very impressive.
 
 
 
 
 
 
We had had a good day, and Sydney seemed a very good city, but not as good as we had heard it was. It was not "freakishly" beautiful.
Our view changed the next day.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

The plan was to walk and walk and walk till we could walk no more. We started off with the world famous Bondi Beach in the morning. It's nowhere close to a tropical paradise, but as far as beaches within a city go, I can't think of any better. Crescent shaped, gently sloping, little green hills at both ends, colourful water, a slew of cafes and shops along the road running parallel to the shore, no ugly skyscrapers around as in Miami or the Gold Coast, surfers and runners with sculpted bodies,and everyone wearing a smile (if not much else).
 
 
 
 
 
We then took a bus to the Paddington / Darlinghurst area,  a culturally rich neighbourhood full of landmark buildings and cafes. We saw, among other things, an old reservoir turned into a garden and art space, a building touted to be the oldest villa in Sydney, the oldest bookstore in Sydney for Gay literature, a courthouse, army barracks turned into an administrative center, the Jewish Museum etc. The main thoroughfare here was Oxford Street, well known as the hub of the gay community in Sydney.
 
 

 
 
 

 
Thereafter, a short train ride then took us to the suburb of Newtown. Its main road, Kings Street was lined with small houses influenced by Classical, Gothic or Victorian architecture, and there was a surfeit of Thai restaurants catering to students of the nearby Sydney University.  Jyoti bought a chic sling purse with some smartass comment printed on it at one of the local stores.  

 
 
 
 
 
 
From Newtown, we took a bus to the Chinatown / Haymarket Area around dusk. Usually Chinatowns and Little Indias across the globe look and feel quite similar. But this one was different: more genteel and upscale than usual, and dotted with a few fine dining options as well.   (I haven’t really written anything about food in this blog – see my previous blog on why I fell in love with the food scene in Australia)
 
 
 
 
Once darkness fell, we strolled towards the Central Business District, admiring the multitude of attractive buildings all around: small churches, administrative offices, courts, hospitals etc. We visited St Andrews Cathedral for a few minutes, where there was a sermon going on (it was a Sunday) about the meaning of marriage. A few minutes away was the massive St Mary’s Cathedral. It struck me that neither had anyone recommended a visit to this gorgeous building nor did we see it crop up in any brochures and pamphlets, while St. Paul’s Cathedral in Melbourne, which was nowhere as impressive as St Mary’s, is considered a must-visit while in the Victorian capital.
 
I was perhaps beginning to understand what Mark Twain might have meant. Or to quote David Williamson
 
 
 
 
Our final stop of the day was Kings Cross, the redlight district of Sydney.  The seedy part was confined to half a kilometer along the area’s main thoroughfare. Beyond that there was a maze of streets dotted with backpackers’ hostels. Those who have grown up in Bombay will be able to appreciate the most what we came upon next: theatres called Metro and Minerva. The art deco lines of the former were very close to its namesake in Bombay.  It is all fine to see the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge, but it’s a chance encounter like this during a random walk that makes travel memorable.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
There was a lot more to explore, but our feet were hurting. To unwind, we ordered a bottle of wine at a restaurant by the Kings Cross fountains. I was a touch sad about having to go back to Singapore the next day: compared to Sydney, even one of the most livable cities in the world seemed dreary. I did the unthinkable and declared, to Jyoti’s horror, that Sydney was better than Rome, Paris or London. She countered that part of the reason I loved it was that it had successfully imported European architecture, food, fashion and lifestyle: there was an inherent contradiction in stating that a remix was better than its original source.
 
That was a strong argument. Sydney is to an extent like Europe in Australia. But there is much more to it. El sol. La Mar. La Playa. What more could one want?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


No comments:

Post a Comment