Australia suffers under the same sort of teasing from Europeans that we receive in America; namely, that our countries are young and have little history. This normally is said with an upturned nose or in defence of some indefensible point (i.e., the fact that many current problems can be traced to Franco/Anglo global meddling). The upside, though, is that when one finds something of genuine historical significance it feels really unique, special, and wonderful.
Sydney grew out of what was the first colony of white settlers in Australia and can therefore date itself from the 1780s; some 170 years after the founding of the Jamestown colony, though substantially older than most Western states. The majority of this old town is grouped in an area around the Harbour Bridge known as "The Rocks." Following my Garden sojourn, I headed down through Sydney's main esplanade and ferry terminal, Circular Quay, and around to the old part of things.
Much to my amazement and satisfaction, it was as if the Caribbean had been dropped out of the sky into Australia. The buildings in this section of Sydney were wonderfully well-preserved and completely juxtaposed with Sydney's modern concrete and glass persona.
Naturally, the area is a giant tourist trap. It is made especially worse by the fact that cruise ships moor at Circular Quay, dumping thousands of holiday-goers directly into this historical haven. Parts of the area are extremely chintz, but parts of it are genuinely wonderful. The market was first-rate and the food vendors were flat-out excellent. I still have yet to figure out Australia's curious obsession with Bavarian sausages and biergartens, yet the presence of a Löwenbräu pub right in the heart of old Sydney was amusing, if nothing else.
I had not planned on making it down to this little enclave of history, but it was a worthwhile detour and something that I can definitely recommend to anyone going to Sydney for a visit. Equal parts England and Colonial Williamsburg, it will be a surprise even if you expect it.
---
The second-half of my day was going to be spent (finally) enjoying Australia's ample sun and sand at one of its world-famous beaches: Manly. In what has to have been the work of a genius local planner, the majority of Sydney's beaches are barely accessible by public transport, if at all. The notable exceptions to this are Bondi (pronounced bahn-dye, people) and Manly. Hence, they bear the crushing weight of the tourist demand for a day at the beach. Bondi can be reached from Sydney by rail and bus. Manly, though, is really only reachable by ferry. Since it is a rare occasion indeed that I get to be on a boat, I was giddy at the opportunity.
I've discussed this briefly with J and others, but I have a theory that, in the US, we have no real parallel for the importance of water to Australians. I don't so much mean the nearly constant drought conditions under which the country labours as I do the centrality of beaches and open water to their national psyche. I would wager that no other country in the world places so many of its major cities (that is, all) within a 30 minute drive of the ocean. The benefits are obvious, and it makes me wonder why it took so long for nation-builders to realise this. Weekend pursuits shift from the land to the water. Families go to the beach, rather than to parks or to backyards. Exercise becomes more important (because it's always swimsuit weather!), and therefore the nation is healthier. Men leave the office and go surfing, or better yet, sailing.
Sydney harbour on a Saturday is, therefore, unlike anything I've seen in my life. I still don't know how the ferry managed to make it through the forest of amateur Thor Heyerdahls on the way from Circular Quay to Manly. Perhaps it is some latent connection to the sailing ships that bore their forefathers. Perhaps it is because of the beauty and purity of harnessing the wind for transport. Perhaps it's just because it's fun. Nevertheless, it was beautiful and only served to draw this deeply amazing country further into my heart. I've always loved water; now I had found an entire country that does too.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Terra Incognita Australis Post X: The Rocks and the Ferry
Terra Incognita Australis Post IX: Sydney Parklands
Melbourne is a garden city. Much like London (in parts), Paris, and Brussels, every other block contains a small green square of paradise. Sydney, on the other hand, is a city of parks. To the North lie several 'reserves' of 'bushland' that are as good as any regional or national park that I have seen in the US. Closer in are Hyde Park and the Royal Botanic Gardens.
Hyde Park was undoubtedly named for the similar green expanse in London. Both share a large, tree-lined boulevard, though London's certainly has the measure of Sydney's. Nevertheless, it is surprisingly green and has some impressive trees. It also happened to be hosting the "New South Wales Wine Week;" too bad it wasn't open when I came through.
Much like London, one can seemingly wander through Sydney's Central Business District (CBD) without setting foot in anything other than parkland. Hence, cutting across the corner at Hyde Park leads into "The Domain" and from there to the Royal Botanic Gardens. The Domain is a pleasantly green space of rolling hills. It is also home to the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Personally, I preferred the National Galleries of Victoria and spent little time in the NSW galleries, Also, I knew that my days in the sunshine were numbered and that I had a lot of ground yet to cover in the sprawling expanse of the RBG.
I have come to enjoy botanical gardens. Like wine, seafood, and Al Pacino movies, botanical gardens only make sense to adults. As a kid, I think I would have found them really boring. Now, though, I enjoy a quiet stroll. What this says about me, I don't know, but Sydney's gardens were easily the equal of any that I have been to in England. It is always incredible to be able to step into an alternate reality right in the heart of a major city. The real benefit of the Sydney RBG, though, is its views of the Harbour. Whether this is some great secret, hidden for aeons by Australians is beyond my reckoning. However, I can say that I was the only person that seemed to notice that one could get a really great picture of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House from the Lower Gardens. When I rounded the corner and it all came into view my jaw dropped. There was nobody; literally nobody. I sat and quietly sketched the view in my notebook. Of course, I also snapped every picture I could. In the time that I was sitting there no one came by; a span of at least 20 minutes. The great thing about the Lower Gardens is that it rings a cove and the Harbour remains in view the entire time. The Australians must have an innate sense for design, or the country is just that incredible that one need not try. It was amazing. I did not have enough time to linger long in the Gardens. That is a trip for a different day.
Terra Incognita Australis Post VIII: Morning Sydneyside
Having ducked out first thing in the morning (admittedly, leaving my host slightly unaware and a tad frantic that I was going to have no idea where I was or what I was doing), I was keen to get as quickly as possible from the gorgeous confines of Sydney's Central Station; as stately and gorgeously Victorian an edifice if ever there was one. My breakfast spot was handpicked by my lovely wife: bill's. How could I say no to having breakfast at a place called "bill's."
A couple of things occurred to me as I trekked up from the station to Crown Street:
1) Sydney is hilly. No lie. I've never been to San Francisco but I can imagine that the two are topographical sisters. I was sweating profusely by the time I finally crested the hill at Crown Street.
2) Sydney is older than most people realise. Obviously, Australia takes the same knocks as does the United States when taken in comparison with Europe. The perception that we have is of a country largely incorporated and settled in the mid-late 19th century and to a large extent this is true. However, there are parts of Sydney that date from the late 18th century, and it shows. The particular neighbourhood I was hunting for food in felt more like Bermuda or other British tropical colonies than some recently constructed metropolis. I was very pleased.
I arrived at Bill's at about 9am and the place was jammed. I took my place at a table right next to the door (as if eating by oneself is not awkward enough!), pulled out a fresh copy of The Economist, and tucked into a bowl of homemade toasted müsli and a spectacular "flat white." It was expensive, but I felt as though I had earned it after my barrage of presentations the day before. I also had the opportunity to contemplate my first impressions of Sydney, especially in relation to Melbourne.
Melbourne and Sydney are the Boston and New York of the antipodes. Both are large, sprawling metropoles. Both are the respective commercial and transportation hubs for their respective states. Both hate each other with a passion that extends back into time immemorial. There is no hope for you if you try to argue for the other city with a Melburnian or Sydneysider. They will be stubborn to a fault. Sydneysiders will concede that Melbourne has more "culture" than Sydney. However, they will chastise its weather and its isolation. Melburnians will concede nothing to Sydney. In my opinion, they do not have to. To me, Sydney is the London of the Southern Hemisphere. It is large, cosmopolitan, and international. I could not live there, personally, but I would love to visit it.
After my relaxing and contemplative repast, I hotfooted it from bill's up Elizabeth Street to Oxford Street and from there to the ANZAC Memorial. ANZAC stands for "Australia-New Zealand Armed Corps." Colloquially, they were known as "diggers." The exploits of the ANZACs are--in my opinion, unfortunately--little covered in American accounts of the World Wars. It was striking for me to learn that, per capita, no country last more men than Australia in World War I. They suffered a 68% casualty rate fighting in the Levant, Gallipoli, and Europe; a strikingly high number for a nation that at the time had little more than 5-7 million inhabitants. ANZAC Day is a great national holiday for both countries. I personally have always felt a strong pull towards the ANZACs and I don't know why. Partially because it is one of history's great acronyms, but also because of the bravery, courage, and valour with which these men fought. Their homes were in Australia, but in their minds, they were still British and owed a duty to protect a land and a people thousands of miles away. I had to see how a nation like Australia would honour its war dead.
If you are antipodean and you have never been to the Sydney ANZAC memorial then you must go. Living in Europe, I have seen a fair number of World War memorials. None is so strikingly poignant and dignified as the ANZAC memorial. it is a brilliant example of art deco architecture. But the centrepiece of the memorial--a bronze figure lying dead across two swords forming a cross--sends chills up the spine. Looking at this statue from the lower level of the monument, the visitor is confronted directly by the words "Let Silent Contemplation Be Your Offering." The waters of Australia's remembrance and national feeling are deeper than many would giver her credit for. It is rare, indeed, that so young a nation has so mature a perspective on the sacrifice of combat.
At this point I was emotionally overwhelmed and had to move on to greener (literally) attractions. I don't think I will ever forget the ANZAC memorial. It is a powerful reminder that the price a nation pays in war is levied in the currency of her sons in the short term and her memory in the long term.
Terra Incognita Australis VII: Getting to Sydney Pt. II
Having dealt with the macro scale of traveling to Sydney, it's time to address the micro. By fortune, by providence, by happenstance, my lodgings for my brief stint in New South Wales would be with a friend's brother and his girlfriend at their home just to the North of Sydney in the erstwhile borough of Killara. While this was a serious benefit in many ways (accommodation gratis, a knowledgeable guide, not one but TWO black labs), it also meant that getting into Sydney was going to be slightly more difficult than just hopping a tram as I had in Melbourne. This involved a 20-30 minute walk through the suburbs to the train platform and then a train down to Sydney Central Station.
When I say the suburbs, you really would not be far off if you pictured a cross between Florida and McLean or Great Falls, Virginia. In this respect, Sydney is bizarrely like the United States. Walking around constantly reminded me of different aspects of home. It was simultaneously comforting as well as annoying. Having come to appreciate a slightly higher density of living in the UK, anything more spacious feels a tad extravagant. And extravagance is the rule in Killara. Have a look online; most of the homes have at least a tennis court if not a swimming pool as well. In spite of this, there are some really lovely homes with excellent views of the parkland that is interwoven into the fabric of Sydney's northern suburbs.
You did not misread above; I did say that I was taking a train. I found this simply marvellous and I consider it to be one of the most admirable things about urban Australia; it has a Victorian (period, not state) railway network. Had America remained in the Empire, well, there would have been all sorts of untold consequences for history. For all the benefits that Independence has granted us, we did miss out on one of the greatest periods of cultural optimism in the Victorian Age. Australians are direct inheritors of this legacy and still benefit from it to this day. Especially so in the form of a lovely train system. The Killara platform would have been at home on any rail line in the UK. Check out the pictures; it's really bizarre. It's not so much the fact that Australia has a railway network, it's that it is so good. With what little exposure I had to it, I can draw several conclusions (as written in my notebook):
1) Just because a ticket office is advertised to open at 7:30 am need not imply that it actually will. I was left with a moment of panic on the platform at Killara when I realised that the ticket office was not open. The ticket machine did not seem like it would accept my card and I had no bills. By what can only be the grace of God I had exactly $4.20 Australian in change; the fare from Killara to Sydney Central.
2) "Beware Gap when Boarding" lacks the cheeky simplicity of "Mind the Gap"
3) I was disappointed that the train wasn't called the "Emu Express" or "Wacky Wallaby." Come on Australia, it isn't stereotypical, it's a part of your heritage.
4) The Sydney rail system reminded me more of the German S-Bahn than British Rail. Again, it's not so much that Sydney has rail, it's that it is so bizarrely out of place and that much better than the British rail system.
Much like the remarkable flight from Melbourne I described in my last blog post, the North Shore line does not fail to disappoint with scenery as it approaches the city. The closer one gets to Sydney proper, the more rocky, hilly, and grand the landscape becomes. Eventually, it all opens up into a spectacular view overlooking the harbour and the old town down on the rocks. Easily the best 25 minutes I've spent on a train, ever.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Terra Incognita Australis Post VI: Getting to Sydney
Getting to Sydney is something that one does in stages; micro and macro, if you are of a more economic bent. On the macro scale is the matter of domestic air travel within Australia. On the micro level, one has to navigate Sydney's congested highway system or (surprisingly) capable rail network.
Air travel within the US has always been a bit of an inconvenience and a nightmare. The regulations seem to change deliberately so as to be incomprehensible. Our airlines go out of their way to make the skies unfriendly. I'd like to say that it was not always like this, but that is probably my own perception from the rose-colored glasses of childhood. Similarly, Ryanair and its competitors in Europe seem to establish new lows for blatant commercialism and standards for the "passenger = living cargo" model of air transport. My surprise was quite genuine, then, when I found the Melbourne to Sydney leg run by Virgin Blue to be an altogether hassle-free, pleasant, and enjoyable experience. Melbourne airport is little bigger than Stansted, so it is easy to navigate. Security was actually helpful, and the terminals were clean. The flight itself was unremarkable, which is to say a lot in this day and age. I happened to be sat next to a young couple from California who, along with their delightful two year old daughter, were travelling in Melbourne and Sydney. The views afforded by flying from Melbourne to Sydney are singular. I am still filled with awe by the view as we flew into New South Wales over the Blue Mountains. Literally everything about this country is picturesque and amazing. Even something as mundane as a morning commuter flight from Melbourne to Sydney involves a sweeping arc around the Central Business District (CBD) out over the Pacific coast and a striking landing path over the harbour waters.
I had not originally intended to wrote about this, but as I had some pictures I thought that it would be worthwhile. To paraphrase the end of John's gospel, if I were to write down everything that was remarkable or beautiful about Australia there would not be enough books in the world.
