A weekend in Sydney.

Now that we have finally gotten past the phase of jetlag that makes you want to pass out around 8:30 every night, and we have a place to live so that concern if off of our shoulders, we were able to actually enjoy weekend life in Sydney.

Friday night in the CBD:

I get the impression that, once again, the CBD functions like New York; leave work early on a Friday and commence drinking.  Every trendy bar was packed by 7:00 and there was a decent amount of people stumbling a bit and walking around barefoot, high heels in hand, an hour after that.  The only real difference between a Friday night in NY and a Friday night in Sydney, is that in Sydney you also gamble while you drink.  Not every bar is a sports bar with betting pools or a casino like environment with “Pokeys”, but every other bar is.  We managed to find the perfect compromise between the two: a three story bar with a pub-like area serving greasy food on the ground floor, a trendy lounge above, and pokeys below.  We opted for greasy food and watching pop videos on the TV in the pub.  Lots of American and some European music videos played, only one or two Aussie stars in the group.  But it was still a good way to get a pop culture fix.

And then more differences between NY and Oz became apparent.  At the equivalent bar in NY, the food would be cheap, and the drinks would be small but potent.  In Sydney the burgers are $18 (beetroot advertised as a key topping) and my gin and tonic contained one very carefully measured shot of gin . . . yes . . . one shot . . . measured.  That’s apparently quite common practice out here too.  Ah, what I wouldn’t give for the heavy hand of an east village bartender.  Needless to say, we didn’t stay for round 2.

Then it was back to the Circular Quay (pronounced key) and The Rocks, which is basically the harbor where all the ferries dock and the area across from the Opera House where tourists and (I think) Sydneysiders gather to spend too much money on food for the sake of a beautiful view.  But since we are in the middle of the Vivid Sydney, a festival of light and music which coincidentally started the day we got here, the waterside walkway was full of people enjoying a stroll and taking endless pictures of the Opera House and the beautiful images projected onto it’s iconic profile.  Perhaps it was mostly because of the festival, but even at the start of winter the area was buzzing with activity, and there was at least one group of people sitting on the steps and sharing a bottle of wine, perfectly legal to drink on the street here, but I’m sure that sight will become more common as the weather warms.

Then we took a ferry under the bridge for our second tour of Luna Park, this time at night.  As scary as the large face over the entry was during the day, it was even more striking at night with it’s spiky hairdo of light and glowing teeth.  I couldn’t imagine a weirder place to live walking distance from, but I’m glad it’s there.  And even though the park was starting to close, there were still plenty of families filing out and, once again, plenty of people having a glass of wine or seven at the one restaurant in the park that allows drinking.  (The few places where you can’t drink outside our quite logically chosen, amusement parks, beaches with dangerous tides and jagged rocks etc.)

And then we got to experience a joy unknown to former Upper Eastsiders.  We walked home.

Saturday at Bondi Beach and Tamarama:

Though the bus took a bit of time in stop and go traffic, it was still a far cry from a trip on NJ Transit or the LIRR.  And the reward for a trip from the center of the city to it’s Eastern edge was the beach, the beautiful beautiful beach.  I’m not exaggerating when I say the water was clear enough to see every shade of blue and green created by the variance of depth, and that the sand was so velvety soft that it actually squeaks under your feet.  And although I thought that the surfers and people swimming laps (yes, iron man style laps) from one end of the bay to the other, were simply brave Australians who felt no cold, the water turned out to be warm.  Warm water!  It’s basically the beginning of December here, and the water is just the right temperature for a refreshing swim.  Which is exactly what everyone was doing.

There was still a decent amount of “seasonal confusion” as I like to call it, something I’m quite used to since spring in NY often sees some people in skirts and some in winter coats on the same day.  For almost every old man in a speedo (and yes, there were plenty) there was someone in a coat.  And since Saturday was the first day of constant sun without the threat of rain, the confusion is understandable.  We even saw one man strip his entire full coverage outfit, revealing a red speedo underneath, pile all his clothing into a large garbage bag and leave in on the beach while he went for a run along the shore.  Not unusual I suppose.  And even for an off season time, the half moon of sand (probably not even visible beneath sunbathers during the summer) had plenty of people enjoying the sun and watching a score of surfers glide peacefully along the waves.

On the cliffs just above the beach is a beautiful coastal walk, that takes you high above the beaches for stunning views that look out over the Pacific, and even past a man who has clearly lived on the cliffs for quite some time.  I still have to get the story behind this one man shanty town on the rocks.  I’ll get back to you once I do.  And if it didn’t seem like enough exercise to run along the path and up and down it’s several staircases, there are exercise stations spaced along the side, with pull up bars and sit-up planks to add that extra burst of effort to your workout.

Once you’ve passed the cliffs that spoon Bondi Beach you find the lovely little beach of Tamarama, a pint-sized and equally beautiful version of the touristy mecca.  It’s a good think we don’t live too near here.  I’m not sure I would ever leave.

Saturday Night in Kirribilli:

The small peninsula that is our new suburb, with it’s one main street of shops and restaurants, would seem cute and quaint by most metropolitan standards.  But since each restaurant, decorated to trendy perfection, fills to the brim with people at dinnertime, a walk down the bridge side street feels like a walk through the west village on a Saturday night.  And most of the places nearby offer a great benefit to make up for the well measured, overpriced bar drinks; BYOB for dinner.  The centrally placed liquor store (bottle shop to the locals) is open seven days a week, 12 hours a day (13 on Saturday), so there is no reason not to take advantage of the offer.  And in addition to the array of wonderful Australian wines they offer, you can find “cleanskin labels”, bottles that are produced by the same vineyards, but have not been branded with the label and are sold at about half the price.  Nice.

It was only my second meal at a Thai restaurant in Sydney, but I can say that it lives up to it’s reputation as some of the best.  The ingredients taste fresh and flavorful, and even though you pay a premium for eating out (and you can imagine how much that is since this comes from a NYer) you at least feel you get quality in return for the price.

Sunday at Balmoral Beach:

It was sunny again, so what else was there to do but go to the beach?  Located on the Eastern edge of the Norther shore, Balmoral is a more local and family friendly beach.  Even with a smaller strip of sand and practically wave less water, it’s still quieter than Bondi.  Perhaps that’s because if it’s location adjacent to Mosman, a sort of Beverly Hills of Sydney.  Of course, in Mosman the mansions are beautiful arts and crafts style homes, rather than the mish-mosh of a any era stuck on a box style you find in BH.

When it did finally start to rain that afternoon, it only produced a rainbow, the third or fourth I’ve seen since getting here.  And each time, both ends seem to fall in Sydney.  I consider that a good sign.

Monday, The Queen’s Birthday:

Today is a holiday is honor of the Queen’s Birthday.  I’m not sure what we’ll do to celebrate, but I’ll be sure to have some tea.