This sudden increase in Celsius has had a few interesting effects on Sydney this weekend.  I noticed that once bustling areas of the city seem very quiet.  It’s as if all the people, young and old, the animals, domestic and wild, and even the cars, from Holden to Hyundai, had an invisible layer of felt thrown over them, soaking up what little noise they could muster the energy to make in the first place.  Even the didgeridoo player in Circular Quay sounded like he had cotton stuffed up inside his constantly droning instrument.  A vast improvement if you ask me.

The heat also leads people to make interesting and occasionally questionable fashion choices.  I’ve already noted that Sydneysiders tend to go out without shoes on, a phenomena that I don’t entirely understand.  No doubt they have flip fops (thongs).  Was the two extra seconds it took to put them on too long for you?  And certainly near beaches and even our local pool, you’ll find people walking around in swimsuits (cossies), towels and less than your usual amount of clothing.  But this morning I saw a man purchasing groceries in a T-shirt and a speedo.  At least, I hope he was wearing a speedo.  There are children running around in their underwear, no shortage of shirtless guys and, even though I didn’t think it was possible for the women to wear shorter dresses when they went out, skirt lengths were chopped by a few centimeters.  Although, those women tolerated their high heels for less time than they did during fair weather.

My un-air-conditioned apartment has maintained a tolerable level of thought numbing heat, thanks to the constant harbor breeze.  And the breeze carries with it an amazing smell which I’ve only ever smelled the likes of during nights in the desert.  I’m not sure what produces it, unless there are always particles of outback sand flying through the air, but it’s really quite pleasant.  The coming summer has also seen a dramatic increase in the amount of weekly fireworks displays.  The Australian Idol Finale at the Opera House perhaps offered the most impressive example of this Aussie tradition.  I was glad to be able to watch it from the “relative” coolness of my apartment.

I never thought I would be this calm, floating in water which was not only a temperature suitable for a Polar Bear Club get together, but also obviously home to many species of jellyfish.  Though I was correct in identifying the jellyfish near the dock as the harmless moon jellies (Thank you Coney Island Aquarium) I’m quite sure that the pinkish ones, which were large enough to see from the train windows, would have produced quite a bit of pain with their lengthy, funnel cake like tentacles.  But Australia is the kind of place where you say to yourself, well, I don’t see any of those big jellies right here, so I think I’ll go for a swim.  Which is immediately followed by a splash and a few expletives inspired by the refreshing water.

About an hour on the train toward the Central Coast of New South Whales, will get you to a lovely series of inlets like this, and several isolated train stations like this.

This one in particular, was conveniently located next to an equally pint sized (0.47 Liter sized) public dock, which served as our camp out spot for an afternoon of wake boarding.  Though the Aussie boarders made the sport look like second nature, the attempts made by the American and Danish ex-pats in our group made it clear to me that I didn’t need to try it.  Gabe’s short review of his several tries at getting up on the board was “ow.”  Floating and sunning were sport enough for me.

Besides, I was saving my energy for our upcoming evening of lawn bowls.  Why the Aussies call the sport lawn bowls, instead of lawn bowling, is yet another one of those language mysteries, which I think has to do with brevity.  No matter what you call it, the seemingly lackadaisical sport is deceptively hard, especially after a cocktail or two.  But considering the bustle around the bar at the Paddo Bowls Club, I gather that drinking is as important as the well manicured grass.  Though our visit was brief, since the fairly young crowd had to be ushered off the lawn for the sake of bowls club’s not so young neighbors, It’s something I would definitely like to try again.   I think a few more gin and tonics would have helped me understand the physics of the sport better.

Even after a busy Saturday, Australia refused to let us spend Sunday at home, calling to us through the windows with the first hints of summer weather.  And we certainly weren’t the only ones who felt the pull of the sparkling sunshine.  There were sunning people all over the coastline, the harbor was full of sailboats, and unbeknownst to us, the Admiralty House, official home of the governor general, had been opened to the public for tours.  So, our usually tranquil dock was packed full of octogenarian couples, and camera toting families, dragging colorfully dressed children behind them.  A special ferry, called the Royale (no cheese), had even been sent out to trek them over to our peninsula the for the occasion.

But even though we had to share the ferry, the Botanic Gardens, and the line for afternoon cappuccinos, with all the other Sydneysiders celebrating the turn of seasons,  I was happy to get a taste of things to come.  It was so warm, in fact, that the hoards of fruit bats normally resting comfortably in the tops of the Botanic Garden’s trees, had to constantly fan themselves with their wings.  And I thought New York summer nights without air conditioning were hard.  At least I don’t sleep upside down.