The reality of being in Sydney struck me when we crossed over the ANZAC bridge. I had a serious lump in my throat. I had always thought, one day. But finding yourself in the middle of one day? It's huge. I will start out by saying that the 36 hours we spent in Sydney was not even a thimble full of time to explore such a gorgeous city.
We headed over to Manly Wharf, but when we saw the price of parking ($8/hr???)- we abided by the small print (under 30 mins free) and gave ourselves exactly 22 minutes to wander (*speedwalk*). Restaurant patios were packed with people, looking very fabulous, enjoying a cocktail-hour drink.
We hightailed it out of the underground parking before our 30 mins were up and settled into the sand on Manly Beach. We snacked on chips and salsa and watched the surfers catch their final waves of the day as marshmallow clouds floated like dreams in the sky above us.
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We got super lucky that night and found a super quiet street not far from Bondi Beach. We woke up at 7:30 and headed to McD's for coffee and pancakes and then whiled our morning away on the beach. I think the dark cloud looming above us (cloudy but still sweltering) kept a lot of people away... I saw a shot of Bondi on New Years Day and it was shoulder to shoulder people. We had a wide berth of personal space which is probably a rarity on Bondi in the summer (being from Vancouver, I have a tough time getting used to crowded beaches... plus, I think Canadians have a bigger "personal space radius" than most).
We had to return the car to the Sydney airport by 1:30, so I grabbed an icy cold shower in the changing room before we left. I hightailed it out of there with drippy wet hair when the most awkward human being started lifting the front of her dress to wash her fleshy bits in a very public shower... seriously... the clean feeling of that shower lasted 2.5 seconds (*ifeelsodirty*)
I don't have many kind things to say about the Sydney Airport, nor the very bitchy (sorry mom, you would have used the same words to describe him) man at the concierge desk. Long story short, we couldn't store our baggage, we got locked out of the airport until 2 hours before our flight left (and staff were late, so despite being in line at 4am, we were left sprinting through the airport to be the last 2 to board) and we couldn't catch a train back because the train doesn't run to the airport after midnight.
When we get home, ask me about the Sydney airport and I will rant for days.
For a city as big as Sydney, the airport shuts down from midnight until 4 am, so flights like ours, leaving at 6am are a complete nightmare. Really Sydney airport?
Choke on it.
(deep breath, pours wine)
Anyways, by 3:30pm, we were on a very packed train with our backpacks and bags headed for the harbour.
Being from the Pacific Northwest, we're always among the last to ring in the New Year (New Zealand is the first). I guess I've never really thought about it, but because we're some of the final ones, we're the lucky ones who get to see the world celebrating the big night from the moment we pour our cereal until we are excitedly counting down those final 10 seconds. I have always loved watching the "loop" of NYE celebrations on New Years Eve day. To be completely honest, I've never been a huge NYE person. I have always felt it to be somewhat magical, but as a kid and teenager, I often spent my countdown in front of the tv and I have worked a handful of them as an adult. I have had some pretty fun ones too, but I've never spent much on that night- if I've done anything, it's been some sort of house party.
But I've long dreamed of ringing in the New Year on a hot summer night, under a blanket of fireworks on some cramped walkway in Sydney's Harbour. For me, the image of fireworks exploding from the ANZAC bridge is just as epic as the ball drop in New York (one day maybe?)- you see if for years and years on tv and then one day you find yourself standing there...
The streets were already packed as the contents of the train spilled out into the sweltering heat. Scotty was a true stud and insisted on carrying all the bags. Remember how much stuff I crammed into my carry-on? That pack weighed a ton! What a man. There wasn't time for hmmm'n and hawww'n- we made a decision quick and found a spot that gave us full view of the bridge. We piled up our bags, pulled out our books and lounged across our luggage.
Honestly, as worried as I was about having to carry our bags around the city, I quickly realized that they were a blessing in disguise. Sitting on the concrete from 4pm until close to midnight? Every bone in my body thanks those bags for being a soft spot to sit. Most people around us were resigned to sitting on sheets of newsprint or flattened cardboard boxes.
I'll just be up here on top of my luggage castle like a G6.
Scotty insisted that I go try and catch a glimpse of the Opera House before the streets got so packed that I wouldn't be able to get through. I tried, but no luck. The best spots for watching the fireworks were blocked off and one could only gain entry if the pre-bought a wristband...
...even fireworks aren't free. Lame.
So all I got to see was a sliver of one of the sails. Clearly, we should have come down to the harbour last night. Total rookie.
I went back to Scotty and described how beautiful that one little point of the Opera house was. And before long, I was fixating on how we were going to get back to the airport. We got mixed stories on the train schedule at the airport (don't even get me started), so I went to grab a schedule. I was gone five minutes... if that... and when I returned, big sheets of wood were blocking the way back in to where Scotty was. A tight pod of people were pushing to try to get in, which completely flustered the cop who was telling people that the harbour area had reached full capacity.
I stood there, behind the pushers like a proper Canadian, and got nowhere. It was clear that these people just thought that if they pushed enough, they could get in, and they weren't originally in there, they just wanted in.
I finally pushed my way in front of them and got the officer's attention and told her my story.
"Too bad" was her response.
I found another officer and he just shook his head. "You'll have to call him to come out"- yeah, except that we're tourists and neither of us have a cell phone.
I found a third officer. My face was burning and my eyes were welling with tears as I begged him to let me in. He rolled his eyes and then gestured to the small gap under his arm. I shot through that hole so fast and returned to Scotty all shaky. There was zero warning that a wall would be going up and I cannot tell you the kind of panic that was rising in this small town girl's chest in those 15 minutes. I literally had a running conversation with myself... calm down, be agressive, don't let a "no" stop you.
When I got back to Scotty, I felt like a little kid who had gotten lost in a mall- except no one wants to see a 29 year old cry her eyes out because she got separated from her husband.
I honestly don't know what we did for the next 5 hours. I think Scotty finished a book (what a surprise, he's averaging a book every 5 days or something absurd like that) and I blatantly people-watched (which is such a poor plan when no one is going to be moving for the next 8 hours... it's that "who's that strange girl sitting on top of her backpack, and why is she staring at me" kind of awkward).
About 2 hours before the first set of fireworks, the ferry docked for the night. Right in front of us- blocking almost the entire bridge.
Hahahaha. As I type this, I see that so many things were going wrong, but I don't think I really noticed it much at the time. I think I was too swept up in the excitement or something.
It's okay, we told ourselves, the fireworks will be up in the sky.
Thank goodness that they did an early show at 9:30 because our spot was complete garbage. Between the roof of the ferry terminal, the giant ferry parked in front of us, and the big electronic sign to our other side, we missed so much of the show. I was pretty crushed trying to crane my neck to peek under the sign. Scotty's look was probably the worst and it wasn't even the crap view of the fireworks that he was reacting to. He was reacting to me. He knew the view was bad, and he could see me struggling to see anything. I looked at him and read it on his face- he was crushed watching me be crushed.
After they ended, we made the decision to try moving. A total gamble as we easily could have only found a worse spot, but we figured it was worth it. It took forever to move a few hundred meters, but we managed to find a brilliant spot with good views of the sky and the bridge.
By 11:45, everyone was on their feet and yelling. People kept counting down the minutes until the bridge lit up and the clock started counting down from 90 seconds. That's when everyone lifted their cameras and phones and a sea of lcd screens lit up the wharf. Once we hit the 10 second mark, I think I started stomping my feet and giggling. When the clock struck midnight, the sky lit up with fire. 12 minutes of fire. It was unreal. The crowd hushed and everyone around us just stood there with their mouths hanging open.
We had no where to be until 4 am. The city emptied quickly after the fireworks ended, so Scotty and I made our way over to the Opera House. Bright lights and pounding bass drew crowds to the NYE parties hosted on the edge of the harbour. Girls in pretty cocktail dresses danced on the dance floor and spectators watched and held their own dance parties from the railings above. Clear beach balls bounced up and down between the people who paid to be there and the people who were there for the fireworks but stuck around to take in the magic of the night.
I think it was this "after party" that really got me. We felt like a collective despite the fact that we were strangers. People offered to take our picture, they broke into dances on the walkways, couples kissed on benches, people from the balconies yelled "Happy New Year" to the people below and everybody was grinning ear to ear. This I loved.
Don't ask me how we did it. Trust me, it wasn't an effort or even a consideration. Somehow we breezed past the security at the Opera House. We only realized we had done so on our return for the train when we noticed the security guards turning people away.
The Opera House was far more magnificent than I had anticipated. Much grander. We climbed the stairs and pretended to know the waltz. Scotty is scarily good at this pretend ballroom dance thing we do. I am not. I am a toe stepper and shuffler. But being swept around the courtyard under the sails was the most swoon-worthy moment of the entire trip (maybe even my life).
We found ourselves back on the train platform just before 3am. Some drunk a$$-hole urinated on the pillar behind me and when he went back to join his friends beside us, I just stared a hole into his face until he made eye contact with me... even on my good days, I tend to have a scowl on my face. It's just my relaxed look, so I know my dirty look is a real effective one. He looked at me and then quickly away.
I just kept staring.
When he made eye contact again, he went red and said, "I'm sorry" to which I responded, "You're disgusting"
He sheepishly slunk to the wall and sat out of my view until the train came. I don't care if you're drunk. There's a bathroom down by the entrance. It's not my fault you walked by it.
You deserve to feel like an ass when you act like one.
Because the airport was closed, the train didn't stop there, so we had to get off a stop early and walk the rest of the way. Because there were no planes coming in and it was dark out, we had no idea what direction to head in. Scotty, being the brilliant and insanely laid-back guy he is, reached into one of the bags and pulled out the GPS. I had anticipated that we would be fighting with each other by this time. Having to walk with heavy bags at 3 am when we've been up since 7 am the morning prior are conditions for the perfect storm.
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But he had me laughing. I was prepared for a fight, but seeing him loaded up like a pack horse, speed walking, arm outstretched and staring at the GPS and muttering something ridiculous... I couldn't have picked a better partner in crime.
We left that dreaded Sydney airport and touched down in Brisbane for a two hour stop over before boarding a plane fore Dunedin.
I have to say, flying over NZ was breathtaking. I made me super excited to spend the next few weeks exploring the south Island.
After a very long sleep of course.
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| SYDNEY SUMMER 2000 OLYMPIC CAULDRON TURNED FOUNTAIN |
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| SYDNEY'S OLYMPIC PARK |
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| ENTERING THE CITY FROM THE BLUE MOUNTIANS |
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| ANZAC BRIDGE. CROSSING THIS WAS HUGE FOR ME. |
We headed over to Manly Wharf, but when we saw the price of parking ($8/hr???)- we abided by the small print (under 30 mins free) and gave ourselves exactly 22 minutes to wander (*speedwalk*). Restaurant patios were packed with people, looking very fabulous, enjoying a cocktail-hour drink.
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| MANLY WHARF IN THE BACKGOUND |
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| HOW AMAZING IS THAT WOODEN BOX ON THE BACK OF THE BIKE? |
We hightailed it out of the underground parking before our 30 mins were up and settled into the sand on Manly Beach. We snacked on chips and salsa and watched the surfers catch their final waves of the day as marshmallow clouds floated like dreams in the sky above us.
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| SUNSET ON MANLY BEACH |
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We got super lucky that night and found a super quiet street not far from Bondi Beach. We woke up at 7:30 and headed to McD's for coffee and pancakes and then whiled our morning away on the beach. I think the dark cloud looming above us (cloudy but still sweltering) kept a lot of people away... I saw a shot of Bondi on New Years Day and it was shoulder to shoulder people. We had a wide berth of personal space which is probably a rarity on Bondi in the summer (being from Vancouver, I have a tough time getting used to crowded beaches... plus, I think Canadians have a bigger "personal space radius" than most).
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| BONDI BEACH |
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| I BELIEVE THIS IS UNCROWDED FOR BONDI BEACH IN THE SUMMER |
We had to return the car to the Sydney airport by 1:30, so I grabbed an icy cold shower in the changing room before we left. I hightailed it out of there with drippy wet hair when the most awkward human being started lifting the front of her dress to wash her fleshy bits in a very public shower... seriously... the clean feeling of that shower lasted 2.5 seconds (*ifeelsodirty*)
I don't have many kind things to say about the Sydney Airport, nor the very bitchy (sorry mom, you would have used the same words to describe him) man at the concierge desk. Long story short, we couldn't store our baggage, we got locked out of the airport until 2 hours before our flight left (and staff were late, so despite being in line at 4am, we were left sprinting through the airport to be the last 2 to board) and we couldn't catch a train back because the train doesn't run to the airport after midnight.
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| 2598 KMS DRIVEN IN ONE WEEK. THAT'S WORTH A PAT ON THE BACK. |
When we get home, ask me about the Sydney airport and I will rant for days.
For a city as big as Sydney, the airport shuts down from midnight until 4 am, so flights like ours, leaving at 6am are a complete nightmare. Really Sydney airport?
Choke on it.
(deep breath, pours wine)
Anyways, by 3:30pm, we were on a very packed train with our backpacks and bags headed for the harbour.
Being from the Pacific Northwest, we're always among the last to ring in the New Year (New Zealand is the first). I guess I've never really thought about it, but because we're some of the final ones, we're the lucky ones who get to see the world celebrating the big night from the moment we pour our cereal until we are excitedly counting down those final 10 seconds. I have always loved watching the "loop" of NYE celebrations on New Years Eve day. To be completely honest, I've never been a huge NYE person. I have always felt it to be somewhat magical, but as a kid and teenager, I often spent my countdown in front of the tv and I have worked a handful of them as an adult. I have had some pretty fun ones too, but I've never spent much on that night- if I've done anything, it's been some sort of house party.
But I've long dreamed of ringing in the New Year on a hot summer night, under a blanket of fireworks on some cramped walkway in Sydney's Harbour. For me, the image of fireworks exploding from the ANZAC bridge is just as epic as the ball drop in New York (one day maybe?)- you see if for years and years on tv and then one day you find yourself standing there...
The streets were already packed as the contents of the train spilled out into the sweltering heat. Scotty was a true stud and insisted on carrying all the bags. Remember how much stuff I crammed into my carry-on? That pack weighed a ton! What a man. There wasn't time for hmmm'n and hawww'n- we made a decision quick and found a spot that gave us full view of the bridge. We piled up our bags, pulled out our books and lounged across our luggage.
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| READY TO WAIT 8 HOURS FOR THE FIREWORKS. |
Honestly, as worried as I was about having to carry our bags around the city, I quickly realized that they were a blessing in disguise. Sitting on the concrete from 4pm until close to midnight? Every bone in my body thanks those bags for being a soft spot to sit. Most people around us were resigned to sitting on sheets of newsprint or flattened cardboard boxes.
I'll just be up here on top of my luggage castle like a G6.
Scotty insisted that I go try and catch a glimpse of the Opera House before the streets got so packed that I wouldn't be able to get through. I tried, but no luck. The best spots for watching the fireworks were blocked off and one could only gain entry if the pre-bought a wristband...
...even fireworks aren't free. Lame.
So all I got to see was a sliver of one of the sails. Clearly, we should have come down to the harbour last night. Total rookie.
I went back to Scotty and described how beautiful that one little point of the Opera house was. And before long, I was fixating on how we were going to get back to the airport. We got mixed stories on the train schedule at the airport (don't even get me started), so I went to grab a schedule. I was gone five minutes... if that... and when I returned, big sheets of wood were blocking the way back in to where Scotty was. A tight pod of people were pushing to try to get in, which completely flustered the cop who was telling people that the harbour area had reached full capacity.
I stood there, behind the pushers like a proper Canadian, and got nowhere. It was clear that these people just thought that if they pushed enough, they could get in, and they weren't originally in there, they just wanted in.
I finally pushed my way in front of them and got the officer's attention and told her my story.
"Too bad" was her response.
I found another officer and he just shook his head. "You'll have to call him to come out"- yeah, except that we're tourists and neither of us have a cell phone.
I found a third officer. My face was burning and my eyes were welling with tears as I begged him to let me in. He rolled his eyes and then gestured to the small gap under his arm. I shot through that hole so fast and returned to Scotty all shaky. There was zero warning that a wall would be going up and I cannot tell you the kind of panic that was rising in this small town girl's chest in those 15 minutes. I literally had a running conversation with myself... calm down, be agressive, don't let a "no" stop you.
When I got back to Scotty, I felt like a little kid who had gotten lost in a mall- except no one wants to see a 29 year old cry her eyes out because she got separated from her husband.
I honestly don't know what we did for the next 5 hours. I think Scotty finished a book (what a surprise, he's averaging a book every 5 days or something absurd like that) and I blatantly people-watched (which is such a poor plan when no one is going to be moving for the next 8 hours... it's that "who's that strange girl sitting on top of her backpack, and why is she staring at me" kind of awkward).
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| "R U GOING TO HEAVEN" IN THE POOREST SKY WRITING EVER. VERY AWKWARD CHOICE FOR NYE. |
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| OUR FELLOW SPECTATORS AT THE SYDNEY WHARF |
About 2 hours before the first set of fireworks, the ferry docked for the night. Right in front of us- blocking almost the entire bridge.
Hahahaha. As I type this, I see that so many things were going wrong, but I don't think I really noticed it much at the time. I think I was too swept up in the excitement or something.
It's okay, we told ourselves, the fireworks will be up in the sky.
Thank goodness that they did an early show at 9:30 because our spot was complete garbage. Between the roof of the ferry terminal, the giant ferry parked in front of us, and the big electronic sign to our other side, we missed so much of the show. I was pretty crushed trying to crane my neck to peek under the sign. Scotty's look was probably the worst and it wasn't even the crap view of the fireworks that he was reacting to. He was reacting to me. He knew the view was bad, and he could see me struggling to see anything. I looked at him and read it on his face- he was crushed watching me be crushed.
After they ended, we made the decision to try moving. A total gamble as we easily could have only found a worse spot, but we figured it was worth it. It took forever to move a few hundred meters, but we managed to find a brilliant spot with good views of the sky and the bridge.
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| ONE HOUR TO GO. NEW SPOT. THIS SHOULD BE GREAT. |
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| 37 SECONDS TO 2012 |
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| IF ONLY MY CAMERA COULD CAPTURE EVERYTHING HAPPENING IN THE SKY ABOVE US |
We had no where to be until 4 am. The city emptied quickly after the fireworks ended, so Scotty and I made our way over to the Opera House. Bright lights and pounding bass drew crowds to the NYE parties hosted on the edge of the harbour. Girls in pretty cocktail dresses danced on the dance floor and spectators watched and held their own dance parties from the railings above. Clear beach balls bounced up and down between the people who paid to be there and the people who were there for the fireworks but stuck around to take in the magic of the night.
I think it was this "after party" that really got me. We felt like a collective despite the fact that we were strangers. People offered to take our picture, they broke into dances on the walkways, couples kissed on benches, people from the balconies yelled "Happy New Year" to the people below and everybody was grinning ear to ear. This I loved.
Don't ask me how we did it. Trust me, it wasn't an effort or even a consideration. Somehow we breezed past the security at the Opera House. We only realized we had done so on our return for the train when we noticed the security guards turning people away.
The Opera House was far more magnificent than I had anticipated. Much grander. We climbed the stairs and pretended to know the waltz. Scotty is scarily good at this pretend ballroom dance thing we do. I am not. I am a toe stepper and shuffler. But being swept around the courtyard under the sails was the most swoon-worthy moment of the entire trip (maybe even my life).
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| LET'S DANCE |
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| PARTY ONLOOKERS JOINING THE PARTY FROM ABOVE |
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| THIS WAS MY FAVOURITE SIGHTING OF THE NIGHT. I LIKE TO THINK THAT HE HAS LOVED HER FOREVER AND AS THEY'RE FINISHING UP WORK FOR THE NIGHT, HE FINALLY GOT TO DANCE WITH HER AND MADE HER LAUGH UNTIL SHE CRIED.... |
We found ourselves back on the train platform just before 3am. Some drunk a$$-hole urinated on the pillar behind me and when he went back to join his friends beside us, I just stared a hole into his face until he made eye contact with me... even on my good days, I tend to have a scowl on my face. It's just my relaxed look, so I know my dirty look is a real effective one. He looked at me and then quickly away.
I just kept staring.
When he made eye contact again, he went red and said, "I'm sorry" to which I responded, "You're disgusting"
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| WHAT HAPPENS WHEN 1.5 MILLION PEOPLE WAIT ALL DAY FOR FIREWORKS |
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| THE CLEANING CREW HAD THOSE STREETS TIDIED IN RECORD TIME. IT WAS PRETTY IMPRESSIVE TO WATCH |
He sheepishly slunk to the wall and sat out of my view until the train came. I don't care if you're drunk. There's a bathroom down by the entrance. It's not my fault you walked by it.
You deserve to feel like an ass when you act like one.
Because the airport was closed, the train didn't stop there, so we had to get off a stop early and walk the rest of the way. Because there were no planes coming in and it was dark out, we had no idea what direction to head in. Scotty, being the brilliant and insanely laid-back guy he is, reached into one of the bags and pulled out the GPS. I had anticipated that we would be fighting with each other by this time. Having to walk with heavy bags at 3 am when we've been up since 7 am the morning prior are conditions for the perfect storm.
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But he had me laughing. I was prepared for a fight, but seeing him loaded up like a pack horse, speed walking, arm outstretched and staring at the GPS and muttering something ridiculous... I couldn't have picked a better partner in crime.
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| 3:40 AM IN THE AIRPORT WAITING FOR THE CHECK-IN TO OPEN IS LAME. |
We left that dreaded Sydney airport and touched down in Brisbane for a two hour stop over before boarding a plane fore Dunedin.
I have to say, flying over NZ was breathtaking. I made me super excited to spend the next few weeks exploring the south Island.
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| HELLO NEW ZEALAND |
After a very long sleep of course.
eee. you are giving me a travel bug.
ReplyDeleteYou still have 2 and a half months... i'm just saying...
ReplyDelete