Sydney Day 5: Sydney Tower and the move north

Aaah!!! I never posted this! Here it is incredibly late :)

My goal today was the Sydney Tower and shopping. I thought I’d do the Tower in the morning, and then have the rest of the day for window shopping.

Funny how things never go to plan.

I wanted to buy a ticket for something on Tuesday (come back on Tuesday to see what it is mwa ha), took the bus into town, then the train to Wynyard St. Still didn’t see any Matrix subway stations. The subway here is interesting – it’s mostly underground, but comes out high above ground in random places, like Circular Quay. I guess this is possible because the CBD is on a hill.

I got my ticket, walked to Circular Quay and tried to figure out how to get to Sydney Tower. I guessed the approximate station might be Central, so I caught a train there, decided I was way too far south, caught another train to Town Hall and then couldn’t figure out where the thing was. You would think it would be easier to find a giant pointy thing, but no.

By this time I was hungry, so I had lunch. I’m ashamed to say I went to Hungry Jack’s, just to see what it’s like and because it seemed very Australian. It is Burger King, with the same branding and logo as NZ-ten-years-ago, but it’s called Hungry Jack’s. The default meal size is small, which I didn’t realise, but that was fine because the burger was HUGE. I now understand why it’s called a Whopper – it never really made sense to me before.

Finally I located the Tower, on top of a very upmarket mall with such stores as Gucci and Zara. There was a motion-master ride through Australia, which was incredibly jarring but which I quite enjoyed, and then we had to go through a metal-detector before we were allowed up the tower.

The trunk of the tower is a lot smaller than Auckland’s Sky Tower, and the lifts are triangular (imagine the pieces in trivial pursuit). There aren’t any windows in the lift, which is probably good considering I got a bit of vertigo last time I went up the Sky Tower.

The observation deck has the most incredible views out to the eastern beaches, Botany Bay, the Blue Mountains, the north shore and the harbour as well as the city itself. I took a picture out every single window, which took ages because people were sitting in some of them and I wanted to do them in order.

The Angel rang at about 3pm to say she was home, and would I be able to come back as I had the key? No time for shopping then, so I missed a bus by ten seconds, waited another ten minutes for the next one and spent an interminably long time getting back to Leichhardt. Then we collected our stuff and joined a real Sydney traffic jam over the Harbour Bridge to the north shore.

At this moment there is a cat called Nelson curled up beside me who is missing his usual people but seems happy enough to adopt me. I’m happy enough to let him. The house we’re house-sitting is a great little place two minutes walk from the beach, so I’m looking forward to some good days ahead.

After I go window shopping, of course.

Sydney Days 8, 9, 10 and 11 (Sun, Mon, Tues, Wed): Palm Beach, Darling Harbour, Writer's Festival, ferries and pancakes

Back again.... I’m in the airport waiting for my flight to Tokyo, so I have a bit of time to write. Whew...

I’ll try and do a quick rundown of my life since Saturday. It may not be as quick as I’m hoping... as you may guess.

Sunday morning we had a great brunch at a cafe on the waterfront, then went back to the bach and lay in the garden in the sun and read most of the day. We had been planning to go for a walk around the headland, but didn’t get around to that because our books were too interesting.... and the sun was too beautiful to pass up reading in the garden. After a few hours I worried I’d be sunburnt, but the sun’s not too harsh and I was fine.

We had pizza for dinner from a place that’s set up a bit like Subway – you order your pizza, and then they assemble it in front of you. We got Mediterranean lamb and vegetables. I guess you could probably have a do-it-yourself one by pointing out what you want. It was good – probably one of the healthier pizzas I’ve eaten.

On Monday we drove up to Palm Beach, where they film Home and Away, and took lots of photos of the beach and the pier and the “Summer Bay Surf Life-Saving Club”. We wandered past some people doing a professional photo shoot, and thought it might be promotion photos for Home and Away. More French people at the kiosk where we got ice-creams... they’re everywhere!!!

I didn’t remember about togs/swimsuit until we were almost at the beach, and it was probably a bit cold for swimming anyway. Instead we lay on the sand and read in the sun, but there was a good breeze coming off the sea and in the end we retreated to the car, shivering.

I met my friend Girl Who Knows Her Chocolate Shops (name will become clear) for dinner. We found a place on Darling Harbour that was good, and sat on the balcony near the water and watched the lights twinkle. I hadn’t been to Darling Harbour before (I think. The Hopeful Gardener may correct me), so we took a stroll around the edge and admired everything. Later we got hot chocolates at a cafe, which were beautiful, and GWKHCS recommended some other chocolate boutiques.

Tuesday! Wow, I’m powering through this. On Tuesday I caught the bus into town early and went to the Secondary Schools Day at the Sydney Writer’s Festival :D I’d booked tickets last week, and was assured that you didn’t have to be a secondary student to attend, but I went in high school camouflage anyway and didn’t mention my age to anyone.

There were four speakers, who were all very entertaining: Michael Pryor, who spoke of the public park near his house that is infested with knights in shining armour and ninjas in trees, Belinda Jeffrey, who spoke of floods and giving birth and Albert Einstein, Cassandra Clare, who spoke of driving people around in the boot of her car, and Bernard Beckett, who spoke of burning down schools and free will. Their books were all set up in a lovely display in the foyer, and I really felt the 700g left in my suitcase before it becomes excess baggage. I didn’t buy any, but I’m going to see if they have e-books. Or real books in the UK...

I got some Cassandra Clare books signed for The Angel’s friend, snuck my notebook in to be signed as well and got a picture with her too! Be jealous, those who know who I’m talking about :D

I still hadn’t taken a ferry anywhere, so I picked a wharf at random and took the first ferry that came. It dropped me off at Garden Island, where they first tried to grow crops for ships in 1788, and which is now a naval base. There’s a rock where some people carved their initials in 1788 (the oldest evidence of European presence in Australia), and a huge tank I thought was a water reservoir, but actually turned out to be filled with oil!

I had time to venture into the Sydney Apple Store before heading home – it’s all very slick, and I love the staircase, which is a shaft with spotlights at the bottom and a sheet of light at the top, and two flights of frosted glass stairs. I went back and took a picture today, so I might post it later.

Dinner was a $10 steak special at a cafe on the beach front, which was very, very good. I took some long exposure shots of the waves and the moon above and wished I wasn’t leaving so soon...

Now for Wednesday. I tried to meet Fifties Film Star at Pancakes on the Rocks, but Google Maps is at times terrible and sent me to the wrong side of the Harbour Bridge. I did a lot of aimless, frantic wandering (yes, I’m sure those words can go together), stared at the cafe that was number 8, the brick wall extending into the distance beside it, and wondered where number 4 could possibly be. A man at Sydney Theatre pointed me in the right direction, and I was only 20 minutes late... and rather tired from running up steps.

My Bavarian apple pancakes were great, and too much to eat. We walked through the city and took a look at Myers department store, which has at least seven floors, and browsed a few shops. Then I had to bus back to Dee Why Beach, which involved a spot of bus surfing because there were so many people on the bus, and get my suitcase to drive out to the airport.

The Angel got us there with no help from the GPS. She took us through the Harbour Tunnel (which I was very excited about) and craftily drove a back way to the international airport. She really is an Angel :D

The lady at the check-in desk scared me when she asked if I had a visa for Japan, but I don’t need one if I’m staying for less than 90 days. Whew. I went through customs and security, was asked if I was Swedish, and now I’m sitting in a comfy chair with free wifi listening to the bing-bongs of final calls.

I really hope I can sleep on the plane. Next stop, Tokyo!

Sydney Day 7 (Saturday): Night out in Manly

Hello everybody! I thought I’d post the rest of Saturday now (so you know I’m still alive :P ). Sunday's post will be coming... I have to catch a bus into town soon, and I don’t know how long it will take at this time of day (by the way the buses are mostly amazing, coming pretty regularly and going up to 40km away – all of which I can get to on my $41/week bus ticket).

We went out to Manly Saturday night and had a great night dancing, after standing for an hour and a half in the freezing cold waiting for a taxi (we had, quite understandably, assumed that if we combined the street number on the gate and the street sign at the corner of the road, we would get our address. We were wrong). We happened across a club where Dragon was playing, and caught the last of their act including Are You Old Enough. We didn’t get to hear April Sun in Cuba though, which would have been awesome. I practised my Aussie accent, and heard a few more French people. They’re everywhere! As are the Kiwis...

Our taxi driver home was very nice and played Indian dance music all the way (with our permission).

My shortest post yet!

Sydney Day 6: The Rocks Museum, Paddy's Markets and sunrise

I’m sitting in the sun in a bach near the beach with a cat. Ahhhhh.

Though the cat’s kind of needy. Follows you EVERYWHERE.

I caught the bus into town yesterday, which involved picking a random bus stop and asking the lovely old lady sitting there if this was the bus stop into town. She said no, I had to change buses at the main road. At the main road, unfortunately, there was a looong line for the bus (at 10am too!) so I didn’t get the first bus even though it was a long bendy one. That was all right, though, because I got a seat on the next one and was able to see out the window.

We had to wait for a drawbridge to let two boats through, which was exciting even though I couldn’t see that much, and then I got into town.

I’d been meaning to go to the Rocks markets, so I walked up through them. They were mostly food markets yesterday and they smelled amazing, with meatballs and Turkish somethings and sushi and cupcakes. I ventured on to the Rocks Discovery Museum and spent a good few hours looking at all the old things and reading the history. The curator gave a talk on the history of the police in the Rocks, which was very interesting – when the police first started, the only people they had to recruit were convicts so the police were convicts themselves.

The food stalls were still there and still smelled amazing when I emerged.

I ate my lettuce and cheese sandwich.

And then I bought a Mini Monet cookies and cream cupcake, which was very cute with pointy icing. I should have taken a photo.

Next stop on my itinerary were Paddy’s Markets at Haymarket. I took the train and walked into the huge building, with its hundreds of stalls and the largest fans I’ve ever seen turning slowly above. I have to say I’m terrible at shopping – I spend an age staring at everything, trying to decide if I should get anything and, if so, which thing I should get. I needed sunglasses, though, so I got a nice pair of those, and pondered whether I should get a necklace watch or not, but none of them were exactly right (ooh! Ooh! I should make one!!!! Hmmm how would I do that...).

A lot of the stuff you can get in virtually any market in any large city in the world. That depressed me a bit. I’d quite like to get something uniquely Australian, but I don’t want a boomerang or a didgeridoo (I have one of each already) or an obvious Sydney/Australia T-shirt (would I actually wear it? Being Australian and all... :P). Still looking to find the perfect souvenir...

The sun was moving through the sky way too fast. I moved on to the PINK jewellery shop, which is entirely pink if you hadn’t guessed, and quite shocking when you go past in the bus. There I spent and interminable time looking at all the jewellery before deciding on a pretty bird necklace. Maybe you need souvenirs to remind you of particular memories – not generic stuff. That’s what the word souvenir means, anyway – to remember.

Which brings me to another thing: half the people in Sydney are speaking French! Maybe there’s a French cruise ship in or something, but it confuses me. Why are there so many French people? I also heard a guy speaking Hebrew on the bus, and lots of what I think is Italian and Chinese, but I didn’t know there was a large French population.

No time for anything else (even though I wanted to trawl the malls), so I set out on expedition to find the bus. I’m determined not to use a map, so I got a bit lost but found my stop in the end. Then it was just a long bus trip and a short walk back here, where we had insanely expensive fish and chips and tried to get the DVD player to work.

No luck. We were tired anyway.

And now.... this morning! (One and a half posts in one!) I dragged The Angel up to watch the sun rise from the beach. It was absolutely beautiful. Then I talked to the One Who Speaks Russian on Skype (she deigned to speak English, thank goodness). Otherwise, not much happening so far :)

Sydney Day 4: Bondi to Coogee walk + pics

Last night was my last night at The Angel’s actual house, because we are house-sitting today on the North Shore. It’s a bit sad, really – I quite like her suburb, Leichhart. It has a strong Italian community, with lots of Italian shops and restaurants. Even going to the supermarket is an experience, with all the speciality Italian food. I love the houses, which are small and cute and set close together with their own little gardens, and I have a sneaking feeling that this suburb is where Looking for Alibrandi is set.

The bus trip into town goes past lots and lots of bridal shops. And I mean lots. I think I’ve decided on my wedding dress – it will be beaded in an asymmetrical pattern and corseted. It will have a flowing skirt and be in ivory or cream with black, gold, pink or blue accents. There’s a hot pink dress I quite like, but I think that might be a bit much.

Yesterday (after going past a street where every second car was a Porsche – literally – there were at least 5 of them) I got off at the Town Hall and descended underground to the trains (yay!). I haven’t been on an Underground for at least 8 years (possibly 12), so I was quite excited to go down the stairs through the layers of trains to my platform. I was just in time for a train, so I got on and sat in the top of the double-decker train.

Once in a subway train, there’s not much to see. I considered taking a picture of the black tunnel out the window, but thought it would be a bit pointless and mark me out as a tourist. Then I remembered that The Matrix was filmed in Sydney, so spent the rest of the trip staring into the stations in the hope I’d see a set I recognised. No such luck.

I got off at Bondi Junction and switched to a bus to Bondi Beach. Main Bondi (which has a huge mall I didn’t venture into) is actually quite a way from the Beach, and I was glad I’d decided not to walk it. It was a cold day, and I was wearing two t-shirts and my beanie and my hoodie and my winter rain jacket, but luckily it didn’t rain.

I got some churros (Spanish doughnuts) and a mocha at a cafe called San Churro. Amazingly, I’d come on free-coffee Wednesday, so I only had to pay for the churros. I sat outside and watched the surfers while I dipped my churros in melted dark chocolate and drank my mocha. I have to say that the mocha was the best mocha I’ve ever had (even though after the first mouthful I couldn’t really taste the coffee). For a good mocha, find a place where they put real chocolate in it.

There were three very long churros. By the time I’d finished them I felt a bit sick, so I went in search of mandarins and took lots of pictures of the awesome mosaic benches. Once mandarinned, I started the 6km walk from Bondi to Coogee.

The cliffs along the walk are spectacular, with the waves pounding at their bases, water seeping from above and shapes hollowed by erosion. I took lots and lots of pictures until my camera started flashing the red low battery symbol and I decided to use it more sparingly. Girl of 1000 pics/day, you would be proud of me (you know who you are!!!).

Bondi

Highlights of the walk were when a bird called me a liar and flew off, watching the surfers and the swells breaking on the shore and going out onto the rocks when the barrier allowed you to (it did that a lot).

Something that amazed me (in a good way) was the number of houses and buildings – all over Sydney really. I come from a country about the size of the UK, but with only four million people. You can get out to wilderness pretty quickly from the city, and I guess that’s what draws the tourists. Here was six kilometres of wilderness with houses all the way along, and (mostly) proper barriers and signs and steps carved into rock, and people walking and running all the way along it. Some of the houses have been there a hundred years, some were being constructed as I walked past.

The beaches are a bit dangerous....

I tried to take the bus back to town, but misjudged the stop and ended up going through town and out over the Anzac Bridge. That was fine though – I took pictures. I bussed back and wandered through some of the underground malls (marking them out for an expedition today), then took the bus back to Leichhart. I could barely keep my eyes open to see the wedding dresses.

Sooo tired. Went to bed at 9.30, didn’t get up until 8. My goal of leaving before 9 is not looking good.

Sydney Day um... 3? Museum of Contemporary Art

Had a bit of a down-day yesterday, by which I mean I spent quite a bit of time at the public library catching up on internet stuff (the library has swastika tiling at the main door. Probably from before swastikas had negative connotations...), then had a vegemite sandwich and blackberry straps on Circular Quay, then went to the Museum of Contemporary Art, then cooked dinner and watched The King’s Speech and Love and Other Drugs (both very good movies). I feel I should have done more, but it’s probably good to have a down-day. I woke at 6.20 this morning to make up for it :D

There was an exhibition by NZ artist Michael Stevenson on the first two floors of the museum, which was based on the twin events of the 1987 stock market collapse and the artist Jorg Immendorf’s visit to NZ. There was a broken wall of gold bricks, an aquatic apparatus meant to show financial flows, and amazing charcoal renderings of newspapers and photos. The entire exhibition gave a general sense of impermanence and shakiness, and the fact that you never know what will happen tomorrow.

A masterful part of this was making you take the stairs to the second floor, then the freight lift back to a hidden area of the first floor. The freight lift was gigantic, with 5 metre tall doors and a 3m x 8m space inside. I spent an age waiting for it, hearing it banging and clanking its way towards me, and when the doors shuddered open I stood staring at it. The attendant had to come over and assure me it was perfectly safe, and you were supposed to use it.

So I got in. The doors closed. I stood in the corner at an angle so I could see as much of the space as possible, and hugged my backpack to me. The lift jerked and crashed a bit, and then I was moving very smoothly down. You feel cut off from everything, with no way to know what’s happening outside or when you’ll get to the bottom, and the space is so huge it makes you feel pretty insignificant (another Everything-in-Sydney-is-Huge example!!). Then the lift banged again and shuddered a bit, and the doors took waaay too long to open.

When I’d been round the bottom part of the exhibition, I had to go back up in it.

The third floor was closed for renovations, but the fourth floor was open. My favourite piece there was a set of cars made from melted-down crayon. They’d been driven all over this track and onto the wall, and they left crayon tracks behind them. There were also some beautiful organza hangings with embroidery, and a set of neon lights with matching paintings. I should probably have noted down the artists’ names...

Some American tourists asked me to take a picture of them on Circular Quay, and then I caught the bus back and cooked cottage pie.

Ah ha! Under500words.

Sydney Day 2: Ballet at the Sydney Opera House and pictures

I’m sitting in Sydney’s Custom House Library (which seems more like an architectural feature than a library – they have fewer young adult books than Auckland’s main library – horror! But it’s a nice architectural feature) hoping the free internet will work and that I’ll be able to post this. If you’re reading this, I must have figured out how to use it.

Our plan yesterday was to go out to Bondi, but we didn’t actually make it. The Angel has been trying to switch her NZ driver’s licence for an Aussie one, but was having difficulty with a lack of instructions and silly desk people at the transport authority, and has to go back some time this week. While she was doing that, I walked to the Opera House and booked some tickets for the Australian Ballet (yay!!!!!). I had a voucher, but the voucher was only useful in November, but it was okay because we got under-27 prices anyway. I had another voucher for buy-one-get-one-free burritos, so we had those for a very late lunch. They were interesting.

The ballet was a trio billed as ‘British Liaisons’, and included Checkmate from 1937, Concerto from 1966 (?) and After the Rain from 2005. After lunch we bussed back home to get ready, took lots of photos and went back into town in our finery. I had trouble finding finery because I haven’t got that much in my suitcase, and I didn’t think Sydney would be cold (IT IS COLD!), but with a bit of creativity I was both well-dressed AND warm.

The classic image of the Opera House is the outside – I never really thought much about the fact that they have concerts there too. They do – over 2500 performances a year, which I thought a rather fantastic number until I realised they have the Concert Hall and the Opera Theatre and some other theatres as well, which makes sense considering the number of shells. We were early, so we stood in the foyer admiring the architecture and drinking Semillon which I’d ordered in a combination French-Australian accent. My accent is going screwy.

We should probably have had dinner before leaving, but we weren’t sure how to fit it in, so we took a box of Maltesers in with us. We had great seats on the balcony and there weren’t any tall people in front of us. The orchestra was in a pit that went all the way under the stage, which I thought was a great idea because they weren’t all squashed in, and the conductor was a woman. I think she’s the first female orchestra conductor I’ve seen. You can see the shape of the shell from inside the theatre, and it’s a lovely space.

Checkmate was first. It tells the story of a chess board, red against black. One of the red knights falls in love with the Black Queen, and hesitates to kill her at a vital move. She then takes his sword, kills him, and goes for the old Red King (she was entirely evil). Wonderful dancing, gorgeous thirties-style costumes and great music. The Castles came on carrying dumbbells, which garnered some titters from the audience. We were a bit confused by the Knights’ Heil-Hitler salutes near the beginning, but possibly that was seen as a loyal, Knight-worthy thing to do when the ballet was choreographed in 1937. The Angel pronounced Checkmate her favourite.

Next was After the Rain, which started with three pairs of dancers doing pas de deux (I think) in grey costumes, which was followed by a lone pair. It was absolutely beautiful and was my favourite of the three. At times it seemed as if the woman was floating through the air, and the movements were all so fluid yet controlled. The dancers got loud applause.

Concerto was the final piece, and I think it involved the entire company. The women were dressed in short, brightly coloured dresses and white tights, which I thought was very sixties, and the men in matching skin-tight leotard/tight things. Lots of movement in concert, and quite a bit of humour in the choreography.

We’d both like to go again, but I’m not sure my budget stretches that far...

And... finally... PICTURES!

Sydney Opera House at sunset

St Mary's Cathedral

An example of the Everything-In-Sydney-Is-Huge phenomenon. Note the size of the basins vs. the window.

Sydney, Day 1: St Mary's, Art Gallery, Botanic Gardens, Opera House, Pizza in The Rocks

Woke at 8am Sydney time. Hurrah! The Angel works Tuesday-Saturday so today is like her Sunday, therefore waking at 8am is acceptable. Anyway...

I had an awesome day yesterday. First we went for brunch at a nice cafe: I was attracted by the ricotta hotcakes, but in the end decided on the steak sandwich. Though the food took a while to come, it was very good when it did come, especially The Angel’s risotto.

Next we took the bus into the city and wandered down some streets in the general direction of the Botanic Gardens. I was struck by the scale of everything; I felt a bit like I’d been shrunk when crossing the roads or walking beneath the shop verandas or looking up at the buildings. We were distracted on the way, first by the ANZAC memorial, then by St Mary’s Cathedral and then by the Art Gallery of New South Wales.

St Mary’s is magnificent, with beautiful stained glass windows and stone carvings, soaring wooden beams and well-worked paintings. The light glowed gold from high amber windows. There were windows into a dark passageway above the main church, and I wondered what it would be like up there, and who would use it.

I very much enjoyed the art gallery. In an inner foyer a violin/guitar/voice trio was playing These Boots are Made for Walking in French while two little kids drew as fast as they could on easels – they had until the end of the song to finish their drawings, and then the next volunteers would have a turn. We went into the wing with oil paintings from the 15^th-19^th centuries and spent at least an hour admiring the works. There was a beautiful one of a woman in a dark salon rethinking her fit of pique, and I was particularly struck by the play of firelight across her dress. I can’t remember the name of it, or the painter, but I might go back and check (it’s FREE!).

Next we went into the wing of 20^th century Australian art, which I think was spoiled by going into the 15^th-19^th century wing first. Many of the painters in this wing were trying to make statements and (in our uneducated opinions) might have been trying out different techniques just to be different. Art critics shoot me now. We liked the more modern, fully abstract artworks better. A set of rooms had found-object and audio-visual works, which were interesting: one involved Ken in a finned American car with his hair blown back by a fan, and a video showing (live) classic film shots of Ken and the car. The tv on another looked like it showed the view out a plane window (random aside as I write: I can hear a FROG!), but it was actually the wing off a toy aeroplane, with a disc of crinkly plastic turning in behind. Quite cool.

And then, just as the sun was drawing towards the horizon, we got to the Botanic Gardens. Lots of beautiful trees and lots and lots of bats – in places it smelt a bit like a zoo. We came out by the harbour and The Angel pointed out a fort on an island that was too small to be used, because if you fired a cannon it rolled back so forcefully that only a few people could be on the island, and they had to be at the other end of it.

We walked around the harbour to the Opera House, and I took lots and lots of photos. As we got to the Opera House the sun was going down, so I took some photos on Sunset Mode (I wonder what settings Sunset Mode uses?). There are lots of nice (expensive) shops along Circular Quay, including a Guylian restaurant where they serve $8 hot chocolate.

We were aiming for the hotel where my Arty Aunty is staying, and walked through a bit of the Rocks and under the Harbour Bridge to get there. I decided I would take no more photos because I had lots and it was getting dark, but kept seeing things that needed to be recorded for posterity. So I recorded them.

We felt a bit underdressed in the hotel foyer, but Arty Aunty came to save us and took us out to dinner at a proper Italian pizzeria in the Rocks. It was lovely to see her, and put off the goodbye hug just a bit longer. The pizza was great, the conversation scintillating (I really just wanted to use that word) and my rich Italian hot chocolate amazing. Was sad to say goodbye.

I was thinking of limiting my posts to 500 words. I’m not sure that’s going to happen. Have a great day everyone!

Sydney, Day 0.5: flight to Sydney and settling in

Aaand... I am in Sydney!

It’s amazing how you can go through a (mostly generic) airport waiting area, get on a plane, come out through a (mostly generic) airport waiting area, and be in a completely different place. It didn’t really hit me that I had changed cities until I was walking towards customs and there was the Sydney skyline through the window, looking like a postcard but REAL. And then there was the bus trip into the city (no trains because of track work, but the buses were therefore FREE) and staring out the window (trying not to look too much like a tourist even though, yes, I am on an airport bus) at the cute buildings that I shall call garrets because that’s the word that springs to mind. Little terraces with awesome wrought iron balconies. And going past Mt Carmel and being reminded of Looking for Alibrandi (is Mt Carmel in there? Can’t remember) and all the streets and people and old heritage buildings (i.e. those that are more than one hundred years old) and then the towers and EVERYTHING.

Right. Breathe. I’ll try to go in chronological order.  I apologise for long sentences , capital letters and parentheses. Yes, I know this will be long. I won’t come after you with a pitchfork if you don’t read all of it :)

Lots of my family came to see me off at the airport, including my four-year-old cousin who had to leave early to play his FIRST EVER GAME OF SOCCER (awww). Thank you all for coming, and for all the texts and calls! I’ll miss you! You must come over and visit me :D   I did the electronic passport control, where it reads your passport, face-recognises you and takes a picture when you go through the gate. Very Minority Report.

I was in the back row of the plane, and my TV was showing The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest when I sat down (I think the flight attendant was watching it). No window seat, unfortunately, and even the windows closest to me were curtained off for the flight attendants. There was a nice German girl sitting next to me, however, so we talked while we waited to take off and I tried not to watch the movie (I hadn’t seen it and it was halfway through).

In the end I did watch the last half of it and the first quarter (in that order – it’s okay, I’ve read the book) mostly because I couldn’t figure out how to use the remote properly until halfway through the flight. We had fish for lunch, and then (it seemed like just a few minutes later) we’d touched down in Sydney. My phone welcomed me to Oz when I turned it on, and I winced as text messages came through. I can’t remember how much it costs when I receive them, but most were (hopefully free ones) from Vodafone, so I don’t think my credit has gone down that much.

I met my friend The Angel at Central Station. My suitcase-I-found-on-the-side-of-the-road is holding up okay, though I think the dragging handle may not last much longer. I bought a weekly public transport ticket and we bussed back to The Angel’s house (with more garrets! Possibly the same ones... I have no idea where we were). So good to be free of the suitcase... The Angel found out I hadn’t seen Despicable Me, so we got that out of the video store, had beef and vege noodles for dinner and then watched movies and ate mussels and chips. Yum. We also saw Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World (Punk Lawyer Girl must watch it if she hasn’t already, also possibly Disneyland Tax Girl though you may think it’s weird. But it is awesome).

Despite my attempt to adjust immediately to the time difference, I woke at 5.55am Sydney time. I will try harder tomorrow.

Earthquake

The only thing I feel I can write about at the moment is the Christchurch Earthquake. It’s the only thing I feel right writing about.

I live about 750km from Christchurch. The earthquake showed up on seismographs near me, but nowhere near enough to be felt. I’ve been in earthquakes before, the largest a 6.7 I don’t remember (I was four). The ones I do remember were scary and exciting, because nothing really bad happened.

The first earthquake in September came as a complete shock. Christchurch is not supposed to have earthquakes – everyone knows the next big one will be in Wellington (my hometown). Wellingtonians are resigned to this, and most of the buildings should stand up to the quake long enough to get people out. The last big earthquake was an 8.2 in 1855, and half of Wellington city is built on land that was underwater before this. Since then most Wellington buildings have been built in timber – Wellington is even the home of the largest wooden building in the southern hemisphere.

But Christchurch? It’s had smaller earthquakes, but no one really thought much about it. As the news came through in September we found that no lives had been lost. A miracle! Businesses were ruined, houses made uninhabitable, but nobody had died. The earthquake became more spectacle than disaster as relief set in. Children stood in fissures, engineers got down to business marking buildings green, yellow, red, and New Zealanders pulled together.

Now things are completely different. The February 22^nd earthquake was of a smaller magnitude, but it was closer to the city and much shallower. There was sideways movement of more than 1G – as if gravity turned ninety degrees. Two office buildings collapsed completely and the spire of the Christchurch Cathedral fell. The death toll stands at 160.

Every flag is at half-mast. Every conversation turns to the earthquake. Do you know anyone in Christchurch? Are they okay? Our national census, set for March, has been called off – the last time that happened was because of World War II. The government is trying to figure out what to cut so that Christchurch can function and be rebuilt.

But we pull together. When bad things happen, we find the courage and strength to continue. You see the best in people. There’s a ‘student army’ helping in Christchurch, and people around the country have opened their homes to earthquake refugees. Everywhere you go there are fundraisers – look on Trademe (our ebay) and you’ll see hundreds of auctions with profits going to help Christchurch. One guy’s selling the 25 tonne rock that destroyed his house – it’s called ‘Rocky’.

We discover ourselves through ordeals. We realise how lucky we are to be alive, and mourn for those who were not so lucky. Life is sharp and immediate and beautiful. It should not be wasted.

Kia kaha – stay strong.

quick christmas pics (-:

I haven't managed to get a book for around the world this week because all the books I have read in the past few weeks don't count (4 set in NZ, 1 set on another planet :P). And it's Christmas on Saturday so I thought I'd do a Christmas post... in pictures, because a picture is worth a thousand words and is much faster to look at when you haven't got much time (-:

Sooooo... pictures of my Christmas, or what I hope Christmas will be like. In 7000 words :D

Christmas in the Park/old volcano crater

Pohutukawa - 'NZ Christmas tree'

close up of a pohutukawa flower, with a happy bee

pavlova mmmmm

West coast beach

giant Santa. Can't figure out how to get the orientation right...

sunrise on an east coast beach

And family, of course, but I thought I wouldn't embarrass them with pictures.

Hope you have a great Christmas and happy new year!

Book #8: Bougainville/Papua New Guinea

Mister Pip by Lloyd Jones

Personally I wouldn’t class this as a young adult book, but I found it in a list of books for young adults and young adults can read it so I thought I’d include it. It’s also very good.

Mister Pip is the story of Matilda, a girl living on the island of Bougainville when it is blockaded by Papua New Guinea soldiers. For the first few months, there is no school – all the foreign teachers have left the island – and the kids are left to run wild. Matilda’s father left years before for Australia, and her strident, God-fearing mother is a difficult person to live with.

The eccentric Mr Watts, the ‘last white man on the island’, decides to hold school lessons, and introduces the class to Great Expectations. Everyone, but especially Matilda, is entranced by the characters of Pip and Miss Havisham and Magwitch, and by the evocation of nineteenth century England, a world away from their tropical island prison. Great Expectations is an escape from the tension of soldiers and rebels on the island, and Matilda becomes ever more immersed in Dickens’ world.

As the threads of the plot unravel, you begin to see how tightly Great Expectations is bound to the story. Matilda draws the story around her to protect herself from the atrocities of the civil war. Mr Watts takes on the guise of Pip and intertwines his own story with that of Dickens and those of the islanders until you are unsure where one leaves off and one begins. You see the fluidity of story and ‘truth’, and the fact that they can never really be separated from one another. History is always someone’s interpretation, and we have the power to rewrite our own histories, to cover ourselves with the history of others, if we want to.

Bougainville seems like paradise, at least in terms of nature. Matilda’s village is right on the beach, and despite the blockade they do not lack for food – Matilda says that the island is one of the most fertile places in the world, and there are always fish in the sea. The beauty of the setting contrasts strongly against the actions of the people, whether soldiers or villagers. When Matilda is transported to nineteenth century England through Dickens’ words, she is escaping not the place but the people.

The book is a lot more complex than I’ve described here, but I’m not sure how to say more without giving away the plot (and I HATE it when people do that). It left me thinking about subjectivity and the layers of story and half-truth that people surround themselves with. How can you know who a person is? How can you know who you are? And does it really matter if we never know the ‘real’ person?

Do you have any books set in Papua New Guinea that you like?

Book #5: Aotearoa/New Zealand

Guardian of the Dead, Karen Healey.

I could go on and on about awesome New Zealand-featuring books, but I’ll try not to. I might bore you. This one is set in Christchurch (yes, the city that had a 7.1 earthquake recently) and weaves Maori mythology into real life. I love the idea that the mythological world exists as it is in the minds of people, and as people’s ideas change, it changes too. And hot guys trying to hide their hotness are also good (goes with my love of awesome people in disguise).

Ellie literally stumbles across the magic world that exists beside our own when she stumbles into Mark Nolan. He’s the hot guy she’s had a crush on since she moved to Christchurch, and things become ever more mysterious from there. There are secret societies and chanting wars in the forest, and you never quite know who is on which side. Ellie’s magical problems worsen along with her normal problems, and I think the fact that she has to deal with ‘real world’ situations as well as fantastical situations makes the story all the more convincing, and draws you right in.

There’s something different about reading books about places you know, especially if they’re of the urban fantasy variety. It makes it all so much more immediate, and you find yourself looking around you and wondering. What if it really was real? What if there’s a patupaiarehe around the next corner? Obviously I’m a Kiwi (the person, not the bird or the fruit), and I love the Kiwi-ness of the language. Healey uses munter (heehee) and No. 8 wire and taonga, which is loosely translated as precious treasure/heirloom, as well as many other Maori words. I recognise the landscape and I’ve grown up with the myths. I think she does a great job of evoking the spirit and feeling of New Zealand.

A few other awesome books worthy of mention (that I can think of at the moment):

Halfmen Of O trilogy by Maurice Gee (there are bits in NZ...)

Dreamhunter duet by Elizabeth Knox (pseudo-nineteenth century NZ)

Because We Were the Travellers by Jack Lasenby (post-apocalyptic NZ)

I am not Esther by Fleur Beale (normal NZ, but scary...)

Lots of things by Margaret Mahy. I like Alchemy.

Goal of the week: reduce my use of the word ‘awesome’.

Any books set in New Zealand you like? And no, Lord of the Rings does not count.

Book #2: Australia

Tomorrow, When the War Began by John Marsden.

I love the way this book gets right into you and makes you think about the world and choices and courage. Many of us live in countries where the possibility of invasion is laughable – how would anyone do it? Our military would stop them. The United Nations would stop them. Decent human goodness would stop them. We feel safe.

And then we’re faced with Ellie and her friends, who thought just that and have been proven wrong. Australia has been invaded, and they have to decide what to do. They’re in a good position – they could go bush and stay out of trouble. Or they could try to fight back.

The invaders have understandable reasons for invading – they have too many people and too few resources, whereas Australia is rich, fertile (in some places...) and sparsely populated. They’re not the root of all evil, even if some of the characters think so, and the morality of fighting or not fighting is explored. People are people, even if they’re on the opposite side of a war.

Everything seems so real, so immediate. You go into the bush, walk along Tailor’s Stitch, descend into the sanctuary of Hell. Reading through the book again, I was amazed at the careful ratcheting of tension right from the first page. Anything can happen, and does. There are love triangles and snakes and mysterious murder stories, bush-bashing and bulldozers and dentists in hiding, uncalled-for dressing gowns and blowing things up...

Ok, I confess. I like explosions. Not the real kind, just the fictional kind. And this series, starting with TWtWB, provides a lot of them. Yes, Ellie tries to figure out if it’s ok to kill other people to save yourself, and how the Bible can say ‘thou shalt not kill’ and then present all these heroes who kill people. But in the end this book is also about fighting for what you believe in, once you’ve weighed your beliefs very carefully. In a situation like this that means explosions and ingenious plotting, both on the part of the author and of the characters. And explosions are fun. In fiction.

However, I’m glad that the number of fictional fatalities is kept low-ish (at least in the first book). It’s enough to give you get a sense that this is serious, that lives are at stake.

The book leaves you thinking, which the best books do.  What would you do if your country was invaded? Would anyone have understandable reasons for invading? Can you do anything to make the world a fairer place?

So what books set in Australia do you like?