September 2, Friday

Becky and I woke at 4:30 am and drove to the Brisbane Domestic Airport to catch our Sydney-bound plane. Three nights and four days in Sydney--the Harbor City! I had a bucket list of things to see and do in Australia's most populous city (over four million -- as many inhabitants New Zealand--my recent travel spot). From the iconic Opera House, to the Sydney Fish Market, and everything lesser known in between. I hit my mark, while Becky visited with a Sydneysider friend.

We arrived at the Sydney airport and quickly hailed a taxi to Surry Hills, the area of our rented weekend cottage in a city suburb, a ten-minute walk to the city centre ("center" for us American folk) and a twenty-minute walk to one of the famed arms of the gigantic harbor. Darling cafes, artsy bars, and button-sized boutiques line Crown Street through Sydney's artistic haven. We arrived $27 sooner than an $18 longer trip via bus and train combo. Totally worth the ride from a quirky Argentinean elder, who actually reminded me of my Czech grandfather.

At our cottage, the owner greeted us with keys to a tiny, yet clean and cozy apartment on Fouveaux, a few steps in from Crown Road. Becky and I both sort of plopped down on the red futon in a weary-traveler type hangover, and chilled out until we took an afternoon stroll a few blocks down to Cole's food market. I bought snacks to graze on through the weekend, as well as a six-pack of 4X Summer Lager, and my first bottle of Bundaberg Rum-from Bundaberg, Queensland, and a place I hope to go rum-tasting before I head back to California. We napped back at our sweet little suite, and prepared to have a night on the town, sipping Bundy and coke...yum.

Becky's friend headed over on his motorbike. I met him briefly, but decided being a third wheel is better when you're a tricycle. Stepping out of the our little caboose, I noticed the bars in Surry Hills were slowly winding down, and I began feeling anxious that I'd only have two and a half more full days to experience Sydney.
The bee in my bonnet urged me to grab a cab, and head to Sydney's most iconic feature: the Opera House. I landed $15 later in Circular Quay (I'm a penny pincher, so $15 sits heavy against the $2 bus fare-but I'm taking all safety precautions in my solo night adventures). I remembered Joe had earlier recommended that if I like live music, I may want to check out blues or jazz at the Basement on Circular Quay, near the Opera House. To my surprise so early on a Friday night, the band had already finished playing. I couldn't hide my excitement, so I dashed over to the harbor's edge.

Seeing the Sydney Opera House for the first time, so elegantly lit at night, brought me to tears. I've definitely cried happily in first-sight wonders, like seeing Yosemite Valley again as an adult, Hanalei Bay in Kauai, and upon entering the majestically serene Marlborough Sound, New Zealand on the ferry while crossing the Cook Straight. Yet, I had never before cried at the sight of architecture, nor any man-made object (except maybe for one or several of my mother's paintings).

This feeling surprised me and made me tear-up just a little more. As I walked along the harbor cafes, lit by tiki torches, and cocktail drinkers and dancers toward the Opera House, my feet began hurting in my wedge heels, and so I took them off and carried one in each hand. I circled the parameter of the tiled, arching landmark, barefoot, frolicking and inspecting the individual tiles on the roofline that came so far down to the sides of the House. I soon realized it wasn’t the sheer sight of the Opera House that made me goofy-eyed, but rather skyline views of the lit Harbor Bridge, the glowing sailboats, skyscrapers, and distance of the stars. I made a wish to have a fantastic weekend.

Take a quick 122-photo journey with me through Sydney! (place your cursor at the top of the slideshow to change photos, or change slideshow speed)

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.