September 3

Wake Up Sydney! Mid-Saturday morning I headed to a quaint cafe to order Becky and I two "long black" coffees. In the southern hemisphere, coffee drinkers get their highs from a long pour of espresso with a shot of hot water. Back at our weekend "home," Becky preferred to have a lie-in and enjoy our cottage for a bit, while I began my day's adventure.

I headed toward Eveleigh Farmer's Market, which I had discovered online as I researched Sydney produce markets. One of my greatest joys is visiting new markets. Outdoor markets show how a community comes together and how you can feel an area's culture and vibe. Initially I misread my map, and walked in circles, so I hailed a cab to the destination. This outdoor, aluminum-covered market takes place on Saturdays next to a retired train lot. The interesting urban landscape features old brick buildings nearby an industrial area that could be dodgy at night, but looks okay by day.




Eveleigh Farmer's Market, Rhubarb, Parsnips & Spring Onions


At the market I saw mothers and babies, filling their French market whicker baskets with artisan cheese, seasonal & organic veggies, homemade beer for daddy, silverbeet (an Aussie collard green), gorgeous flower bouquets, jams and jellies. The market features all sorts of Sydneysider goodies, such as a delectable passion fruit butter, which I pretty much sampled down to nothing! I walked past lamb cuts, cured kangaroo, free-range duck and chook eggs, baked goods from vivacious vendors, espresso-dust laden lads, and fashionable urbanites--adjusting their road bikes to fit fresh fare in baskets and backpacks.


A curly-haired bub chases a pup alongside the market


A blues duo belted songs and played guitar and harmonica-- sounding from a tiny amplifier, creating an echo of fresh Mississippi in an Australian train yard. The whole thing looked like a movie set, and almost too idyllic for a city.

Visiting a handful of the city's ten markets is a must-do in this Harbor City. Just remember that if you're leaving soon on a plane, do not purchase too many edible goods...like I did. Airport security LOVED my pink ladies, and I was certain they'd be contained. Luckily I did enjoy them several thousand feet up in the air (and after I accidentally almost grabbed Australia's host for Dancing with the Stars in the security line-ray bin when reaching for an x! He was sweet about it, and handsome, of course...)

Following an hour at the market, I rode the train to the world's second largest fish market: The Sydney Fish Market. This event-of-a-landmark is a food and fish lover's dream.




Thousands of millions of fish line bins packed on ice, as Sydneysiders stroll the stalls for the perfect meal for tonight's dinner.

An incomparable place. Bins of lobsters, crabs, shellfish, ocean fish, scallops, and everything living beneath the worldly waters seem to forever reside here. One would never have realized the varying species, lest some fishermen scoured the earth for our finest and freshest gill-bearing aquatic friends. I feel some angst here for the future of fish, as it can take decades for fish populations to recover. Seeing the market disgruntled me a bit. In a way, I feel shame for the market, but at the same time, I'm amazed at the amount and beauty of fish.

The warehouse part opens around 5:30 am for a major fish auction. Sydney's finest restaurants and markets send owners, chefs, cooks and sellers to show up at the crack of dawn to fish through a sea of people and numbers to see what they can bargain for a daily catch. What a smelly time that must be. For $20 AUD, you can take an early bird tour of the market and the live auction. Post-auction, the whole market opens for the public, where dozens of stalls showcase whole fish, freshly packed on ice. There are plenty of prepared seafood meals as well, such as Oysters Rockefeller, curried clams, sauteed scallops, sushi, and endless varieties of fresh oysters on the half shell (shuck 'em n' chuck 'em). Feel like Washington State lobster and chips? Or how about New Zealand snapper with Australian barramundi lemon fillets? (oh, and this is pronounced "Fill-its" for the Aussies)

If you prefer not to have 10 billion eyes staring at you as you graze the aisles for sashimi or deep-fried lunch, this market could be a horrific sight. However, I love fish.
And oh my! All this fish before my eyes! My good and bad angels were at my side. My bad angel is a free-loving foodie: all food looks appealing and at no health or environmental cost. My good angel is probably close to vegetarian if not vegan, conscious of world-hunger, GMO issues, knows every food from A-Z, and of course, is President of multiple fish conservation agencies. I hope all these fish have angels too...

My stomach grumbled at the sight of fresh ahi and avocado rolls, so I went with the bad angel and said a prayer and ordered a beer. Absolutely lip-smacking delicious. Taking my meal outside, and smelling the salty Darling Harbor air... Even in the midst of one million seagulls hovering over two hundred other fish-eating lip-smackers, this was one of my most enjoyable Sydney meals. Until...

I rang Becky on my mobile and was about to lick the last glob of wasabi rice from my chopstick, and the kid down the bench from me flipped over his fish n' chips by accident. Exposed. A million seagull eyes. I saw nothing but white and gray feathers. Orange, webbed feet and bits of chips and gull poo blinded me, while squawks and squeals deafened me, and feathers poked me.

In a fit of fright, I screamed and flung my phone--where it landed on to the table of a group of innocent Japanese teenagers enjoying their sushi rolls. They laughed and the father of the young boy looked as embarrassed as me. I'm not fishing for compliments here, but I think I handled it quite well, as I laughed out loud. I re-dialed Becky to sort out a meeting-up at the Opera House for a sunset cocktail.

Becky postponed our plans, which okay with me because I was eager to explore. I thought I'd spend more time in the market, oogling over fish, and the fancy plates various vendors place together...I took more pictures and ordered a sale combo plate as a second meal! I had Scottish scallops au gratin, deep-fried mud crab, with chips, a crab cake and prawn dumplings. Sometimes I live to eat.

Me and my seafood-pinata belly took a bus to Circular Quay, near the Opera House and booked a $12 sunset ferry to Manly, seven miles up the coast. I remembered my sunset ferry ride from Devonport to Auckland city center in New Zealand several months back. I am somehow always remembering New Zealand and comparing it to Oz.

The night before this, I had seen the Opera house lit by city sparkles, but this time my heart melted at the glowy, dusky colors on the House as we boated to Manly. Manly, named by Captain Arthur Phillip, supposedly thought the Aboriginal people, the Kay-ye-my clan, in this particular area of Sydney were quite "manly." Well, there ya have it.

We embarked at the Manly Wharf where I headed on foot to east-facing Manly Beach for a coffee and to dip my toes in the windy waters. A kiteboarder glided over aqua waves and the air was warm as a baby blanket. I spent an hour or so wandering through Manly's sheik shops and seeing glammed-up diners go in and out of the seaside resort town restaurants.



It's a Small World After All...

On the ferry back to Circular Quay, we passed the Opera House lit up again, all sparkly and grand at night. As I was taking photos, someone tapped me on the shoulder and offered to take a photo of me. He appeared quite familiar, but what would be the chances of me actually knowing him? But, I said "Gee, you look really familiar." Surprisingly he responded the same! I asked if he had been in New Zealand and he said yes! As it turns out, we had both stayed in next-door dorms at Paradiso Hostel in Nelson on New Zealand's south island. He has been living in Manly and was headed to Sydney to party with some German guys he at met at that Nelson hostel! We bid each other farewell as we disembarked back at Circular Quay.



I taxied back to our Surry Hills cottage and went for drinks with Becky at The Clock bar. We told stories from our day, and I have never slept as good as I had that night.