Rocks, Darling!

26/02/09

I decide to call the Library today to see if they have anything interesting about Frank Debenham I could come and have a look at. The lady who takes my call is very helpful and scampers off to have a look for me. It turns out that they have some papers in their catalogue from Scott’s expedition to the Antarctic. She has a brief thought and thinks she ought to check whether they’re available or not before I come down.
She comes back to the phone having realised that they’re actually not available.
This is because they’re in London.
These particular records are kept in the British Library… There’s something to do when I’m back home if I feel so inclined! The only other thing they have is a family tree, which I suspect is the one we already own, so I decide to use my day somewhere else instead.
I do a spot of surfing (don’t get too excited – only the internet sort!) and discover that Sydney’s Hard Rock Café no longer exists… Right, that’s two of my things to do today crossed off even before breakfast!
I head to the post office once I’ve eaten and thoroughly confuse the lady who helps me, first by wanting the wrong sort of stamps, second by returning and buying totally different stamps for something else, and third, by dropping my pen down inside a display where I can’t get at it.
To her credit, she keeps smiling, helps me retrieve my pen, and still hopes I have a good day…
I keep going past the post office and head for the bus stop, which is practically on the beach. As I walk I am pleasantly assailed by a lovely fresh fragrance. Something local is evidently still blooming enthusiastically, probably one of those purple trees or a frangipani, and this scent mingles with the faint hint of fresh salt water. That would make a pleasant, alluring perfume I think.
I pass the beach which is greyer today, and much quieter; I think everyone has gone back to work and school this week, so it is more peaceful everywhere. I get to the bus stop, which is right in front of a slightly dilapidated, but nice-looking chippie. It’s called, to my delight, Chish and Fips! I decide to hop on the first bus that comes. Having commended my journey to fate, I am pleased to see that Fate has confirmed my choice of destination for today – Circular Quay. It is nice sometimes to go as the wind blows you, but also good when the wind takes you somewhere you want to go! Though having said that, the buses going the other way would have taken me to Bondi, which would have been such a bore of course…
;)
The bus winds its way through Sydney’s suburbs, which are pleasant in the sun, leafy and inviting, though not terribly exciting, until we come to the suburb closer to the City which contains one of Sydney’s few sections of seedy underbelly: House of Fetish, The Pleasure Chest are but two of the similar shops down this street. Despite its evident catering to people of every taste, it still retains a pleasant air, confirmed by the quiet and peaceful, open-minded rainbow bars that proclaim themselves to passers-by.
We continue into the heart of Sydney and I see that the fountain by the Cathedral is boarded up, which is a pity, I am glad I saw it last time. The Sheraton which we pass near Hyde Park and St James’ Station is very posh indeed… It makes me feel like an oik even driving past it!
I get off at Circular Quay and have a bit of an explore. I decide not to bother with the Museum of Sydney today… There are only so many museums one person can take in a few days and I really want to go to the Powerhouse Museum too. So today, I head for the Rocks, a historic area which I’ve been told is interesting and worth a look. It used to be the original town centre. It nestles at the foot of the Harbour Bridge, between there and the Quay and contains many cafes, shops and atmosphere; it has an old Colonial feel to it. It is also one of the oldest parts of Sydney, with a row of houses which have been constantly occupied since they were built in the late 18th Century. They look old but well cared-for and sport iron lace out the front. I head up into an area which used to be the first state hospital, but is now full of little shops and cafes. It is called Nurses’ Walk and backs on to Surgeons’ Court, which remembers the first surgeons to arrive in Sydney, and the story of subsequent ones. It’s a bit like Carnaby Street, but with Australian nick-knacks, history and souvenirs.

I pass by the NSW State Records Centre on a whim just in case there is anything of interest to be found. It is cool and dry, and full of files. I am helped by a nice gentleman but between us we ascertain that there is nothing actually here worth looking at. He suggests I try the main records which might be held in Canberra, so I decide not to bother doing that, but do check out the Aussie version of Free BMD: www.bdm.nsw.gov.au.

I head on out into the sunshine again, thinking vaguely about lunch. I’m in a good place to find somewhere for it at least! Argyll Terrace smells just like Neal’s Yard as I pass through; it’s surprising how many familiar smells creep up on you when you don’t expect it. I pop into a little honey shop, being curious, and discover that they do very nice honey on mail order… I wonder if I can persuade the Clare James shop to order some in when I get home!
I head back to the main street nearest the Quay and decide to pop into a bakery for my lunch. It is old-fashioned and smells good; I get a spinach and ricotta pie to take away. It is very spinachy and full of cheese and garlic – good job I’m on my own! It’s very tasty and filling though, which is what I need. I munch it sitting on a small wall under a spreading tree in the dappled sun and watch the world go by. On particularly interesting part of said world is a group of three schoolgirls who have ignored the ‘please do not climb on the water steps’ notice at the bottom of a little water feature and are happily paddling in it. One complains of wet socks, the others giggle. A large-chested, short personage in a voluminous white tee-shirt appears across the square. This is clearly the gym teacher who has been roped into a school trip. You can feel the tone go down through your bones and hard-wire itself into your feet as she calls, not loudly but firmly, ‘Ladies!’ and beckons… I resist the urge to follow and watch as the wet-footed gaggle scurry to her side and they all vanish in the meagre crowds.

I head up some steps, one section so well-worn that it has been permanently fenced off, toward Susannah Place, where the four original houses and a small museum of local life are supposed to be. Sadly, the museum looks permanently closed. I peer at the dusty artefacts within through the grimy windows and admire the ancient weatherboard, before heading back down towards the Quay past the lovely ‘historic’ houses with their hanging baskets, funky knockers and ancient iron lace, so beloved in Aus. I am reluctant to leave this little puddle of history, but have exhausted its possibilities and go back to wait at Circular Quay for a ferry to Darling Harbour, where there are other interesting things to see, like Chinatown and the Powerhouse museum.
The ferry is a large green and cream beastie called Alexander. It wobbles gently in the swell as we board and I find myself a seat at the top at the back – good for views and not too close to the sea spray. Alexander reverses out of the bay he was in and turns in the small area of the Quay. He grinds and rumbles under the pressure and effort of the fighting brakes and propulsion, but soon we are pointed the right way and we are off – pushing through the white flecked, dark water, with a huge trail of bubbles and spray in our wake.
This is the perfect way to see the Opera House and the Bridge together, from the water. I can’t decide yet if I like the Opera House or not… It isn’t soaringly elegant but does have a pleasing asymmetry to its bulk. It does, however, make me think of a basket of broken shells.
I briefly catch myself thinking an Americanism… (which seems to work under the circumstances but I’d rather not do it too often!) ‘This is, like, the most fun EVER!’ Which it is, and I get it free on my weekly travelcard – whee! As we pass under the bridge, Luna Park hoves into view, with its grotesque grinning mouth and tall towers. It nestles at the foot of the bridge, where it has been for decades. It is eerily silent and still at the moment, only open at certain times. It’s bigger than the one in Melbourne, though the clown is less scary, and possibly female. The stop is Milson’s Point, but I can only ever remember it at the Luna Park stop!
The ferry’s brakes sing as we pull into the stop – a wild and eerie sound, full of odd harmonics and interesting melody. Few people get on or off, so we are off fairly swiftly. My hair blows directly upward from the nape of my neck in the oddly-angled breeze. It is bright out on the water, despite the clouds and I am glad of my sunnies. The brakes sing again, a fluting, delicate, haunting sound as we dock at Balmain – nearly there! I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirrored window panel and jump as I think I see my mother… We grind to a halt at the tiny, slightly rusty wharf and the big boat bounds up and down like a petulant horse, having braked too sharply in the swell. We arrive at Darling Harbour next stop and I realise the boat had been full of Germans and Indians!
I like the buildings here, they are big, brash, glossy, glassy creations which echo the sky.

I pass Sydney’s BASE hostel and pop in on the pretext of checking my email to see what it’s like. It seems to smell less of alcohol etc, but still has a pub/club in the basement… I am not enamoured of the brand in general I decide, though I think that’s because I’m after peace and quiet – party animals, typical students and night owls would love it here!
After that little interlude, I look for the best way to get to the museum. This area of Sydney is not easy to navigate for me, geographically challenged that I am (getting better though!) and I find myself wandering down all sorts of side streets parallel to where I actually think I want to be… D’oh! Still, it is an interesting walk, leading through China town and various other places around Darling Harbour. I find a couple of little haberdasheries, which pull me in – one is very old-fashioned. It is a huge room stacked to the rafters with big, brown, stapled boxes. A counter at the front is surrounded by pretty things stuck on sales boards around the meagre space where we customers gather to ask for our wares… I buy a tassel to help make a tail for a fancy dress costume…

I pass through a completely dead shopping centre. It is eerie and wrong, a ghost made by the financial crisis. The escalators run, the lights are all on, but there are no shops, no goods, no people. It feels like the spawning shopping mall invented by Pratchett in Reaper Man, empty but bristling with potential. I feel uneasy and swiftly leave.
I finally find the Powerhouse Museum after a scamper around the back end of Darling Harbour, and have a long climb up various ramps to get to this place. It used to be an old power station, rather like the Tate Modern, but has been converted into this enormous place to house history and innovation. It is 4pm, so I discover that, if I can run around in an hour, I can get in for free… I think, have you time, it is worth going for far longer… It’s not expensive to get in, $10 at most, and houses some amazing things – modes of transport from steam to helicopter, old Chinese artefacts and modern Western ones, a selection of beautiful musical instruments from an ancient dulcimer and a convict-made violin, right up to a couple of guitars owned by various rock stars. There are also several keyed instruments in this section from virginal to electronic piano. There is a bewildering array items in the cyber collection – I am amused by the ‘Dancing Demon’ on an elderly pc, probably about as old as I am! There are newer items too – a robotic arm which almost has a personality, waving its two-fingered claw in the air and doing tricks when you press buttons, and a little scuttlebug critter that is learning to walk…

I have sore feet so I decide to merely walk past the outside of the Chinese Gardens and meander back up to the Harbour past a lovely, sloping water feature and fountain. I clamber wearily onto the ferry and we sail gently back across the Bay to Circular Quay in the sun, passing various ancient ships as we leave – the Endeavour is one.
I trail home, footsore and we have scrambled eggs on toast for tea…

:)