Sydney

Photo by Phyllis Bertke (my mother)

We finally made it to Sydney. Though it is only 2 hours away, we've but skirted this city in the time we've lived in Australia so far. Mark, sadly, had to miss this trip as it was mid-week so I took the kids out of school and we drove down and stayed there on Tuesday and Wednesday in a hotel with my parents. (While we were gone, Mark played golf and ate at McDonalds. He promised his students he'd visit the Maccahs (pronounced MACK-ahs) in Australia and let them know how it compared to Maccahs in the US. He has done his research and in his report he announces that they are exactly the same. Good to know.)



What a beautiful city! We spent time at the aquarium, Darling Harbor, Sydney Harbor, Circular Quay and the Botanic Gardens--all the tourist hot spots for those of you who've been there. I was impressed with the amount of open space and gardens in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world. Someone was really thinking when they began to develop this area and chose not to cover every hill, slope and valley with buildings. It was truly a lovely city to walk around and I am a good strong critic of places with too many people and their debris.







This is Mr. Incredi-Bubble. He made everyone who passed him by smile.












We have our share of the typical sight-seeing and eating out at good restaurant stories which I will spare you. But there are two stories in particular that I wanted to write about--one more appealing than the other.

The more disturbing story first: We were on our way to dinner on Tuesday evening around 6:30 and we decided to walk the distance to the restaurant which was only about 12-15 blocks, all told. A few blocks into our walk, as we were waiting at a cross walk with throngs of other people, an obviously drunk and likely mentally ill woman approached the kids and me. She was slurring and stumbling and talking loud in our faces, at first just saying hello mostly to the kids. We tried not to react. The kids were nervous, holding my hands and hiding behind me. When the light turned green and we began to cross the street, she got angry and started yelling at us, "That's my daughter. She has my daughter!" It was clear that this woman was going to be more than just an annoyance so the kids and I picked up our pace while my parents and about a dozen other people tried to block her access to us. I was impressed with how safe I felt with all the other pedestrians telling us they would keep her away, suggesting we walk in the middle of the big group they formed around us. The upshot is that it took us about 15 minutes to lose her. We hid in stores while my stepfather watched her and let us know when the coast was clear only to have her reappear on the next corner. Then we'd duck into another store and wait some more. We finally lost her and made it to our restaurant safe and sound and never saw her again, though you can bet we talked about her for the rest of the night. The kids were both terrified. They insisted we take the monorail back to the hotel which, of course, we did.

It was an unfortunate situation though I felt for this woman who was so lost in her world. I shudder to think what the rest of her night was like. But the most interesting parts of that incident were the conversations the kids initiated the rest of the night and next morning. We talked about schizophrenia and medication and alcoholism.

Gabe's questions came out in machine-gun fashion: If medication would help, why won't she take it and who is going to help her get it? Does she have a home and if so, who is going to help her get back there? If alcohol makes people do that why is there alcohol? She can't get us on the monorail because she wouldn't be able to walk up the stairs, right?

Jordan's comments were precious: "It is a good thing we are already sleeping in the same bed tonight, Mama." And, "The scared is so big I don't have any room left for thoughts of food." And on we went. I have to say that navigating their questions was even more difficult than navigating the streets of Sydney with that woman out there. I had to remind myself that part of traveling and having adventures would be eye-opening in ways I wouldn't necessarily be prepared for.

The second story happened while the kids were fast asleep (Grandma took my place in bed early in the morning so no one woke up alone in the hotel room) and I went running. This was possibly the most breathtaking run I've had since I left Colorado, and I run along the ocean at sunrise almost every morning in Newcastle. I ran through the park in the middle of the busy city, and it was plenty busy at 6:00am on a Wednesday morning. And then I headed out toward the harbor. I started off along the left side of the piece of land that juts out and creates the right side of the harbor. First, I ran by a harbor-side pool where I think the Olympic swimmers were practicing. There were heaps of them doing laps quicker than any other swimmers I'd ever seen. They may or may not have been Olympic swimmers but they sure weren't your recreational swimmers out for an early morning workout. Next I ran along the botanic gardens though not through them yet as I was eager to get to the harbor and see the Opera House for the first time.

I came out from under the canopy of huge trees at the end of the land that framed the harbor and onto a lookout spot. Here, I stopped running. In front of me was the harbor and directly across the harbor was the Sydney Opera House. And directly behind the Opera House, stretched the Harbor Bridge. Behind the bridge, the cityscape and behind me, rose the sun. It was one of the most spectacular scenes I have ever seen.

After taking this in for a few moments, I ran along the inside of the harbor now toward the Opera House. All of this running was on bike paths, by the way and it was all done in the company of about 1.2 million other runners. It didn't feel crowded though, just populated. As I neared the Opera House, I was aware of my growing excitement and I began to see that I was going to be able to run right up to it. There is something deeply moving that I imagine happens inside many of us, maybe most of us, when we see in person something so famous, so widely talked about and so unique. That was happening in me. That alive feeling, that feeling of being a part of history and future, of being a part of this huge world that contains The White House, the Taj Mahal and the Sydney Opera House. I used to get this feeling when I was in Washington DC staying with my father and I'd ride my bike right around the National Monument or walk right up to the Lincoln Memorial and touch the words on the wall.

So I ran around the Opera House and learned that the white tops are made of tile.














I'd always wondered what they were made of. Not metal, not canvas, not some mysterious material unique to the Opera House but ceramic on top of cement, in case you were curious yourself.

From there, I ran almost under the Harbor Bridge, along Circular Quay, which is where all the ferries, trains and buses access Sydney Harbor from surrounding areas. On my way back to the hotel, I ran through the Botanic Gardens which are vast and gorgeous and, incidentally, laid out all upside down, making it hard for a runner to find her way home once she's in there.

It was such a fabulous section of the world that I took my kids and parents down the same path I ran down so I got to see it all again at a slower pace later that morning. I highly recommend Sydney to anyone who's remotely interested. Two days was enough for me, however. The time came to get this country girl out of the belly of the busy city.

From there, we brought my parents back up the road to Newcastle where they stayed with us for a week. And here are some pictures I've stolen from my mother the photographer:


This is one of the resident koalas at the Blackbutt Reserve by our house.















Next, we have a few of the 15,000 bats who live at Blackbutt and who are supposed to be sleeping during the day like the crew on the left. But every time we walk through here, we find plenty who are wide awake like these guys on the right.































This is a lorikeet--a very shy bird. And this is a picture only my mother could take.









Gabe just recently turned eight and so we invited eight kids to his party in a park. Here they are eating cake:

















And here is what they looked like the other two hours and twenty five minute of the 2 1/2 hour party:

This is the first, though probably not the last, year that Mark was fully in charge of the activities at the party.

And now, just three days before we leave for our two-week holiday in Perth and the west coast, I am caught up with the blog. Phew! I don't know if I'll write from Western Australia or wait until I get home so if you don't hear from me, just know we will be back in touch soon! We love you all and hope you are all well and happy...