23 May 2012 - Sydney Tourist Park, Miranda, Sydney, NSW

The last few days have drifted along wonderfully. The weather improved by Monday and has held out in the intervening days. On Sunday afternoon we did our dummy run to the airport and found out that while the route there is straightforward, there is a gate fee to pay when entering or leaving the airport via the rail port; $12 for an adult and $8.60 for a Senior.

That afternoon we went on into the city and wandered about Circular Quay taking in the atmosphere and the crowds. We wandered up Pitt Street to Martin Place, and then caught the train back to camp.

The following day we travelled once more to the city by train, this time with the intention of taking part in a tour of Government House, only to find that tours are run only on Friday through to Sundays. We popped into the State Parliament to check out tours and sitting times, then popped into the State Library where there is currently an exhibition of works by John Lewin titled Wild Art. This artist / botanist came out to Australia in 1800 at the age of thirty and spent the rest of his days recording the flora and fauna of this wild land. He also documented the landscapes of expeditions he joined and while his work can hardly be included amongst the greats of the age, it was he who was the first to publish an illustrated book in Australia and his portfolio is important as part of the history of this country. The exhibition was not memorable but a still a pleasant distraction as we aimlessly moved about the city.

As one wanders through history and art, it is a delight to discover little gems and the jewel of the day were the words used to describe a friend of John Lewin; John Grant who was described as “an unstable gentleman convict”. This, I imagine, would have described my great great uncle George Bevege as he pursued his commercial interests in Tamworth here in New South Wales.

We wandered up Pitt Street into the mall that had so enthralled me last year, but found it busy but not buzzing as it had been then. We found our way underground and then up through the Queen Victoria Building to the Town Hall Railway Station where we caught the train to Circular Quay, then jumped on the ferry and travelled across to Mahons Point, Balmain and disembarked at Darling Harbour. We wandered up past the quayside restaurants and through the throngs of tourists enjoying the sights and the sun in Cockle Bay, and paused at the Scottish Restaurant for ice-creams and shared a space just inside the door with the resident ibis. Then we walked on up through Tumbalong Park, past the Exhibition Centre, through Chinatown to Central Station where we headed home on the train, changing at Sutherland.

Yesterday we made our leisurely way once more into the city, disembarking at Town Hall then wandered along George Street, drawn into St Andrew’s Cathedral by the amazing architecture. Building started in 1837 but was not completed until 1868. The gold rush intervened and most of the able bodied men rushed off into the gold fields. Eventually they returned realising they were more likely to make their fortunes using their trade skills rather than digging for gold. The cathedral is Australia’s oldest and is very beautiful. I don’t know how we missed it last year; it proved a bonus today. As we entered the foyer, one of the two elderly hosts cornered us and filled us in with much of the building’s history. Ray is of the old school and is not too keen on the more modern evangelical ways of the current leaders, a fact he discreetly imparted. His colleague, not too much younger, apparently delights in the renewed vitality of the services and probably claps and dances in the aisles with the rest.

Ray drew our attention to a very old Bible lying in a glass case. This magnificent manuscript dates from 1540, being the third printing of that printed under Henry VIII’s reign. This alone was worth the detour off the street.

We made our way up to Hyde Park and sat in the sun, shared our lunch with bold pigeons and  listening to a classical guitarist set up in front of the fountain. His amplifier was directed toward the boulevard flanked by grand old trees, and the acoustics as we walked toward the music was just wonderful.

Finally it was time to make our way along to the State Parliament. We wandered about this lovely old building, patched together over the centuries and then between 1974 and 1985, renovated, restored and added to. The library and halls are decorated with artworks and panels describing the history of this parliament. We spent a little under an hour exploring these and then were taken into the Legislative Assembly chambers. This is far less grand but much more intimate than the chambers we have been to in Melbourne, Canberra and Adelaide. The restoration has been tastefully done, and so one feels transported back in time.

The parliamentarians in Question Time were en forme, noisy, garrulous, naughty; everything and more that the representatives in the Victoria Parliament had been. While the Speaker of the House, a large woman with an authoritive voice, put many members on notice, none were actually thrown out. 

We sat beside a charming Mexican young woman and instructed her on the operation of the House. When we all left, we were surprised to learn that she had found it most interesting and was keen to experience it all again. We explained that there was Question Time every day that parliament was sitting and she should find out sitting dates on line to find out when she could return for more of the naughty school classroom scene. Interestingly, when we had told an elderly woman on the train earlier in the day where we were going, she was totally unaware that the public were free to attend sessions, and she was a true blue Aussie.

On the return train journey we discovered in the MX (the afternoon freebie paper handed out to commuters in both Melbourne and here in Sydney) that the airport rail line is to be closed next weekend, to coincide with our need to use it.

The MX newspaper is targeted at the younger set, and none so much as those commuting in Sydney. There are several regular columns, reports of  tweets and texts on subject matter that shock  stuff-shirts such as me and hidden amongst the debris, news items for the discerning, Sudoko and crossword puzzles and important advice about such matters as closed commuter routes. I would never pay for it but it makes for light entertainment during a three quarter journey.

This morning after I had done a load of washing and spent time conversing with an interesting Cairo born man of Austrian and French heritage in the laundry, we headed off once more into the city. It should be noted that most of the contact I have with other people, particularly on my own, is with those whom I meet in laundries or doing laundry related tasks. This evening was yet another such occasion when I was delayed by a cigarette smoking chap who wandered over from his motorhome to chat while I was groping in the dark for the washing.

We left the train at Wolli Creek to suss out where the replacement bus would be leaving from on Saturday, and were met by a posse of policemen at the exit. They were seemingly checking for rail tickets however I suspect they had an ulterior motive. The stations out on the extremity of the rail lines have no barriers and it would be quite possible to travel without a valid ticket for part of those lines providing no inspectors checked. This was the second time within these last few days we have had to produce our tickets so I would caution against cheating the system. I will take this opportunity to mention ticket prices, or at least those used by us this week. We purchased a week long multi ticket for me which allows me to use the ferries, trains and busses within two zones of the city centre; this cost $51. Chris however buys his Senior ticket for $2.50 each day which allows the same flexibility as mine, but for just the one day. We consider this excellent value and are making the most of it all while we can.

When we resumed our trip and disembarked at the Central Station, we discovered an airport shuttle bus operating from that station for a fair $12 per head. Chris was keen for us to do this on Saturday however he is pessimistically expecting the worst of weather for that day and does not want to arrive like a drowned rat at the airport. I, on the other hand, am optimistic about the weather and am looking for the quickest trip, which admittedly may expose us to the elements. Alas the preparations for the impending trip away become more complicated by the day.

After a visit to Paddy’s Market, we made our way back up to Hyde Park and ate our lunch once more serenaded by the classical guitarist. From there we walked to the State Library  and spent nearly three hours in front of a microfiche reader. Well, at least I did, and Chris wandered about tolerantly waiting for me, while I undertook a fruitless search through three years editions (1843 – 1845) of the Parramatta Chronicle & Cumberland General Advertiser looking for evidence of one of my great great grandfather’s fame. As a result of this wasted effort, we were late taking the rail ride home and the night was black as pitch by the time we walked back to camp from Miranda.