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Sydney, Australia
Strange but not a stranger
The biggest attraction in Sydney (and possibly even Australia) lives up to its promise in person- the Sydney Opera House remains probably the only truly loved, truly successful modern building ever built. This first picture is the view from the main exterior stair, as the top of the hard to miss Harbor Bridge sneaks behind the tile clad concrete shells.
One of my favorite pictures, just a close up of the opera house side of the building, caught somewhere between light and shadow.
Inside the concert hall, on the sunny northern (and harbor) side. I took the standard opera house tour to see spaces like this, ignoring the awful comments of people who just didn't get modernism ("why does the concrete look like concrete, couldn't they have just painted it or something?") so that I could be afforded yet another view where the bridge is obscured by yet another piece of the opera house.
The inside of the concert hall (where all photography remains strictly prohibited) as seen from the very worst seat available. The concert performance was a series of British music (which explains the fuzzy, out of focus British flag). As much as I like Australia and New Zealand (and Canada for that matter) I just don't understand the whole British commonwealth concept or how people in beautiful, right minded countries even go along with the idea of maintaining a figurehead half a world away. However, it did create a festive mood inside the hall- many Australians brought British flags and everyone knew all the words to all those wacky British songs. I on the other hand never even knew there were words to songs like Pomp and Circumstance, I just always thought it was a humming thing.
Some basic orientation: The Opera House isn't just an opera house- it's two large halls, three small theatres, a restaurant (currently under renovation), a successful series of outdoor public spaces, an esplanade with underground parking, a partially underground shopping concourse and, most importantly, an easily recognizable icon. The opera house itself is the second largest hall, the largest one is the concert hall, which is the one on the western (circular) quayside. Both connect underground to an uneventful box office which is really above ground, both have south entrance lobbies and sunny north interior galleries, and if you're not at least slightly confused by any of that then I haven't done my job.
Self portrait (if you can find me- hint: I'm the one waving) at the concert hall as seen from esplanade level on the harbor side.
The single greatest thing of seeing a performance at the opera house was the intermission. Concert goers, carrying British flags, all better dressed than me, spill outside onto the balcony on an extraordinarily pleasant late spring evening. The shells and harbour bridge glowed, the ferries still moved about the quay, the city glistened in the distance, Australians smoked and drank still humming British songs I've never heard of, fully realizing how lucky they were to be where there were for that moment in time, an experience and feeling I truly shared (except for the smoking and drinking and humming British songs parts). Also, in an odd twist, there was a tent set up for what had to be a very expensive wedding in the adjacent park's high point overlooking the opera house. As the concert ended I descended the stairs heading home while overhearing drunk wedding guests singing a karaoke version of "Throw Your Arms Around Me," a Hunters and Collectors song, known very well by all Australians and me, only because I tend to listen to Australian state alternative radio on the internet. It was one of those songs I couldn't get out of my head, one of the songs I sang poorly and loudly as I drove across the radio-free red centre in a half hearted attempt to stave off madness the week before. One of the songs that, at that moment of time (as off key, loud and distant as it was) couldn't have felt better, couldn't have been more perfect.
There is probably not a better way to end the Sydney (and Australia) pictures than this, the view from the south pylon of the bridge and the view of the incomparable harbour looking east toward the Pacific. On the immediate left is the aforementioned bridge and its shadow, then the pleasantly insignificant suburbs of North Sydney. Manly Beach (where I had the best fish and chips of my life) is on the open ocean and just out of view on the far left of the harbour, reachable by a 20 minute (or so) ferry ride from the Quay. The gardens and domain stretch beyond the Opera House, the infamous Circular Quay is centered about all the ferry docks with the often generic towers of (t)he Matrix rising beyond it. The Rocks comprise the mostly brick (which by popular definition means quaint and historic) buildings under the bridge downtown, while past the many lanes of bridge traffic lies the I-wish-I-was-as-popular-as-Circular-Quay psuedo world's fair mess at Darling Harbour.
If you’re concerned that this four panorama photo panorama is a little hard to see, you can click on this one to enlarge it.
Even though I already said that there is probably not a better way to end the Sydney (and Australia) pictures than that last picture, I’m taking back my words and instead ending on a view of the harbour and the opera house and my Lowa boots, one last glimpse of all that was (and likely still is) half a world away.
Next stop: New Zealand
After Australia, I headed to New Zealand where I walked the thirty three and a half mile long Milford Track and jumped off a bridge in Queenstown before heading to Christchurch, Auckland and Los Angeles. Continue this month long around the world trip by clicking below.
