Day 31: Magic in Sydney

After I enjoyed the breathtaking Bondi to Bronte walk, it rained all night and all morning in Sydney. Like, it really rained.

This is what greeted me upon my awakening.



I’m from Seattle, but we don’t often have rain like this — rain that makes you look up at the sky in disbelief, wondering just where, exactly, all that water is coming from. Every square inch of cloud seemed to fire a thousand massive drops per second, and, just you wait, there’s more where that came from.

I appreciate this kind of rain for its commitment. Seattle is good at half-assed rain: mist, sprinkles, light showers, sunshowers and the like. Nothing says the Pacific Northwest like that low, oppressive blanket of gray that hangs overhead and releases a constant drizzle from, oh, November through April.

But this torrential rain I’ve experienced in Australia and New Zealand doesn’t mess around. It goes full out. It says, “Hello, people of the South Pacific. I am really going to shit all over you.”

I spent the first half of the day staring out of the rain-spattered windows of my friend’s Double Bay flat and willing the downpour to stop. Despite owning a good waterproof jacket and an umbrella, I had zero desire to splash around Sydney in that mess.

I felt like a horrible traveler — just like I feel when I go to McDonald’s or fail to strike up a conversation with a stranger — but then I decided this is my trip, and I’m the only person who has to like my decisions. It still bothered me a bit to stay in, but I contented myself with blogging and catching up on other Internet stuff.

Finally, around 3:00, the rain stopped! I immediately pulled myself together and headed to downtown Sydney.

I absolutely love the Sydney train system. It’s easy to navigate, the cars are spacious and clean and I never had to wait more than five minutes for a train. I hopped two trains to reach Circular Quay — right on Sydney Harbour — and broke into a huge smile as soon as I exited the station.

There was the Sydney Harbour Bridge. There was the iconic opera house. There was— oooh, is that ice cream?

With a two-scoop cone in hand, I meandered toward the opera house filled with the kind of joy I only get when I see a famous place in person for the first time. It’s one thing to see a landmark on a postcard or in a magazine; it’s entirely different to see it right in front of you and realize, “Wow, I’m really here.”

I was perfectly content to sit with my ice-cream cone and just absorb this place. The sky had cleared, leaving only wisps of the angry clouds that had put a damper on my morning. All was forgiven.

The Sydney Opera House is stunning whether you view it from afar or up close. I loved wandering between its sails and examining the intricate tile work.

I had no idea that one sail actually houses a swanky restaurant! Maybe someday I'll be a fancypants and eat there, but this time, I just gawked and took photos with my fellow tourists.

I particularly loved these ladies, who were clearly BFFs (or even sisters? twins?), as they tried time after time to strike the same pose simultaneously while their patient hubbies snapped away from the stairs below. They just giggled the whole time; it was adorable.

I think they got it. Eventually.

The afternoon was growing short at this point, but I figured I could squeeze in a walk across the Harbour Bridge before the sun set. In all my preparedness, I wandered through The Rocks in the general direction of the bridge and randomly found the correct set of stairs. Win!

The bridge's walkway was filled with commuters, tourists and runners. I was so jealous of the runners, but I didn't come dressed to haul ass across the bridge. I just shuffled along in my jeans and ballet flats and took a million photos instead.

I felt a bit ridiculous stopping every 10 steps to take photos, but the view seemed to get more awesome the farther I walked.

And then... this happened.

What a surreal moment to catch sight of this after a morning of being trapped inside and feeling down in the dumps due to rain.

What a surreal moment in general.

The next day, I posted that photo on my Tumblr along with this:

If you are thinking of changing your life, do it. 

It will be hard. It will be scary. You will question yourself over and over. 

But if you relentlessly pursue what it is you really want, you will one day find yourself in such a situation where life looks more beautiful than you ever could have possibly imagined. 

Right place. Right time. And I never could have been here if I hadn’t listened to what my heart whispered to my mind, and if I hadn’t fully committed the day my mind whispered back, “OK. Let’s do this.”

And that, my friends, has been my favorite moment of traveling so far. No question.

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Day 32: Foodie Heaven at Taste of Sydney

"Testicle #10!" the woman yells. "Testicle #10?"

The surrounding customers snicker a bit as I step forward with my ticket.

I am, as it happens, testicle #10. File that under things I never thought I'd type.

Before you start getting any crazy ideas, this scene took place at Taste of Sydney, an annual pop-up restaurant festival that features many of Sydney's leading restaurants, wineries and artisan producers. My friend's roommate casually mentioned to me Friday morning that this was going on, and I was immediately sold. As in, how quickly can I get there?

After buying a $55 ticket online — which included my entry and $30 worth of Crowns, the festival's currency for buying food and drinks — I walked 3 km to beautiful Centennial Park for the noon session of Taste of Sydney.

Almost there!

I collected my ticket, book of Crowns and menu card at the box office and was ready to go!

Upon entering Taste of Sydney, I was immediately thrilled to be there. It was a bit fancy-schmancy and not very crowded. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. And I've been making food from the grocery store all this week, so I was totally ready to gorge myself on delicious bites from local restaurants.

Note: I photographed everything I ate, so if you don't want to see animal testicles, this is your fair warning to jump ship right now. Run, don't walk.

I did a lap of the festival to get my bearings, and then studied the menu card to figure out which dishes were worthy of my Crowns. The first item that caught my eye was the traditional charcoal BBQ lamb and veal kebab, smoked eggplant and Chobani Greek yogurt from the Turkish restaurant Efendy. Yum!

I headed over to the Efendy stand just in time to overhear an older Australian gentleman inquiring about lamb testicles. Oh, yes, I had seen those on the menu, too: pan-fried lamb testicles with almond tarator — only 20 available per session.

The woman behind the counter confirmed that they were still available, and the guy was so freakin’ happy. He was then handed a numbered slip of paper and became, naturally, testicle #9.

I asked this man if he’d eaten testicles before and if they were good, and he responded, “Of course. They’re gorgeous!”

But of course. Ah, what the hell. I decided to abandon my original plan and get some testicles, too.

I wasn’t grossed out by the appearance of this dish, but I made sure not to think too much before I dug in. I can only describe the texture as sort of like fatty, oily chicken. There wasn’t any particularly strong flavor involved, and the almond tarator didn’t add anything exciting. By the time I’d reached the third… um… piece, I was very aware of what I was eating. I didn’t want to wimp out, though, so I polished off the whole damn thing.

So… what do you even eat after that? I resumed my search for a tasty dish and settled on the slow-cooked and caramelized short rib with bone marrow persillade from Quarter Twenty One.

This. Was. Heaven.

The short rib was impossibly moist, tender and rich. The mashed potatoes were whipped into smooth perfection. I set down my knife and fork after the first bite and just reveled in the flavor. I’m not a super-sophisticated food connoisseur or anything, but it was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. I wanted it to go on forever.

What the hell are these people eating? Short ribs for life!

Pause. Breathe. Make it count.

I chatted with a woman who also had the short rib, and she said she visits Taste of Sydney every year and uses about 150 Crowns ($150 worth of food and drinks).

“30 Crowns are never enough,” she emphasized. “Not even 100 Crowns are enough.”

Hardcore. But I was beginning to think she was right.

I knew no other meat could top the short rib for me, so I went with seafood next — the Hiramasa kingfish double crunch sushi roll from Saké Restaurant and Bar.

It was a miniature raw delight featuring a refreshing flavor I didn’t expect: parsley! I just love me some sushi.

With that, I was out of Crowns, but I knew I had to have some dessert. On my way to purchase a $10 booklet, I spied a Chobani truck giving away free Greek yogurt.

The (very cute) guys in the truck informed me that blueberry was the best flavor, so I chose based on their advice. I plopped down on a red bean-bag and enjoyed it in the sunshine.

I then perused Australian Gourmet Traveller magazine for a bit in order to give my stomach time to free up some space for sweets. I found a recipe for prune and fudge brownies — I’m an unabashed prune-lover — and the first direction is to soak the prunes in Cognac for two to four days. Jeeves, fetch the decanter!

Back to the eating. I could have easily chosen one of many desserts that cost 10 Crowns a pop, but where’s the fun in that? With a little strategy and a little more guilt (which I promptly squashed), I chose Black Forest cake gelato for four Crowns…

… and one of these magnificent creations for six Crowns. Can you guess which one?

If you guessed the most chocolate-y combination of cupcake and frosting available, you win!

My God, it was beautiful. And delicious. I’m pretty sure edible glitter significantly improves lives.

After devouring the cupcake, I was out of Crowns and really out of stomach space — but I didn't want to leave quite yet. I was happy as a clam at Taste of Sydney and wanted to hang out a bit longer.

Luckily, I happened upon a cooking demonstration by big-shot Sydney chef Justin North.

He spent 45 minutes whipping up some delicious dishes involving pears and duck fat and some other stuff. I was paying more attention to the pear samples being passed around along with blue cheese and brie, but I did catch Justin's advice that everyone should keep some rendered duck fat in their fridge for everyday cooking. It keeps beautifully, you know.

Right.

After this, I headed back to my friend's flat in a state of utter contentment. The 3 km walk back was wonderful, as it helped me digest and featured lovely tree-lined, sun-drenched sidewalks like this:

Yup. It was pretty much a perfect day in travel-land.

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Day 30: Bondi to Bronte

On day 30 of my travels, I wake up 7,755 miles from home. I'm one hemisphere, two seasons and a full day away from all of my friends and family.

I'm in Sydney, Australia.

I don't feel quite that far from home, though. One reason is because I wake up in a big, comfortable bed in a quiet, private room. It belongs to a friend who also grew up 7,755 miles away from here.

He's not a close friend — his name and face merely dot the periphery of memories that stretch back to elementary school — but he didn't hesitate to offer his empty room for my use while he's out of town on business.

I'd consider it very strange if he made this offer back in our hometown, but, over here, it just sort of makes sense. Our very different lives, which have haphazardly branched in such ways to bring us both to this place, share a common root.

The other reason I feel a little closer to home today is because, with reliable (and free) Wi-Fi at my disposal, I've caught up with some dear friends via Facebook chat — friends I hadn't communicated with in a month. I hadn't realized how much I've missed them.

Lately, I've felt a bit like one of my many devices that have North American plugs: lost in a place where things look almost like home, but are just different enough so that I don't quite fit.

The solution for both of us?

Adapt. Connect. Recharge.

***

With a good night's sleep under my belt and a renewed vigor to see and do, I set out to visit Bondi Beach. I slapped on my SPF 30+, grabbed my sunglasses and tucked an umbrella in my daypack since the forecast called for rain at some point. I just hoped the partly sunny weather would hang on for me.

Google Maps told me Bondi Beach is about 3 miles away from my friend's flat in Double Bay, and I could either take a train and walk, a bus and walk or walk... and walk.

So I walked.

The most satisfying form of transit.

My Google Maps route took me through tree-lined suburban streets and alongside a park and nature reserve before I reached the hustle and bustle of Bondi Junction. I worked in a stop at Vodafone to sort out an issue with my prepaid phone plan, and then continued on down Old South Head Road toward the shore.

I spied turquoise waters while still a few blocks away from the beach, but stopped short when I caught sight of the menu at Sabbaba.

One Ayia Napa was quite necessary at that moment.

Green basil pesto falafel balls, hummus, tahini, Haloumi cheese, lettuce, tomato and capers were stuffed into a pita and into my eager hands. I chuckled at the description of “green basil pesto falafel,” but it was delicious despite its redundancy.

I proceeded with a full, happy belly to the beach, where I found a pristine expanse of sand lapped by some of the most beautiful blue-green water I’ve seen. It was blissfully uncrowded, with the majority of visitors out bobbing on surfboards, waiting for their next great wave. I plopped down on the sand to take in the scene.

I’d love to say that I sat there contemplating life and drawing deep conclusions about who I am and where I fit in in this world… but mostly I just took joy in being there.

I thought about how happy it made me to get around on my own two feet. I sifted the soft, fine sand through my fingers. I felt it cling to the underside of my legs, forming a light crust when combined with sunscreen and sweat. I watched clusters of tourists take the same photo over and over again: back turned toward the water, arms flung out wide, smiling broadly.

My version of that photo, minus the arm-flinging.

Wind whipped across the beach, but at 24 degrees C (75 degrees F), it was not unpleasant. A swath of clouds in the distance vaguely threatened rain, so I decided to get a move on and begin the popular Bondi to Bronte Coastal Walk.

The 3.5 km track from Bondi Beach to Bronte Beach is paved, fairly flat and replete with benches and scenic viewpoints. Well, the whole thing is a scenic viewpoint, really.

That sign says it takes an hour to walk it one-way, but I think that’s just if you stop to take pictures every five seconds (like I did on the way out) or if you meander quite leisurely.

It's absolutely worth taking the time to absorb the incredible scenery.

Many runners cruised along the track, and I would have loved to run it, too, had I been without my daypack and my falafel-belly. I'm so jealous of those who call this their regular running route!

Solo traveler = self-portrait expert.

Once I made it to Bronte — which is a much smaller beach and has far fewer stores and restaurants surrounding it — I hustled back to Bondi in well under an hour.

It’s so weird — this strawberry-blueberry smoothie was just waiting for me at Bondi!

OK, not really, but it did cool me down and revitalize me after the walk. After all, I still had quite a trek back to Double Bay ahead of me.

The overall trip clocked in at 8.5 miles and more than three hours of actual walking. (Yes, I'm a nerd and wore my Garmin.) Very satisfying indeed!

Also satisfying was the much-needed shower I took upon returning to my friend’s flat. I didn’t even go swimming, but I was still covered in that delightfully beachy combination of sand, sunscreen and sweat.

As I scrubbed the layers of grime from my legs, I heard what sounded like an enormous crash of metal pellets striking a tin roof. I glanced out the window and saw that the Sydney sky had opened up in an instant, releasing incredible torrents of rain.

I just smiled and continued scrubbing, thankful to be enjoying a warm shower inside when I could have been easily caught in that shower outside.

It seemed as though the travel gods had held off on the rain especially for me.

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