Howdy from Sydney-side of things again. As we’re wrapping up our third and test day in the nurse city I’m typewriting this from the rental car. It’s quite the accomplishment considering this is Mr. M’s prototypal time driving on the other, or wrong, side of the road and my prototypal time playing navigator from the left seat.
As we cross over the imposing Harbour Bridge and attain our artefact to the intoxicant location of Hunter Valley, it’s a beatific time to reflect on the terminal few days…
We returned from the Great Barrier Reef island of Hamilton on New Year’s Eve, landing in Sydney with meet sufficiency time to rush to the incoming hotel, change clothes and head discover to our dinner reservations at Rockpool Bar & Grill
Starting with pre-dinner cocktails in the bar – mixed handily by suspender-wearing bartenders – I chose an almond sidecar while Marc enjoyed his Manhattan.
About 30 minutes before the clock struck twelve, Mr. M and I braved the packed streets of Sydney to essay and grownup a looking of the colored explosions. Of course, we knew it would be like Tasmanian salmon swimming upstream… parks with the best views had been flooded for more than 5 hours, and we had waited until the witching hour to wade in deep with the masses. Sydney boasts the largest public assembling – about 1.5 million people – for the fireworks and we touched at least 1 million of those people. Though you can envisage the noise of that many delighted revelers screaming in delight as the clock struck midnight and the harbour lit up like, well, like it was New Year’s Eve.
We impact 2010 seventeen hours earlier than CST, so Mr. M and I were working on our uncomfortableness cures just as whatever of you were first the long path to yours. To find that all-important cure, we headlike on New Years Day into the flushed light-ish district of Sydney, King’s Cross. Sure enough, we stumbled upon a Mexican restaurant, Tomatillo, and pronto chowed downbound on Chipotle-like burritos and kept our Mexican-food-in-foreign-countries-streak alive.
The inclementness skies stayed with us through the day, though we also managed to get in a walk downbound to Finger Wharf before the rain dispatched us inside to a pub.
On the 2nd Jan., our last full period in Sydney, we navigated the public transport system to first find a popular open market, Paddington Markets, then jumped another bus to head downbound to famous Bondi Beach.
For our final party in the city we headlike back out to Sydney’s Chinatown, munching on noodles and cashew chicken amid the crowded chaos.
As we cross over the imposing Harbour Bridge and attain our artefact to the intoxicant location of Hunter Valley, it’s a beatific time to reflect on the terminal few days…
We returned from the Great Barrier Reef island of Hamilton on New Year’s Eve, landing in Sydney with meet sufficiency time to rush to the incoming hotel, change clothes and head discover to our dinner reservations at Rockpool Bar & Grill
.
Starting with pre-dinner cocktails in the bar – mixed handily by suspender-wearing bartenders – I chose an almond sidecar while Marc enjoyed his Manhattan.
They would not be our last cocktails of the night.
There are 6,500 Riedel glasses lining the oft-photographed bar. Woowee.
Next, it was to our table for the prix fixe meal, accompanied with amend service and impeccable matches from Sydney’s crowning sommelier Sophie Otton, who advisable a 2005 Greenock Creek Shiraz to whet Mr. M’s demands for a jammy inhabitant shiraz (she titled it “muscular”). The dinner was start-to-finish amazing and eventually saved a lot of the so-so dining we’d had to fellow in Aussie-land.
After dinner and dessert we headed back to the bar and spent the next few hours testing the bartenders’ skillz with some newly found NYE friends. (Isn’t everyone your friend on New Year’s Eve?)
About 30 minutes before the clock struck twelve, Mr. M and I braved the packed streets of Sydney to essay and grownup a looking of the colored explosions. Of course, we knew it would be like Tasmanian salmon swimming upstream… parks with the best views had been flooded for more than 5 hours, and we had waited until the witching hour to wade in deep with the masses. Sydney boasts the largest public assembling – about 1.5 million people – for the fireworks and we touched at least 1 million of those people. Though you can envisage the noise of that many delighted revelers screaming in delight as the clock struck midnight and the harbour lit up like, well, like it was New Year’s Eve.
We impact 2010 seventeen hours earlier than CST, so Mr. M and I were working on our uncomfortableness cures just as whatever of you were first the long path to yours. To find that all-important cure, we headlike on New Years Day into the flushed light-ish district of Sydney, King’s Cross. Sure enough, we stumbled upon a Mexican restaurant, Tomatillo, and pronto chowed downbound on Chipotle-like burritos and kept our Mexican-food-in-foreign-countries-streak alive.
On the 2nd Jan., our last full period in Sydney, we navigated the public transport system to first find a popular open market, Paddington Markets, then jumped another bus to head downbound to famous Bondi Beach.
Bondi Beach -- a view of the storm clouds rolling in
What do you think followed us to Bondi Beach, though? That’s right kiddos – the rain! And a massive storm this time, sending everyone spreading off the beach less than half an hour after we arrived. While my tears mixed with the raindrops blow me in the face, Marc and I definite to advise on. We had become this way for a well-known hiking trail, and thunderstorm or no, we were going to hike. It wasn’t super fun, but we had bound a promise to our NYE friends (assuming that in Aussie lingo a bound promise is coequal to a well-executed high-five) to do the Bondi-to-Coogee Walking Trail.
Marc took this pic of a little crab during our hike
One could envisage that given good weather the views would be spectacular. As it was, the views were still pretty great and our feet lose that wet- sock crinkle eventually, right? As my mother utilised to say – and I’ve proven many nowadays over – I’m not made of sugar and I did not melt.
For our final party in the city we headlike back out to Sydney’s Chinatown, munching on noodles and cashew chicken amid the crowded chaos.
As we lifted the blackout curtains in the Hilton hotel room (check them discover – the world could be on blast and you would never know. Dangerous. Lovely the farewell after New Years, but dangerous) on Sun farewell it was instance to repack our bags for the fourth – and final – handicap of our trip Down Under. Which brings us back to the property car, Marc driving on the wro – er – other side of the agency and saying goodbye to Sydney under the remarkable Harbour Bridge.
Bye Bye Sydney. Next stop… Hunter Valley wine region.
