A Special Week

One more week to an overseas stint away from the routine in Wollongong.

I started with a lovely , relaxed lunch with a buddy who had just came back from a sojourn himself, with both of us sitting in an old-fashioned balcony overlooking one of the town's shopping and cafe streets. We exchanged views with each other and listened intently to what we had been doing for the past few weeks.

The week had partly offered some personal goodbyes and a departure from what I have taken for granted. We had gathered to ostensibly mark the leaving of someone I have known well for another country, albeit temporarily,but we all knew this rite of passage was important to accept the moving-ons from a cultivated past to an exciting future. Another came to let me know personally her leaving the office. They are at an age when they can make choices, know they have to do it now instead of waiting and acted with their heart.

The weekend before, in just a single day, I drove 346km. I also had the opportunity of accompanying JJ, the lovable Labrador of a cousin in Baulkham Hills, for a 2km walk. This was refreshing to me on a cool early evening after a hot summer's day. Earlier in the afternoon, I had climbed 100 steps from the beach to the cliff top road. That morning I had woken up at 650am, and commenced the long drive to a Sydney suburb.

Karson and Salina, together with 9 year old son Brayden and four year daughter Annsley (whom I met delightfully met for the very first time, had arrived on the Sunday night before from a Qantas flight into Sydney. I had not seen the parents for years and I was so happy that I could have a late supper (yes, Sydney does have restaurants open in its Chinatown past midnight) and then, on a lark, drove all of them across the Harbour Bridge and then returned to the cbd via the Harbour Tunnel. We all had free rein on the city streets at the unearthly hour of 2am.

It was also great to visit and know that Aunt Doris was recovering well.

And nothing is complete with some food experience. What about soft crabs, duck and fish done in a regional Thai style at the Papaya, in suburban Croydon. The ambiance was tropical relaxing, though quickly filled up with customers by 730 in the twilight. Joyce and I found the taste not totally authentic and there were hints of modification which may suit the clientele in Sydney's lower north shore.

Best of all, after along day at work and dinner out, we still were welcomed by Charmaine and Chris for home made expresso coffee with a kick, even if it was rather late on a school night. All of us could just be ourselves - the most relaxing state. This summed up the common thread in my most special week.

Signs In The Sky

Approach to Milson's Point Rail Station, North Shore Sydney City, 2am, 1 Jan 2009

New Year's Eve in Burwood, a Sydney suburb,, and I was fortunate to partake in white turkey, baby abalone and flat flounder. All done in Vietnamese- Chiuchao style. 2009 beckoned in just a few hours after dinner!

My car had casually passed by Wicks Road in North Ryde and we were curious about the crowds that had gathered in front of an oval. Then we spotted the top part of the Harbour Bridge beckoning in the distance, blocked by the tops of trees, and realised that they were all waiting for the 9pm fireworks. I got to chat with a friendly
Brit couple who had migrated to Oz not too long ago but appreciated being here.

At Artarmon train station, in Sydney's lower North Shore, many blue eyed youth were lining up for the train tickets. It was all very civil but what we did not realise then, and only found out in the wee hours of the New Year's, was that Sydney City Rail was offering free rides that evening. There was no sign or notice anyway of that at Artarmon. Most of us were just looking forward to see the Harbour Bridge fireworks.

My group alighted at Milson Point's station and settled in at Kirribilli. As you can imagine for Sydney, the crowd was as cosmopolitan and varied as can be - many
Spanish eyes; teenagers weeing against the wall; slinking low undies as fashionable gear; a cohort of Indian families; romantic couples, young and old;and so forth. All eyes were glued to the remarkable harbour side view on the east side of the coat hanger Bridge. A Chinese teenage guy came up to me to have a friendly chat; he was with his school mates and felt liberated and easy on this night of nights. The evening was still humid and warm and many used paper fans, waving away frenetically.

When the midnight firework display got going, what impressed me were the round pollen ball fireworks, horizontal sprays and sprouting fountain displays along the length of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Something very different offered - amazing when this was a tradition that has been carried out some twenty years, if not more.
What was even more fascinating were the artificially created lightning and thunder sequences created by the firework providers as a prelude to the main show.

The train ride back to my car in Artarmon proved to be both an eye opener and unwanted experience for my group. We waited an hour for the tsunami of passing people making their way from the bay up the slopes to the rail station and then thought it was safe to join them.

Once we were headed to Milson's Point Station itself, we took another 45 minutes before we actually got on to a train. What happened to the orderly system utilised at the Sydney Olympic Games? I felt like in an uncontrolled public scenario - I felt pressing back packs, sweaty patience and physical endurance as all of us endured the crush and push into the rail station. A Lebanese teenager used my shoulders to rest his arms when it got unbearable - this was unsolicited as I did not even know him, but there was no need to complain, and the only option was to share the experience, I guess.