Sydney Tues/Wed

Coming off a day full of emotional responses to amazing experiences, the de-flowering of some of my virgin moments, absolutely stellar entertainment, the beach/surf/sun, and, lastly, good eats, I wasn’t sure how Tuesday in Sydney could begin to compete with Monday’s smorgasbord. Yet, I remained optimistic. I had pre-arranged with Simon that he would spend the day with Jason, Michael, and me on our tour of something called “Sculptures by the Sea” – an art exhibition from world artists along the seaside. The show extends basically between Bondi Beach and Bronte Beach in NSW.

Michael and Jason arrived on time at the Westin, and after a quick introduction between Simon and the boys, we jetted off to Bronte Beach to grab a late breakfast before we toured the art outside art exhibition. Simon bonded quickly with my new Aussie friends – they all share the roots of England, I guess? We selected a quaint breakfast café just above a park, over-looking the beach at Bronte. The others all ordered breakfast, but I, being high maintenance and sensing the need to be different, ordered a burger with blue cheese (did I mention that I was gaining the weight I lost before the trip?). We discussed entertainment, world politics, theater, religion, food, travel, our ambitions and careers – covered some nice ground and bonded as people. Oh, and I had the best cup of coffee so far on my trip.

We headed down to the shore to start the art walk. I immediately commented to Jason, as he and I sort of paired off to walk together while Simon and Michael causally did the same thing, the sea side alone was art enough for me. The colors of the rocks, algae, waves, red dirt, sky, clouds, and sand, combined to paint just the most glorious vistas and vignettes. Suddenly, as we journeyed along the path, we began to see sculptures dotting the landscape in front of us and on the sand in the on the beach beneath us. The four of us bristled with excitement as the art was already grabbing our attention and demanding a response, which of course, the four of us offered to each other before we even managed to make our way down to the beach that sat 100 feet below us. To be honest, both Simon and I were so eager to get to the beach and experience the art, neither of us can remember how we got to the beach – did the path just gradually descend toward the beach or did we take a set of stairs? Regardless, we hit the sand – the soft, dusty white powder immediately, warmly kissed my toes, causing me to smile inside. The first few sculptures we explored moved us slightly – amusing but not overly sensational pieces. Other works, spoke nothing and we all commented about how subjective art is generally, but sometimes there is consensus that a piece of art just doesn’t work. Simon and I began taking pictures to document the day and the beauty of large scale work being displayed opening (and for free) at a public beach. An idea whose time may have come for Los Angeles?

That first night in Sydney in Trevor’s hotel suite, the Aussies were discussing the Sculptures by the Sea Exhibition and they spent a good deal of time talking about the controversy surrounding one of the pieces of art. Apparently, one of the artists created a sculpture of a lost boy – a naked, big-eyed toddler on the cusp of tears standing alone wanting his mommy. The artist created his work to appear real (especially if photographed or viewed out of context with actual humans) – flesh colored skin, real hair on the head, and a small uncircumcised penis. And, as one can imagine, therein lays the controversy. Seems the Aussie public has a crazy fringe conservative right that is just as prudish and ridiculous as the conservative loonies back home in America. The critics here are quite upset about the size of this young boy’s penis, which during the discussion in the hotel room, prompted me to ask if it would have been okay if the artist had given him a big one? We contemplated and discussed how ridiculous the moral extremists are – so assured of their righteousness that they need to impose it on others. It reminds me that those who operate out of weakness are the first to try to subject others to their view, way, or understanding so as to reinforce their beliefs. Diversity of thought, morals, or opinion cannot be tolerated. It saddens me really because this mentality constricts, suffocates, and kills the creativity of the human spirit.

I spotted the lost boy’s ass as we moved toward the water and away from the sculptures closest to the cliffs we had just descended. I knew right away that it was the sculpture the group had been discussing on Saturday night. As we approached, we noticed that the work certainly stood out as one of the more popular pieces of art. Dozens of people, and as many cameras, were staring, closely observing and documenting the young lost boy, standing in the sand. I knew I had to get a photo with the kid, so I waited patiently for my turn with him. As is obvious from the attached photo, one can see that the sculpture of the 2 year old certainly was not made to scale, unless born of some Amazon race. I pretended to put my arm around him, as if guiding him back to the safety of his mother. I quite like the shot. It creeped me out – causing a reaction – the one true thing art is supposed to do.

The rest of the art spread out over a nice long stroll between the beaches spoke to us as well and both Simon and I took about 100 photos of the sculptures. Every so often, we were surprised by some of the work that was so fully integrated into the natural landscape, that the works could easily have bee3n overlooked. In fact, after the tour, we all wondered how much we missed. I took the opportunity to climb in and around the cliffs and caves and found different vantage points for the art that I am sure the artists had hoped for as they were doing the installation. Near the turn from Bronte to Bondi, I noticed a bunch of trash, some chairs, and clothes spread across the rocks. Then, it hit me, this is the squat site of a guy who lives on the rocks over Bondi who has been on the news here in Australia for allegedly raping a young woman. I am not sure about the veracity of the allegation, but this fella has been living on the rocks for over five or six years now and keeps winning court battles with the politicians who are trying to remove him. It was a tad bit strange to come across his ramshackle beach cave home during our brilliant art walk, but in a way, it added to the adventure.

Bondi Beach, world famous and packed with tourists, spread across much more land than I had envisioned prior to my trip. The sand here too was extremely fine and white. The ocean blue and beautiful. Swimmers and sunbathers everywhere – just as the tourist photos show. We opted to take a drink on the second floor above the tourist madness below. It had been a long day and we needed a little refreshment. We followed that up with a little stroll along the beach so that I could do some people watching instead of swimming this time.

Back at the hotel, I crashed for a little nap and Simon got himself ready for seeing Wicked – thinking it might somehow be different in Sydney verses LA and NYC. Not being a live musical loving person, I decided to just check out the city on my own. I walked Simon down to the theater and we enjoyed a lovely hot bowl of Korean food before we parted ways. Before I even got back to the hotel and out of the shower, Simon called to tell me that he was almost back from the show – he decided to leave at intermission. Guess the show disappointed him. As it was already almost 10 pm and Simon was wiped from the day, I decided to just hang with him in the hotel since we had to get up early to pick up our vehicles – his car and my camper van.

Wednesday was spent orchestrating the whole vehicle / rest of the trip coordination and planning situation. Simon had, on order, a rental car to take him up the coast to Brisbane, with a few stops along the way in Byron Bay and the Gold Coast. I had pre-arranged a camper van to do the same route basically, and, in addition, to take me further up the coast to Cairns. In the hotel that morning, we decided that we would walk to his rental shop for his car, then drive a few blocks over to grab lunch on Oxford street, then venture on to find my camper in one of the suburbs of Sydney called Waterloo, I believe. When Simon said he rented from Europcar, I mentioned my experience with them in Melbourne – not a good one. And, sure enough, I think I jinxed it for him. They were not helpful and were not wanting to offer Simon a GPS even though he had specifically ordered it. Typical for us Americans, we demanded what we ordered over and over until they finally relented and decided to accommodate him.

On Oxford Street, Simon spied a pie shop, and I knew that my lust for kebabs would have to be satisfied another day. He darted in and got excited for the treats of his homeland. I settled in and ordered a meat pie with smashed peas, mashed potatoes and gravy on top. Very healthy choice I would reckon. It tasted okay to me, but the look on Simon’s face communicated to me that I was missing something wonderful. I mean, it was okay, but it tasted a little bland to me. Anyone who has ever eaten a meal prepared by me knows that I like spice and this little meat pie maybe offered salt and pepper, but that was it. I did like the mashed up green peas – something that I might try back home with a little spicy Smike twist.

I really wanted to select another swimmer (bathing suit for my US readers, lol). Now that I knew the little Speedo was NOT the suit of choice, I certainly did not need to put myself into any more embarrassing situations if it was not necessary. We jumped into a nice men’s shop that seemed to cater to the metro sexual types. Simon began finding clothes immediately as I began having a go at the shopkeeper. He was a gay man in his early 50s and a bit of a muscle head and I knew he’d be good fun to chat to while Simon consumed. The guy was quick to tell me what not to miss on my drive up the coast to Cairns. But, after he realized Simon was a serious shopper, his attention turned to capitalism. Now, to further my amusement, I decided I needed to up the ante. Guess I had to start trying on clothes myself so that I could keep the attention of this guy. I stripped my shirt off right in the center of the store as I began trying his selection of tight t-shirts/club shirts. It worked. Now, he was a bit flustered. Should he help Simon, or the guy who was flashing his chest around the shop? He took the bait and began offering me swimmers to try on. Not surprisingly, he keep pushing the Speedo cut suits as he feed Simon more and more shorts and shirts. I paraded around in each and every suit he had me try. Each time, he came over to give me the once (then twice, three time) over and gave his opinion, all were good. I however felt naked in each of them and would not have worn these suits anywhere as they were even skimpier than the average speedo. After Simon decided to buy two shorts and a shirt, I realized I didn’t need to buy anything. This was the first store, and I have learned to hold out because good stuff comes later in life.

At the next store, I found two swimmers I liked. And the young kid selling them, who I considered a much harsher critic since he was maybe 20 and young and cute, made sure to force me into options I would never have selected on my own. The first few selections, although they appeared little to me, seemed big to him. At this point, Simon was laughing because every time I came outside the kid would say they are too big (even though they barely covered my bits). Finally, he put me into a red, square cut suit with a touch of 70s disco retro to it. I normally NEVER buy anything red as it clashes with my hair and skin. But, something about this suit, suited me (I tried a long time to get that sentence in here). The kid was apoplectic about it, gushing about how good it looked. I realized he was NOT just selling me since he did not like previous options and since I say a little something in his eyes this time?!

Out the door we dashed: Simon, nothing at this place, and Smike, a suit. A Cuban coffee house on the corner of Oxford slapped Simon in the face and as a result, I too had got pulled along for the ride. Luckily, Simon’s sweet tooth compelled him to order a chocolate & date cake. Along with my coffee, the few bites of cake hit a nice gastronomical spot. A pharmacy around the corner carried the misting sunblock for which I had been looking. Two cans later, one for me and one for Simon, we exited and ended up in front of another store, similar in nature to the first two, as Simon realized he needed a hat to shield his head from the sun. Inside, we found a fun English shopkeeper. Simon purchased a baseball cap while I decided to flirt with the shopkeeper – again, hard-up for entertainment.

I figured we could find the Wicked Van shop without using the GPS, but after quite some time driving around like two morons, and two failed attempts to gain useful directions from a gas station attendant and even a police officer, I finally plugged the thing into the cigarette lighter and then entered the address I had for the camper van rental store. Just before the place closed at 3:30 pm, we found it – over an hour after we set out on what should have been our 10 minute trip.

The Wicked shop was what I expected, the sort of place one expects to see hippie wanna-bes and dread-lock wearing 20 year-olds. It is certainly a place that caters to a particular type of traveler – the kind I really longed to be years ago, but never had the guts for it. The kind of guy that packs himself into a wicked camper van (essentially a VW bug station wagon with a cooker in the very back) with three or four other mates and takes off to see what adventure is out there. These guys somehow manage to travel together, sleep jammed into the back or under the starry nights, cook off the bunts and burner – all the while doing it somewhere new and different for weeks on end. It is the ultimate unplugging adventure and after the taste of this lifestyle when I traveled throughout New Zealand, I realized I could still approximate that kind of adventure traveling alone (and cheating by allowing myself a few more amenities and perks that a little disposable income offers). The plan was to rent the camper and make my way north up the Eastern coast of the continent to Cairns where I would spend a day exploring the Great Barrier Reef.

Simon sat in the rental car as I began completing the paper work for the camper. For some reason, the enormity of the task I was beginning hit me squarely in the face – probably when the young kid renting the thing to me asked if I was sure I was going to drive all the way from Sydney to Cairns in seven days. I studied the map, the distance was greater than driving from Indiana to California all those years ago and that nearly killed me and took me a week (and to remind my readers, I was about 25 when I did that drive). So, standing there at 41, considering a longer drive, it became clear to me that I needed to adjust my expectations. Talk about a life moment. I don’t do well when I realize I need to re-think my ambitiousness. I have always been the guy that just does it and makes it happen. At this point, Simon entered to find me perplexed. I told him that I was considering just renting the camper to go to Brisbane where I could drop it and then catch a plane to Cairns – instead of driving the more than 1000 miles from Bris to Cairns. He told me that was a good idea and that his Australian friends told him prior that I was crazy to attempt that part of the drive since it was both very long and somewhat uninhabited along the way. So, I pulled the trigger and decided to do that drive, adjusted to drop off in Brisbane. As Simon and I talked, we strategized how to drive, since he was essentially making the exact trip up the East coast. Somewhere in the middle of our planning, I looked at him and asked why am I even renting this thing then? He immediately knew what I was saying and offered to just do this leg together – with me splitting rooms costs, driving and gas. I considered what this meant. If I go with Simon I lose all my freedom and will have to make concessions and compromises, but I gain time, companionship, and a buddy film (potentially if I am able to glean a movie out of this. Lol) . If I go alone, I gain all my freedom and ability to do whatever/whenever, but will be so busy driving and figuring out where to camp since none of this had been preassigned, that I lose time and possible experiences because of it. In the end, I decided to go with my gut and travel with my buddy. As much as he will never admit it, Simon and I do get on well-enough together and enjoy each other’s company even though we are two very unique and stubborn individualists. So, I cancelled the camper on the spot, much to the chagrin of the young Irish lad working the counter at the rental shop. They had stayed open for me at this point, and now I have cancelled.

We plugged in the GPS and made our way back to the Westin – I sat somewhat quietly in the front seat, mentally reviewing what the hell I had just done. The whole point of my trip was to camp and be independent and now I was preparing to spend another 6 or so days doing resorts and hotels with a travel companion – strange how life throws curve balls. In the end, I think I opted to go with Simon because I am trying to be okay, no thankful and appreciative, to each and every development that comes my way, even if it is not what my ego is thinking or saying or wanting. Saying yes to the universe sometimes, truly appreciating one’s life, perhaps means taking the route that presents itself, especially if the intended direction that ego takes is presenting challenges and obstacles (maybe the universe was telling me something when the ride to the camper rental site took 5 times as long as it should have and was halted various times by bad directions, detours, traffic, missed turns, and general chaos). Distinguishing between the things I am supposed to fight for (taking the knocks and punches in pursuit of something meaningful and worthy; things hard-won in life that complete my experience here) and the things I am supposed to ignore (those that are not right for me, the experiences that are not supposed to be part of my life’s journey) is complicated. This small example of free will illustrates larger questions I continually ask myself and struggle to answer.

Simon had no interest whatsoever in joining me on the bridge climb over Sydney Harbor, so I arranged for him to hand out and spend some time with Jason and Michael while I was climbing. The three of us, Simon, Jason, and I, walked form the Westin down to “the Rocks” area of Sydney (the oldest area of what developed into the city of Sydney) to find the entrance to the Bridge Climb. We arrived early for my climb time and the guys mentioned that they wanted to sit around and wait so they could see me in the snappy jumpsuit that all climbers are required to wear.

At my pre-allotted time, I climbed the set of stairs to the second floor to meet my group of climbers. Immediately, I found a friend from the states – San Diego – whom I bonded with and knew we’d climb together and talk, as the rest of our options were various couples, mostly members of the blue rinse set. The prep before the actual climb took about 40 minutes and Dennis, my new pal from SD, and I were getting anxious to get climbing. The whole point of picking the dusk climb was to be at one of the highest possible points in Sydney to watch the sun set over the western horizon. Gearing us up and doing the stair climb training took forever, but everyone finally passed the course and we entered the holding tank, just outside of the actual bridge. Dennis and I pushed our way to the front to set a good pace for the seniors behind us. It was a blast being up front with the guides as we were able to banter with them and ask questions while the others attempted to keep up as we climbed. We quickly climbed up a number of sets of ladders and I soon found myself inside the metal structure of the bridge. A few climbs later, and we entered traffic level, then immediately climbed above it. I noticed Dennis running ahead of me as we made a final ladder climb and entered the part of the bridege where it begins to arch up into the sky. I followed quickly, not know, not caring how or why he was moving so rapidly. Then, it hit me. The guides moved way up the brige, allowing the two of us to race up the stairs on top of the arch so that we could witness the sunset. I looked left toward the West, my eyes capturing the most amazing orange blazing ball of fire that was just beginning to touch the horizon in the distance. I turned around to climb backwards (which is a no-no) so that I did not miss anything. I arrived to find Dennis standing, staring too. We laughed at each other because we did it. The others in the group would never get here in time. The sun was now a half circle, losing ground to the horizon that appeared to be eating the big ball of fire. The beauty w witnessed cannot be captured by words, and I am not a great enough writer to even make the attempt. Some things in God’s creation can only be witnessed, enjoyed, and appreciated for the brilliance. This sunset was no exception. As is a growing theme on this trip, profound appreciation swept through me and I shed a few tears of joy.

The rest of the climb was a bit anti-climatic of course since we had just experienced what we set out to experience. Yet, the guides and my new friend made the rest of experience wildly entertaining. At various points throughout the climb, we stopped to take pictures (the Climb staff takes them and the company attempts to see them after the climb). I took the opportunity to enhjoy the view, now nighttime, of the various parts of the city. The lights at night create an entirely new perspective for the eyes and I am thankful that my roommie Karl suggested the climb at dusk (thanks Karl). I would say that any visitor to Sydney must do this climb – and even at $200 plus dollars, it is not something that should be missed, even by someone with a fear of heights.