Ok, when I arrived in Sydney yesterday, I was tired from the journey and the heat and mibbe I’d had a tiny drink on the plane, so all I could do was squeal in delight at how comfy my room was and fall sideways on to the bed. Today? Well, today is a different story altogether.
Sydney, my eyes simply aren’t big enough. I want to swing back the top of my head and suck you all in. I walked for eight hours today and I don’t think I saw one twentieth of what there is to see.
Where to start? At Sydney fish market, I think, which I walked past this morning and saw hundreds of people – families, couples, tourists all either buying or chowing down on a bewildering range of seafood, crabs the size of sofa cushions and bits of fish I didn’t know fish had.
I walked through the welcome calm and shade of the Botanic Gardens, which are thoughtfully placed slap in the middle of the city centre. And it was here that I caught my first glimpse (ok, my first glimpse today) of the Opera House, peeping coquettishly at me from behind some bushes.
I saw the waters around Circular Quay, alive with boats and ferries – this is a living, working harbour.
I saw writing in the sky!
I saw Yoko Ono. Not really. I saw a Yoko Ono exhibition (if standing outside it counts as seeing it) at the Museum of Contemporary Art, where even the lavvies are cool.
I walked the bridge. That is, I walked under the bridge. The marketing genius has not been born who could persuade me to pay $200 to strap myself to a stranger and climb it (the bridge, not the stranger). For that kind of money I expect to be helicoptered to a private audience with Kylie at the top.
In short, I saw loads and I didn’t see anywhere near what there is. Then in the end, I saw this.
And we do. Just don’t tell Adelaide.