Jet-lag!

The travel writer, Pico Iyer, has observed that much of the work of travel is done after one returns. He, of course, is talking about the processing and internalizing of the new experiences one has had while abroad. He is certainly spot on about that. While one is living through so many new sensations and impressions, the brain is constantly playing catch up. Amid so much new sensory data, the brain struggles to absorb and order the information that is being gathered. Upon return, however, if one has the good fortune to sit and reflect, the work of making sense of it all becomes possible.

Jet-lag, on the other hand, is a physical response to air travel that leaves our circadian rhythms in chaos. The trip to Australia was particularly demanding in this regard. I'm not even sure how many time zones were crossed coming in going, but I do know that it wrecked me in both directions. For the first few nights after arriving in Australia, I'd get back to my hotel from dinner between 8:30 and 9:00. I'd get into bed, turn on the TV and start watching a show ( I was surprised to see how much they liked Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives in Australia!). I'd be full engrossed in the show and then, boom! I'd be out like a light. I'd rally at some point to turn off the TV and the lights a give myself into the arms of Morpheus. Then, around 2:30 I'd awaken to answer the call of nature, return to bed, and lie there wide awake. I'd toss, I'd turn, I'd recite poetry, I'd practice breathing techniques. Nothing. Then, finally, after about two hours, I would drop off again.

Morristown, circa 4:00 a.m.

The result of this sleep disruption was that generally, by 3:00 in the afternoon, I was ready for a nap. Fortunately, I never had to be there any where, so I could indulge. The interesting thing, though, was that my body had the exact same response both coming and going to Australia. After getting back to the monastery, I'd be up at 3:00/3:30 a.m. and be wide awake. Oh well. At least I found some things to do and saw some beautiful sunrises. Eventually, it passes . . . like so many of life's inconveniences.

Back Home!

When the conference ended, a bus took those who wished to the Gold Coast airport. This seemed like a good option, so that's what I decided to do. It meant, however, that I had to be packed and ready to go early Wednesday morning. I decided to do most of the packing before I went out to dinner with the Delbarton gang. That's when I discovered that the brand new rolling duffel that I had purchased for this trip  had a major gash in it. It looked as if one of the side seams had given out and there was now an opening along the entire length of the seam. Man, was I angry! When I read the on-line reviews for this product, one reviewer did, in fact, complain about just this. Since it was only one review amid many glowing ones, I dismissed it as a one off. Not so, I am afraid. Well, I intend to complain loudly to eBags about this, or I will pillory them in an on-line review and on Twitter. I did manage to procure some duct tape from one of the guys at the front door of the hotel . . .

I got to the airport as scheduled and had a two-hour wait that grew into three as once again a flight was delayed. As a result, I didn't arrive back in Sydney until 7:00 p.m. I had booked a room at the Holiday Inn at the airport, which was only a 10 minute ride from the terminal. I checked in, dropped my bags and went downstairs to get dinner. I had to be up at 6:00 so I wanted to be in bed early. There were two restaurants- a loud bar/bistro and a much more subdued venue that was offering a buffet. I opted for quiet. It was a good choice. The food was quite good and since it was a buffet, there was no waiting involved. The plan was working. I got back to my room, watched a little TV and switched off the light.

As always on airport days, I was awake before the alarm went off. I made myself a cup of instant coffee in the hotel room, which seems to be the way to go in Australia. No Keurig for them! I did the last minute packing, showered and was ready to go in plenty of time for the airport shuttle. Now, the duct tape didn't really work all that well, but I was happy to learn from the front desk that Sydney International had one of those bag wrapping services. So as soon as I got to the terminal, I had my bag mummified in saran wrap before heading to check in.

From the Qantas airport lounge

At 7:30 a.m, the airport was already jammed. Another reason to be extra glad that I was traveling business class, that and opportunity to wait in the airline lounge before departure. It is such a more civilized experience. Soon we were boarding our airbus A-380, one of the biggest planes I have ever seen for the 15 hour flight to LA.
I won't bore you with the details of such a flight, but it went quickly enough.We made good time, so we were an hour early arriving in LAX, that is to say at 6:00 a.m. Fortunately, layover time in LA was little over an hour.



We boarded our flight to Newark right on schedule, but take-off was delayed (again!) by almost an hour because of a "minor mechanical problem", according to the pilot. Well, it was fixed quickly enough but we seemed to sit on the runway for an awful long time. I was beginning to have flashbacks to a hellish airport experience a few years ago. Thankfully, though, we did take off; and, despite the fact that it was one of the bumpiest flights I have had in a long time,we succeeded in getting to Newark in one piece. I got to the baggage claim area but was anxious when I did not see my driver and my phone was on 1%! Have you ever tried to find a plug in the baggage claim area of Terminal A at Newark Airport? Not easy, but I did. And when the phone had a little more juice I called the limo company and was assured that my driver would be there shortly. I still had to wait for the mummy to come down the chute to the carousel before I could leave anyway. Then all the pieces came serendipitously together; and so I was finally on my way home to Morristown. It felt good to turn into Delbarton and know that I would not have to deal with airports for another month!

It's great to be home.

Attending IBSC 2018

I just want to get this up before boarding the plane for home. More pictures will follow!

Our tour of The Southport School

Since arriving on the Gold Coast, specifically the town of Surfer's Paradise, on Saturday evening, there has not been a minute of down time. I literally arrived at the hotel, checked in and dropped off my bags before heading back downstairs to meet my Delbarton colleagues for a pre-conference dinner. The advance team had made reservations for us at a restaurant  called the Seascape. It turned out to be an excellent seafood place with a view of the ocean. We were seated in the upstairs dining room, which was more formal. We took our places and then the fun began. When our young waiter approached the table, I could tell that he had an accent. It was only when he got closer to me that I could tell for certain that he was French. After passing out the menus he darted off and my first comment was, "Did someone send down to central casting for a French waiter?" In reality, he was an excellent waiter, but his speech patterns and mannerisms were so stereo-typically French, that I would start laughing after every interaction. After asking for a recommendation for a bottle of white he gave it and then added " I luuuve ze wine". If I ever figure how to upload a video, I have one to share.

Sunday morning dawned beautiful and breezy. Whatever front had passed through during the night had swept away the clouds. The air was fresh and the sky a brilliant blue. The busses were leaving for the conference and the local Catholic church- yes, there is a Catholic Church in Surfer's Paradise - only had two Masses on Sunday – one at 8:00 and one at 10:00, so I chose the earlier one. Not knowing exactly how far the church was, I took a cab. That was a good call, because it turned out to be a lot farther than it looked on the map. It was a fairly typical suburban parish Sunday Mass and the priest gave a decent sermon. I was especially taken by the end of the sermon, where he painted a realistic but not terribly uplifting picture of the state of the Australian church. I generally find going to Mass wherever I happen to be a very interesting experience, and this was no exception. Since I had time, I did walk back to the hotel along the beach and it was a pleasant walk.

Once we boarded the buses for the conference, it was pretty much non-stop for the next three days, which is why there have been no postings to the blog. We arrived at our host school, the Southport School and I was immediately struck by its beauty. The school is perched on the banks of the Nerang River with a view to the skyline of the cities on the coast. After registration, I took a tour of the campus given by two of the boys, attired in their school uniform, which included a very handsome wide-brimmed hat. The opening ceremonies of the conference were quite impressive. We had the boys’ drum group lead, followed by the flags of our host country and all the countries who had schools in attendance – 13 in all.

Fully half of the 600 attendees were from Australia, so it’s no surprise that the singing of the national anthem by a youth choir was joined by a rousing chorus of Aussies! The introduction by the various officials of the IBSC and the Head of School were on point and gracious. The combined boys’ choruses of the junior and senior schools sang the school song “A Band of Brothers” and I will admit to being seriously moved. Following the formalities, a wonderful cocktail reception followed on the banks of the river. It was quite splendid. By 5:30, it was getting dark and chilly and left for the hotel. Only later did I find out that there were fireworks shot from a boat in the middle of the river. I am sorry to have missed that, but was glad to have an early evening with one of my favorite BBC crime dramas, DCI Banks, on the telly.

Monday was a very full day. I was lucky enough to get a spot the ferry that was making the crossing directly from the hotel to the campus. It will be tough for any other host school to top that! The day’s work program went from 8:30 to 4:30 and included a general session, workshops –including one by Delbarton’s very own Michael Carr and Dan Szelingowski, panel discussions, and more workshops.

There was a snafu with the buses that were supposed to take us back to the hotel and we didn’t get back until almost 5:30, not much time before a 6:30 re-departure for Sea World.

The school had arranged for us to have night at Sea World, which included the obligatory dolphin show – fantastic! - drinks, dinner, entertainment and even dancing. It was quite a night; and, by the time the buses left at 9:00, I was ready for bed! Apparently, the party continued in the hotel lobby for quite a while longer. I left that to the younger folk.

Tuesday was pretty much a replica of Monday without the Sea World extravaganza in the evening. To take its place, I had organized a dinner for the Delbarton contingent at a restaurant in a nearby town. We gathered in the hotel lobby and ubered to our destination – Harry’s Steak Bistro and Bar. It turned out to be a great place, delicious steaks and interesting appetizers and sides. The wine was also quite nice and all had a good time. When we returned to the hotel, our colleagues were enjoying themselves at the Marriott’s bar, so a nightcap seemed in order, but just one. I needed to get up early to finish packing, since I would be leaving directly from the conference to go to the airport for my return to Sydney.

Wednesday morning was a pleasant surprise. Rain was predicted, but the sun was still shining. I finished my last minute packing, grabbed a showered and dressed for the last day of the conference. When I arrived at my first session, it was already jam packed, so I decided to give it a miss. I found a nice spot outside and said Morning Prayer, which I hadn’t had time to do I the hotel. At least here in Australia it was already July 11^th and the feast of St. Benedict  It is also my 41^st anniversary of monastic profession. Being 8,000 miles away and in a non-monastic setting, these few minutes of quiet were quite welcome.

Jack and Jess prepare to present

In the workshop session that followed, my other two Delbarton colleagues, Jack Diffley and Jess McKeever gave their presentation and once again did Delbarton proud. It has been a privilege to watch these intelligent and committed educators share their knowledge and experience with the wider educational community. After the conference drew to a close, we boarded busses once again, some to return to their hotels, others like me and the Delbarton crew to head to the airport before going our separate ways. I am spending the night at an airport hotel in Sydney before boarding my flight for the long return trip home to the States.

Ridin' the Winebus - Part 2

As we left Tokar Vineyards and headed towards our next stop, the landscape began to change noticeably. The terrain was definitely more hilly and it definitely began to remind me of the Italian countryside. Our next stop was Hanrahan Vineyards, interesting for many reasons. It was definitely the least "commercial" of all the places we visited. There was nothing slick about it, in fact, it was kind of ramshackle.

Hanrahan Vineyards

They only grow three grapes - pinot noir, chardonnay and cabernet sauvignon. They also don't make any of the wine on site, but use the facilities of another vineyard, which I gather is not that uncommon in these parts. The Yarra Valley had been planted with vines fairly early on in the 19th century, but then abandoned in the early 20th century when many growers lost their land during the depression. Viticulture returned in the early 1990's and so there are no vines more than 25 years old. It would appear that, as the number of growers began to increase, the decision was made - conscious or unconscious, I don't know,to share resources. The Hanrahan wines were quite good. They have made a name for themselves by being a reverse BYO. The open their grounds to the public ad offer them the use of grills and a pizza oven. Guests bring the food, but they have to buy the Hanrahan wine. Seems fair enough. And the property is gorgeous with great views over the countryside.

Our fourth and final winery was called Helen & Joey. Of all the places we visited, this was definitely the most touristy, in fact, there were two other groups in the tasting room when we arrived. Once things got organized we began the tasting. This winery had the greatest variety of wines to taste, but, I am sorry to say that none of them really impressed me. Most of them seemed fairly unsubstantial, though the current wine-maker is said to have a great reputation. perhaps the most memorable  part of this winery was the abundance of unicorns scattered throughout the property. Apparently this is a thing for one of the owners. I don't get it, but to each his own.

Our last stop was the Yarra Valley Chocolaterie and Ice Creamery. This nothing more than a tourist trap, but It was doing a booming business. I could have done without this, but it seems like an obligatory stop for any tour bus anywhere near this area. People were buying chocolate by the kilo, but I resisted. My suitcase is already way too heavy...

Dan and I did manage to get our driver, Ian to take a picture of us before we got back on the bus.

We can say it now, "We rode the winebus!"

Ridin' the Winebus

In the planing phase for this trip, I had investigated the possibilities for visiting some of the wine growing areas. Visiting the wineries outside of Melbourne seemed like the easiest, since they are roughly an hour outside the city. I never really acted on this though. I e-mailed Dan on Wednesday and asked him whether he'd like to do this on Friday and he said yes. I went online, but almost all the tours seemed to be booked. On my last shot, www.winebus.co.au I found space. Honestly, based on their advertising, this seemed like the least serious of the tours offered, but it was available. I sent the link to Dan and he was OK. If you read Thursday's post, you know the rest of the story.

The Winebus!

Dan and I met up at the designating pick-up point, but again, it was rainy and cold. The bus arrived on time and we were cheerfully greeted by our driver, Ian, who seemed delighted to have some Americans on board. It turns out his son lives in Philadelphia. Of the 12 guests on the van, we were the only non-Australians. Our first stop was around 10:30 and it seemed pretty early to be tasting wine, but that was the program. This winery was run by Italians, so we got a good espresso out of it as well. We were o the balcony overlooking the vineyards when our driver pointed out the kangaroos. Finally saw my first kangoroo in Australia, albeit at a distance.

Our next stop was Tokar Vineyards. By now the sun had come out and the group was starting to meld. We were having lunch at Tokar so the first order of business was to select our food. Interestingly, many vineyards have full-service restaurants  open to the public right on the grounds. While we were tasting, I got the first questions about the state of affairs in the U.S. Dan and I had discussed this  and knew it was very likely. I imagine this will continue during our time at the conference. Lunch was delicious and Tokar turned out to be the most attractive of all the vineyards we visited.

Arriving at Tokar Vineyards

To be continued . . . Gotta catch a plane!

Thursday

While all of you back in the States were celebrating July 4th, it was already Thursday, July 5th in Melbourne.  It was going to be a sort of one agenda item day for me. I was scheduled to take a free walking tour  of Melbourne which Dan had found on-line. It was the same group with whom we did the tour of the Rocks in Sydney. Unfortunately the beginning did not bode well - it was raining lightly and it was cold, not exactly the kind of weather that one wants to spend outdoors tramping around, but hey, it was free. If it really got bad, I could always abandon the tour.

How to hit a cop with a frying pan

As luck would have it, the rain stopped just as the tour began. I won't give you the blow by blow, but suffice it to say that we got a bit of Melbourne's early days- Australians seem to relish in their criminal past - the glory days of the Gold Rush and new-found prosperity, its fall from that prosperity, its uncomfortable role as Australia's second city, and it's revitalization and modernization in the the late 20th century. Yes, all of that and then some in a 2 1/2 hour walk around the city. It was actually quite interesting, especially learning how the different states in Australia got started. I realized how little I knew about Australian history, but I suspect that I am not alone among my fellow countrymen and women.

The tour finished in the heart of "downtown" near one of the city's major train hubs, Flinders St. Station. On the way there we walked through several of the many lanes and arcades for which Melbourne has become justifiably well-known. In an attempt to make the central business district more "lively" and attractive after business hours, the city government began encouraging citizens and entrepreneurs to both beautify the lanes and to create businesses in them. They are now the home to a vibrant cafe culture and some amazing street-art. We were there during lunch hour and the place was hopping.

When the tour ended on the other side of the Yarra River in the Arts District, I was happy that I had taken it, despite my sore feet. Dan and I parted ways at this point, because I wanted to see the Queen Victoria Market and he had already done that. I headed off to hop on the free tram, but somehow managed to get myself turned around and it took me a while to get where I was going. When I finally arrived at the market, it was already past closing time and many of the vendors had shuttered up their stalls. A few were still dealing with last minute clients, but clearly I had missed the show. I had heard about the amazing food stalls, but most of them were closed or closing as well.





Just I was about to give up,I came up to the door of  a permanent looking place called "El Rincon" that billed itself as a tapas place. There was no one inside except one young fellow who might have been in the process of cleaning up. I gingerly opened up the door and asked if they were still serving, "Sure" he said, "Come in." He explained that the cook had just taken a break but would be back in 10 minutes. I said I would wait, mostly because I wanted to get off my feet, but also because I wanted to finalize the arrangements for our tour on the Winebus for the following day. I had been in touch with that tour company before today's walking tour and had obtained a verbal commitment for two seats, but I still needed to pay in order to confirm them. The person with whom I had been e-mailing, Mai, had been very accommodating and she didn't disappoint.

My pulpo a la gallega

In the meantime, the cook had returned and I placed my order. My "pulpo a la gallega" arrived almost at the same time as the confirmation e-mail for the Winebus. We were on for Friday!  I felt like celebrating." Waiter, I'll have a glass of albarino!"

Exploring Melbourne

Fortunately for me, the saga of the missing phone ended happily enough. When I went downstairs for breakfast, the woman at the reception asked whether I had heard anything and I said that I hadn't. Neither had she heard back from the taxi company. "Did you try calling the phone?" she asked. I hadn't but was determined to so  thinking that perhaps it had slid under the seat and that the cabbie didn't know it was there. Armed with dialing instructions from the front desk I went back upstairs. The first time I tried the phone rang, but eventually went to voicemail. I tried again, but this time the message said that the phone was either switched off or unavailable. Now I was worried that the battery was dead. I was about to go back downstairs but decided to give it one more try and lo and behold the driver answered. He said he was on his way but that I would have to pay the fare from his starting point. So when I went back downstairs I described the conversation. Apparently he had already alerted the hotel and was on his way to return it. So when he arrived I said,"OK. Let's go pay the fare." He just shook his head and said, "No,no. You just give me something."   Aha, I thought to myself, a little something off the meter." I gave him probably more than I should have, but I got my phone back and that's all that mattered right now.

The statue of Irish statesman, Daniel O'Connell,
outside St. Patrick's Cathedral.

So, freed from the concerns about my phone, I set out to explore Melbourne. I decided to start with St. Patrick's cathedral which was close to my hotel. It's a massive Neo-Gothic structure. Perhaps because it was fairly dark and overcast, it looked kind of brooding. The stone, too, is apparently a local bluestone that has a dark gray cast. It is a beautiful space inside, suitably grand. Compared to St. Mary's cathedral in Sydney, however, it seemed heavy. The cathedral in Sydney was much lighter in feel and color. There's a lovely park surrounding the cathedral and some wonderful sculptures. All in all, it is an impressive tribute to the mostly Irish immigrants who paid with their hard earned money to build this cathedral.


Close to the cathedral was the Mary Mac Killop Heritage Center. Mary Mac Killop, or Sister Mary of the Cross Mac Killop, is Australia's only canonized saint. I remembered reading about her when she was canonized about 10 years ago and she seemed to have had a colorful life. I thought it would be interesting to learn more about her. She founded an order of sisters of St. Joseph to work with the poor, especially running schools for poor children. In addition to schools, her sisters ran shelters for women in difficulty and had soup kitchens for the poor.

 The center itself is in a house where she lived for a time; and, where her sisters still have outreach to the poor. The gallery space is small, but very well organized. In one of the displays about Mary's family history, I learned that they,too, were among the Scottish Catholics who were forced  to leave after the clearing of the Highlands. She had a grandmother named MacDonald, so maybe we are related. I left very moved by the memory and missionary zeal of this holy woman.

Following my visit, I made my way towards the former center of Italian immigration in Melbourne. My route took me through a large park, in the center of which sits the enormous Melbourne Exposition Hall, built in the late 1800's, a testament to the city's civic pride.

Little Italy, or what's left of it, is in the Carlton district of the city, mostly along Lygon St. As you walk along, there is one Italian restaurant after another, cafes, a few old-school shops, but lots of non-Italian things as well. The mixture reminded me a bit of Little Italy in Manhattan. I also visited the Museo Italiano, the little museum that celebrates the presence of the Italian community in Australia in general, but more specifically the Italian contribution to Melbourne. After grabbing a quick bite, I hopped on one of the free trams to head to the downtown area.

Walking through Chinatown

The main shopping area is typical of any modern urban landscape. You see almost all the same stores. The one difference in Melbourne is the presence of many arcades and lanes which are filled with little eateries and shops. I walked back to my hotel, passing through Chinatown, which I am told is the oldest in the world - even older than San Francisco's. It, too, is filled with restaurants but seems devoid of a living community. It feels, rather, that it is maintained primarily for the tourists.

On to Melbourne

I thought it was strange that I kept getting these e-mails asking me how I liked my stay at the Doubletree in Melbourne. I looked at them and thought, but I haven't been there yet. Strange. Of course, it's like some pain or ache that one has but ignores. One does so at one's own peril sometimes. So I got up on Tuesday morning prepared to have a leisurely departure for the airport. I had done most of my packing the night before, I had taken myself back to Alpha, the Greek restaurant near my hotel, and figured I could work on my blog entry for Monday. Then I thought, "Well, let me just get my next reservations in order before leaving the hotel." So, I took the folder out of my bag, found the flight info and then went looking for the hotel reservation confirmation. I pulled the papers out of my folder and stared in disbelief. My reservations were for June 26-27! Now I knew why I was getting those e-mails. But it made absolutely no sense. I was never going to be in Melbourne on June 26-27. Why had I made reservations then and only for one night? I had no answer, but I also had no hotel room waiting for me in Melbourne. So Booking.com to the rescue. I got right on-line, plugged in the dates and found a room. Not the greatest hotel, but hey. The price was right and since there was no need to pay the cancellation premium, the room was very reasonable. OK. Great.

Boarding my flight to Melbourne

I get to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I found a nice spot and had a leisurely breakfast - my first ham and cheese jaffle -  before heading to the gate. As always, in my experience, flying on a Virgin flight is as good as it's going to get; and Virgin Australia was no different. The flight to Melbourne was about an hour and a half, roughly like flying from Newark to Chicago. We landed and I headed to the baggage claim area which opened to the outside. The first thing I noticed was the cold. I thought, wow, it's chilly in here. That's because it was chilly outside - about 52 degrees. I collected my bag (next to last, of course) and got in line for a taxi. The driver pulled up and away we went. When we got to the hotel, I gave him my credit card, which he put in the reader. After a bit, he said "It's been declined." I said, "it can't be. Try again." He inserted the card again and this time was prompted to indicate which account, and I told him "Checking" which he entered. Declined again, he said. Hmmm. I thought. Very odd. "Do you have cash?" he asked. I said that I did, but preferred to use a credit card, but under the circumstances I gave in. Needless to say I was a little distracted by all this and got out of the cab.

When I got inside to check in, the nice young woman said to me "I need a credit card to check you in." I handed her the one I had just tried to use and told her that it had been declined in the cab, so I wasn't sure what was going to happen. When she swiped it, it went right though. "No problem" she smiled and handed the card back to me. It was then that I began to have doubts about my cabbie friend. Had he just said the card was denied so he could have cash? I'm just saying . . . I went upstairs, stowed my bags and went off to find a quick bite. Found a little funky joint and ordered soup and a salad. It's when the food came and I wanted to take a picture that it all began. I didn't have my phone. I searched all my pockets, but nothing. "I must have left it in the room" I thought. "It will be there when I get back to the hotel" all the while trying to stave off the growing sense of panic. I paid for lunch with the previously denied credit card and rushed back to the hotel.

I got to the room, rushed over to my things and make a quick search. Then my heart sank. I must have left the phone in the taxi. With all the distraction over the denied credit card, I had probably left the phone on the back seat. No big deal. A quick call to the cab company . . . and then I remembered. I paid cash - no receipt, no cab number, no driver I.D. Ugh! I went down to the reception desk and the nice young lady said "Not a problem. We'll put a call in to the cab company." Which is what we did and were directed to file a report on-line, which we did. Nothing left to do at this point but wait. . .and wait . . . well, finally I thought I'm not just going to sit in my room. So Melbourne has a great tram system and they even offer a free circular route which takes you around the major parts of central Melbourne. So, I did that and was reasonably distracted. I got back to my room as the sun was setting and e-mailed Dan to tell him of my plight. He e-mailed back with encouragement that the phone would turn up. . . but what if it didn't? Coming from a long line of Divenys who have perfected the art of fretting, I just couldn't stop thinking about my phone. Here I was, 8,000 miles from home an no phone! At least I still had my laptop, so I wasn't totally cut off from civilization. I tried to reason with myself that I could survive for another week without a phone, but I was already having withdrawal symptoms. There was only one remedy - food, and possibly drink, lots of it.

Fortunately just steps from my hotel there was a place advertising authentic wood-fired cooked pizza. The place was named S.P.Q.R. and had been hopping when I went by at lunch time, so comfort food to the rescue. Was promptly seated and was given the menu. Lots of mighty tempting things to eat, but I went with the classic - pizza capricciosa - red sauce, prosciutto, mozzarella, anchovies & mushrooms. All your food groups on a pizza! When I ordered, I said to the nice young waitress. "I'll have a glass of the house white" to which she replied rather conspiratorially "We just opened a bottle of this" and pointed to an Australian Fiano. "It's really good" she said. Things were starting to look up. "Yes", I said, "that would be perfect." The pizza was excellent and the wine delicious. I was beginning to throw off my gloom. When I was finished eating she asked whether I wanted coffee or dessert to which I said, "No, but if there were some grappa in the house, I'd be interested in that."  And, lo, grappa was produced. Tomorrow is another day, I thought, as I sauntered back down the lane to my hotel. Twenty minutes into an episode of "Midsomer Murders" that I'd seen multiple times, I dropped of to sleep.

So, dear reader, ended a downright dreadful day; but, so as not to leave you hanging, I shall reveal that the phone was restored to its rightful owner the following morning. But, more about that later.

Monday,Monday

By Monday morning, I was feeling a little weary. Being a full-time tourist can be hard work, plus I don’t know when the last time was that I have walked so much.  The weather was also a little iffy. I had planned to take the ferry to Manly Beach and spend a few hours there, but with the possibility of rain, I decided to try something closer to home. The Chinese Garden of Friendship was nearby and that seemed like a good idea. In fact, it turned out to be one of the most rewarding experiences of the trip so far. The garden lies right in the heart of the Darling Harbour development district. The garden itself is a walled enclave in the midst of this frenetic modernity.  The Chinese Garden respectfully recreates the philosophy and harmony of a traditional Chinese garden in its waterfalls, lakes, exotic plants, pavilions and hidden pathways.

The view of the koi pond from the boathouse.

 Once inside, one feels immediately a sense of calm and serenity. Even the woman in the ticket window radiated graciousness and calm. In a relatively small and confined space, the designers have created a variety of “landscapes”, skillfully using rocks, water and vegetation to simulate different settings. One follows a path that ultimately takes one to the highest point in the garden. The climb to the top  of "the mountain" is a spiritual climb as well as a physical one. In fact, the whole garden is designed to focus one on the powerful forces of nature. From the pavilion at the summit, you can see the garden in its entirety and revel in its beauty.

Water plays a special role alternating the yin of running water with the yang of reflecting ponds. The abundance of wildlife – especially birds and fish contribute to the sense of being immersed in nature, despite the fact that you are in the middle of a modern city. It was almost hard to leave the tranquility of this special place to return to the hustle and bustle of Sydney.


And now for something completely different. Realizing that I was very close to the light rail line, I decided to hop on it and go out to Sydney’s fish market. I had read about it and it seemed like it would be a fun thing to see and experience. I also looked forward to getting out of the center of the city to see another part of Sydney.

The market is both the wholesale market for fresh fish, and a retail center with a food court. Clearly, this market is in every Chinese guidebook for tourists in Sydney. Sydney itself would appear to be a mecca for Asian tourists, but this seemed like the absolute epicenter. There were tour bus loads of people coming and going. There were groups of school girls, multi-generational families, young, old, you name it, all converging on this one spot.

One of the food vendors

The food court was borderline chaos, but it was fantastic. The array of seafood for sale was incredible, but the prepared food was nothing short of unbelievable. A casual observation would suggest that the lobster tails were a major draw, as were the fresh-shucked oysters. Though every table I saw was filled with diners consuming industrial quantities of fresh seafood. I’ve never quite seen anything like it.

Sunday, Sydney

I attended the Vigil Mass on Saturday evening in St. Mary's Cathedral, which is fairly close to my hotel. As one would expect, it was well done and there was a good congregation. Sydney is a very diverse city and that was evident at Mass as well.

Sunday morning dawned bright and chilly again. I actually managed to sleep until almost 9:00, so I was feeling pretty good. I only had two things I knew I wanted to do today: one was to visit the Art Gallery, and the other was to acquire an Opal Card, the card for the city's transportation system.

The Cadet Band

I left the hotel to head to the gallery a little after 10:00. My route took me through Hyde Park, Sydney's oldest and most famous public park. As I approached, I could see a lot of activity and wondered what was going on. As I got even closer, I could see that it involved people in military uniforms, flags and bands. I had stumbled upon the Australia Reserve Forces Commemoration Celebration. I always enjoy seeing these kind of events in another country, so I picked out a good spot along the parade route. The park is the site of the Anzac war memorial and that's where the dignitaries were seated. There were a few presentations and then the parade began.s

The parade was lead by the Cadet Band, a group of youngsters that I reckoned to be between 12 and 15 years old. I felt sorry for the pressure that they were under, but they stepped off smartly and sounded pretty good,too. They were followed by marchers in period uniforms and a pipe and drum band playing "Waltzing Matilda". What followed then was line after line of veterans who were clearly proud of the service they had rendered to their homeland. My thoughts turned to my own father as I watched his allies parade past. It was time to go, now.

The Art Gallery

The Art Gallery of New South Wales sits in a broad green expanse known as "the Domain". Its Neo-Classical facade is typical of so many museums that were build in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The builders clearly wanted the public to know that they were building a temple to and for art. The permanent collection of this museum is free to the public, you do have to pay, however, for the special exhibits. The current exhibit showcased the winners of two national competitions - one in portraiture, the other in landscape. I thought that could be interesting, so I bought a ticket. Clearly the interest was shared, because the exhibit was packed! I found the portraits more revealing than the landscapes. I spent about an hour in the permanent collection as well. As you might imagine, the collection focuses on Australian artists. I was fascinated by the labels for each work which gave the artists name, birthplace; and, if the artist had't been born in Australia, the date of his or her arrival in the country, and, of course, the date and place of death. I enjoyed my visit immensely.

All that artwork made me a little peckish, so I set off in search of lunch. I decided against going back the way I came and went off in a new direction. A long set of stairs led down to an area along the water that seemed promising. When I reached the bottom, I realized that I was in the Wooloomooloo district. I had looked at a few hotels in this area, but in the end decided to stay more centrally. There's a long promenade flanking the docks on both sides and it was filled with people out enjoying the sunny Sunday afternoon.

The Wooloomooloo promenade

All along the promenade are restaurants with outdoor seating, most were hopping. A couple of Italian places, a few seafood, a Chinese place that must be very good, because I don't thin I could have gotten a seat here. In the end, I opted for the lone Indian restaurant, mostly because it wasn't very busy and it was time to get out of my comfort zone. It was a good decision. I'm not very familiar with Indian food, but my very nice waitress helped me out. Always good to let a native help you choose, if you are not sure. I thought that the food was excellent. When I went inside, I saw that the place was filled with Indian families. Always a good sign.

I walked back to my hotel, stuffed and satisfied. That evening, I met up with my colleague, Dan, to take a guided tour of "The Rocks", the area around Sydney harbor that was settled by the convicts brought here by the English. I must say, Sydney had a very colorful start! I now want to know more about it. The tour lasted about 1 1/2 hours and was excellent. The best part about it was that it was free - well, kind of. You don't buy a ticket, but at the end you give what, as the tour guide said, "you think the tour was worth." I'd say it was definitely worth it.