Tuesday I spent the afternoon at Sydney Harbour with Polleah, a friend from Nanchong. Meeting Polleah, who flew in from Gold Coast in the morning and to LA the next day, for a lunch date planned in early June, seemed fantastic, and had us both bubbly.
We had trout salad (some of which was stolen right off our plates by the gulls) and pizza with potato and rosemary. We ordered nothing else and happily lounged for more than three hours.
On the walk there and back I took pictures of the boat show at Darling Harbour.
I was so happy to see the sun.
Last week it barely peeked out its face. Most of the days that just meant drizzle and wet trees and grabbing Justin's raincoat and an extra pair of socks for the walk to work. On Thursday morning, however, the water dumped on me almost the entire 35-minute commute (and rushed in torrents down sidewalks, and bounced up and veered in sideways 'til I was soaked up to the knees). Not fun. There aren't really direct buses, at least in part because the as-the-crow-flies route passes through the mass of train station - city and country trains verging in one place - that is "Central". Fortunately there are underground tunnels that take people in and through the station. I love that part of my walk in particular. In the morning the echo of footsteps - the few of us passing through before six. In the evening the varied multitudes that make cities so wonderful. Business folk all pointy-shoed and still talking work on their way home. Couples draped and laughing on their way out. Folk ragged and slow with a cigarette. Women with head coverings and men with dreadlocks. Men in paint-splattered uniform and boots. Fathers with children, mothers with strollers. And buskers, without fail. I walk with my headphones, but pause the music in the tunnels so I can hear theirs.
