Finding a Home in Sydney

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At the bars of Bondi, I saw thousands of backpackers, hurting on $6 beers (that’s more than SIX times what I paid three days ago in Cambodia), sunburn and quasi-serious dress codes. I went for an all-day stroll into the city, starting at Circular Quay, looking out on ‘the most beautiful harbour in the world.’ I use quotes because I’ve read that phrase so many times in the last few days, but I reserve judgment until I’ve seen every harbour for myself. Turning the corner and seeing the Opera House gave me a thrill, like witnessing the Statue of Liberty for the first time. It was the perfect ‘here-I-am-on-the-other-side-of-the-world’ moment. The Opera House took 15 years to build on the site of an old tram garage, and the design was chosen from a competition of entries. Unfortunately, the Danish designer was a poor architect, so by the time the impressive cones were finished, it was nearly one hundred million dollars over budget, taken a decade longer than planned, and toppled at least one government from the resulting scandal. Today, it is Australia’s most famous landmark, so I guess it was worth it in the end. Tourists were gawking on the steps, and I had to wonder just how many of them had ever seen or enjoyed the opera. I don’t. I even took a course of opera appreciation at university, but it’s still a lot of melodramatic screeching to my rock n’roll ears. A few steps away, some aboriginals were playing the didgeridoo, painted in white stripes to the delight of tourists. Like Vancouver’s First Nations, it is ironic how the defeated native populations of the colonies have been forced into caricatures of themselves. Australia’s aboriginal history is full of horrific bloodshed, with entire tribes massacred in its early years, pushed up north leaving states like New South Wales and Queensland relatively pearly white. More on that later, but it’s worth noting that the aboriginal art on sale in the quaint shops of The Rocks heritage district sells for a bucket.

I walked along the seawall to the stunning Botanical Gardens, with its monstrously disfigured fig trees. The view of the Opera House and enormous Harbour Bridge demanded photo after photo. The ubiquitous Australian sticky fly kept buzzing into my ears and nose, like fanatic cave explorers. Into the city, up George Street, down Pitt, shops bustling, the epitome of modern civilization. It could have been downtown Vancouver. Sushi was too expensive (no, not Vancouver after all) so I attacked my first gourmet pies. Sundowners at the Opera House, the beers flow, smartly-tartly dressed crowds. A walk to Cockle Bay, which strikingly resembled the development along the Burrard Inlet of Vancouver.

‘The only way I can make sense of this,’ I tell Gary, ‘is to compare it to Vancouver. They’re practically identical. You may have the weather, but we have the seasons, the snow, the mountains, and also, a lot less obnoxious Australians.’ They’re a loud and proud and jolly lot, passionate about sport and beer, and these days, the evolution of their culture. A few weeks ago, the world saw rioting on the beaches of Sydney, as thousands of whites attacked men of ‘Lebanese descent’ following the knifing of a Sydney lifeguard, who just may have incited this racial conflict by running over a Lebanese guy with his quad-bike because both of them were too busy staring at Sally from Bondi and her bikini made of nothing. The conflict blew up between gangs, but was politicized by Australia’s extreme right into an emigration issue and by Islamic fundamentalists into a religious one. It was quickly squashed by thousands of coppers and a total crackdown, but the tension between Sydney’s rapidly growing Muslim population and locals is boiling over. Like many other parts of the world, the Muslim community’s resistance to integration, coupled with the unfortunate fundamentalism of a small minority, is causing havoc with working-class whites, threatened by their own ignorance. Australians, for their part, have a history of racial intolerance. ‘What upsets me most,’ says Gary, ‘is the racist bullshit I was emailed by people who should really know better. We’re all Australians, we’re just going to have to learn to live with each other.’

On a perfect blue sky day with a cool breeze blowing in from the sea, it’s hard to imagine anyone could get upset about anything in this part of the world. Other than South Africa’s miserable performance in the Melbourne Test series. I’ve got tickets to the match next week in Sydney, and then I have to get out of here fast, before I forget where my home is.

The Apartment of Sol and Miriam Ende
Coogie Bay, Sydney

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