Bit of a duff day weather wise and I decided to stay closer to home, walking through Surry Hills to the wharf at Woollamooloo. Its now the home of the Blue Hotel, and its all cafes and glass but it also hums with the ghosts of its past and the comings and goings of passengers and the hungry 'wharfies' who worked here on a casual basis, shifting goods in harsh conditions in order to feed themselves and their families, until just after the second world war. It was converted in the early '90s after a great deal of protest, prevented the 'big dunny' from being ripped down.
No starvation here now, and plenty of money sat behind big sunglasses (it was raining) in the cafes along the side, reminiscent of London's Butlers Wharf. Here though there are some great big fat yachts to look at, including Kokomo II, part of Mr Laing's large collection, which I keep finding all over the place.
Opposite are the Botanical Gardens, walking to the end of Mrs Macquaries point to her chair, past the Andrew (Boy) Charlton Swimming Pool, to the seat at the end, made me feel very lazy as I fought for space on the path, with the thousands of Sydneysiders who ran past me in their lunchtime.
On round the bay to a nice view of the Opera House and then home through the gardens which probably looked much better on a sunny day. The Spring Walk was in full bloom and reminded me of our road in Tokyo when the blossom was out. Gorgeous, but somewhat over the top. Onwards past the Contemporary Art gallery, where I've been in a previous life and will save for another day. Past the seedy sex shops of Oxford Street, stopping for a bowl of veggie soup at Kawa on Crown Street, and sat amongst the fashionistas in their hats and watched them flap their portfolio pages and talk about fringes... in or out. I'm so out!
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