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OCTOBER 18, 2009 HERALD ON SUNDAY TRAVEL - SUNDAY DETOURS 3

AUSTRALIA

Action packedSydney has so many attractions it’s impossibleto fit them all in, writes Sarah Lang.

The imposing Opera House dominates Sydney’s well patronised waterfront.

Newcastle

Sydney

Gosford

NEWSOUTHWALES

TasmanSea

50km

THEY’RE HAVING a divorce.’’ AtSydney Wildlife World, anicecream-smudged boy of about

4 points at a wombat and wallaby,who look distinctly unimpressed witheach other.

Spotting my suppressed smile, hisharried mum hurries her chargealong. And I remind myself why I’mspending precious hours here on ashort Sydney trip: to see a koala for thefirst time. Rounding a corner, I spywhat looks like chunks of carpet stuckto a gum tree. Contrary to the myth,koalas aren’t drunk on eucalyptus oils,says a keeper, just perpetually ‘‘sleepyand cranky’’.

You can’t help feeling they’ve got araw deal. Clutching at a tree, the koalasleeps about 20 hours a day. But I’vearrived just as their keepers carefullydisengage them to have photos takenwith tourists.

Ten minutes later I step back intothe ubiquitous sunshine at waterfronthub Darling Harbour, and try todecide where to go next. The menu isoverwhelming.

Flash your See Sydney & BeyondSmartvisit Card and you get free entryat 40-plus attractions in the city andenvirons: everything from bus to walk-ing tours, historic houses to harbourcruises; museums to Manly. I’m doingthe A$165 ($200) three-dayer, but theweek-long pass costs just A$225, andthe one-dayer’s worth A$75 even ifyou just make a few stops.

Next door to Wildlife World, theSydney Aquarium also lays claim tothe title of Australia’s number-oneattraction. Its underwater oceana-

riums are a must-see, if just for Mer-maid Lagoon. A wall-painting of theocean is peopled by pirates lured tothe depths by ‘‘mermaids’’ who, aslegend has it, turned out — disap-pointingly — to be dugongs. Of justfive in captivity anywhere in the world,two are here.

As we’re underwater, traipsingthrough tunnels, I walk looking up, myneck craned at an awkward angle.Those sailors must have drunk a fairfew tots of rum to mistake a dugongfor a siren of the sea. A distant cousinof the elephant, it looks more like across between a hippo, seal and whis-kered old man. Alongside it, a sharkzigzags past and schools of rabbitfishpractise synchronised swimming.

Past a potbellied seahorse, turtlessleeping with their heads in theground and legs in the air, and seadragons without discernible faces, Ihear an Aussie tell his mate the fish aremaking him hungry. I couldn’t eat oneafter looking them in the eye, but I’mdue for a kebab, and decamp outside.

Although Darling Harbour’s a one-stop tourist shop — cafes, a mall, big-ticket attractions — I’m not drawn toits in-one-end, out-the-other com-mercial core. Too shiny and prettilypackaged. I prefer Circular Quay, thewaterfront at the other end of theCBD. Less circular now because of rec-lamation, it pulses with people: sometaking their time, some scurrying forferries. Buskers, musicians, statuesand sculptures are reasons to stop.Here people really use the waterfrontand public spaces, putting Auckland’sconcrete-stretch Viaduct to shame.

One way to get your bearings inSydney is to take a lift (or 1504 steps)up the 305m Sydney Tower. Whoknew Sydney had so many tinyislands, and fingers of land grasping atthe harbour? The ’burbs extend end-lessly in each direction. One of theworld’s largest cities by area, Sydney,at 1580sq km, is twice the size of NewYork, and 15 times the size of Paris.

I peer through a telescope. Fromone angle, shiny high-rises sandwich

the Opera House; from another theydwarf colossal churches. Out anotherwindow I spy The Rocks, the historicprecinct so named because all the firstsailors could see was a wall of sand-stone along the shore. Literally carvedout of the rocks, the area is now apainstakingly preserved shanty town.With its cobblestoned streets, narrowlanes and old apartments withpotplants spilling over the balconies, itfeels more like the backstreet lanes ofSpain than Australia.

It wasn’t always so charming. By1860, as I discover on The Rocks Walk-ing Tour, this was a slum full ofdrunkards, criminals and ‘‘fallenwomen’’. At an old sailors’ house setup to rehabilitate vice-worn seamen,you can almost smell the sweat, seethe rats and sniff the tipple of choice:Blast Your Skull Off, a blend of wine,rum and opium with a dash of cay-enne pepper.

When the bubonic plague struck in1900, the authorities bowled a third ofthe area. In the 1960s and 70s, resi-

dents who refused to be forced outsaved it from demolition.

Tired from my trekking, I stop at awaterfront cafe, where I hear muchsqualling and shrieking. It’s not theseagulls, but sopping-wet puntersreturning from an Oz Jet Boating trip.

Aha, I think, that’s in my Smartvisitguidebook! At the nearby booth, I signup for the next outing. ‘‘You’re goingto get wet,’’ the captain grins. Twentyminutes later — as we spin under theharbour bridge — I open my mouth toscream and get a good gulp of salt.

Back onshore, I run to catch anOpera House tour, arriving soggy andlate to the disapproval of a camp-as-Elton guide, who grudgingly allowsme to tag along.

Over the next two days I scale theharbour bridge’s Pylon Lookout, visitfour museums, one zoo, and bus toBondi Beach. When the airportbeckons, I still haven’t crossed off halfthe things in my guidebook. Nexttime, I’ll give myself a week. Or maybejust move here.

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