Hyde Park, Oxford Street, Paddington, King’s Cross, Haymarket, Liverpool Street…
Sydney seems to have a lot in common with London. I was greeted with continuous drizzle for my first few days in the city. On my first night, I met loads of Brits and Irish down the pub. Everything seemed very familiar, yet also different. Perhaps I had arrived in an, as yet unvisited, English town.
My main reason for visiting Sydney was to catch up with Sarah, formerly a best friend from university, but who has virtually disappeared and no one has really seen in the UK for years [I’m hoping this comment will aggravate her]. She lives in Bondi, which is famed for its beach full of glorious fit and tanned bodies. Alas, due to the rain, it was a few days until I was able to truly appreciate this spectacle.
A rather deserted Bondi Beach on an overcast day
The poor weather did give Sarah and me a good opportunity to catch up and share stories from the past couple of years. She will be back in the UK soon, so all of those missing her won’t have to wait too long to have her cackling on the end of a phone again.
When the weather finally improved we took a trip on the famous Manly Ferry. The ferry runs to the northern suburb of Manly and passes by the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House, giving its passengers fantastic views from the water. Here Sarah poses with the Opera House in the background.
Sarah poses with the Opera House in the background
The whole area around the harbourfront is to Sydney what the Houses of Parliament are to London and the Eiffel Tower to Paris. Some days later, Sarah and I checked out the Opera House (surprisingly covered in ceramic bathroom tiles) and the view from the bar underneath the Opera House esplanade. We were very lucky to get a table right by the harbourside where we proceeded to drink champagne (one can call any sparkling wine that here) and gin and tonic. Great fun! Perhaps most astonishing was seeing a colony of thousands of bats fly over the harbour as the sun went down.
Sarah and Alex in front of the Sydney Harbour Bridge
Obviously a natural poser
One of the reasons I am travelling is to explore some of the other global cities around the globe. (This is why I am also visiting Singapore, Shanghai and Beijing.) Compared to London, the Sydney CBD (central business district) has a modern feel with its many high-rise buildings, yet is familiar enough not to be too disconcerting. 
(The main street in Chinatown shares my surname afterall!) It is however more expensive than I imagined (I suppose food is subsidised heavily in Europe) and I gather from people that work here that the working hours are not much better than the UK, and the vacation allowances are less generous. All-in-all however, I had a marvellous time and this could well be a place I choose to work in the future.
Next stop, tropical Queensland!
More Sydney photos on this Facebook page
An Antipodean Adventure 
Doubtful Sound in superlative
Monday, 4 May 2009After our exciting adventures in Queenstown, we felt like doing something a little more tranquil for the next few days, and so we made our way to Doubtful Sound in Fiordland. It’s virtually impossible to travel there independently, so we joined a tour group. We were a little startled when we realised we would be joining a group of around 50 sexagenarians as the tour began, but why shouldn’t we all get along?
More interesting however, was the style of commentary used by the tour guides for the remainder of the trip: it was very much in the realm of the superlative.
Our entire trip would be within Fiordland, New Zealand’s largest national park; it’s also one of the least explored areas of the country. We started our journey by taking a ferry across Lake Manapouri, which is the fifth-largest and second-deepest lake in New Zealand. The skipper was keen to point out Pomona Island (the lake’s largest island) on the way for some particular reason, but we had reached our superlative quota for the minute, so it passed us by. Instead we enjoyed the view from deck.
On the other side of the lake was the Manapouri Hydro-Electric Power Station, New Zealand’s most controversial infrastructure project of the twentieth century. Original plans had intended for the water levels in Lake Manapouri to be raised by 30 metres, but massive nationwide protests prevented this from happening.
The power station is at the beginning of New Zealand’s most expensive road, which leads to Doubtful Sound. (It is not part of the road network and was built only as a supply route for the construction of the power station in the 1960s). We boarded a coach to be taken over a mountain pass and down to our boat in Doubtful Sound via the “million-dollar view”.
Once we arrived at Doubtful Sound (New Zealand’s second-largest fjord; the largest, Dusky Sound, is accessible only from the ocean by boat), we were able to check out our new home, the Fiordland Explorer. After a week living in a campervan, the promises of a soft bed and having meals cooked for us were very reassuring. The boat was quite a heavy beast, but had masts and some sails which we thought were probably just added for decorative reasons.
As soon as we set off, we were assured about what an amazing trip we were going to have. Most tourists visit Milford Sound to the north, but Doubtful is “three-times longer” than Milford, and has “ten-times the surface area”. “Oh good,” muttered the crowd. Furthermore, we were told we were the luckiest tour group for some time, as we had such amazing weather; it normally rains 300 days per year.
As we proceeded to the deepest point (430 metres) of the fjord, we looked up at the exceptionally steep sides of the fjord and we wondered how it was that the trees and bushes were able to grow on near vertical slopes…
The tannoy kicked into action and a reassuring voice, reading from script, informed us that:
It was a phrase we were going to hear many times over the remainder of the trip.
The boat had a number of kayacks available, and I made use of one primarily to escape the running commentary.
After an (intentional) swim in the 11C water (which was fairly bracing but great fun), we cruised towards the mouth of the fjord. It is named “Doubtful” as Captain Cook was doubtful of whether he would be able to sail out if he entered.
We passed Secretary Island, which is New Zealand’s fifth-largest island. At this point, Hadyn and I were beginning to wonder if it was really necessary to mention a fifth-place ranking, particularly one specific to quite a small country.
As we endured more statistics being reeled off, we were delighted to be joined by the southernmost population of bottlenose dolphins. For what must have been the better part of an hour, around ten dolphins were jumping in front of the ship or in its wake. I really got the sense that they were enjoying themselves and that we were one of the highlights of their day.
The next morning produced far more typical Doubtful Sound weather: rain, and lots of it. Not one to be affected by the conditions, I donned my rain jacket and grabbed a mug of tea before proceeding to the deck to be informed again about the mosses, lichen and liverworts. Nonetheless, the fjord took on an aura of mysticism with the low clouds rolling by and the sound of rain pattering away.
It was time to retreat from this fairytale kingdom and head back to the campervan. We saw some marvellous scenery, and although listening to the consistent onboard commentary was fairly laborious, we ate very well and were looked after by staff who must have to do the same thing over and over for each group on the boat.
On the coach journey back to the jetty, our driver decided to run a quiz to see which nationality could remember the most statistics (Hadyn and I did the UK very proud). Finally, as the driver pulled up to the jetty, he remarked with a grin on his face:
“Of all the groups we have had on this trip, I’ve great pleasure in saying that this group in particular has been the most…
…recent!”
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