There are certain things that nobody tells you about travelling alone. That it’s incredibly liberating. Your own plan, your own schedule, your own thoughts, your own life. It is indeed all those things – the amount of downtime you get with yourself is something we often don’t get at home. But. It is also stressful, intimidating, and scary. Because it’s your own plan, your own schedule, your own thoughts, your own life. The responsibility that comes with it can be overwhelming.
But despite all that, my first week solo has been very good. As I said in City of Sun, my first stop in a new city is normally the zoo. As I got on the ferry to Taronga, I was still by myself, this time not even able to call a friend due to the time difference. But as I entered the zoo, I spotted one. Another one. Just like me. A lonesome figure, walking up the hill. Do I? Should I? Yes. “Hey, are you travelling alone too?”. The answer was yes. And I just made a friend.
Taronga Zoo is world renowned, and for good reason. If I liked Perth, I liked Taronga even better. It’s exhibits are spacious and naturalistic, though perhaps less innovative than in Perth. But the true surprise was in the bird show. I thought I’d seen them all – but Taronga raised the bar for zoos worldwide. It was beautifully choreographed with animals performing on stage like well-trained dancers. When something went wrong, the presenter kindly explained to the audience that wild animals will never truly be tame. And the collection of birds was surprising – no standard birds of prey, but a large collection of cockatoos, native Australian birds of prey, and cranes. Go see it if you ever have the chance.
That night the distance from my friends hit me more than I anticipated. I shared my room with a Korean girl called Kim, and when she and her friends saw the sad look on my face, I was promptly presented with a bowl of noodles and a generous glass of wine. The gesture was so incredibly kind and unexpected, I could not begin to express how grateful I was. Because after all, most people here are in the same situation. Alone, excited, and terrified. So we have to stick together.
The next day I explored Sydney on foot. Upon seeing the Opera House, it first truly hit me where I am. The other side of the world. Australia. Crap. But it also hit me the building itself is heavily overrated – its stained glass windows, slightly off-white colour and overflow of tourists makes it seem a bit dated. I guess its true value lies in its symbolism. That evening was reserved for a big party organised by the hostel – myself, the Korean girls, and a couple of Americans set off in a crowd of what seemed to be all teenagers to ScuBar, a small bar close to Central. The DJ was good (someone later told me he was stuck in a contract there and normally plays the biggest clubs), the drinks cheap and the atmosphere friendly. The follow-up to Ivy Club, which a Swedish guy kept raving about, was more disappointing. A taxi ride later I was glad to be back at the hostel and get some sleep.
The following day I nursed my hangover at the market on the Rocks with Natalie and Katy, two Americans from opposite sides of the country. The market was cute and vendors tried to sell us paintings, souvenirs, and food. Live music filled the streets and the whole place was filled with a happy vibe. We continued our trip per ferry to Manly, known for Manly Beach. The ferries in Sydney are fantastic – at a reasonable price they take you to some of the best places around Sydney, and you always get a free panoramic view of both the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.
Manly beach is utterly disappointing. That is, if you expect Manly men to walk around topless carrying a surfboard, which the name does sort of imply. However, as for white sand, good restaurants, and decent swimming, Manly is perfectly satisfactory. As we arrived we grabbed lunch at a Brazilian place – the food was truly authentic and you paid per weight of your food, as is usual in Brazil. It took me right back to Belo Horizonte and I was truly content when we moved on to the beach and let the sun tan us while we chatted and discussed everything from food to men, home countries to music.
As we went back to Sydney after such a satisfying afternoon, there was only one way to finish it: pancakes. We had some at a 24-7 pancake house, where I was so excited I promptly left my wallet there and had to trek back in the middle of the night to pick it up. We finished the night with burgers overlooking Darling Harbour, and so a brilliant day came to an end.
The next day I booked myself onto a tour into the Blue Mountains. Renowned for its beauty, I was determined not too miss it, and I’m very glad I didn’t. A very Australian looking guy picked me up at the hostel and with a group we started our drive into the Mountains.
On the way up we stopped at an Aboriginal rock carving. After this, he took us to some viewpoints where I met some of the people on the bus. There was a boat-builder from England, a French au-pair, a couple of Italian guys, a Saudi family, and Anton, the guy from Perth that was sat next to me. As most people went onto the scenic skyway (which looked way too unstable for my comfort), myself, the French girl and the boat-builder went for a walk instead. It was beautiful – waterfalls, trails through the forest, and beautiful views.
We had a quick stop in a village called Leura, where I found some authentic Venco drop (liquorice) and I was so excited I nearly ate the lot. Then, after a long and fulfilling day, we headed back to Sydney via boat. A scenic ride past some of the more expensive suburbs of Sydney brought us back into Darling Harbour, where I went for some drinks and then met my friend for a final goodbye drink.
The next day, I met back up with Katy to go to Bondi. As I left the hostel, rain started pouring down relentlessly and without my coat I was drenched within minutes. So instead we decided to go to the Australia Museum, which was also hosting the Wildlife Photographer of the Year Exhibition (a personal favourite) which I thoroughly enjoyed. One day, my name will be up there. That’s the dream.
As the day went on, the weather cleared and as we left the museum we decided to go to Bondi after all and do the Bondi-Coogee walk. The walk takes you past some of the nicest beaches in Sydney and can take however long you like. Katy and I had a lunch at the Icerberg’s Club in Bondi and it was the first real, decent meal I’d had in quite a while. The walk is beautiful. With good company, amazing views, loads of birds and butterflies, there was nothing else I could possibly wish for that day.
We ended up staying at Coogee beach at the end of the walk to relax for a bit and enjoy the bit of sun that was left. If you ever make it to Sydney, take a day to explore this part of the city that is too often overlooked. Bondi may have a bad reputation, but its surroundings are truly worth it.
And so my time in Sydney came to an end. That night I caught the bus to Coffs Harbour, from where I am typing now. The complete opposite of Sydney, Coffs is small, relaxed, and almost devoid of tourists. The hostel I’m staying at is one of the nicest places I have come across so far. The staff here form a little family and they are willing to take anyone straight in. Though the drinking culture may be a bit overwhelming (it is still a hostel after all), there is always something to do.
So over the last few days, I’ve been kayaking, paddle boarding, surfing, walking, and I’ve enjoyed brilliant company. There’s been nights out with karaoke, there’s been nights in just talking. Yesterday, I was supposed to move on to Coolangatta. But I like it here, so I changed my plans around and will stick about here for a little while longer and travel upwards when the time comes. And it reminded me of something I was told before I left.
The day I handed in my thesis, Selvino (my supervisor) told me a bit of advice. “You’re now unemployed, you finished uni, you have no purpose and that can be very depressing. Go find something to do.” As I was floating on my back on a paddle board, watching black cockatoos fly over against the background of the sunset, I thought back to his words. And I can only say, if this is the depression he was talking about, I’m going to be just fine.
Faye Vogely 