Sydney as Anything
DAY: Eight
LOCATION: Sydney
With only one day left to explore Sydney, I needed a strong soy latte and a game plan. Gumption in the Strand Arcade had my name written all over it. But first, cold meds.
The walk across Darling Harbor had an entirely different flavor from yesterday. Young professionals zipped across the Pyrmont Bridge, single-minded in their pursuit of the office. The morning clouds above cast dramatic shadows onto the rippled water. A chilly wind whipped my face, as if to say “Wake up! Holiday’s over, back to work!”
Waiting for my coffee amongst the sea of suits, I tried to fathom a day job. In my 13 years of gainful employment, I’d never worked a 9 to 5. I’d waited tables, done commercial background, acted in movies and TV, written a book on Tinder dating, but never had a set schedule. I liked it that way. A Monday through Friday, two weeks of vacation career always seemed like a prison sentence. I used to feel guilty that I’d managed to avoid it, like I’d gotten away with breaking some fundamental law of capitalism (“thou shalt work 40 hours a week, or more”), but now I felt proud that I’d constructed such an open lifestyle for myself, with loads of free time to contemplate, create, and travel.
On a bench in the upscale mall, I laid out my itinerary: Museum of Contemporary Art Australia, Opera House, Botanical Gardens, lunch, ferry to Manly Beach, metro to Newtown. Ambitious considering my condition, but let’s be real – I was still high from Levi. Plus, I could always go home and sleep if I needed to. One of the many joys of traveling solo: not having to cater to anyone else’s schedule.
The museum didn’t impress me much, but modern art rarely does it for me. It feels too cold, too sterile, too detached. Either that or it’s angry, ugly, trying to push some sort of limit, some agenda. Not that I just want a bunch of pretty landscapes or Madonna and Childs, but modern art seems to lack beauty and heart. Occasionally though, a contemporary work does make me think. Like the giant clock at the entrance to the exhibit, reminding me I’m still trapped in this continuum. Or the pieces of driftwood in Fiona Hall’s Travelers that resemble animals; nature has a fascinating way of repeating itself.*
Modern architecture, on the other hand, can floor me. For the eight months I lived in New York, I never stopped being mesmerized by the skyscrapers. Now, standing in front of Jorg Utzon’s Sydney Opera House, with views of the skyline and bridge, I felt awe at the power of humans to create. Setting aside any moral judgments of industrial civilization, I allowed myself to appreciate the famous landmark with its soaring shells, glistening in the dappled light.
While not as diverse as Melbourne, the Royal Botanic Garden Sydney offered up some of the beauty I’d been craving at the museum. The main pond could barely be seen beneath the forest of lotus blossoms and lily pads. Monet would’ve had a field day. Across from the flowering waters, I gathered my energy on a bench, a willow tree offering me its shade.
On my way to lunch near Hyde Park, I added two more stops: Art Gallery NSW and St. Mary’s Cathedral. I did perhaps my quickest museum run through ever, because I was getting seriously hungry and faint, but it was enough to know I preferred it to the MCAA. If/when I made it back to Sydney, I’d do a proper viewing (along with a show at the opera house). As far as the church, a quick glance inside and sign of the cross sufficed.
Down the steps from the cathedral was the restaurant Rachel had recommended to me, Bodhi. Set in a tranquil outdoor garden, it was my first vegan yum cha (or dim sum to us Americans). I almost thought about asking the girl at the table next to me if she wanted to eat together, because I wanted to try more of the endless dishes being presented, but I enjoyed my dumplings, Chinese broccoli, and fried balls of something silently and mindfully.
The 30 minute ferry to Manly provided more spectacular panoramas of the harbor, and ample time to daydream about Levi. His laugh, his smell, his touch. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Me: Yeah, can’t stop thinking about you while roaming around Sydney
Me: Wish you were with me on Manly!
I still hadn’t learned to be subtle.
Sitting in the sand, watching the people swim and sun themselves, I had beach envy. No wonder my Aussie friends raved about their shores! It’s not that the SoCal waters are bad, they’re just not quite as turquoise. Or warm. I took a dip, then air-dried while doing a small portion of the scenic walk. The views were great, but a large iguana chilling on a rock stole the show.
Levi: It’s a little cold to be at the beach, no?
Attached was a photo of the -3 degree Swiss weather.
Me: Here, warm you up
I sent him a photo of the beach, then one of me from a boudoir shoot. I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I just couldn’t help myself.
Levi: There are times where I do believe in a divine force. Like the one that created that bum of yours
Levi: That beach looks almost as perfect.
I grinned - a little sexting never hurt anyone, right?
Back in the CBD, I easily could’ve called it a day, but it was my last chance to try the Sydney outpost of Lentil as Anything. I hopped the train to Newtown, and felt instantly hipper the second I got off. Like Fitzroy and Collingwood, this neighborhood is chill, with funky shops, tons of vegan fare and craft brews, and murals for days. Forget the museums, come here if you want some legit art.
Lentil as Anything did not disappoint. I arrived just as it opened at 6pm, and got sat promptly at one of the communal tables. A volunteer server took my order (curry of the day with coconut rice – mmmm), and I got acquainted with my dining mates.
It was a motley crew. There was Joe, 40s, an exuberant deaf Aussie with a killer smile, Hans, a shy 19-year-old German living footloose and fancy-free, and Della, 26, also German, a Kat Von D dead-ringer. None were vegan (yet), but all wanted to be.
“I wish I could eat this all the time,” Hans said, devouring his Aloo Chole Chaat. “But I’m broke and just have to take what I can get.”
I nodded, appreciating Lentil’s service to the community even more. Everyone should be able to eat nourishing organic plant-based food, not just those who can afford to shop at Whole Foods. We finished and I made a donation.
Joe invited me to join him at a bar down the street, where he was teaching a group how to sign. If I’d been feeling better, I would’ve gone in a heart beat – how many times do you get an invitation like that? - but I’d reached the end of my fuel tank. All I had the energy for was the bus ride to Ultimo and this text convo with Levi:
Him: Spoke to my vegan friend Chris this morning. I think he will be in Brisbane when you’re there
Me: Okay great, send me his #. I’ll text him tomorrow
Him: He may come with me to India next week
Me: Next week?? I want to go to India next week!
Him: See you there
Me: Ha!! Or just come pop by Singapore after
Him: Dates? Very possible
Me: The 13th-15th
Him: See you there?
Me: Yeah!!
Him: Done xo
Done?! Was he really coming to meet me in Singapore in a week and a half?? I found this hard to believe. I mean, it’s not like India and Singapore are that close. But, I’d once doubted that the Cab Driver would fly me to New York, and look what happened there. Guess I’d just have to wait and see!
*I may have had a more satisfying experience if I’d seen the exhibit Tatsuo Miyajima: Connect With Everything. However, I didn’t feel like spending the $25 to see an artist I wasn’t familiar with, and it also might have made me more annoyed considering it’s all about numbers, computers and LED lights. (The MCA Collection is free.)