Chinese Monday

I had resolved to try to get out of Sydney again on Tuesday, so Monday was a free day and there was a lot to do in a little time. I had an early breakfast and then did some laundry. While I was waiting for that to finish, I went up to the garden to journal a bit. As I was writing, a pear-shaped man with a Tony Stark beard and thick Aussie accent walked over and said he would sit away from me so that his cigarette smoke wouldn’t get on my clothes. I tried to go back to writing, but he began to talk to me and basically didn’t stop until I excused myself to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer.

He said his name was ‘Manny’ and that he was part Middle Eastern and part ten other things I don’t remember. He owned a house in the neighborhood, but would occasionally come to the Lodge for breakfast and to talk with people. When I said I had come through Colorado on my way to Sydney, he claimed the FBI in Colorado had asked him to join them as an agent because he could speak seven different languages, but that was (dramatic cigarette puff) several years ago. With great humility he said that Japanese was the one he was least proficient in. All the while cigarette smoking was drifting over and encircling me, but I continued to listen politely. He asked about my plans and I mentioned flying to Brisbane. He suggested that I should just rent a car and drive to Brisbane. He insisted that it would only cost me twenty dollars a day plus gas to rent a car and said it would be much wiser than paying a lot for a train or plane. While this would not have been feasible for me anyways, a map later assured me of that. Besides, I had no intention of undertaking my first driving adventure in Australia in full traffic in a major city center. When I told him that I would be staying in rural Queensland for a year, he confidently assured me that (dramatic cigarette drag) I wouldn’t last out there for that long. At this point, a kindly kookaburra flew overhead and excreted on him. (I wish)

I doubted the veracity of much of what Manny told me, and as time went by I suspected he was likely a pathological liar. I excused myself and spent the rest of the time at the hotel peaking around corners to see if he was there before entering a room.

I left the hotel and caught a ferry to the Pyrmont Bay wharf at Darling Harbor and disembarked to discover the ‘Welcome Wall’. Here, inscribed in granite, are the surnames of many of those who have migrated to Sydney over the years and it’s possible, for those interested, to to research into those families to trace their own history via an online database. This, in tandem with posters I saw around the city that simply said ‘Aussie’ but showed people of various cultural backgrounds, underscored the changing face of the city.

I walked about half a mile to Blackwattle Bay and the Sydney Fish Market. I had seen a video about it before leaving Ohio, and a lady from my previous stay had strongly recommended visiting. I wanted to try some oysters on the shell, so I made the trip over. Here, as before in New Thainatown, I was the minority. Most of the people, judging by language, were Chinese and the place was packed with tourists and locals alike. About half were taking pictures of the items on offer, to the barely veiled annoyance of vendors, while the other half were buying things to eat.

There were whole octopuses on ice, prawns, fish and fish heads, impossibly large live lobsters, and an array of other dead sea creatures on ice for those looking. There were also booths with cooked and ready-to-eat foods such as oysters, various shellfish, half lobsters, and many different kinds of cooked and fried foods. The oysters on the shell were plentiful and they seemed to be popular. They came in trays of  12, but you could buy as many or as few as you wanted. Another stand had chocolate dipped fruits and whole ‘ready to drink’ coconuts. I took my chances and bought a half lobster smothered in cheese and butter as well as a half dozen oysters and a coke. I found a place to sit and managed to eat my small meal without any of the sundry seagulls stealing it. They’re pretty fearless and often hover above patrons looking for a chance to pilfer a morsel. I ate as if I was in prison, with my arms forming a wall around my food and trying to look unapproachable.

What my arm walls didn’t protect me from was the old lady who tried to throw her garbage into the trash can behind me. The wind was quite strong and it decided her cup should go on me instead of in the bin. Fortunately she had finished her drink and only ice landed on my back. She apologized sheepishly and wandered away, but at that point I decided I’d had enough of the fish market. The crowds were getting a bit much for me anyways, so I absconded. Next stop: the Chinese Garden of Friendship.

The creation of artists and architects in Guangzhou, China, (Sydney’s sister city) the garden was presented as a symbol of the friendship between the two cities and by extension the two countries (though that relationship is a rather complex one). It was located in Sydney’s Chinatown across from the Convention and Exhibition Center, and I hadn’t really researched it very much apart from looking at where it was on Google maps. I was expecting maybe a park with some statues, but what I discovered was so much more.  

From the front it appeared quite small. There was an entry pagoda with a stone ‘Imperial Guardian Lion’ sculpture. To the right and left were small pools with koi and what appeared to be smallish iguanas hanging around nearby. They were Eastern Water Dragon Lizards and they seemed unconcerned by all the people who wanted pictures of them. I stepped inside and saw that there was a $6 entry fee. I had already seen the pagoda and this was money I didn’t really need to spend, so I turned around and began walking in the direction of the train station to get a refund for the previous day’s cancellation. But a moment later, I fortunately came to my senses. As I was walking past the garden wall, I realized that it was much bigger than I had thought. This trip had been all about new experiences, so I turned around and went back and bought an entry ticket to the garden.

I’m so glad I did.

The garden was designed with the Taoist principles of Yin and Yang in mind, so the design elements of earth, fire, water, metal, and wood are balanced against each other. What this means is that almost everywhere you look in the garden there is a picture waiting to be taken. It was a truly beautiful place. Peaceful, ornate pavilions sat atop waterfalls that emptied into large, still ponds full of koi, long necked turtles, and ducks. Wall-lined limestone plateaus sat above a sea of large-leafed water plants, lotus flowers, and monolithic stones resembling different animals that jutted out of the water. Stone buildings with door and window openings cut to perfectly frame peacefully pleasing landscapes looked out over decorative pillars, winding walkways, and longs stalks of tall grass and bamboo.

Words can’t capture the serenity of the place. I wanted to sit and stay for a while and be alone with my thoughts, but the many intrusive tourists poking around meant that that wasn’t really possible. Except for one man who was seated alone at a table in a tea pavilion across the water. He had a look of contemplative serenity about him that suggested he was far removed from the noise and bustle. (Or he might’ve just been playing Candy Crush. It’s hard to say)

I had taken it all in, but I had somewhere to be that evening, so I had to go. If nothing else it was another glimpse into the future paradise to come, when everyplace on Earth will be as peaceful and beautiful as this. I could imagine living nearby and coming here to start each day with a cup of tea and the day text. But Monday wasn’t over…

Tanjing was waiting for me.