Squeezy

Such a squished-in little building,
right in the heart of Sydney.
Built in 1886.
Any smaller and I would've smuggled it home in my suitcase.

Green thumbs and pink bugs

While I was putting Kickboy down for his nap yesterday, I heard a story on NPR about Guerrilla Gardeners.

It reminded me (1) that guerrilla gardening is a great idea – especially for neglected public lots – and something I would might do if I didn't have a knack for killing every plant I touch; and (2) that the first time I'd ever heard of it was in Sydney, where I got this on-the-fly shot of one of their installations through the window of Jodie's car.

Crooked picture, really cool work.

Doing and not-doing things in Sydney

If we wait until I have something clever to say to go with these pictures, you'll never see them.

So without further ado (side note: I saw someone write "without further adieu" the other day, and I think it was done with a straight face! The horror! Now I'm wracking my brain trying to recall whether it was one of my friends, and if they'll be offended.)

Ahem. Where was I....


Right – Sydney! When we weren't battling public transport and delighting in the luxury (*cough*) of the Travelodge Wynyard (serviceable, but definitely un-plush), Mum and I did manage to see some sights with the kids.


In fact, I was determined beyond reason to do many many many things with them, and I frequently lamented the fact that Kickbaby no longer fits in the Baby Bjorn (and hasn't for a good six months) because then we could've ditched the stroller and done soooo much more.


But stuck with the stroller, we took a ferry to Watson's Bay (where we saw the charming waterfront "Gondola House", above), to the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and to the Opera House.


Berry ran up and touched the Opera House with one fingertip, and then ran away. Kickbaby (I have to get that poor child a new name, he's so far past being a baby) climbed every single step, all the way up to the Opera House. It's a real feat, and I'll have to show you a picture another time.


More Watson's Bay... Mum kept telling me about this great hike we could do there, "but not with a stroller... and not with the kids" – so really, a great hike we couldn't do, which she claimed had totally made their last trip to Sydney. Naturally I was delighted to hear about fabulous things we couldn't do.


People really are creative with their gates and fences in Watson's Bay, aren't they. Well, not this next one – I just liked the view through the little tangle of progress.


Ah Sydney. Very cool.

Friends in far places

No one else has ever taken a "picture of the Sydney Harbour Bridge" quite like this.

That's half my head on the left there, and about a third of photographer-extraordinaire-Jodie's head there on the right. And in the background you can see exactly none of the Harbour Bridge, which we were aiming to highlight. Nice.

The one below is a bit better – lacks the pizazz our faces would've lent to the scene (!) but it's a sort of moody view across the rooftops of The Rocks towards the Opera House. Jodie took me to The Rocks, a piece of history I've wanted to visit ever since I read Playing Beattie Bow when I was twelve.

But I'm getting this all back to front, really.

Jodie, of Meringue fame, is a friend-I'd-never-met despite a good year or more of almost daily emails. We fixed the never-met bit over drinks one night with Stuart, my childhood next-door neighbour and sometime partner-in-crime, and his work mate Paul.

I should mention that Jodie drove up to Sydney from Melbourne, and that Jodie and Stuart and Paul know each other through Facebook, and that I had never met Paul and hadn't seen Stuart in at least 15 years. It all gets a bit involved, really.

Anyway, to get such unprecedented freedom (more than two hours! at night!) I left the kids with poor mum at the hotel, and Kickbaby yelled for a solid hour. He has his preferences, and I am one of them.

The next morning Jodie and I had a Very Important International Business Meeting with Simone Walsh at Bill's. I don't have a picture of that. Simone said almost before we sat down There will be no pictures and I must have been feeling especially acquiescent that morning, because my ever-ready camera stayed in my purse. I regret that now.

I've got no excuse for not taking any pictures of Jodie and me at The Rocks or down on the harbour. None at all.

I did get this beauty, though. On a bustling street right in Darlinghurst, there was a little apartment above a newsagent, topped with what looked like a rooftop refugee camp. The picture can't do justice to the crazy low-rent clutter that filled that tiny space.

And one more from The Rocks... and still none of Jodie and me. Maybe next time.