Dearest Rachel –
I didn’t mention it the other day in my research, but you’re probably familiar with the fact that the nation of Australia is referred to as “Oz,” and not in connection to L. Frank Baum’s beloved book series (of which I forget if you had the entire collection, but I’m pretty sure you had most of). However, despite the greenery surrounding and permeating Greater Sydney, it apparently acquired the nickname “The Emerald City” subsequent to the advent of the stories of Dorothy and the ‘wonderful’ wizard whose adoptive land shares its name with the land Down Under.
That being said, it’s not as if the Big Bus travels on a yellow brick road; indeed, there’s no such thing within the city center, and I’d be willing to lay odds on the fact that there’s nothing of the sort anywhere in New South Wales leading to the place. Still, if one is to get around the city, it beats simply walking around afoot – at least, at first.
The process isn’t without its pitfalls, though. The first bus to come along was too full for any more than half a dozen of us, so most of the group had to wait for a second one with considerably more space before we could finally get rolling. It would be disconcerting, since normally shore excursions are done as a group which needs to stick together, but the whole purpose of this particular one was to allow us “hop-on/hop-off” capabilities; we were going to be separated at some point, regardless, and there was no point in getting too worried about it.
We were given earbuds to follow along to the narration of each stop, but whenever the bus paused to pick up and drop off passengers, the system plays various distinctly Australian pop songs. And the more I found myself listening to it, the more I found something rather curious about the most famous of these. Men at Work’s “Land Down Under” focuses on the ubiquity of Australians in places as improbable as Brussels and Bombay – but not in Australia itself. People “come from a land Down Under,” but apparently, they don’t stay here. What does that really say about the country, when its natives, while proud of their heritage, would evidently rather be somewhere – anywhere – else?
Or is it just that I’m overthinking a fun little song about being Aussie and able to recognize your fellow countrymen wherever you go?
Seated as I am on the upper of a double-decker bus, I can feel every tilt as we go along. It’s wild enough to feel the upward and downward inclines of the roads – as with river towns, there’s not a level plain to the city – but every time we turn, there’s this unsettling feeling that we’re on the verge of tipping over. We’re not, of course – if we were, such buses would likely have long since been legislated out of existence as unsafe – but that doesn’t do my sense of balance any favors. Maybe it’s due to a loss of ‘land legs’ on my part, even though I’m sitting down. I really don’t know.
I try to take notes at first, but ultimately find myself unable to keep up with the narration in my ear as this sight or that goes by. I hear a comment, try to look in the direction I’m told and take a picture, but there’s no way for me to do all that and take notes as I attempt to follow along. I can give you the notes, along with the photos, that I was able to get down, but it didn’t get me far into the trip (and, in fact, some of these pictures were taken on my walk around after getting off the bus, as I could take my time focusing on what I was looking at – although without the narration in my ear, I would have had no context for those sights if I hadn’t written something down).
As it so happened, the full circuit, without getting off and exploring around, amounted to an intimidatingly long two and a half hours. It left me thinking that, if it took the bus this long to go to all these places, how long would it take me on foot? And how would I get back to these places, and back from them, more to the point, in sufficient time? Sure, we were going to be here until midnight, but would the buses still be running?
After making one full circuit, I decided to disembark by the Circular Quay, and see if I would have any luck on foot. You can see for yourself how that turned out.
And after all this walking about, I still managed to get back to the ship by five-thirty. I wonder what you would have thought about it. We could have made it in time for dinner (of all things, after such a late lunch), but there were still so many hours to cover the city; why stop so soon?
But I felt the need to rest and recharge my batteries – quite literally, in fact, given all the footage I’d taken. Unfortunately, that was enough for my resolve to leave me, and I found myself calling it a night far earlier than I probably should have (although I did have my reasons, too)
So there you have it, honey. No wizards, no tin men, no scarecrows or lions; no munchkins or witches or flying monkeys either. Just as much of an introduction to Oz as I could manage for one day, with the understanding that I’ve got a few more yet to deal with.
And with that being said, honey, keep an eye on me for the days ahead, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 