Cockatoo Island

As I am unsure of how many weekend days I have left in this beautiful city before I embark on my Melbourne adventures (after a brief holiday in Canada), I have entered a phase I like to call "Extreme touristing," where I am cramming as many activities into each day as my energy will allow. 

This morning I planned to explore Sydney Harbour's largest island, the empty-land-turned-prison-turned-girls'-school-turned-shipyard-turned-tourist-area called Cockatoo Island. Hearing about the island as a popular venue for events such as church retreats, paired with Lonely Island's review stating it is "One of the world's most spectacularly located campsites," I eagerly packed my sunscreen and hat, excited to purchase an informational audio walking tour and learn about the intriguing lives of the convicts as I explored the island. 

(Picture from www.sydney.com) 

Viewing advertisement pictures such as the one above, I imagined I would find an exotic island covered in trees, humming with the sounds of birds (perhaps Cockatoos?) and overall experiencing a beautiful, magical place, as I find most of Sydney's destinations to be. I was surprised, however, to step off the boat and onto bland, militant/ prison-esque grounds. It felt as though I was entering the real-life version of Shutter Island, the Leonardo DiCaprio movie. (Fun fact: the film was actually shot in Massachusetts.) 

I was then hit with the second setback of the day by discovering the audio tours, which detail the lives of individual prisoners, had sold out by a large group reservation. Bummer!

I took a moment to ponder taking the ferry back into the city and embarking on another activity, saving the island for another day, but I figured Google could tell me sufficient information about the island's history. As I have limited weekend time left in Sydney, I decided to trek on. 

Cockatoo Island is certainly a fascinating place. Discovered by Europeans (one of the few sites they can take credit for, as they did not poach this particular piece of land from Aboriginals), it opened as a Convict Penal Establishment in 1839 which lasted until 1869. The prison hosted criminals labeled as the worst-of-the-worst, often second- or third-time offenders. Pictures displayed inmates to appear savage and possessed, hardly recognisable as human beings. The prisoners are said to have lived in terrible conditions: the 300-capacity stone rooms were packed with 500 offenders, and the meat they were shipped was often so old it would have to be thrown out. They were supplied two meagre meals a day, and had to pay for a third portion out-of-pocket, with money earned through hard labor, if they were extra hungry. Prisoners were not taught by positive reinforcement, either. In 2009, an archeological dig on the island uncovered convict-era punishment cells under the kitchen. Woah. 

While most prisoners did not have the ability to swim, thus making escape from the island impossible, there is one success story backed by no substantial physical evidence, but is spoken of as truth. In 1856 Frederick Ward was sentenced to seven years in the Cockatoo Island prison for stealing horses. In 1863, it is said that his wife, Mary, swam to the island and delivered tools he could use to escape. Two days later, Frederick and his mate, Fred Britton, used the tools to break free and make it to the ocean. While Fred drowned, Frederick successfully swam across, where Mary is said to have been waiting for him with a fast white steed. Living under the alias "Captain Thunderbolt," Frederick wreaked havoc on New South Wales until he was shot dead by police in 1870. (I have to wonder, why would Frederick choose to partake in a risky escape the very year he was set to be released? Perhaps pride? Perhaps some elements of the story were lost in translation? Perhaps it is just that, a mythical ghost story told in children's camps while roasting s'mores, the storyteller shining a flashlight under their chin? Either way, I find the tale fascinating.) 

In 1869 the prison was shut down, and a few years later in 1871 a girls' school opened called Biloela. The school was comprised of two sub-divisions; the Biloela Public Industrial School was for girls who had been orphaned or neglected, and the Biloela Reformation School was for girls who had broken the law. There was one major flaw in the organisational system: the two schools were bunked together! Severely abused children and impressionable orphans would be living amongst petty criminals. The girls were treated like animals; they were locked in dark stone cellars for 12 hours each night, forced to lap water out of communal troughs, and we're not given silverware to eat with. Punishment was also severe. Often girls would have their beds removed, forcing them to sleep on cold, hard, dirty stone. One story detailed a teacher unlocking the girls one morning and noticed they had carved pictures in the walls. (what else were they supposed to do with 12 hours to kill?) He beat them and smashed their faces and hair against the stone to rub off the artwork. I reminisced on my childhood, remembering when my third grade teacher tore up my quiz for doodling in the margins, and thinking that punishment was cruel and unusual. A little perspective goes a long ways.

Additional havoc was wreaked on the iand when a young men's school for shipbuilding moved in across the island, and as you might imagine, all Hell broke loose.

The schools were re-located in 1888, and the island once again became a prison that accepted overflow from other jails, once again providing in-humane conditions. Finally, in 1908 the prison was permanently shut down. 

In 1913, the island was morphed into one of Australia's biggest shipyards, which was maintained until 1991, serving a stint as the Naval Dockyard of the Royal Australian Navy. The first of its two dry docks was built by convicts, as most infrastructure on the island was. The shipbuilding portion of its history is what caused the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organisation, UNESCO, to list Cockatoo Island as a World Heritage Site, meaning a place with cultural/ physical significance. 

Now, Cockatoo Island is a thriving tourist location. It hosts frequent venues, and is littered with tents for people to enjoy a few days camping. While I found walking through the island eery, kids seem to love the vast openness, allowing them to scooter, bike, and run free while their parents enjoy a glass of wine overlooking the ocean. There is even a preserved tennis court that was made for the Governor of the prison that people are allowed to use, boasting some of the best views in Sydney. 

 

A historical day ended with an afternoon in the Sydney Museum learning about the faces behind the names of the city's various streets and buildings, a thankful prayer that I was born in the 20th century, and a good night's sleep on my queen-size, cozy bed. 

Cronulla Beach

My days in Sydney are starting to become fairly routine: work Monday through Friday, long hike on Saturday - a pleasant break from sitting at my desk job all week - and then relax on Sunday before attending an evening church service at Hillsong (followed by, of course, the church after-party). 

This Saturday I slept in until 6:30 a.m. - a treat from my usual 5 a.m. weekday mornings - threw on a maxi dress and set off to Cronulla beach, located about an hour train ride south of Sydney. 

On my way out the door, rushing to catch the bus, I took a moment and quickly pondered whether or not to bring my hat and sunglasses. Usually as much of a staple to my ensemble as my phone and credit card, the weather forecast stated it would be cool and rainy, thus deeming the items unnecessary. It can be a bit of a hassle to lug around many things, especially on a long hike, so I made the whimsical decision to leave them home. Needless to say I am writing this blog post among the adversity of feeling needle-like pain on every inch of my skin. I have learned the hard way to never underestimate the power of the Australian sun!

Arriving at Cronulla had a different feel than previous beaches I have visited; it seemed to be more of a local spot than the tourist-heavy population I have previously encountered. Surfers were abundant, either in the water catching waves or taking a break under tents with barbecues, eating hot dogs, lamb, steaks, and other meals to rejuvenate their energy for the next round.

 

I believe Cronulla has a feminine appearance, featuring light sand decorated with white seagulls wandering about, crisp blue ocean water creating the quiet, peaceful sound of waves. Its quietness and simple, natural beauty make Cronulla a place I would like to live, if I were to settle down in Sydney.

I easily spotted the walking trail - the pavement featured clear markings to remind hikers to walk on the left side of the path, which was helpful. 

As I was mosying along, allowing my mind to sync with the ocean waves, shielding the blinding sun with the back of my hand, I spotted a lookout point where people could stand on an elevated area to view the beach in its entirety. I noticed the path didn't lead to the point; rather, after a short stretch of grass, sand led the way to the lookout. Concerned about getting dirt inside my shoes, therefore making it uncomfortable to hike, I decided the risk would be worth the reward and embarked onto the grass portion. Suddenly I heard a loud, panicked scream of a surfer - especially alarming as those are not a surfer's general characteristics - "WATCH THE SNAKE!!!!" I froze, mid-step, wobbling as I tried to catch my balance, unsure of where to place my right foot that was floating in the air. Following where the surfer was pointing, I spotting the snake a few feet away, slithering along in the midst of a public beach like he owned the place. I slowly backed up until I was once again cement-bound. "Sorry to scare you, but I think that's a fairly dangerous one." The man chuckeled as he headed - on the path - towards the ocean. A quick Google search led me to discover that I had just encountered a Red Belly Black Snake, and "Its venom is capable of causing significant morbidity." Below is the picture I took once I had returned to the safety of the path, and a picture from the Australia Zoo's website to get a better view. 

I noticed the irony how, while I was most worried about wandering through the sand, the grass is what really could have killed me. Food for thought.

Nevertheless, I stood on the path for several minutes, eager to experience the viewpoint but now worried about what lurked in the grass. Watching as person after person successfully made their way to the lookout, my resolve strengthened and, taking slow, intentional steps, I finally made it to the point. 

The end of the path featured giant sand dunes that doubled as an off leash dog park, and an amazing exercise opportunity. I pondered the idea of running up and down the sand, as I spotted a few women attempting, but I realized - especially as I was traveling alone - there would be no one to dial 000, the national emergency number, during my attempt to make it to the top. I figured I would stick to the path.

After the hike I stopped off at a restaurant and ordered a yummy lunch time sandwich. An elderly couple sat beside me, and we naturally got to chatting. They were interested to hear how I created my life in Australia and I was eager to hear about their travels to Africa. We had an excellent conversation, the kind of dialogue that allows a traveler to say they have "Met some interesting people." I eventually set off back towards the beach to sit in tranquility for a short while before catching the train back home. 

    

Another great day in paradise!

Manly Beach

This Saturday I chose to venture over to Manly Beach, a popular tourist attraction I was eager to visit. 

A suburb of Sydney, I took a ferry in which allowed me the luxury of another beautiful trip.

Manly was discovered in 1778, is the birthplace of surfing, and one of the world's five surfing reserves. Fittingly, travelers from all over the world visit to hit the waves. Fun fact - Manly received its name after the governor saw indigenous tribesman on the island and viewed them as being strong and manly. 

I had been informed prior to visiting that people who move to Manly tend to never leave. Upon stepping off the ferry, I could instantly see why: it has everything you need! Hundreds of restaurants, clothing shops, grocery stores and surf shops lined the road, and the air just had an indescribable smell of peace, mellowness and tranquility. The city instantly transitions a person into a vacation-esque bliss.

Easily spotting a trail, I joined the many hikers and joggers and began to mosy down the path, trying to remember to stay on the left side of the path - this task increasingly as a struggle as my mind began to wander. As my appearance doesn't allow a stranger to easily identify me as a foreigner, if I obstruct traffic I look less like a tourist and more like a selfish young person, so I have to watch myself. 

The end of the trail landed me at Shelley Beach, which is one of the only west-facing beaches on the east coast. I'll have to stay long enough to watch the sunset one of these days. Shelley was beautiful, but due to its boutique size I didn't stay long - there's not much to do if you're not swimming or eating. 

After Shelley Beach I strolled back over through Manly, and soon found myself walking along the Manly Lagoon. To my surprise, I liked this area better than the beach, because I discovered it serves as a dog beach! Tens of dogs swarmed the area, happily swimming and splashing in the waves. I watched for a bit, wishing my own puppy was here, but viewing a sign warning visitors about water pollution reminded me of the potentially dangerous Australian water conditions, and I decided I was glad he's home safe in California. Circling the edge of the lagoon, I had covered enough land to suffice as a day's exercise, and headed home. 

Another beautiful day in paradise.

Sydney Royal Easter Show

Easter is approaching, and Easter in Sydney means the Royal Easter Show is alive and well. 

The Royal Easter Show is Australia's largest annual event, with over 900,000 participants each year. Highlights of the Show (which U.S. natives may refer to as a "Fair," or "Carnival," include agricultural competitions, animal experiences, carnival fun, and shopping. Originating in 1823 by the Royal Agricultural Society of New South Wales - a not-for-profit organization that promotes and rewards agricultural excellence - the Show is as much of a tradition to attend during Easter in Sydney as taking pictures with Mall Santa during Christmas time. 

Partly because we wanted to experience this historical community event and partly because we were tired of answering "I'm not sure," when locals eagerly inquired if we would be attending, my coworker/friend and I purchased our tickets and, on a sunny Saturday morning, headed to Sydney Olympic Park to experience the phenomenon. 

Upon arrival, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Packed in tightly next to each other were Ferris wheels, miniature roller coasters, whack-a-moles, giant slides and other miscellaneous carnival-esque games, each booming music that conflicted with the other games' music, creating an overwhelming environment for an introvert such as myself. As my friend and I arrived at different entrances, I ventured inside and started making my way through the crowd. 

I was beginning to think that the Show catered to children, when I discovered that it, in fact, did. My entrance had placed me right in the "Kids' Fun Zone." Relieved that I hadn't just paid $40 for this mass chaos, I mosied through, seeking a way out and into any other "Zone," which would relieve me from this high-stress environment. I noticed a recurring theme in families that parents seemed to be having more fun watching their kids embark on rides and activities than the kids themselves were having. This is not to say the kids weren't having fun - they were having a blast - but parents of all ages seemed to be basking in watching their kids experience what they must remember as a highlight of their own childhoods. 

Soon I made my way outside of the "Kids' Fun Zone," met up with my friend, and we set off on our day. Finding ourselves in the agricultural section, we walked through rooms that showed us how crops are made, allowing us to write "Thank you" notes to farmers, as well as sample some fruits, such as persimmons, pineapple and papaya & lime (a delicious combination I never beford would have thought to consider). 

Further exploration of this section included rooms with livestock caged up for our enjoyment. Pigs, goats, chickens, and sheep all stood bored while patrons amusedly stared at them. I did not enjoy this part. While the zoo, for example, provides animals with as much stimulation as possible to keep them occupied, happy and thriving, these animals just sat in cages, waiting to be slaughtered.

In fact, animal cruelty seemed to be a large part of the Show. Upon exiting the livestock room, we heard sad, depressed moos of cows who, we discovered, were tied to fences on tiny chains that looped through piercings in their noses. If that image doesn't inspire you to buy free-range, I would kindly ask you to re-evaluate your priorities. 

Furthermore, my friend and I visited an event called "Horse show." We excitedly raced to the stadium and made it just in time to view the event from the beginning. I quickly became confused when I spotted grown men wriling up a cow in a small enclosure, and once it was jumping around, terrified, they opened a gate which let it out into the stadium floor. Confused, it awkwardly stood there until another grown man on a horse began to chase it. I watched the terror in its eyes as the man chased the cow at full speed, attempting to herd it through obstacles in the stadium. Once finished, the cow was taken somewhere outside; I imagine it wasn't getting many treats or a pet. Disgusted, we left after discovering what "Horse show" meant. How, I wonder, is intentionally terrifying, chasing, humiliating and belittling an animal not absolutely horrifying and disgusting to every single person - much less entertaining? I simply cannot wrap my head around the outrageous selfishness, where people think the world is their playground - and no one seems to be telling them otherwise. 

Fortunately, the Show was all uphill from there! Venturing out of the agricultural section, we wandered around a garden section, which featured beautiful bouquets that locals had created. We made our way to a dinosaur exhibit, and laughed as the teenage employees weren't sure whether to complete their task of scaring us or not (as the exhibit was set up for kids). We viewed stunning artwork that allowed us to daydream of winning the lotto and decorating our beachfront-homes in a future life. We ate a spectacular lunch of Hungarian quesadillas, and indulged in lavender ice cream for dessert. We rode the Ferris wheel, not realizing until it was too late that it was spinning at an incredible speed, and we both got motion sickness. We walked through a mall area and accepted an invitation to have our pictures taken, a publicity stunt for a local photography agency. It was a wonderful, relaxing, eventful second half of the day. 

The most popular event of the day seemed to be a wood chopping show that many locals had raved to us about, stating how it's a "Must see," so we made sure not to miss it. The event commenced and basically we watched grown men chopping wood to see who could cut through their block the fastest. While I personally didn't understand the hype in the slightest, I feigned excitement the next day when my local friends eagerly inquired as to how I enjoyed the popular event. 

My favorite show was, of all things, a car show, featuring various forms of entertainment. Cars riding on two wheels, BMX trick jumpers, one man from Texas blowing himself up in a box with six dynamite. ("His accent is more American than yours!" my friend stated.) It was great entertainment and the half-hour show was a welcomed rest break from the six hours of walking we had completed. 

All in all, another eventful day in Sydney!