Tuesday - Sydney

BEHIND THE SCENES AT A MAJOR LANDMARK

Today’s action-packed day started early—again—with a tour of the Sydney Opera House. We wondered why the only backstage tour available started at 7 a.m., but soon learned that the SOH is a very busy place, so in order to go behind the scenes without getting in the way, we had to start early. There were ten other people on the tour and we had a very enthusiastic guide.

Sydney Opera House

The Sydney Opera House consists of five performance venues: the Concert Hall, the Joan Sutherland Theatre for opera and ballet, the Drama Theatre, the Playhouse and the Studio. With over 3000 performances a year, it is a hive of activity.

Today’s schedule for the Joan Sutherland Theatre included an afternoon tech rehearsal for Eugene Onegin and an evening performance of Carmen; tomorrow there would be a performance of The Magic Flute and then Carmen again on Thursday night, and undoubtedly there would be more onstage rehearsals in between. When you see the huge sets for all these productions, you begin to realize how much work is required to move everything on- and offstage multiple times a day—and how much space is required to store the sets, props, and costumes that are not in current use.

Michael's Sydney conducting debut

Because the SOH was built on a site that’s nearly surrounded by water, the architect realized that the only way to expand the limited area enough to meet the complex’s needs was to go underground. Huge hydraulic lifts—each about the size of the main stage—move sets and equipment up to stage level and then back down to storage areas on three floors underneath. There's very little room for anyone to stand in the wings. 

Joan Sutherland Theatre

In the orchestra pit of the Joan Sutherland Theatre, Michael was thrilled to be able to stand on the conductor's podium for a few moments. The hall is one of the largest opera venues in the world, seating 1500.

Drama Theatre flies

Opera Theatre banks of lights

Unlike the opera theatre, where several productions run concurrently, the Drama Theatre typically presents only one play at a time. Noises Off, a popular British farce, was playing here this month. We got to walk up in the catwalks as well as onstage. 

This stage has two sets of twelve flies: one set is manually operated (as flies have been for hundreds of years); the other set is controlled by computer. We learned that the stagehands prefer using the manual flies because they’re more reliable.

Concert Hall "public" dressing area

On our way to the Concert Hall, we passed a tiny dressing area and single makeup mirror that hardly seemed adequate for the last-minute adjustments of an entire orchestra.

Backstage stairs to Concert Hall

Concert Hall kissing wall

We then went up the stairs leading to the stage entrance used by performers, passing the “kissing wall.” 

Although both Michael and Nancy have performed onstage many times, we were unaware of a good-luck tradition apparently practiced by some professional performers: they kiss the wall just before going on stage. Numerous lipstick stains outside the Concert Hall testify that this must be true—at least here in Sydney. (The particularly worn area toward the bottom of this photo is said to be the spot first kissed by Dame Joan Sutherland, the late, great Australian soprano, and then by admirers who wanted to place their lips exactly where she had put hers.)

Concert Hall purple staircase

Concert Hall venue and observation area

Outside the Concert Hall

This purple-carpeted staircase leads to the Concert Hall lobby and a dining area that offers beautiful views of the harbor. (If you’d like to hold your wedding or corporate reception there, you can rent the place for an immodest fee.) A nearby concrete stairway once opened onto the water, literally, with no handrails or any other barriers at the edge. As you might imagine, safety concerns soon mandated the installation of glass walls and railings.

Concert Hall

The impressive Concert Hall boasts one of the largest pipe organs in the world. We were unable to get any closer to the stage this morning because it was being set up for a concert performance of Richard Strauss’s opera Electra.

The final stop on our tour was the Green Room: the place where performers hang out until it is time for them to go on stage. No one knows exactly why such areas in theatres are traditionally called the Green Room; our guide suggested that perhaps the name originated in Shakespeare’s time, when traveling acting troupes set up portable stages in the center of town and had to don their costumes on the village green. 

Even the pool table is not green

Morale-builders for performers

In many performing venues we’ve visited, the room actually is painted green (which is, after all, a restful shade for eyes that have been too long in the limelight).   Sydneysiders, however, seem to have developed a superstition about the color green bringing bad luck, so, by the tradition, the Green Room at the SOH may not be painted green. Indeed, nothing in the room may be green. Even the pool table had to be recovered with blue felt.

Breakfast in the Green Room

Whatever the origin of the name, the Green Room is where our tour group was treated to a Breakfast of the Stars.

Barbie goes SOH!

Our guide had told us that the Sydney Opera House is the most recognized building in the world, stating that two-thirds of people surveyed in a worldwide study were able to identify it, including many in remote African villages. Whether or not his figures are accurate, we would say that the SOH is certainly one of the most beautiful buildings in the world, and we have yet to tire of looking at it—inside or out, close-up or far away.

Street mural outside SOH

ATOP ANOTHER MAJOR LANDMARK

Sydney Harbor Bridge

From the SOH, we made our way around the Circular Quay to the Rocks, a historic area of town once frequented by randy sailors but now catering to the well-heeled tourists coming off cruise ships moored nearby. This morning we bypassed the Rocks’ many boutiques and sidewalk cafes, heading uphill and then up a steep stone stairway toward the base of the Sydney Harbor Bridge.

Steep stairway in the Rocks

Though the idea of climbing the world’s largest steel arch bridge sounded exciting to Michael, he was a little wary, given his fear of heights and occasional fear of bridges. (You never knew that Michael had so many phobias, did you?) However, after reading about the elaborate safety precautions taken by BridgeClimb Sydney, he decided to give it a try. Nancy’s only concern was whether our knees and ankles were sufficiently recovered from the Routeburn tramp for another day of serious climbing.

Yesterday, from the vantage point of Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair on the other side of the harbor, we had seen some tiny figures moving along the arch of the bridge and realized that soon, those figures would include us. Nancy remembers thinking, “That must be some sort of school or military group up there,” because all the climbers appeared to be wearing uniforms. What we didn’t know until we watched the introductory video this morning is that everybody who undertakes climbing the Sydney Harbor Bridge is issued a uniform: a full-length jumpsuit with a minimum of loose ends to get caught in the rigging.

Jumpsuit issue room

After an orientation meeting where we signed the requisite form stating: “If I die on this adventure, I will not hold BridgeClimb Sydney responsible,” we were shown to a room with private changing booths and advised, since it was promising to be a warm day, to strip down to our underwear before donning the jumpsuits. “Leave everything in your locker,” we were told. “No phones, no cameras, no watches, no bracelets, no dangly earrings”—nothing at all that could come loose or get dropped. Those of us wearing eyeglasses or sunglasses were given straps to hold them in place, and Michael’s clip-on shades were secured with an additional fastener. These people had thought of everything! They even gave each of us a cloth handkerchief with an attached elastic wristband so that if we needed to wipe our noses or mop our brows while we were on the bridge, we could do so without fear of letting a tissue blow away. Additional gear included a rain poncho (just in case), a cap, a safety harness, and a radio receiver and headset so we would be able to hear the guide’s instructions and commentary over the howling of the wind. Every piece of gear was clipped to our jumpsuits with carabiners.

The “Discovery Climb,” the longest of the available tour options, focuses as much on the engineering of the bridge as it does on the panorama of Sydney. We would take the same stairs from the base that allow maintenance workers access to the support structure, then, after clipping our harnesses to a cable attached to the safety railing, we would work our way to the middle of the bridge across catwalks under the road deck. From there, we’d climb a series of narrow stairways to the lower arch, then ascend to the pinnacle of the upper arch. After posing for photos at the top (our guide carried the only camera), we’d cross over the road deck and the railroad tracks from the east side to the west, then begin our descent back to home base. The whole trip would take almost three hours.

Before suiting up, Michael had discussed his occasional attacks of vertigo with our guides and assured them that as long as he had a solid railing to hang onto and didn’t look down, he should be okay—but he was nervous nevertheless. Would he really be able to make it across that soaring arch without panicking?

The stairs at the beginning of the climb were pretty well enclosed within the structure of the bridge itself, so that part was fairly easy. When we got up into the catwalk, however, the gaps between the stair steps widened and we found ourselves surrounded by as much air as steel. Michael tried to focus his eyes up and out rather than down, but at one point he caught a glimpse of the water flowing far beneath him and started to feel a little woozy. Several deep breaths and a tighter grip on the handrail helped him get back in control.

Michael and Nancy at the top

By the time we reached the top of the upper arch, Michael was doing remarkably well—relaxed enough to actually enjoy looking down as well as out so he could appreciate the whole experience. The photo taken at the top of the bridge is particularly meaningful to him as evidence that he had conquered—or at least subdued—one of his phobias.

Nancy thoroughly enjoyed the climb, which was not as strenuous as she had anticipated. The only moment of panic she experienced was when a train suddenly hurtled across the bridge just as she stepped directly underneath its track. She hadn’t been able to see the train coming and, for a moment, thought the unexpected roar was a tornado.

Returning to home base along the west side of the bridge allowed us a different view of the harbor, and the guide pointed out landmarks we had not yet seen on our street-level travels around the city. The guide also told us stories about the workers who had built the bridge in the 1920s without benefit of harnesses or safety nets, dodging the red-hot rivets that occasionally slipped out of the gloves of workers overhead. We were grateful for the safety equipment that made it possible for us to have a thrilling adventure without too much fear of a dramatic death.

Lunch at Guylian's

Guylian's vegetable garden on the street

By the time we started back down the stone stairs to the Rocks, it was after 2 p.m. and we were hungry. We found a table at Guylian, one of the sidewalk cafes we had passed earlier. Michael had sliced roast chicken with camembert, lettuce, tomato relish and garlic aioli on a baguette. Nancy had quiche Lorraine and a rocket salad (rocket is a popular salad green here, something like arugula). But serving sandwiches and quiche is only incidental to Guylian’s primary business: creating divine treats with Belgian chocolate; so of course we couldn’t leave without sampling one of their cacao-based concoctions. We decided to share a drink consisting of chocolate milk topped with layers of yoghurt, mixed berries, raspberry sauce, and whipped cream. It was an interesting combination of flavors and textures, but a little hard to divide into two equal halves.

HAVEN’T WE HAD ENOUGH ADVENTURE FOR ONE DAY?

Nancy at Bondi Beach

Apparently not. After lunch we took a bus back to our hotel, where we stuffed some swimwear and towels into our daypacks and then caught another bus headed for Bondi Beach. Bondi is a wide crescent of sand and surf less than ten miles from the center of Sydney. It quickly became obvious that most of our fellow passengers had left their downtown offices a little bit early and were on their way to Bondi to catch a few rays or a maybe a wave before going home to dinner. The beach was crowded, especially considering that today was Tuesday, and it was late afternoon by the time we arrived. We seemed to be the only people around who were not deeply tanned.

Michael after swimming in Bondi Beach

Not having been swimming in ocean waves for many years, Michael was excited to strip off his shirt and plunge in. He found the water more salty than he expected, but refreshing. After about twenty minutes he decided that he’d had enough, but then was forced to confront the problem of having nowhere to change his clothes. He finally was reduced to struggling out of his wet suit and into dry shorts while Nancy held up the towel wrapped around his waist. (This is precisely the situation Nancy chose to avoid by going in only up to her knees. She was perfectly content taking photos and watching the surfers farther up the beach from the swimming area.)

Dinner chez Char

The Char Rotisserie

We walked several blocks up Bondi Road looking for a place to eat dinner before deciding to try the Char Rotisserie, which offered Portuguese-style barbecued chicken along with a variety of sides and salads that you could order by the tub. We’re still not sure exactly what distinguishes Portuguese-style from any other rotisserie chicken, but it was good. (The Char also provided a bathroom where Michael could finish changing his clothes.)

Messina Gelato was the best!

After dinner, our faith in Trip Advisor was restored when it enabled us to locate Messina, purveyor of possibly the best gelato we’ve ever had. (Would that more American ice cream stores offered passionfruit ice!)

The downside of visiting a popular beach that’s easily accessible by public transportation became apparent when we returned to our bus stop about 8:00 p.m. and found probably seventy other people already waiting to get on. When the bus finally came, the driver must have felt sorry for these two white-haired folks bobbing in a sea of teenagers and twentysomethings, because he stopped right in front of us and allowed us to get on first. We were thus among the lucky few riders to have a seat all the way back into Sydney.