A lazy morning in which breakfast was eaten and laundry was done... and some rethinking about packing took place. I decided I'd be leaving a few items behind.
At 2:45pm, Garry from APT picked up a bunch of us and took us to Kata Tjuta where we took a short and easy walk into the gorge... in 116 degrees F heat! Needless to say, we were required to bring in 2 litres of water and drank most of it. The flies here are small and a nuisance, but thankfully don't bite. Many tourists were wearing the little fly/mosquito nets over their heads. Chris and I had invested in some pungent cream (rosemary and cedarwood) which seemed to work pretty well... until we'd sweated it off, that is. The gorge was... er... gorgeous. The most surprising thing is that this is a semi-arid region. There's endless spinifex grass and desert oak (which don't look like any oak I've ever seen) and eucalyptus trees of varying kinds and low bushes that bear small fruit. Compared to, say, Joshua Tree in May after a very wet winter, the Outback isn't nearly as barren as I thought it'd be.
We were then bussed over to a sunset viewing area -- much closer to Uluru than the dinner the night before -- and APT had a table of "nibbles" and poured some very, very good syrah: Stoney Creek (I finally remembered to ask). Again, a million photos were taken. One can't take one's eyes from "the rock", its colors keep changing with the light.
Chris and I returned to the hotel and had a nice dinner before doing some final packing before collapsing. Steps taken: 9,571

A packed van picked us up last from the hotel and dropped us off last at the domestic Terminal 3 at Sydney airport. Chris showed me how far she'd had to walk the other day from the bus to the Harley dealership. Yikes. A couple of miles, at least.
I have to say that the domestic terminals are MUCH nicer than the international terminal. We hung out until it was time to board the Boeing 737, a much larger plane than I thought we were going to be flying. No drama during the flight. Every once in a while I'd look out the window and it was the same, flat, reddish dirt, broken up only by the occasional salt flat. A two-and-a-half hour flight and the country doesn't change much after passing the populated areas immediately off the coast.
We landed in Ayers Rock airport and were met by a rep from Australian Pacific Tours (APT) who handed us a more detailed itinerary. We boarded a big AAT bus and were taken to the Ayers Rock Resort. Check in was slow, then we had to wait for our room to be ready for a few hours. We signed up for internet service only to discover that a) it sucked and b) it was only available in the busy lobby and boring Bunyan Bar -- neither of which had electrical outlets to plug into. Let's just say that service in general in the place was spotty. Oh, and did I mention that it was 118 degrees F? Kinda sapped our energy. Especially after taking a walk to the store to load up on snacks and water. It was farther than we were expecting to go, but we did find insulated water bottle carriers for cheap.
We also saw our first aborginal folks up close. Theirs is the oldest continuous living culture on the planet and they look so different from anyone else I've ever met. Assimulation has been difficult and, in many cases, not desired. They are a very gentle, caring people with a very different way of looking at things. It's been interesting learning about what the western Aussies have been learning from them, such as fire management of the land, etc.
We finally got settled in the room and got ready to go out to the Sounds of Silence dinner. A bus picked us up and took us to a viewing area to view Ayers Rock -- now known by its aboriginal name Uluru -- and the opposing domes of Kata Tjuta (formerly the Olgas). The iron oxidized soil and rock really do capture the changing light. Sunset was beautiful, accompanied by a glass of champagne, followed by a really nice syrah (at last!). I took a gazillion pictures and chatted with random travellers before we were all moved to tables for dinner. We ate in the dark with a spectacular display of stars above us. The food was good, though not as memorable as the wine. A didgeridoo player explained how traditional didgeridoos were made (hollowed out by termites) and how to play one. Then, all the lights were turned out while another young man pointed out constellations like the Southern Cross (and how to find south), an upside down Orion (!), Sirius, the Seven Sisters -- an aboriginal story, some traditional zodiac constellations like Leo and Gemini, and the small and large Magellanic Clouds. Gorgeous.
Happy, we stumbled back to the bus and on to the hotel and made another dent into the vodka. Steps taken: only 5,723.

Ross, our driver and guide from Australian Wild Escapes, picked us up at 8:00 am in a Mercedes SUV. It was only Chris and I that were going, so off we went to Hunter Valley, beginning our wine tasting journey by driving over the Harbour Bridge which we so lately came to know. We passed through only a suburb or two, before hitting park land. Apparently, Sydney is surrounded by land set aside by the government. This restricts its sprawl, while causing huge commutes for folks who work in the city but cannot live there. It was yet another beautiful day, weather-wise. We stopped for morning tea at a little rest stop at Mangrove Creek Dam. There, again, my genetic predisposition to civil engineering kicked in and I had to read all about the water management in the area, which is strict.
These dams are not used to generate electricity. Rather, they are all catchments for rain water, the predominant water supply. There are no rivers like the Mississippi or Colorado running through the country. No Great Lakes, either. Though they have several mountain ranges, nothing gets much above 5,000 feet. Australia is the oldest and flatest -- and therefore driest -- continent on earth. They have no glaciers or snow pack at high peaks.
We continued on to Wollombi, stopping to taste a local peculiarity called Dr. Jurd's Jungle Juice which, we were told, was made of port wine and "secret herbs and spices". It was tasty, but a bit much for mid-morning. Both Chris and I bought a small bottle for the novelty of it.
We continued on along the Convict Trail (yep, road made by chained convicts) to Undercliff Winery, a small family-owned winery that also boasted a Settler's Cottage on the premises. Few such cottages survive today. This one was used as a bed-and-breakfast. The owners were a bit concerned as we got there. Though we were greeted by their sweet border collie named Tanin, we soon discovered that their electricity had gone down and a big wedding was to take place there that afternoon. It had been down for hours and the location of the problem had not yet been found. Regardless, we tasted their flight of wines, from semillon to syrah. Neither Chris nor I liked them much, but their ice wine was fantastic, so Chris bought a bottle.
On we continued to Hunter Valley proper, stopping at a tiny "homeowners association" boutique winery called Kelman. Again, we weren't thrilled with their regular wines, but really liked their late harvest. I'm usually not a sweet wine person, but these were not too sweet and not at all syrupy. Perhaps what makes their regular semillon wines taste too sour for us, is perfect for the dessert wines?
On we went, to a larger winery called Hunter Valley Resort, where we had a light lunch with an unaccompanied flight of wines. Another wedding was taking place outside the restaurant. Chris and I learned a new word: "celebrant" which refers to the person who performs the wedding. It's commonly used, apparently, but I'd never heard it applied to only the conductor of the ceremony.
We stopped at Tempus Two -- a huge conglomerate of wineries that sport an open air amphitheatre where many performers like Rod Stewart come out for concerts. Again, we only liked the dessert wine, a botrytis semillon in this case.
We headed back into our last night in Sydney. We were both almost too tired to think. Strange, considering we just sat in the car for most of the day. We became obsessed with packing, so had dinner at our "usual" place next door, the Dundee Arms, before staring in wonder at how our suitcases no longer close! I'd bought a book, a small bottle of the botrytis, and that silly large bottle of vodka at duty free. Not much, but somehow everything expanded. Steps taken: 3448. Pathetic.

Well, first off, Chris and I had the COMPLI- MENTARY breakfast buffet at the hotel. Yes, it's Day 5 of our trip and we just realized that we could've been getting a free brekky all along! We had been shunning the area because of the $55/person price tag listed prominently on the sign at the entrance to the restaurant. Every morning we shook our heads a little sadly at the poor dupes who were paying the big bucks when a perfectly serviceable cafe was next door. Boy, do we sure feel silly. And, no, the complimentary breakfast was never mentioned when we checked in, nor was it posted anywhere... except way, way at the bottom of our confirmation email. Damn. We both missed it.

So, after a HUGE brekky that we felt somehow obligated to consume, Chris and I hopped on the City Sightseeing bus for the last time (the tickets would expire at noon) and chugged along to the Harbour Bridge Climb offices. Here, we signed a waiver, slithered into a not-terribly-fetching coverall, accessorized with caps, hankies, assorted lanyards, a radio with bone-vibrating audio phones, and safety cable attached to a really cool kind of cable castor that rolls along the waist-high cabling throughout the climb. Very fun. Amazing. It was (fortunately, after the heat of the day before) an overcast, cooler day. Otherwise, we would have melted and possibly been singed beyond repair. The climb was not at all strenuous, but did involved walking over metal mesh at great heights, so it's not for the squeamish. One poor woman almost fainted as they suited us up and took us through a training session on a simulation ladder and platform. She and her two travelling companions had to back out. Either she hadn't realized what she was getting in to, or she'd never suspected before that she was an acrophobe! For a better feel of the experience, check out the panoramic view cam on their website: www.bridgeclimb.com. Our leader, Olai, was fantastic and we got to hang out up top and soak in the views while learning bits of Sydney and bridge history, as well as important facts, like where Russell Crowe and Nicole Kidman lives. Ha.

After the climb, Chris and I parted ways: she to undertake her own extended adventure in search of Sydney's only Harley Davidson dealership (see christer-oz-2008.blogspot.com for more on this), while I, starving, grabbed some noodles in a food court near Circular Quay before making my way back to the hotel via a route I'd not yet taken. As I walked, businesses started disgorging their ready-for-the-weekend employees. It was strange to be walking through the CBD, particularly Martin Place, among possibly the only Aussies who wear suits. This, apparently, was where the biggest concentration of banks and brokerages and law firms was mustered.

I hung out at the hotel for a while, writing in my journal and uploading photos and updating my blog. Chris joined me around 6pm. We continued with the blogging and postcard writing... until the hotel lobby was invaded by over 100 Japanese students. What a din. Shortly after their checking in, the internet died; coicidence? I don't think so. Suddenly, we were competing for bandwidth. I gave up after a while (which is why some of these posts were delayed).

Chris and I decided to shower, get dressed up and walk over the pedestrian and monorail bridge to Star City, a casino, for dinner and slots. It was drizzling a bit, so we took an umbrella. Well, we got only halfway across the bridge when the heavens opened up! DELUGE! With lightening. Utter torrential downpour. We barely made it in one piece to the casino, having to spend several minutes in the restroom attempting to towel off. Wow. We were soaked. The casino was a couple of blocks further than we'd thought. Dripping, we wandered around the slots and each spent the $20 we'd allotted before admitting that we weren't thrilled with the machines. So, we took a taxi back to our hotel... only to discover we'd forgotten to have dinner. We had a vodka and orange juice instead, and went to bed. Steps taken (by me, Chris' were MUCH more): 10,570 + 1,437 at the bridge.

Today, we had breakfast at the Zest Bar, again, and took a taxi to Costello's down George Street. We had a voucher from Quantas, so we thought we'd check out the jewelers' replica opal mine and their video presentation and learn stuff about opals. The opal mine looked like the entrance to a Disney ride, but the video was well done. We learned about white, black and boulder opals, how they were mined and what "doublets" and "triplets" were (a thin layer of opal with a backing and, optionally, a crystal overlay). Boy, those puppies are expensive! Which reminds me...
When I turned 18, my mom had given me a single-opal ring of hers that I'd long admired. I wore it often. Once, playing racquetball in college, I slammed into a wall and chipped and cracked the opal. For years, I did not confess this, holding the thing together with clear nail polish. Finally, when I did, my mom took me to a jewelers to have it replaced. I remember clearly the man opening up an envelope -- I spotted the replacement gem right away! Identical in size and shape to its sundered predecessor, and equally fiery. It's a white opal, but I never thought to question whether it was a "real" opal (which I assume) or a doublet or singlet. I'll have to check. The more amazing thing is that we just gave the jeweler the broken gem which, by my calculations looking around the shop in Sydney, was still worth a couple of thousand dollars! The back, back story to this ring that my mom told me (and this is a true aside, so skim along or skip, if not interested) is that, in World War II, it was my Aunt Alice's engagement ring, given to her by an RAF soldier who subsequently died in the war prior to their being wed. I was never clear how my mom ended up with the ring, as she became estranged from her large family as the years passed. My Aunt Alice later married my uncle Frank and I barely remember them. I should reconnect with one of their three kids to see if any of them know the full story; sometimes my mom's views on things were a little skewed.
Anyway...
After Chris and I extracted ourselved from the shop with our "free opal gift" in the shape of a koala pin, we hied to the nearest City Sightseeing Hop-On Hop-Off bus stop and bought tickets for the 24-hour period. We ran up top to the open air seating and toodled around town. Yes, it was another beautiful day, hotter than previously. We hopped off at the Central Station and walked up -- through Paddy's Markets and a swatch of Chinatown -- to the Exhibition Centre for Chris to check in on the Sun Community Day. After, we walked back to Central Station, indulging in an ice cream sundae from Happy Jack's (hey, we're on vacation and that area didn't have much else to offer... because it took us a while to realize that the nice station and cafe were up a level -- d'oh) to catch the Bondi Beach bus. It was late afternoon and warmer than usual, so we opted for hanging out on the bus and watching the "bush" go by. Well, not bush exactly. More like suburbs, upscale neighborhoods, small towns and exclusive resorts. Paddington, Double Bay, Rose Bay. All great. Bondi Beach itself was an endearing crescent of beach that reminded me more of Avalon on Catalina Island than anywhere else. Very nice, but neither of us had any desire to alight, despite the promise of warm water. I think our sojourn into the Aquarium and reading Bill Bryson's The Sunburned Country (aka Down Under in the UK) has made us hesitate making a run for ocean. Once you've read about the agonizing pain and certain death that a Box Jellyfish can inflict, even the most seasoned aquaphile will pause.
Returning to Central Station, we caught the City bus and continued on to the Aquarium stop, which happened to be right next to our hotel. Thank god. We were exhausted and, despite SPF 50 and sun hats, both a little pink. Even though we'd been on buses for a good part of the day, we managed to walk over 10,000 steps! Too tired to go back to Chinatown for dinner, we had tapas in the hotel lobby bar. I know, I know. We're old and boring. But tomorrow's another day. Steps taken: 10,885.

Ah, another glorious day. I could get used to this.
Chris and I decided to tackle the CBD (Central Business District) today to do a little shopping for those pesky forgotten items, one of which was a battery charger for Chris' digital camera. Kinda important... or, would be soon.
So, we headed up Sussex Street to King Street and grabbed a bit of brekky on our way to George Street. We no sooner found the famous Strand Arcade, when we found ourselves going down Pitt Street -- an very nice pedestrian street reminiscent of Leeds -- in search of Dick Smith's, the electronics store that might have the hoped-for charger. We did find the store (and the charger - yay!) and took a detour to David Jones on Castlereagh, an upscale department store. More items were purchased and we scooted along Park back over to George Street to explore the QVB (Queen Victoria Building), a beautiful mall. The fountain outside, dedicated to her beloved dog, Islay (pronounced eye-lee) was a hoot, beckoning to passersby, supposedly in Islay's voice, to toss in a coin to benefit deaf and blind kids.
Now, neither Chris nor I are shoppers, so we don't have too much to report after our list of necessities had been purchased, but it must be said that though the architecture of the buildings may be pretty or unusual, we found the stores and their inventories strikingly familiar.
Which brings us to some observations...
As I walk through Sydney, I'm reminded, alternately, of Vancouver, of Hawai'i or New Zealand, and of almost any other Western, English-speaking city. It has beautiful waterfronts, great weather, and I love that the steel, concrete and glass high rises surround -- and are sometimes joined with -- buildings that date from previous centuries. But the names on most buildings and streets and stores and stuff in those stores are all names that I've seen before. Hyde Park. Nokia. Dollars. Price Waterhouse Coopers. Kent-Sussex-George-Victoria... So, it's the unusual, distinctly Aussie things that I'm really seeking out and trying to understand and/or appreciate. Wombat, platypus, Great Barrier Reef, dreamtime outback, for example.
Which brings me back to our day. Chris and I grabbed some rice paper rolls at Vermicelli before returning to the room to regroup. After some significant hanging out time, we decided to tackle Wildlife World located right next to the Aquarium. We saw all manner of python and very-venomous-but-otherwise-unobtrusive snakes and spiders (the most poisonous in the world!) and various things that I really don't want to encounter without heavy plate glass between me and it. More than half of Australia's animals are nocturnal... which means that I'm probably not going to be seeking out any nightlife when we get to the Northern Territories!
We did - FINALLY - get to see some wallabies and koalas, though not an echidna in sight. It was disappointing that they had technical difficulties and we didn't get our "free koala photo" but we'll live.
On the way back to the hotel, Chris and I stopped back at the Aquarium and talked our way in for free to see the Great Barrier Reef and Seal exhibits that we missed the night before. Then, we caught dinner at Dundee Arms, again. And, again, the food was terrific and still cheap. It's strange that the Australian dollar is stronger than the US dollar right now, much the same as Canada's dollar. Not the deal it once was for Americans, but at least it's not double like the British Pound Sterling.
Okay, I'm rambling. Must be time for vodka and bed.

Today, our wanderings were Darling Harbour-centric. This area sports the National Maritime Museum (which also includes a replica of Cook's HMS Endeavor, HMAS Vampire destroyer and a lighthouse), the IMAX theatre, a ton of Cockle Bay Wharf-side shops, restaurants and bars, as well as both the Sydney Convention Centre and the Exhibition Centre... which is where the Sun Microsystems "Tech Days" were happening. So, we headed down Sussex Street toward the Exhibition Centre and Chris made an appearance, said "howdy" to her boss' boss and sat in on the Solaris track of talks, while I slummed it and got my blog up and running and my email checked at the internet cafe set up in the exhibitors' pavilion.
Sun provided us mid-morning tea and a very nice lunch before we took to wandering around the nearby shops in search of a couple of items that somehow never made it into our suitcases. These items were not found, but we did stroll through the Maritime Museum (entrance to the museum proper was free). Interesting that the Australian Navy includes what we would call the Coast Guard. We then walked over the pedestrian bridge and along the expressway up and around to King Street to get back to the hotel. We're still not quite over our jet lag and needed a rest... and for Chris to divest herself of her laptop which she'd been using to write her Sun blog.
Chris determined that she required protein and thought a steak would do it. So, we decided to try one of the restaurants on Darling Harbour and walked out the front door to the hotel... and smack into a little pub called the Dundee Arms. It's actually part of the Sheraton, but since the $20 special was a chicken marsala dish that included a beer, I voted that we walk no further. Besides, the bartender was cute. The food was fabulous; the moistest, tastiest chicken I think I've ever had. I even liked the Golden Ale (a James Squire brew) and I'm not much of a beer drinker. Success.
Suitably revived -- and having just there discovered a "secret" passage alongside the hotel leading directly down to the wharf -- Chris and I paid a visit to the Aquarium. Hey, it was open until 10pm and we had the whole place to ourselves for more than an hour! Aside from the seals being asleep and having to miss the Great Barrier Reef section due to closing time, it was terrific.
We returned to the hotel room and poured ourselves a vodka and cranberry juice. Life ain't all that bad. Steps taken: 12,403.