The second night in Sydney was challenging. My symptoms were getting worse and I woke up countless times for one reason or another. Then, at about 5 am, I awoke on what I would later realise was a painkiller high. Believing the worst to be over, I proclaimed our planned visit to Manly for Day 3 would be no sweat.
Initially I was fine and despite needing an army of tissues I really felt I’d gotten over it, once I’d had a hearty bacon & egg roll and cup of tea from a nearby cafe on William Street. We took a leap and decided to hire a car from Europcar for the journey to Brisbane in the weekend (and the subsequent drives to the veterinary practice Lucy would be working at). It certainly wasn’t the cheapest thing we’ve ever done, but I think the layers of reputability and insurance are weight off the mind at least.
I greatly enjoyed the ferry ride from Circular Quay to Manly Wharf. Of all the impressive scenery, it was my first ever glimpse at the Pacific Ocean that felt most profound; as much as one ocean is alike another, for the largest mass of water on the planet it had taken be a long time getting round to visiting it. I also found my imagination wandering, picturing what it might have been like for those on the First Fleet sailing into the harbour waters on big wooden ships, under the near silent power of sail instead of the throbbing diesel engine. What would it all have looked like without buildings? That moment, hundreds of years ago, was were modern Australia originated. It was a powerful notion.
