Kiwis, Koalas, and Kava... Oi, Mate!: Chapter Seven, "Sydney, 'Oprah Likes It, So....'" (Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, 20, 21, 22, and 23 October 2011)

It was late in the afternoon when we landed in Sydney, Australia's answer to New York City, and I was still scratching my head over Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris," which I watched on the flight.  We were introduced to Australia's biggest city with an afternoon rush hour coach ride to The Grace Hotel, a restored Art Deco, boutiquish hotel nestled between Sydney's Darling Harbour and the Opera House area.  We checked in at the hotel and the night was ours to enjoy.

I had a decision to make.

"C'mon C'mon." Who am I "Foolin'"?  It's time for me to "Stand Up," "Breathe a Sigh," and decide if I'm going to see the "Rock Brigade" "Tonight" or spend the evening "Alone."   If I succumb to "Hysteria" and become an "Animal" or a "Barracuda," my night will be "Wasted" and "Women" won't take a "Photograph" with or give me any "Action."  Alas, "Love Bites"... and it's a "Four Letter Word."

I decided not to go to the Def Leppard/Heart concert.

We got an early start the next morning to tour this amazing city.  Our first stop was Rose Bay, a picturesque cove near the mouth of Port Jackson (the proper name of Sydney Harbour), after which we crossed the peninsula to check out the famous Bondi Beach.  (Imagine Venice Beach if it wasn't in California.  Or Italy.) 

The immortal Sydney Opera House was next.  I've never been to a building that compels you to take pictures of it from every angle, a building that morphs before your eyes with every step you take.  It goes without saying that there is no other building like it anywhere in the World.  But the Sydney Opera House is as miraculous as the human body, the corridors its arteries, the people its blood, the performance halls its heart.  It is a living, breathing work of art.  It is all things to all people... unless, of course, you're one of my tourmates and you are livid that the architect had the NERVE to put STAIRS in the complex!

When the tour was over, as my tourmates bobbed for tchotchkes in the obligatory end-of-tour gift shop, I found the box office.  A certain frontman for a certain pioneering Seattle grunge band and solo artist was doing an acoustic show in the Concert Hall of the Opera House the following night and this was a tough ticket to get.  The kind lady at the box office informed me that there were only two tickets left in the entire house and they were premium seats in the stalls.

SOLD!!!

The Sydney Harbour lookout point "Mrs. McQuarie's Chair" and Circular Quay on Sydney Harbour were our next stops.  We boarded a boat at Circular Quay and enjoyed a lunch cruise on Sydney Harbour, garnering an entirely different perspective on the city.  There was no gift shop at the end of the cruise... so naturally, we went to an opal museum!  But not just ANY opal museum: The National Opal Collection.  Did you know that opals come from dinosaurs, Hugh Jackman is a dinosaur, and Wolverine is a kind of opal?  If not, you need to visit the National Opal Collection.

How's this for serendipity: while I was at LAX waiting for my flight to Auckland, I received an e-mail from a former pro bono screenwriter client and friend.  About the same time I left Austin to move to Philadelphia, my friend, a native Texan, moved to Australia to be with his wife, a native Aussie, as they prepared to welcome their first child.  He happened to e-mail me about the development status of the indie film he penned and I was reminded that he lives in Sydney.  Long story short, I spent the better part of my last full day in Sydney getting an "insider's tour" of city, including the ferry system (and a failed trip to a supposedly killer fish and chips joint) and the Darling Harbour complex.  The rest of the afternoon was spent shopping for souvenirs.  Why is it that picking out crap for your family and friends is so much fun?

As this was the last night of the tour, it was time for the Farewell Dinner.  (See Chapter One for a recap of the Welcome Dinner.)  Tonight was also the solo acoustic show at the Sydney Opera House's Concert Hall by - wait for it! - Chris Cornell.  It would be a night of contrasts.

I met my tourmates in the lobby and we walked en masse to Casa di Nico, a snazzy Italian eatery on the water in Darling Harbour.  There are no photos to confirm this, but I have to imagine we looked like a cross between a retirement community field trip and the Bataan Death March... but I digress.  The vino flowed quite liberally and dinner was tasty.  As hard as it was to bid adieu to my new friends, I had a show to catch. 

Within 30 seconds of leaving my seat at the table, I was in a taxi bound for the Opera House.  It was a decidedly hipster crowd ignoring the opening act and imbibing in the lobby when I entered the Concert Hall.  My seat was almost perfectly center, just to the right of the soundboard.  The opener was an entertaining singer-songwriter, but there was not an empty seat in the house (including the seat next to me, presumably THE last seat available for the show) when Chris Cornell came onstage.  Over the next two and a half hours, he played every Soundgarden hit, a few deep tracks and b-sides, and all of his solo gems.  His performance was flawless.  Acoustically, it was as if I was sitting on a stool next to him onstage as he played.  It's official: this visually stunning building sounds as good as it looks!

I met the newlyweds for breakfast the next morning to say goodbye, then tackled the task of repacking to accommodate all of the new stuff I acquired.  (If you ever need to pack a 10 foot long djeridoo into a backpack, hollatcha boy!)  I shuttled to the airport with two of the couples from the tour and said goodbye to them as they checked in for their flights back to the States.

It's Fiji time!