The Long Way Round

The day before yesterday it took Faith and me four hours to walk to the nearest railway station (in Epping!), a trip that usually takes about half an hour. The reason? We didn't follow the customary route along the road, but took the path through part of the Lane Cove National Park that starts just down the road. It's just one of the fingers of bush that run through the suburbs and extend deep into the city, and it follows the course of a creek - called Terry's Creek, or Devlin's Creek depending on which bit of it you're walking along. To find the path, we went to the end of Vimiera Road (which looks just like it sounds) and passed under the M2 motorway through a grey-painted culvert; there on the other side we were among gum trees and smooth, weather-worn sandstone outcrops. Although we could hear the rumble of the motorway behind us, the most noticeable sounds were the creek below and the squawking cockatoos. A little way in I left the main track to climb onto a boulder for a better view of what was ahead and there, just down the hill, was an echidna! It trundled out from under the low vegetation, crossed the path and waddled off into the rocks and fallen wood on the other side! That sealed our fate, and for the rest of the way, we stopped so often to look around that a man who passed us on his way into Epping passed us on his way back an hour or so later, and we'd covered about 1 km of the 4 km route. We didn't see any more echidnas, but it was obvious that the birds have decided Spring is on the way. Galahs, cockatoos and rainbow lorikeets were paired up and hacking nestholes in the gum trees. Near the end of the track we emerged, unexpectedly, onto a street.
"Can we get to Epping Station from here?" we asked a couple of burly builders who were lightheartedly hurling huge chunks of concrete into a skip.
They looked at each other for a second.
"Yeah, your best bet is to take the track again, mate."
"Thankyou," we said.
"No worries," they answered together, "Whooah but look out, it gets thin!"
We hurried back into the bush to find the thin path.
From Epping we caught the train to the nearest ferry pier (Meadowbank) and so into Circular Quay along the same Parramatta River route that we took with George and Maryam on our first day here. We passed by the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House in a glorious sunset. Cameras were clicking all around, people in shirt-sleeves were eating ice creams and burgers, ibises flew overhead, startlingly white in a blue, blue sky ... and they call this winter! The free local paper this week has an article about how to beat the winter blues, "Sniffles, weight gain, lethargy and depression can all get us down at this time of year," it says, and goes on to encourage readers to start the day with hot porridge, and to eat lots of casseroles. What's more, I've just discovered that the coldest sea temperatures around Sydney match the warmest sea temperatures available in the UK. This is comforting because George and I plan to go snorkelling on Saturday.
So, after the walk around the outside of the Opera House, on through the Botanic Gardens to meet George and Maryam at the Art Gallery. Here we saw a marvellous collection of Japanese art and calligraphy, some grand nineteenth century Australian landscape paintings - just a few of which were painted by artists more used to depicting Dawn in the Dales or Stormy Weather on the Ouse, and who were obviously daunted by trying to capture scenes such as One Cow in 300 square miles of Emptiness and Natives in a Rock Shelter a Very Long Way Off Because I'm a Bit Nervous of Those Sharp Sticks They're Carrying.

The evening ended with the very bizarre experience of eating a Uighur meal in a restaurant in Chinatown. This little adventure whisked us away from Sydney along the Silk Road to the yurts and untamed horsemen of North West China. We drank pots and pots of tea (kok cay) because the restaurant serves no alcohol (being Muslim) and consumed awesome helpings of dishes such as hoxang (dumplings filled savoury meat), uighur polo (rice with lamb), kavab ( grilled lamb on skewers) and nan (onion bread).
Sadly, neither Faith nor Maryam would agree to to entertain us with wild and provocative Uyghurian dancing (see picture) of the kind that George assures us he experienced on trip to China's north west fontier.

Never mind, we're going to a karaoke club with Xiaopeng (one of George's students) next week.