Australia part three
A night at the Sydney Opera; an afternoon at the Art Gallery of NSW.
One of the last days on the trip to the Ross Sea Leonie asked me what my plans were after the cruise.
I mentioned I’d be in Sydney for a few days and she highly recommended attending an opera at the Syndey Opera House. She hadn’t, tickets were always sold out, but it was high on her list.
We checked the website; The Barber of Seville was scheduled during my time in the city. Given the association the opera had with Shackleton’s crew aboard the Endurance, it seemed like kismet.
I decide to walk to the opera house. It’s a warm, sunny day and I take my time. The sunken pavillions are crowded; every table full.
I am early to the opera; the walk and my dinner had taken less time than I had anticipated, and I linger outside, watching as the sun slowly set behind the city. I wish I had had time to see the sun set and the lights of the city turn on, but the opera beckons.
Inside, I wait for the doors of the theater to open, climbing to stairs and finding a bar in the back of the building. I stand at the windows watching ferries and police boats cruise along the waterways.
Inside, I’m surprised at the size of the theater. By New York standards, it’s an intimate venue, and I’m psyched to be so close to the stage, even though I’m near the back of the room.
The opera opens with its familiar overture and I settle in to watch the antics unfold. Towards the end, the stage is crammed with singers, the plot having unraveled in a Keystone Cops kind of way, and I can barely keep track of what exactly is going on.
A substitute had been announced for the title role, the star being unable to reach the theater in time. It’s his first performance of the role and the audience gives him an ovation when he emerges from the wings for his curtain call.
We spill out into a warm night, the area quieter now than it was in the late afternoon. I walk to the wharf and take the tram home, forgetting to tap again as I alight, uncertain of what the penalty might be.
The next night I have dinner reservations at Yellow, a recommendation from a fellow passenger aboard Le Soléal. I decide to leave early and walk, thinking I might stop into the Art Gallery of New South Wales as it’s on the way.
I walk to and through Hyde Park, stopping at Saint Mary's Cathedral (Australia's largest Cathedral building) to step in and have a look.
It’s a relatively short walk to the Art Gallery through another park, The Domain. I haven’t eaten much and I find myself peckish. A small cafe sits opposite the museum and I indulge in a small snack before visiting.
A retrospective of Cao Fei’s work: Cao Fei: My City is Yours 曹斐: 欢迎登陆 is being presented in the next building over. I debate touring the main halls with their free admission and paying to see Cao Fei’s work. I opt for the latter and am directed next door.
There’s not enough time to do the exhibition justice. There are at least two films I’d love to be able to watch from beginning to end, but the museum will close long before I have the opportunity to do so. Instead, I do my best and sample what I can, taking note of the names of the works I’m most interested in in hopes of finding them on view elsewhere.
I’m one of the last to leave the museum. Before I go I jump into a foam pit at the end of the exhibit. The museum attendant tells me I may, but only for a minute.
I walk to and along the Finger Wharf, past the restaurants to the end, hoping to loop back around the other side. Unfortunately, that’s not an option and I backtack to the main road before climbing the hill to the Potts Point neighborhood in which the restaurant sits. It’s a cozy spot and I’m seated by the window. The only question aside from the one about dietary restrictions is what I’d like to drink. I opt for the pairing and prepare for a great night out. I’m not disappointed. 🇦🇺
19 – 20 February 2025
