(below: Me - a Sydney-selfie)
David and I ran away from home last week.
We waved goodbye to our teenage children and our jobs and all the piles of everything that we could so sensibly and diligently toil over for the rest of our lives - to leap into a holiday that was just for us. For a full five days!
It was a frivolous leap from order, familiarity, and rules in our lives - as working parents (the ‘yang’ of our existence) - to uncertainty, mystery, and decadence of a holiday with no responsibilities (the relaxing ‘yin’).
(Right:David at our Agar steps terrace-house)
And it was also all David’s idea! I mean to leave the kids behind.
Blame him!
Or, maybe, don’t blame him. Maybe it was a good idea. Maybe we deserve a little R & R on our own. Although, I did feel guilty leaving the kids behind - if that makes our trip away any less irresponsible and selfish.
Actually, this isn’t our first holiday sans children. David first had the idea of holidaying without them three years ago. When he first proposed the idea, I was both shocked and excited at once. The idea had never occurred to me. I don’t think I would have ever thought of it either. At that time, we hadn’t left our children alone for even a weekend in fifteen years, not since our first was born. We had no extended family to mind them, so they came with us everywhere, or we all stayed home.
However, soon after returning from a family holiday in Sydney, three years ago, where we visited all the ‘major tourist attractions’ - Luna Park, McDonald’s restaurants, swimming pools, play-grounds, kids-movies - we lamented the fact that we didn’t get to see the ‘less popular attractions’ (at least, in the kid’s eyes) - late-night jazz and blues bands, posh alfresco restaurants on the harbour, miles of historical streets with amazing buildings and gardens to be admired and enjoyed on great long walks, without the endless whining cries of ‘Are we there yet?’ bringing them to a grinding and disappointing halt.
‘The joy of such a - dare I be so bold to just name it - a ‘child-free holiday’ would be bliss!’ Although I wondered at that time, ‘Would it be wrong? Would it make us irresponsible and selfish parents?’
David’s reply was convincing and immediate, ‘So what?!’ he said. ‘It would be great fun and it’s not all about the kids all of the time. We need this!’
And so - three years ago - we took our first child-free holiday. Like this time, we holidayed in Sydney for a few days. And it was wonderful!
Without the responsibility of our four children, we felt young again! Carefree! Exhilarated! And exhausted … We walked so far my legs ached. Especially my calves. I became reacquainted with muscles I forgot I had. And we ate fantastic posh food at posh restaurants to the extent that Macca’s was ruined for me for weeks afterwards! And we listened to live music, and we hopped on and off trains - without pushers - and we lay on grassy hillsides, in the botanical gardens, soaking up the sunshine and reading books and newspapers for hours … Bliss.
We even forgot the guilt of leaving the kids behind. And we vowed, on the flight home from that holiday, to run away for more child-free holidays once a year - just for a few days - for the rest of our lives while health and money allowed.
Of course, we still take family holidays. We love those as well. They are just different. Also, we know there will come a time when we’ll take only child-free holidays because the kids will have grown up and left home. Then we’ll recall more fondly our family holidays.
But for now, David and I treat ourselves yearly to a few days together without our children. Just the two of us on a little adventure into the ‘Yin’ of life: Relaxing without routine and rules; exploring new and exotic places; spoiling ourselves with decadent and luxurious meals and entertainment- that-we-enjoy for few days because - as David said three years ago - ‘Why not?!’
So, for this blog, I thought I’d chat a little about our recent little trip - sans children - to Sydney for five days. (I will add that David and I will take the kids to Fitzroy island, in Queensland, for ten days during the next school holidays. That will be fun too. I might write a little blog about that - another lovely ‘word picture’ - like I did when we were on Fitzroy island last year).
Our Sydney sojourn for late autumn 2017.
Firstly, I’ll tell you about the lovely terrace house where we stayed in Miller’s point. (Miller’s point is adjacent to The Rocks near Circular Quay in Sydney’s CBD). And if I describe it well enough, you might be able to feel the happiness and beauty of the place. Or, possibly, you’ll find the inspiration to throw caution and budgets to the wind and visit this part of Sydney. Alternatively, there’s always ‘Google maps’ which will allow you to take a ‘virtual’ stroll around these historic and pretty streets.
Circular Quay and the terrace house at Miller’s point:
I captured an impression of the place in a few words I scribbled while sitting on the balcony of our terrace house. Here is what I wrote:
‘The weather is lovely. The temperature sits in the low 20’s C (mid 70’s F). It’s sunny and the sky is azure blue with scattered wispy clouds. An occasional cool breeze reminds me that it’s autumn, although the weather here is still warm. Warm enough for sandals, a cotton skirt, and a thin cardigan over my summer shirt. I need no coat while I’m here. Not even at night, when we wander around Circular Quay, eat at harbourside alfresco restaurants, and enjoy the city lights and vibrant atmosphere.
We soak in the beauty of the city: the towering sky scrapers, the majestic white sails of the Opera House, the ocean which encompasses it all.
The food is delicious: Crusty white bread - soft and warm inside, served with chunks of cold butter on elegant white china plates with heavy silver cutlery. The mains: melt-in-your-mouth grilled fish seasoned with coarse sea-salt, crisp fat chips, fresh green salad, fluffy mash potatoes on succulent shepherd’s pie. All steaming hot. Perfect.
We sit, in the evenings, at small alfresco tables, covered with stiff white tablecloths, along Circular Quay. We admire the water, the ferries, the tourists from all over the world. So many different accents; happy and excited people on holiday like us. Radiant heaters, situated on tall stands at intervals between the tables, keep us warm as we linger and drink coffee and chat and enjoy everything. The lights of Luna Park beckon from across the bay. The night sky is pitch dark over the water; clear enough to see a million tiny stars and a brilliant crescent moon.
Then, on our way home, we wander by one of the many gelati places along the quay and order double scoops of ice-cream from the myriad flavours on offer: coffee, rum and raison, toffee, cookies and cream, banana, mango …
The two-story terrace house, in which we stay, was built more than one hundred and fifty years ago. It is situated in historic Miller’s Point, a suburb adjacent to The Rocks and a ten minute walk west of the Circular Quay. It has been beautifully restored and it is now an artful mix of graceful antiques and bold modern furniture:
The house has five main rooms: two bedrooms upstairs (both with French doors leading to balconies), three rooms downstairs (lounge, dining-room, and galley-kitchen) and a small bathroom - which is also upstairs; a relatively new addition.
The ceilings are incredibly high: around five metres down stairs and four metres upstairs. Seriously! You never see such high ceilings these days. Well, I don’t. The staircase, banister, and floors are a dark polished wood, contrasting with the off-white walls. The front door opens directly to the lounge room, in the centre of which hangs a large and elegant chandelier with crystal-beads giving the impression of a frozen waterfall - exotic and beautiful.
The curtains, which frame the wooden shutters folding over the front windows, are striped burgundy and cream silk and held on each side by elegant plaited ropes. A low modern coffee-table, constructed of dark polished wood, is situated in the centre of the room adjacent to a sleek grey sofa and a bright red standing lamp. A flat-screen television hangs from a far wall.
The adjacent dining-room, which is simply the rear half of the large downstairs space, is furnished with a marble-topped dining table surrounded by six chairs covered in a silk fabric which matches the curtains.
The walls are adorned with large modern artworks: semi-abstract paintings of women in dramatic colours: red, orange, and black.
The kitchen is all-white, apart from the black and white tiled floor, with every 21st century cooking-appliance available: microwave oven, electric stove, dishwasher, fridge.
Light floods the downstairs space from the numerous French doors which open onto the rear terrace: a pretty space surrounded by ivy-covered sand-stone walls, and containing wrought iron furniture (a table with two chairs) and a b-b-que facility.
The stairs leading to the second floor are narrow and turn a full 180 degrees half way up. They are so narrow that only a single person can pass up or down them at a time. I can’t imagine how any furniture could have been moved along them to the bedrooms!
The house is one of contrasts: elegant and holiday-casual, dark and sun-drenched, historic and ultra-modern. The ambiance is also one of contrasts: the house is tranquil but it’s also noisy - constantly - day and night. A low-pitch drone pervades every room; it emanates from the nearby Bradfield Highway, which leads onto the Sydney Harbour bridge, and it sounds like a gushing waterfall is situated right next door.
Overall, I do like the house. It is atmospheric, beautiful and comfortable - wonderful and relaxing for a holiday.
A short story about the Rocks and Sydney’s past:
Soon after we’d entered the house and dropped our luggage in the lounge-room, I noticed a book sitting on the dining-room table, along with all the other tourist brochures and information. It was a hardback, about the size of slim telephone book, titled: ‘A Place in The Rocks’, written by Anna Cossu and supported by the Foundation of Historic Houses Trust. It told the story of the area and the evolution of the central Sydney and the people and all the houses, including the one in which we were now staying.
Because I love a good story, and the book was short, I decided to read it. And I’m glad I did, as it brought to life the streets through which David and I wandered over the next few days and, in my mind, I could see and hear and feel the people and the place as it had been - and as it evolved - over the past two centuries. From the time when European settlers first came to Australia.
The Rocks and Miller’s Point have been called ‘the cradle of white settlement in Australia’.
So, in case anyone reading this is as interested in history as I am, I will tell a short tale of Sydney’s past: not a story about wealthy and prominent people, mind you, but one about the often overlooked and everyday lives of ordinary people. I will retell what I now know after reading the book which was left of the table, of our terrace house, for visitors:
Firstly, the story begins with the First Fleet - consisting of 11 ships (each no bigger than a Manly ferry) carrying 1480 people, including many convicts - arriving in Botany Bay on 24th January 1788, after a three month journey from Portsmouth in England.
Governor Phillips chose Sydney Cove for his settlement as he thought the harbour had the ‘best spring water’ and the ships could ‘anchor so close to the shore that at a very small expense quays may be made at which large ships may unload’.
After coming ashore, it was decided that the area west of the cove - on rocky sandstone hills, soon to be known as ‘The Rocks’ - would be for convicts, guards, and the colony’s first hospital. The area on the east of the cove would be for more genteel folk: the Governor, his staff and his guards.
The Rocks was comprised of a series of sandstone ridges which rose up like steps from the harbour to the top of the ridge, now known as ‘Observatory Hill’.
Interestingly, the terrace house in which we stayed was positioned on steps, now called Agar Steps, which had long ago been cut directly from the sandstone rocks. The steps travel to the top of Observatory Hill on which now sits the Sydney Observatory, which is an astronomical observatory built during the 1800’s and where visitors can view the stars and planets through both a modern telescope and a much older one (built in 1874), the latter being the oldest telescope in regular use in Australia.
The neighbourhood in The Rocks didn’t develop in any kind of orderly fashion. The houses were built randomly; rudimentary streets followed established tracks used by carts and pedestrians at that time. In November 1788, a female convict described the early Sydney settlement thus:
‘We now have two streets, if four of the most miserable huts you can possibly conceive of deserve that name. Windows they have none, as from the Governor’s house and c., now nearly finished, no glass could be spared, so that lattices of twigs are made by our people to supply their place.’
(‘our people’ refers to the convicts).
The names of the streets and suburbs, in the early years of Sydney, were created simply to provide directions: the names chosen referred to local landmarks, features of the landscape (such as The Rocks), or people who lived nearby (Miller’s Point).
In an 1803 edition of the Sydney Gazette, ‘The Rocks’ first appeared in print, which indicates that by this time the name had passed into common usage. However, in 1810, Governor MacQuarie renamed all the streets of Sydney to bring a degree of ‘ornament and regularity’ to the town. But, while most of the names were borrowed from Britain, ‘The Rocks’ escaped the governor’s decree and retained its ordinary and original name.
Convicts with their Australian-born children initially occupied the houses in The Rocks although, within a few years, sailors and whalers from around the world took lodgings in the boarding houses and public houses (pubs) which grew up in the area.
By 1842, Sydney had a population of nearly 30,000 people and was declared a city. However, it was a city of walking size still and, because there was limited public transport, houses near to its centre were increasingly sought after.
Related to this, demand for land in The Rocks increased and the housing blocks were subdivided until few gardens or free space remained. The new houses, included a mix of grand houses, built for wealthy colonists, and small two-story terrace-houses.
Typically, the terraces consisted of two rooms on each floor. The front room was generally used as a parlour - although in some cases it was converted into a shop, with a few shelves for stock, and the remaining rooms used by the family.
However, by the 1850’s, coinciding with the end of transportation of convicts to to the colony of New South Wales, social conditions were beginning to change and The Rocks - with its convict connections, rowdy pubs, overcrowded houses, and working-class population - was looked upon with disdain.
Social scientist, William Jenkins made these observations of the area in 1858:
‘I am acquainted with some of the worst parts of London … and with most unhealthy parts of Liverpool, Paris and other towns but nowhere have I seen such a retreat for filth and vice as “The Rocks” of Sydney.’
Between 1851 - 1881, the population of The Rocks had almost doubled and overcrowded living conditions were made worse by the inadequate water and sewerage facilities. The houses were mostly rented, with tenants dependent on absentee landlords who often didn’t care much about the upkeep of their properties.
The four-room houses were frequently packed with two or three families squeezed within their walls; each family’s space, partitioned off with boards, cost 6 - 8 shillings a week.
Water for domestic use was collected from a pump in the street. One water pump would supply water for 7 - 9 houses. Some houses had private wells, although by the 1840’s many were no longer in use as they had become contaminated from years of poor drainage that trickled down from the houses higher up on the hill.
From the mid-1800’s, connection to city water-supplies and sewerage-systems for individual houses was beginning - but connection was dependent, at least in part, on whether the landlords bothered to push for their connection.
An outbreak of the bubonic plague occurred in 1900. The bubonic plague, also known as the Black Death, is an aggressive and virulent infection which killed, during epidemics in Eurasia over the last millennium, between 75 - 200 million people.
The deadly infection once again focused attention on the poor living conditions of the working class in The Rocks, and it was the catalyst for the government to attempt to ‘clean it up’. They acted quickly, after cases were first identified, to stop its spread: affected areas of the city were barricaded and quarantined. And, at a cost of one and a half million pounds, the government demolished hundreds of ‘slum’ houses and removed tonnes of rubbish before building many new worker’s houses in The Rocks and nearby Miller’s Point.
However, within ten years an article published in a newspaper titled, ‘The tragedy of “The Rocks”: A peep into Sydney’s slum area’ reported that The Rocks had reverted to a slum area. It was an area where ‘criminals are being bred out of the congestion and the darkness. …If you have a stout heart go and see for yourself,’ it stated. ‘… not the chaotic buildings, and the higgledy-piggledy streets so much, as the appearance of the dwellers in the darkness! Man is a product of his environment, and like begets like - or worse.’
However, these views were written by middle-class observers who were unfamiliar with the conditions of the working-class at this time; contrasting these opinions, many reports from people who actually lived in the area were positive and many said they enjoyed the sea air, the harbour views, and the familiarity and safety they felt living there.
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The terrace houses were modest but reasonably comfortable for their inhabitants. I’ll describe them a little - as they were over 100 years go, vastly different from the modern luxury we experienced on our holiday:
The front door opened into a parlour, which was generally reserved for visitors and set aside as ‘the best room’ in the house. The back room was for ordinary living.
The parlour was filled with the household’s best furniture and most prized possessions. These items were protected from wear and tear, and the family could welcome guests with pride. Typically, the room contained a table, four polished chairs around it, a settee, and a picture above the mantle. The blinds were half drawn to provide privacy and shield the furniture from sunlight.
Often children were forbidden to use the front door. If children knocked on the front door they usually received the reply from within, ‘round the back!’ Family used the back door, visitors the front.
While the parlour was reserved for visitors, neighbours in The Rocks rarely visited each other’s homes. Money to feed and entertain guests was almost non-existent, so women mostly chatted in the street and only entered each others homes to help during childbirth. At night, the parlour was often converted to another bedroom, with a gridiron folding bed. By morning, however, all was neat and returned as it was.
Bathrooms didn’t exist. Bathing was done weekly in a tub brought inside from ‘out the back’; the tub was left hanging on the back wall. On ‘bath days’, the tub was set up in the kitchen in front of the stove. Hot water was brought in from the copper and carried inside using tin buckets. The laundry tub was also used for washing dishes and scrubbing the clothes.
The wash house was situated in a tiny corrugated iron construction in the back yard. Hand washing, weekly, for even five people would take over nine hours. Around 1900 the average family had six children, so wash days were long and tiring. Most tenants didn’t have an electric washing machine until the 1960’s!
The many inhabitants, in a house, squeezed themselves into whatever space available: A family of seven, for example, might have the parents sleep downstairs, in what should be the dining-room, a sister sleep in a cot under the stairs, another sister sleep on a folding bed in the parlour, and the remaining siblings share the two bedrooms upstairs. Family members would often share a single bed.
It was also common to take in boarders - often four or more - to help pay the rent. These extra householders would then take the downstairs rooms, and the family of seven, or more, would share the two bedrooms upstairs! Privacy and personal-space were obviously minimal in the 1800’s and early 1900’s. People rarely had a room, or even a bed, to themselves.
Gas became available to households in the mid-1800’s, although the cost was beyond most families in The Rocks. So, from 1897, ‘penny-in-the-slot’ meters were installed for free. One penny bought three hours of gas, to service a pendant light and a gas-ring stove. Electricity was introduced in the 1930’s.
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In the 1920’s and ‘30’s bulldozers again came to the rocks to clear away houses, although, this time it wasn’t for reasons related to dangerous epidemics and slum housing, this time it was related to the construction of the city’s new bridge: The Sydney Harbour Bridge. The free-way approach to the bridge, connected it to the city, ran directly through The Rocks.
At this time, a new appreciation for The Rocks was developing. People began to lament the disappearance of ‘Old Sydney’ - as the area had now become known. A newspaper article, published in 1932, declared The Rocks was ‘the cradle of Sydney.’ It described the area thus:
‘... small but stoutly-built cottages that stood alongside more pretentious houses, the poor among the rich in a riot of architectural vagaries, which added materially to their attractiveness.’
The tourist precinct of The Rocks we know today - a beautiful, leafy area filled with high-class shops and restaurants, glamorous terraces and grand houses, and expensive accommodation for tourists from all over the world - was created in the 1970’s when the Sydney Cove Redevelopment Authority began a conservation and protection redevelopment program to conserve the historic buildings (house and warehouses) in the area before it became completely lost for good with further - and final - waves of demolition and development.
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I hope you enjoyed my little story of The Rocks and my little tale of David and my escape from our children, I mean our little sojourn to Sydney.
Possibly a nice holiday for you to pamper yourself with, and, as David has so often said, ‘Why not?!’
