A lot of Sydney and a lot of thoughts

Today I walked. And walked. And walked and walked and walked. After a morning that is becoming startlingly routine, I set out from my hostel at around 9am. I walked through a very quiet Saturday-morning downtown to the old Sydney Observatory, a building as typically Victorian as so many are here. From there I walked through an older part of Sydney set in the shadow of the imposing Harbour Bridge, through a weekend market, and along the waterfront where tourists scurried around trying to find the right ferry to get them to wherever. I took my time exploring the Opera House. It is a strange building in a strange location, set apart from the rest of the city. The most notable aspect not otherwise appreciable in pictures is the quality of the exterior - the white is not solid but much more like the scales of a fish.

Anyhow, from there I continued along the waterfront through Sydney's immense Royal Botanical Gardens, acres and acres of prime, downtown, waterfront land set aside to preserve the natural beauty of the land. And what beauty it has. Trees and flowers and birds of kinds I've never before seen. And it was such a beautiful day.

After winding my way through the gardens, I walked through Hyde Park and what turned out to be some sort of feminist gathering (including some people who were apparently pushing for rights for sex workers with the slogan "Give 'piece' a chance"). Though tired, I pushed myself further, walking what turned out to be quite far to Kings Cross. Finding a seedy and busy area, I peaked around a bit and got out of there. I'll tell you, by the end of it I was exhausted. I finally got back to my hostel, put my feet up in a tiny bit of sun I found, and read.

I reflected a lot in my wanderings. It is natural to think about the city around me. First of all, I've come to believe that buildings here fall into one of three categories: Victorian, art deco, or utterly modern (typically glass skyscrapers). Other than the fact that Australia was founded and came of age under Queen Victoria, I have no good theories for why this type of pattern exists. I have also found that Sydney seems to have a wonderful waterfront. Someone deserves some credit for that (particularly from the perspective of the disappointing but full-of-potential waterfront in Toronto).

I have also been pondering something else today. I asked my one-day friend Emily yesterday which flags she'd seen displayed on people's bags. In her month of traveling and my few days, we both agreed that we had only seen Canadian flags on bags. It seems that no other nationalities choose to display their flag so proudly. I've seen a fair number of good ol' maple leafs. Despite the prevalence of Brits, I haven't seen any Union Jacks. No Stars and Stripes either. The reason I find this interesting is because as Canadians we often chide ourselves for not being sufficiently patriotic, certainly not as jingoistic and flag-waving as our southern neighbours. But maybe our self-criticism is misguided. Maybe we aren't that patriotic at home. Maybe we don't feel that we need to be. But I have yet to meet a Canadian abroad who isn't proud of being Canadian . There are even some Americans who put Canadian flags on their bags when they travel. We must have something pretty amazing if we're comfortable enough with our country at home simply to live in it while displaying our flag proudly when we're elsewhere. At least, that's my hope.