Sydney and I didn’t get off on the right foot. Actually, if Sydney was a person I would have put my foot in a not so polite place.
Long story short, racism reared its ugly head in Sydney like it has before.
There was the taxi driver who made disgusting comments about a veiled Muslim woman walking down the street that left me shocked into silence throughout the cab ride; and there were the drunk men at a club who attempted to hit on my friends while saying they did not want me because I was black.
Oh, Sydney. How I disliked thee.
For reasons relating to dirtiness, Sydney reminded me of New York. While I dreamed of living in New York, I did not want to stay in Sydney.
I hate to say it because I love Australia something fierce, but my fondest memories of Sydney are of the architecture, not the people.
For reasons I still don’t quite understand, the Sydney Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge were magnets to my metal-plated heart. Whether I was sliding into my seat two minutes before the Don Quixote ballet began, listening to a symphonic presentation of Nobody Knows De Trouble I See with 15 other travelers, or climbing the bridge with Bridge Climb tours, I ended up walking down to the Opera House every day while in Sydney. To me, those architectural marvels saved Sydney.
That and the beach, of course. If in Sydney, the Bondi Beach to Bronte Beach walk is a must. It’s like a mini-Great Ocean Road. And we already know how much I adore The Great Ocean Road.
Even though I ended up preferring Melbourne to Sydney, I decided Sydney wasn’t worth hating. It just needed the side-eye every once in a while.