Emily's Worldview

So the epilogue to my summer in Kenya is two weeks in Australia with my parents, brother, and sister. We had a week in Sydney and explored the city thoroughly. We did the obvious, (opera house, harbor bridge), but also went to less famous neighborhoods and near-in suburbs by ferry. In Manly, we walked along the cliffs to enjoy the view of Sydney Harbor and from Watson Bay we looked out to the Pacific ocean. There is a beautiful botanical garden near the city center where my brother and I watched the sun set behind the Sydney skyline and were menaced by a flock of wild cockatoos. The city is world class, clean, and has excellent public transportation including buses, subway, monorail, and ferry. From Sydney, we did two day trips—one to the Blue Mountains, where we hiked through eucalyptus forest with enough palm trees and ferns to make it feel exotic. My brother, mother and I also went on a wine tour in an area that must be lovely once the leaves come out on the grapevines. We got tipsy and quadrupled our knowledge about wine, so it was a successful day.


It being my family, we also did a lot of very touristy stuff. We went to an animal park with all the Australian animals—including koalas (The Most Heart-Melting Creature on Earth), some overfed kangaroos, cassowaries (giant bird with a blue neck and a crest of horn on top of their heads), echidnas (egg-laying hedgehog with a little duck bill), and wombats (giant hamsters). I thought about how amazing it must have been for the European explorers when they first saw all of these improbable creatures. More touristy stuff: we rode two scenic railways and a sky gondola over a rainforest, and took a mangrove cruise. One day we signed up for a tour of a crocodile farm, thinking we would see some cute attack show or learn about habitats or something. Instead, we found ourselves on a tour of a working crocodile farm, supplier of skins to Gucci etc., with a very intense guide. In response to one of my stupid questions, he turned around, stared me down through his sunglasses, and asked: “Have you ever, in your entire life, been on any kind of farm at all?”. We giggled behind his back.

We spent a few days on Dunk Island, reached by a 20 minute flight in a tiny airplane from Cairns. The island was mostly covered with rainforest—palms and vines and ferns and butterflies fluttering through--but it also had a beach with a resort around it. Sea turtles poked their heads up from the waves. Being a family of participators, we alternated our beach lounging time with rainforest hikes, boomerang-throwing lessons, aqua aerobics, the sunset champagne cruise, and sea-kayaking. At night we ate nice dinners with wine in the dining hall, and then retired to our rooms to play bridge and Oh Hell until late at night.


We went snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef twice. The first time we all got seasick, swallowed gallons of seawater, and didn’t see anything, but the second time was incredible. Even just floating on the surface, we could see dozens of different kinds of coral, anemone with clownfish darting in and out, huge parrotfish decorated in teal pink orange purple or yellow gray white or black, schools of tiny silver blue fish, and big sweet-lips with black speckles and stripes. It was just like an aquarium, except we were in it—we could feel the waves and hung out in one spot to watch a little cleaner fish tidying up a wriggling bigger fish. I wished I could watch for hours.

That was on the last day and on the boat ride back the afternoon sun was glinting off the ocean. It was the last beautiful thing I saw.