Sydney

By our 3rd day in Sydney my budget was in tatters.  Sydney is BLOODY EXPENSIVE. Mind you, Caroline's day-by-day Sydney plan was "up the shitter" too.  (I believe that's how she delicately phrased it.) 

Still, she managed to organise a little trip for the two of us to The State Theatre on George Street. This was GREAT. The state theatre was built in 1929 due to the boom from films and the whole thing is a shrine to entertainment at it's most over-the-top.  The guide tape described it as "an eclectic mix of styles ranging from classical through to baroque and roccoco."  I would describe it as exactly like you’ve just walked into Elton John’s imagination.

What this basically means was that the architects threw everything at the building, saw what stuck and then gilded it. The front has fleur-de-lys all over the place, a mosaic floor with a clock in it, a St. George and the dragon relief on the wall and arabesqe designs all over the ceiling. 

THEN, the foyer has 2 huge marble staircases like something out of a Cecil B. De Mille picture. I expected Ginger and Fred to come floating down them – there were enormous mirrors, chandeliers and statues everwhere. And the obligatory red curtains. This merely leads to the upper foyer, complete with Japanese mirrors, antique Portuguese furniture and art deco clocks. 

THEN you come to the art gallery which gives access to the upper balcony, balcony and mezzanine levels. Once in the theatre itself, a mass of red seats greet you facing a stage topped with a blue crown.  Looking blankly on at the stage to either side of it are  statues of Napoleon and other notables, and to top it all off the biggest chandelier in the southern hemisphere. 

Architectural Critics of the time criticised the theatre as being covered in "spun sugar and jam".  I think this demonstates quite ably that the Architectural Critics of the time were a bunch of Old Poops with no sense of humour and less sense of style.  We LOVED the State Theatre.  It's exactly what a theatre should be - part Versailles and part DisneyWorld.  The "Pioneer Room" - a gentlemen's smoking room was straight out of "The Prisoner of Zenda" - all stone walls and oak beams. You could almost see the businessmen of the 1930's, milling around, poking their cigars at each other and swilling brandy. The women had their own room, which was pretty bizarre - the Butterfly Room is a lepidoptarist's delight with butterfly transfers everywhere and a huge butterfly mirror. Not nearly as cool as the Pioneer Room, but that's girls for ya. Afterward, to continue the mood we visited the Retro Cafe next door, which is very cool and does a very nice pitta pocket, but is awfully expensive. 

Pitta Pocket. That's fun to say. Pittapocketpittapocketpittapocket. 

Sorry. Got carried away there. 

"Pat a dingo" is another thing that's fun to say. I wanted to do this too, at a Koala Sanctuary - so Caro and I made our way out of Sydney to a suburb called Blacktown.  I have to say that the suburbs of Sydney are a bit depressing and scummy.  

No more so than London, I suppose but still I was surprised – I don’t know why but my of Sydney were higher, somehow.  Anyway, once we got to the koala enclosures, we must have angered the Tourist Gods somehow, for they visited upon us a Plague of School Groups. 

Yes! There were horrid little children everywhere, chasing the wallabies and shrieking at the emus. Mind you, we certainly got plenty of koala for our money. They were almost as plentiful as the schoolchildren. However, I was disturbed by the fact that they didn’t seem very happy.  This is difficult for koalas, as they are basically creatures cursed with little faces that look like they're smiling all the time, a bit like daytime TV presenters.  Caro was a bit upset about this, as the place was termed a "sanctuary" but was in reality a zoo, and a pretty shit one at that.  

But we did get to feed the wallabies that were hopping about and Caro scratched a kangaroo behind his ears, whereupon you could physically see him going, "Ahhhhhhhhhh..." 

(That was how she originally charmed me, by the way.)  

We got chased about by emus looking for food, saw the back ends of wombats sleeping in logs, marvelled at the fat little kookaburras (how DO they fly??) and attracted the attention of dingos with cries of "Here comes Lindy Chamberlain!! And she's had twins!!" 

Sorry - no trip to Australia would be complete without a Lindy Chamberlain joke.