Our last day in Sydney, ahoy! Late to wake up yet again owing to late night TV watching spree (I watched, like 5 episodes in a row of "Two and a Half Men", a raucous Australian comedy sitcom), we were not ready to miss our coach again. We skipped bath yet again, rushed for breakfast and were fortunately half a second before the coach. The wife wasn't too keen on anything today, save for Bondi beach (a lazy bum she is on vacations). But me, the everlasting enthusiast, was up and geared for the city tour. Sydney in my opinion, is not a very loud city like Shanghai, neither a very crowded one like London, nor a very fast paced city like New York, having just the optimum of everything. A relatively peaceful city yet with a semblance of multi-storey modernization.

Our journey began with our foray into the countryside, commencing from the historical ANZAC bridge (not to be confused with THE Sydney bridge), with two conical suspensions akin to the infamous Madonna's bra. Not surprisingly it is actually locally known by the sensual singer's inner wear. The bridge renders a consummate view of the Paddington area well known for the erstwhile paddy farmers that dwelt in there. Australia not surprisingly was a British colony and the influence is amply visible in the Sydney architecture as it was also the seat of the British office. The then British Governor Lord Mcwarie is said to have been a man with a vision and he along with his wife Madam Mcwarie are attributed to have been the harbinger of development in Sydney. And the infrastructural expenditure they incurred was the reason the couple soon lost favour with the queen and were in process transferred from the seat of Sydney.

Our first stop was Madam Mcwarie's chair. Legend is that Madam Mcwarie used to come in evenings to the park and at dusk a ferry used to pick her up from the park. Sometimes she had to stand and wait long hours for the same. So the Governor ordered the convicts to carve out a stone chair on the shore, which the convicts did so wonderfully that the Governor pardoned their sentences. But more than the chair itself it was the view of the Sydney bridge and the Opera house in one camera frame that was delightful. The weather on this particular day was particularly pleasant. The breeze had the chill of a possible oncoming thunderstorm and the sky was overclouded and had a wonderful grey hue.

As the coach driver-cum-travel guide moved around the city we got to see some quaint neighbourhoods, some high class schools, piers, bridges, the main pier called the Circular Quay (pronounced as 'key') and finally we reached Bondi. Now Bondi is amongst the most famous beaches of the world. We were told that buying a house in the Bondi area is very expensive, yet it is the hub of backpackers travelling on shoestring budgets only because traveller accommodation is the cheapest at Bondi. It's almost like a small village not unlike say Calangute, Goa, although a more urbanised version. Our coach was parked right outside Shane Warne's residence. The beach, to our disappointment wore a deserted look, owing partly to the winter season, partly to it being a working day and mostly because of the weather. Just a few joggers ran along the beach and the sidewalk. We spent an hour at the beach, chatted up with the lifeguards, amusing chaps, dressed ala Mitch from Baywatch and munched on some popcorns.

By noon our city tour was complete and to be honest it was an arduous city tour so we decided to spice it up with some adventure. We asked the driver to drop us off at Circular Quay.

Circular Quay was bustling with activity. An African dancer performed antics on the sidewalk and a solo guitarist played 'Sleeping child of mine' and I enjoyed the music as I stood in queue to buy ferry tickets for Manly Harbour. Within due course, we boarded the ferry and occupied chairs on the outer deck on the first floor of the rusty ferry. The ferry cruised around the Opera House and we got the closest look at it and I admit it wasn't too different from our very own Lotus Temple in Delhi. The breeze at sea was sharp and within moments we were back inside the cosy ferry. A twenty-minute ride brought us to the Manly terminal. The Manly terminal was a shopping mall to say the least. lined with dozens of eateries, curio shops, souvenir retailers. We skipped all that and located good ole McDonald's just outside, grabbed some fries and started walking towards Manly beach. A piazza. facing the ferry terminal. lined with ice cream parlours, money changers, restaurants, beachwear shops led to the beach. The piazza was crowded with youngsters, chatting animatedly, smoking and guzzling bear and bore a very festive look. We took our time as we walked through. The beach, to be frank, was one of the most wonderful beach I had ever seen. The sand had a hue of golden which is hard to describe. The breeze by the beach side was heavenly and we sat and chatted like there was no tomorrow. And the award for the most romantic moment of the whole trip goes to Manly Harbour. But the bad news, the camera had run out of battery, so the moment has been stolen indefinitely from posterity and is now only inscribed in our two little hearts till time come!

Having experienced Sydney by taxi, train, bus and ferry, we thought our experience of Sydney would be left incomplete without travel by monorail, the nearest station to which was located, no less, on the first floor of our very own hotel. So we decided to honour our special Indian dinner invitation, which was supposed to be aboard a small cruise ship. We had to reach Darling Harbour by 7 P.M. The monorail from our hotel reached the harbour well before time and a 5-minute walk brought us to the boarding point. Once aboard we were welcomed by a group of beautiful dancers dressed in a motley of feathers and flowy dresses, one of whom guided us to our earmarked table, very close to the stage. As drinks were served a cool looking guy dressed in a Tux went about to each table and chatted up the guests talking to each in their respective native languages. As he reached our table, he asked, do you know Tamil? We smiled and applied in the negative. "Our native tongue is Hindi", I added. The poor chap seemed disappointed. "Namaste" is all he could offer to us. Hindi is not that tough guys! He was an amusing chap and carried on with some magic tricks as the guests went through dinner.

Once the dinner was over, a beautiful woman with a very beautiful voice occupied the stage. A video played momentarily which showed different dance forms of the world (yes, bharatnatyam had a place too!). The light went off, the stage was illuminated as the dancers we had initially met, entered the stage in traditional Swahili getup and jived to the traditional beats. The singer interspersed with her own melodious voice. The dances went on with American (grease style), Spanish salsa, Mexican, Arabian, French cabaret, and then came the Indian dance, very predictably to the tune of 'Jai Ho!' (but disappointingly the anglicised version courtesy the Meow dolls) and culminated with an aboriginal Australian dance and the Australian national anthem. We bought a photograph of us clicked by the house photographer. Once at the hotel, we were snoring before we had turned off the lights. Our next sunlight would be in New Zealand.