We had arrived on a Tuesday morning and had a few days before our first Olympic event, and surprisingly we weren't too tired from our 15 hours flight. A little dazed, maybe, but not that dog-tired feeling you get when flying east to Europe. We crossed the busy street into Hyde Park, a small tree-line parked about 1 block wide by 3 blocks long. Immediately, we knew we were somewhere completely different. THe first thing we noticed was the singing of the birds; they were unlike anything we'd heard before. Not startlingly different, just unfamiliar.

We walked north, passing a large cathedral and a row of old Victorian government buildings, then entered the Botanical Gardens. Here again we were confronted with strange flowers, trees, and birds, one after the other. Often in Australia we had this feeling -- at first you feel like you're in America, or maybe Canada, but you look closer and realize everything is knew and different.

Our next impression was of the people. It was close to the lunch hour on a gorgeous Spring day (that's another thing; I've experienced culture shock and jet lag, but I've never felt season-shock before!). Our path was taking us along the harbor, weaving our way along the shoreline towards the Opera House. One after the other, joggers were passing us by. So many passed that it became something of a joke. Sarah and I were convinced there was a casting director hiding in the bushes sending healthy young Aussies - again and again and again -- past us to fill out this beautiful scene we were in.

Never mind driving on the correct side of the road, I couldn't even walk on the correct side of the path. As a runner approached, I would move to my right, assuming he would do the same. But I kept running into people! Me - "Oof, Sorry!" Them -- "No worries!". Soon we reached a point and to our left across a small bay lay the CBD (Central Business District) and the Opera House, framed by the Harbour Bridge. From this vantage point it looked pretty much like I was expecting. All glittering and white.

We continued walking along the harbor towards the Opera House. After another 20 minutes we reached the building itself and climbed the broad set of stairs to its base. Up close it looked quite a bit different. I saw that it was actually 3 separate buildings; an opera hall, a performance hall, and a restaurant. Strangest of all, the roof was not a uniform white but rather was made up of thousands of what looked like bathroom tiles. There were two different shades of white laid in an intricate pattern. I didn't expect to be impressed with the Opera House. After all, it's hard to live up to an image you build in your mind year after year, but It really was an impressive structure -- beautiful from a distance and intricate up close.

The next day, another hot and sunny one, we took a ferry to the beach suburb of Manly. The ferry ride was a great way to see the harbor. You pull out of the CBD, cruise under the shadow of the Harbour Bridge, then turn east and pass the Opera House. As you head east, the harbor opens up into countless inlets and bays. After 15 minutes, just before hitting the ocean itself, the ferry turned north and docked on the harbor side of a narrow peninsula.

Before hitting the beach itself, we wanted to walk the "Manly Scenic Walkway." From it's description and its location in the middle of the Sydney Metropolitan area I'd pictured a tame walk, something of golf-cart path variety, and probably dotted with cafes and gift shops. The 6 km walk turned out to be much better. It was a gorgeous, rugged, rough path carved into the hillside along the harbor. It curled up and down, through woods, over brush-covered headlands, and down along secluded beaches. It followed a National Park that had somehow spared the shoreline from development. With the help of a friendly public bus driver, we got dropped off at the far end and walked back towards Manly. At about the halfway point, just past the aboriginal drawings carved into the sandstone, we were treated quite unexpectedly to our first Olympic event. There, laid out at our feet as we crested an open headland, the sailing events were taking place. It was a wonderful hike capped off with a relaxing couple hours on the beach.

The next day we booked a Blue Mountains tour through our hotel. The bus came by at 7:30, and we hopped aboard. Now, one thing I promised I wouldn't do on this trip is America bash. A natural thing for Americans to do when overseas is to see only the good in where they are, compare it to only the bad from home, and conclude that America is hopelessly screwed and that everything would be OK if we just converted to the foreign way of life. This has happened every time I've lived abroad, and I promised I wouldn't do it this time.

That said, let me do some quick America bashing.

We boarded the mini-bus and joined the other 10 or so tourists. In the first row were two smiling young Danish girls "on short holiday" (3 months). They spent the day effortlessly switching between Danish, German, English, and French, depending on whom they were speaking with. Next came the Swiss super model and her rock-star boyfriend. They only spoke three languages, but they were both good looking so we'll forgive them. Then 3 middle-aged, giggly Germans, also tri-lingual, and to top it off, we stopped at the Athletes Village and pick up a Dutch Olympic tri-athlete and his coach, both tall and lean (but they only spoke two languages). And sitting right in the middle of the world's best and brightest were Sarah and I, feeling very much like buck-toothed redneck's.

Anyway, Blue Mountains. About an hour west of Sydney is an ancient plateau of sandstone that's been carved by deep canyons. Take 3 Grand Canyons, lay them near each other, shrink them just a bit, cover them with trees, and throw in a few waterfalls for good measure. It's absolutely spectacular scenery. Our first stop was a short hike at Wentworth Falls. The hike started easily enough as we gradually dropped down into the canyon to the top of the falls. But then things got interesting. Rather than the American solution of gently graded switchbacks, these path-builders had cut steep steps directly into the stone. We're talking steep steps, like the kind that go up to an attic in an old house, for perhaps 1000 vertical feet straight down into the canyon. Clinging to the side of the cliff, we were rewarded with view and view all the way down. We reached the bottom of th falls and stopped in a small oasis of pools. Above, a wide ribbon of water rolled over the top of the falls and nearly dissolved into the air before collecting again at our feet.

Next, we hit the most touristed section of the Blue Mountains, the Three Sisters. These are a rock formation that resembles three giant chimneys of stone reaching into the broad canyon. The scenery was pretty, but I enjoyed watching the tourist throngs come and go. The Korean Judo team arrived shortly after us, and proceeded to take pictures of everything in site from the garbage cans to the cars parked in the lot. There was also an aboriginal man there who joked with the tourists and played his didgeridoo. It was an interesting juxtaposition later, when the man -- still painted all up and bare chested -- called with his cell phone to ask a lady out for dinner at a Chinese restaurant.

Finally came the world's steepest railroad. You take a short 20 minute hike to the base of the canyon and then ride the thing back up (or you can do it the other way around if you're an idiot). As the billboards proudly proclaimed, it's a 52 degree slope. This may not sound like much, but it was truly scary. You sit in a roller coaster type car and as you go up it feels like you're going to fall forward into the canyon. It's a short ride, but fun. And of course you get dropped off in a gift store filled with the usual shot glasses, semi-precious stones, and commemorative plaques.

We felt like we'd hit two home runs with our Manly hike and the Blue Mountains, but more good things were in store. Our first Olympic event was the next evening in Darling Harbour, a tourist area of restaurants, museums, and nightclubs. It's a nice area, though, and not too kitsched out. Especially interesting was the Australian National Maritime Museum, not the museum itself, but the ships moored out back. You can tour a recently decommissioned submarine, a destroyer, a replica of a 16th Dutch trading vessel that wrecked off the western coast, and most interesting of all, a replica of Captain Cooke's ship, the first to chart eastern Australia. Captain Cooke's ship was painstakingly copied from the original designs and they'd even copied the interior furniture and supplies, right down to the table Cooke ate his dinner on. It's not a tour for those with bad backs -- the rear section of the lower deck is only four feet tall! Most of his scientific crew had to live and work in this cramped space.

Our final day in Sydney, and where I'm writing from now, has been spent on the beaches straight east of town. We took a bus to Bondi, Australia's most famous beach, and then walked the half-hour stroll along the rugged coast down to Bronte Beach. It's a beautiful day and a great way to wrap up our time in Sydney. It sure leaves us wanting more, and it's nice to know we'll be coming back.