Day 9: Taronga Zoo and the SOH

Once again, Celeste and I were up bright and early to greet the Australian morning. I said good morning to my new bathroom-line friends, the French priests, between whom I stood for the second morning in a row. They gave me very strange looks and continued their own conversation, apparently holding my French accent against me.

This morning we headed down to Circular Quay to take the ferry to Taronga Zoo. This was to be our first ferry ride in Sydney. Freezing cold wind and rain ripped right through us while we stood on the dock, and it was then I decided I was going to have to buy a pair of gloves soon or die. Still in shock with cold, we met two women who volunteered at the zoo and they recommended some shows and exhibits to us.

It must be amazing to commute by ferry as so many people do in Sydney! That is one thing that I love about that city; I would almost want to live there just to take the ferry all the time. This particular ferry route took us around the Sydney Opera House and straight to Taronga Zoo. Like other forms of public transportation in Sydney, the ferry was quite nice, with three floors, a café, and interior heating.

The weather was still nasty when we arrived at Taronga, and would remain so the rest of the morning. After making sure to get our pilgrim discounts at the ticket counter, we zipped through the practically empty zoo in about two hours. I was so excited to see a platypus! The creatures are extremely shy, and we had to walk back to the cage several times and wait before we actually spied one, hiding under a log in its swampy environment.

Finally, wet to the bone, we decided to take the Skycar – a little suspended car that takes you back and forth over the zoo – up and down the zoo before we left. It was amazing to see everything from above. We ran from the zoo exit to the ferry and climbed aboard. Half an hour later, we met the cousins at Starbucks and all warmed up over cups of hot coffee and warm scones while we made plans for the rest of the day.
Our next stop was the Sydney Opera House. Since the day was fine and sunny now, we mulled around the outside a while and took pictures before buying tickets for a tour of the inside. The inside of the Opera House is just as magnificent as the outside, despite the fact that the building is so recent that construction is still ongoing. Approximately 85% of the SOH is finished inside; the rest has yet to be torn apart and done according to the original visionaries' plans.

My list of ideas for sightseeing that I put together before the trip included a Ghost Walk at Manly Quarantine Station, and everyone thought it would be an excellent evening for it. Thus we caught the ferry to Manly together. Everyone was starving by the time we arrived, so we wandered about the boardwalk until we found a kebab place. The little eatery was run by a Kurdish guy and his parents (who used to own a Mexican restaurant), and we decided to eat there when they could indeed tell us where the Ghost Tour met every night. I ordered pide (my new favorite) and proceeded to leave a rather large tip: I left my entire bag of souvenirs from the SOH under the table and never was able to retrieve them!

The last bus of the evening took us from the Manly Wharf to the Quarantine Station and dropped us there. The bus stop was in the middle of nowhere, and it was pitch black, cold, and rainy. I wondered what on earth the "Quarantine Station" was...a field? A wood? Anyway, we saw a shed peering out of the dark and made our way inside to escape the cold and figure out what to do next. To our chagrin we found out, from a brochure laying on the floor inside the shed, that the ghost tours were by appointment only and one needed to call ahead of time. While we gathered our thoughts and tried to devise a plan to get back to town without a bus, we wandered around the dark shed looking at huge horrific photographs of people with smallpox lining the walls.

The Quarantine Station, we read on the plaques by the one suspended and bare lightbulb in the middle of the shed, was where crowded ships were diverted and landed when there was the suspicion of a smallpox outbreak on board. All passengers were unloaded and herded like cattle into huge and painful acid showers in an attempt to "decontaminate" them. After this ordeal, everyone was forced to stay at the station under quarantine for at least three weeks, all within sight of their final destination, the city of Sydney. Apparently, both the acid showers and the hospital are well known for the high levels of "paranormal" activity that takes place there.

Sufficiently creeped out and cold at this point, we wondered what on earth we were going to do. I wandered outside and just looked out into the blackness, blaming myself for getting my cousins into this mess. Suddenly, a man walked out of the dark and gave me an awful start! He was quite friendly, said hello, and asked if I needed any help; his name was Robert and according to his name tag he was a shuttle driver at the Station. Once I had my wits about me again, I told him what our situation was and he offered to give us all a bus tour of the place in his little shuttle bus, *and* to drive us back to town afterwards. We accepted and climbed aboard the bus.

"Robert the Bus Driver" showed us around the Quarantine Station for about an hour an a half, and even let us into the museum for a run-through and the acid showers to "feel the paranormal activity". It was really creepy and cold in there...I made myself slowly...walk...in...and out of the showers. Brrr. Celeste hid her face in my arm when we got back on the bus she was so frightened.

On the way back to town, Robert told us about the actual Ghost Walk, where you walk around the place accompanied by a medium! We looked at each other in horror: I had no idea that was part of the Walk. Praise God we missed it! It was definitely Providence that helped us out of that one. How horrible that would have been.

Robert dropped us off at the wharf, we all bid a fond goodbye, and we headed back to Randwick and warm sleeping bags. The French and Malaysians were gone and we had the entire physical therapy room to ourselves, so Steven stayed with us on the floor.