How to eat a Hamburger in Circular Quay

Image via Tom Häkkinen
Escaping from Circular Quay - home of the swooping
seagulls - on a ferry.

There’s a trick to eating a burger at Circular Quay. First of all you have to remember to hold the burger close to your body, right in front of your heart like some sort of makeshift shield. You should try to avoid walking and eating simultaneously and you should avoid open spaces. In fact, if possible, it’s best to position yourself so that you eat with your back to a wall.

“What is the reason for such surreptitious guardianship of your burger at Circular Quay?” you might ask.

Seagulls.

I once bought a burger from the McDonalds at Circular Quay, I can’t remember if it was a Big Mac or just a Cheeseburger, in fact I think it might have been some one-off type of burger, “Bacon and Cheese burger” or something, I remember I bought two because there was a special deal on. Anyway, as I was walking back to the ferry wharf to catch my ferry home - swoop!

My burger was plucked clean out of my hands and hit the floor in front of me where it was immediately set upon by flock of seagulls. I use the collective noun “flock” but in reality “swarm” would be more appropriate. I moved to kick the horrible birds who’d stolen my lunch and they scattered away, but there was not a trace of the burger. It had dematerialised before my eyes in a frenzy of pecking and flapping.

Image via Tom Häkkinen
Nowhere is safe from the damned seagulls - if you're
eating, at least one of them will find you!

Just as well I’d bought two burgers.

I suppose what happened next is predictable for you, dear reader, but unfortunately it wasn’t for me. Having walked further along to my ferry wharf, I took a look over each shoulder to make sure that there weren’t any more of those wretched seagulls and unwrapped my second burger. Then, just as I lifted the burger to my mouth to take a bite.

Swoop!

Seemingly from nowhere and in one clean and continuous motion the seagull flew right over my left shoulder and plucked the burger from my hand just as after I’d taken my first bite. This time I managed to hold on to my burger, but it was a bitter consolation. I wasn’t going to eat a burger that had been in a seagull’s mouth, or beak rather. A whole flock of birds had materialised around me, expecting the food to be on the floor. Well, making straight for the bin, I protected my pecked-at burger from the swooping seagulls long enough to deliver it into the hands of the Sydney City Municipal Rubbish Collection, if I wasn’t going to eat it no-one was!

Image via Tom Häkkinen
I got some relief from that particular seagull pestering me
when her adolescent chick came to pester her for food.

It was only upon later reflection that I realised that there was some canniness behind the swoop mechanics employed by those seagulls. On both occasions the bird flew right over my left shoulder (I’m right-handed) and plucked the burger from my grip just after I’d taken my first bite. Those damned seagulls must’ve been watching from the air and recognising a human burger-eating motion quickly swept into action.


Damned seagulls.

A Very Uncomfortable Suit

Image via Tom Häkkinen
A rainy afternoon at Circular Quay.

I have nothing against suits. Regular readers might remember my article about wearing a tie in an Australian public school. But this particular suit that I met today might explain why some people do dislike “suits”.

Catching the ferry into the city again this morning, I felt something of a trailblazer, as, on account of a minuscule spattering of rain, all of the other ferry commuters were huddled inside, and no-one else was standing on the outside decks. So, Columbus like, I showed the way by opening the door to the front deck and bravely standing out in the elements. Truly the rain was insignificant, it was like a Hertfordshire spring shower, some of the rain drops were so tiny that they didn’t even fall down, instead just swirling about in the air, but still the open deck at the front of the ferry remained empty except for myself. Looking back, the doors to the inside area of the ferry resembled the doors to the Hydrotherapy pool at your local public baths - all fogged-up and sweaty. I was perplexed that I was really the only one who preferred the fresh sea air to a room packed with wet human beings.

As the ferry got moving, some others also came out onto the front deck. Obviously following my brave example. By the time we’d reached Circular Quay, I was in a state of complete content, conscious that I should savour the serene beauty of this rainy morning on the harbour.

However, I soon discovered that at least one of the suits who’d ventured out onto the open-air front deck was an unwilling convert to the outdoors lifestyle. After struggling with the door back into the ferry and in an obvious state of agitation he turned to me, stuttering and stammering to release all of the obscenities he thought necessary to explain the “disgraceful” level of service on the ferry, he complained that the air-conditioning in the ferry had broken down.

Image via Tom Häkkinen
Sunset over Port Jackson.

He was indifferent to my attempt at being agreeable and completely ignored my comment that yes, inside it was in fact “like a sauna”. Perhaps because I had ignored my own advice from last week’s blog and pronounced sauna like it is in Finnish (rhymes with shower, not corner); or more likely because he had made a bee-line to someone who would be much more useful for the purposes of expressing grievances. As I overheard him repeating his complaint to a member of staff (this time sans obscene language), I realised that he wasn’t in fact making friendly conversation, rather I was just the first person unfortunate enough to come within range of spraying out a load of invective.

When I got off at Circular Quay, instead of jumping on the first available train, I walked another 7 minutes to the next nearest train station, just to savour a little more the lovely peace and quiet afforded by the rain.

NB: I didn't have the presence of mind to take photos of Circular Quay on my rainy morning trip - so rainy afternoon photos will have to suffice.

Watson’s Bay Ferry

Image via Tom Häkkinen
Departing Rose Bay, Point Piper is visible to the left
and the Sydney Harbour Bridge is visible in the distance.

The Watson’s Bay Ferry serves commuters from Sydney’s Eastern suburbs ferry wharfs to Circular Quay, the main ferry terminal of Sydney and also the site where the city was originally founded. You can jump on the Watson’s Bay ferry from Double Bay, Rose Bay and Watson’s Bay, as well as Darling Point ferry wharf and also the ferry wharf at Garden Island Naval Base and it will take you direct to the city centre. It’s fast, runs on time, zooms straight past all the peak hour traffic on your way to work and you get tremendous views of Port Jackson (also known as Sydney Harbour). Only pity for tourists is that outside of peak-hour times, the service is rather infrequent.

Image via Tom Häkkinen
Fort Denison [centre] and the Sydney Opera House to
the right.

Fortunately for me I have the “onerous” task of having to cross this particular body of water on my way to school every morning. In all truthfulness it could well qualify as the highlight of my day. As hilarious as my students can be sometimes, it would take some special craziness from the students to top this view everyday. I enjoy seeing the deep blue of the water on a clear day, and passing Fort Denison, the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. I also have a particular fondness for the two islands in the middle of the harbour which I pass but never set foot on, maybe it’s the influence of Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Treasure Island” on a young and impressionable mind, but I can’t help but feel a particular fascination for all types of islands. Fittingly for a Robert Louis Stevenson fantasy one is named “Shark Island”, the other has been dubbed the infinitely more mundane “Clark Island”.

Image via Tom Häkkinen
The cruise ship Europa moored at Circular Quay
International Passenger Terminal

Occasionally I might also spot floating into the city one morning, the bloated carcass of a leviathan. Upturned, grotesque white belly bulging into the air, dwarfing nearby buildings, while underneath, the cool navy blue is just visible along the water line. Although called cruise ships, as a conurbation of some 2000-5000 people, they may as well fit the geographer’s definition of a medium-sized town. Ever since the Diane Brimble scandal, I can’t help but associate these massive ships with a certain decadence and the faint reek of death. Thus, the glistening white of their exteriors is but further testament to their ossification and the otherwise innocent circling of the seagulls above the harbour now takes-on a more a sinister hue.

Image via Tom Häkkinen
Two ferries passing by.

Still, vibrant, young Sydney has life enough to spare without begrudging the cashed-up new arrivals their share. Only sometimes I wonder at what it must be like for those small Pacific Islands whose population doubles with the arrival of such a ship and are thus stuck in a grim dance with death, dependant as they are on the tourist dollar, but finding nevertheless that like an addictive drug, this same source of nourishment cheapens and destroys their culture.