Salmon and Sardines

A Random Walk

My apartment on Kent Street is four blocks west and roughly seven blocks south of the ThoughtWorks office on Pitt Street. My first week in Sydney I'm working in the TW office. Morning and evening I explore Sydney by a series of random walks governed by the state of the traffic lights at each intersection I come to. As I walk to and from work I take the direction with the first green light and thereby explore most of the rectangle defined by work and home. My commute has a casino flavour to it, every corner a two-up game.

The Back Entrance

My second week in Sydney I discover what seems to be a convenient shortcut from my apartment on Kent Street through to the office on Pitt Street. There's a back entrance to Wynyard Station on Kent Street. Traversing a fairly narrow passageway, I come to a pair of escalators one of which takes me down towards the station. Skirting the station and angling left I can wheel my laptop case up the gentle incline of the Met Centre shopping mall through to George Street, avoiding stairs and several sets of traffic lights.

I am a Salmon

I discover the drawbacks of the Wynyard route the first time I attempt it at peak hour. Coming back from George Street I flow with the crowd through the mall as far as the station. As I round the station proper I am suddenly confronted by an onrushing horde of pedestrians. I feel like a salmon battling upstream as I struggle against the oncoming masses. Reaching the escalators, I am dismayed to see they are both running downwards into the station. I am forced to battle both the crowds and the force of gravity as I haul my heavy bag up the long flight of stairs.

Bargers and Saunterers

I worked in the city in Canberra before coming to Sydney. The pedestrian traffic in the centre of Canberra bears little resemblance to the masses of people I'm commuting with in Sydney. I have to develop new techniques to cope with the various classes of people on the streets.

The smokers are easy to deal with. I learn to hold my breath as I see one approaching, and exhale slowly as the plume of carcinogens envelopes me.

Then there are the saunterers. These are the folk without a care in the world, who amble slowly along, building up a backlog of frustrated commuters behind them. There are several classes of saunterers; the chatting saunterer (face to face and mobile) the texting saunterer (usually mobile, but at least one genuine book reader); the window shopping saunter; the gawking tourist saunterer (guilty, yer honour!). After missing several walk signals stuck behind saunterers, I learn to duck behind a barger and follow in their wake as they forge through.

A barger disregards anything in their path. They are determined to get to where they're going without deviation or pause. Bargers also come in several flavours;
the white rabbit barger; the oblivious barger (with their eyes fixed firmly on the ground 1 metre in front of them); the aggressive barger. I learn to spot them coming and shelter behind a light pole or in an alcove till they've passed. If they're going your way though, they do come in handy.

Sardines

I am reminded of fish again in my third week,when I start working at a client site in North Sydney. Now I have to brave the peak hour exodus from Wynyard station to take the train to North Sydney. I have discovered that the York Street entrance, though further from the apartment, is much friendlier to the few travellers swimming upstream. Of the four escalators, one is going the right way for me.

The platform is packed with people, and when the train arrives we all squeeze madly into the carriages, jammed in like so many sardines. I am fearful of being spat out like a watermelon seed when the doors open at Milson's Point.

There's a woman standing near me who complains bitterly about the state of Sydney public transport. She's not used to slumming it with the common folk. But she relieves the tension by making a risque joke when she is thrown against the young man next to her, and we have an amusing conversation for the rest of the trip.