The Manly-Sydney ferry

Manly beach

Manly
By Stan Morse
November 26, 1997

I've come to Manly for two days. Just half an hour by ferry from Circular Quay in Sydney, Manly is a beach Community of 63,000 which straddles the slender northern spit of the harbor's mouth.

As our green and yellow ferry churns backwater near the dock, my attention is caught by a large building called "OCEANWORLD" with a sign proclaiming, "Shark Feeding 11:15 AM, 2 PM, 4 PM." I'll skip this spectacle. Sharks ripping up meat isn't an image I want to carry as I strap on scuba tanks in two weeks for a first-time dive on the Great Barrier Reef.

It's lobster bisque for lunch, then sipping a dry red wine while gazing from Manly Pier across the ruffled blue water of the harbor. As the sun brightens away a few low clouds, I wonder what the world has come to, and where it is headed. Today's Sydney Morning Herald proclaims that Muslim extremists have killed 70 tourists at the Valley of the Queens.

At the start of this trip I promised to listen for the voice of fear. And here it is, in Egypt, where I'd hoped to see the pyramids, the Sphinx. A cruise on the Nile seemed so promising. But it would now be foolish to go there -- an American in a wheelchair. I might as well wear a neon sign flashing, "VICTIM."

The next morning, I'm sipping "flat white" (Australian, for coffee with milk), and eating apple strudel in a French patisserie. The stars were bright last night, and their promise of a fine day is kept. A cloudless high of 80. A whisper of breeze blowing in from the Pacific. A nice day to let the mind drift, the body relax.

I'm still in the holding pattern caused by my Honolulu headcold and my failure to find a ship to Australia; waiting out four weeks until my Barrier Reef dives, and the adventures to follow. But if you have to wait, being in a seaside town at the start of summer is the place to do it.

Lunch comes easy on the pedestrian mall between the harbor and the ocean. Passing a gauntlet of restaurants: Italian, Moroccan, Japanese, Thai, Philippine and nouveau Australian (kangaroo and crocodile highlight that menu), I settle for "Dong Dong Noodles" because it has nice furniture and looks clean. The restrooms are unfortunately up a flight of stairs, but it's no great inconvenience. There are accessible -- and remarkably clean -- public toilets nearby.

Australians make a sincere effort to accommodate the disabled. Curb cuts abound. Trains and ferries are accessible, though few busses are. And when older buildings have a step or two at the door, Aussies on the street willingly lend me a hand. It's not a "perfect" world, but it certainly is a "workable" world, and that's what counts.