The rain in Spain-- no, Sydney.

It's been raining since we landed. For the last three days we've been in and out of different parts of the city and suburbs, seeing sights and snapping photos while dodging the intermittent rain. This rain is hampering my shooting a bit. It's warm enough, though, for it not to be miserable. They say it's the most rain Sydney has gotten in 25 years. In this case, I'll take it as a sign that the powers that be approve of my dad and I being here. 

On our second day here, Friday, we rode the train from Chatswood, where Aunt Evelyn lives, into the city. Chatswood is apparently another suburb populated by many Chinese, on the north side of Sydney. The train is sleek, clean, modern, and a double decker. From Circular Quay (pronounced "key", meaning "harbor"), we rode a ferry to Manly. We had a view of the entire bay as the ferry sailed out-- the Opera House and Harbour Bridge being the centerpieces of a landscape dotted with sailboats and harbours, a skyline as layered and expansive as Chicago's flanked by green hillsides painted with white houses with red tiled roofs. Manly is a small beach area, and like many beaches has a street lined with shops leading you up to the sand and surf. There were a few surfers in wetsuits out there trying to make something of the half-hearted waves. We took in the scene, took some photos and it started to rain again, so we backtracked up the street and stopped for some fish and chips, which Uncle Jackson told us later was the thing Manly was known for. That explains why we saw so much of it.

When the ferry redocked at Circular Quay, we walked along the Opera Quay towards the Opera House. For a place that doesn't rain that much, many of the scenic and shop-lined walks were designed with overhangs and rain shelters that stretch out almost until you reach the intersecting walk that runs along the bay.

Again it started to pour as we neared the Opera House. It was also time for us to train it back to Gordon, where Aunt Lillian  would pick us up at 4:30 to head to another prearranged dinner, this time with Uncle Samuel's family. So, the Uncle Samuel I spoke of yesterday-- his name is actually Joseph. Ha! And he may or may not be blacklisted from China, but Aunt Lillian and Aunt Fiona definitely are. More on that later. So Samuel is Joseph's older brother, and they are both my grandmother's younger brothers. 

Uncle Samuel who is 88 married a second (one and a half?) generation Chinese-Australian woman from a rural area four hours north of Sydney. She reminds me of an old British lady and could probably pass, though she is full-blooded Chinese-- but I'm learning that the question of our blood is an area of much bemused speculation and rumor across the extended family. More on that later! 

Uncle Samuel looks more Chinese than Joseph. He looks like a cute hobbit. I hope he never reads this.

Dinner was in Chatswood at a fancy Chinese restaurant chosen by Roselyn and Janine, Uncle Samuel's daughters. It was Chinese owned and run, and the flavor profiles were more western-tasting. They also individually portioned and served each of us even though the dishes were family style. That was interesting. 

And Roslyn and Janine are lovely. I sat between them and chatted. Janine herself is leaving town next week for a five week trip across Europe and Asia! And Roslyn is a flavor scientist, so cool.

After dinner, Roslyn took us to Kirribilli which is a park across the bay from the Opera House. We saw it lit up next to the bridge. Kids were hanging about around us, reveling in their youth and the warm night, as we took in the scene. As we drove off, the rain came down as if cued.