God's Plans

In 2004, Rick was due for his first sabbatical after seven years of ministry in the United Church of Christ in the States.  He wanted to experience ministry in a different country and culture, but was limited by language and a wife who sought a familiar culture.  So he focused his energies on finding a suitable short-term ministry exchange in the British Isles.   

But God had other plans.  Off our family of four went on a wonderful 10-week exchange in Sydney, Australia, a place we had frankly never even considered visiting.   We loved the experience, but eagerly returned home to the States, settled nicely back into life there and added a child to the brood.

But then, in 2005, we were approached with a life-altering question: “Have you ever considered actually coming to live in Sydney?”  Quite frankly, the answer was “no”.  We had never envisioned raising our family outside of the United States.  Sure, as a ministry family, we recognized that we would likely not live the remainder of our lives in Connecticut, but early on in our young family’s life, I made clear to Rick that his next call needed to be east of the Mississippi, because I needed to be geographically close to my family.

But God had other plans.  It was an opportunity, an adventure, a calling that we couldn’t pass up.  So, in January 2007, we set sail for Sydney’s shores with a five-year call for Rick to serve as Ministry Team Leader at West Epping Uniting Church.  Over the past five and half years, we settled comfortably into our lives here in Sydney and grew in unimaginable ways in our faith, family and marriage.  We loved exploring the Australian culture and country and rejoiced in watching our children thrive in their school and our community.  Through his ministry at West Epping, Rick experienced enormous challenge, inspiration, blessing and growth.  We reunited with our families at least once a year in the northern summer months, and enjoyed visits from family members here in Sydney. 

We liked our life and work so much that we were tempted to explore remaining here for a bit longer, but we ultimately decided that West Epping was ready for new leadership and we were ready to return to the States to be closer to family.  At the beginning of 2011, we began the search for churches in the UCC and set our sights on a transition back to the States at the end of the year.

But God had other plans.  Most unexpectedly, Rick was approached to consider an amazing leadership opportunity within the Uniting Church in Sydney.  We were, as Australians like to say, gobsmacked by the fit of the opportunity with Rick’s gifts, vision and sense of call.  And I was incredibly torn between the desire to be closer to family and the knowledge deep in my heart that God’s calling for Rick was so evident in this turn of events.  After much conversation, deliberation and prayer, we pulled Rick’s name out of some very promising positions in the States to open him up to the possibility of this placement.

And so we find ourselves, after an excruciatingly long period of uncertainty and upheaval in our lives, finally able to share that Rick has been called to serve as the new Senior Minister of Wesley Mission here in Sydney. 

Wesley Mission is the largest Uniting Church in Australia with 12 services every week (in five languages) at the Wesley Centre downtown (along with more than 40 other services at its centres caring for the homeless, the disabled, the aged and others needing special care).  In his new role, Rick will be providing leadership, support and encouragement to Wesley Mission’s worship communities, ministers, pastors and chaplains.  He will also be sharing in the leadership of the 6pm Praise, Prayer and Preaching service with the Superintendent, Rev Dr Keith Garner and nurturing the growth of the Mission’s Chapel in the City. 

What’s really remarkable about Wesley Mission though is not the number of worshipers “in the pews;” it’s the way the church’s worship life is interwoven with its service life. The reach of this church’s ministry of care is phenomenal, including suicide prevention, homeless services, mental health services, youth mentoring and foster care programs, a wide range of counselling services, child and family services, employment services, outdoor ministry, addiction treatment and aged care services throughout New South Wales and beyond.  With nearly 2,000 staff and 3,000 volunteers, it’s really not like any church we’ve ever encountered. 

Rick’s new position is going to be an enormous challenge for him and a big adjustment for our family.  But it seems to me that this is exactly the kind of ministry God has prepared Rick for and called him to.  It’s almost like God had it planned or something.

We will continue to live close to the kids’ school and travel home every year to be with our families.  Along with us, the kids also share a desire to return to America on some levels (particularly when it comes to living closer to cousins and grandparents, and of course, the land of Disney), but they are happy to remain in Australia living a pretty great life.

But what about the future further down the track?  Erin is almost 12 and will head to high school next year- what happens when she’s ready to move off to college?  Will the kids want to stay here for university, or head off to American schools?  Will they identify more with Australia than America?  What if someday, Rick and I would like to return to the States, but our children want to remain here?  What will become of us?

No worries, we’re learning. 

God’s got the plans. 

A Colonial Excursion

This past Wednesday, I accompanied Claire and the rest of the third graders from her school on an excursion (otherwise known to Americans as a “field trip”) to supplement their classroom study of early Australian history. I was pleased to be able to go along, not only because I value being engaged with my children’s school, but because they were going to places in Sydney that I have wanted to visit to learn more about Australia’s colonial history: Elizabeth Farm and Old Government House.

To immerse themselves in the experience, each child was encouraged to dress up as an assigned historical character. To study early American history as a schoolchild in the United States, you might dress as a brave Revolutionary War soldier, or a hard-working pioneer woman. Perhaps a religiously-inspired pilgrim or a storied Native American chief. Maybe a revered founding father or a courageous explorer.

In Australia, you dress as a convicted criminal.

I do not recall knowing, until I actually traveled here, that Australia was originally established as a British penal colony. In the late 1700s and into the 1800s, Britain unloaded its overflowing goals (jails) via sentences of “transportation” for both petty and major crimes. The “First Fleet” of convicts arrived in the area now known as Sydney in 1788 after a torturous sea journey full of death, disease and deplorable conditions. The convicts, the marines and the marine’s families faced tremendous difficulties similar to those faced by the first colonizers in America (starvation, disease, and understandable resistance from the local indigenous population, to name a few). Over time, a successful penal colony was established with a system of convict labour in which convicts provided labour according to their skills, regardless of their crime.

The kids really enjoyed getting into their characters. My little convict was a 20 year old “fancy trimmer” and sometimes maid named Eliza Brown who had stolen linen as her crime. Much to my delight, we had a dress that my mother had made for me in 1976 for the bicentennial celebrations in the US. We supplemented with white linens for an apron and head covering. Many of the girls managed to find little pudding caps, and long skirts and aprons were plentiful. A lot of the boys wore vests and hats, with black arrows painted on their clothes. The arrows perplexed me until another parent explained that the arrows were used to mark a convict’s clothes.

The kids truly had a wonderful day immersed in colonial culture. At Elizabeth Farm, the cook and butler took the convict labour through their paces while explaining the lives of convicts in colonial Australia. They prepared the house and food for the governor’s visit in 3 days time: churning butter, sifting flour, grinding spices, examining the garden, setting the table, doing the laundry and working around the house. Upon completion of their tasks, they earned themselves a “ticket of leave”, which granted them certain freedoms, as they had shown with good behaviour that they could be trusted with increased freedom. At Old Government House, along with a tour of the home of former colonial governors, the children and their chaperones were subjected to classroom instruction under the austere tutelage of Mrs. Johnson, a schoolteacher from 1815. She even had the adults quaking in their boots with her intimidating presence and her stern questioning about pounds, pennies and farthings and the tens times tables. I honestly feared that if she called on me, I wouldn’t know how to respond. I was impressed with how well the kids did under her dramatic pressure.

Up until the 1960s or so, Australians were uncomfortable with their convict past and super-sensitive about their inauspicious beginnings. However, in recent times there has been a turnabout in this mindset, so much so that it has become a matter of Aussie pride if you can trace your family history to a convict ancestor.

Engaging children in Australia’s convict beginnings allows them to take ownership of a unique and distinctive heritage. Good on ya Australia!

Eliza Brown, criminal

The butler and cook survey the sorry lot of labour.

Learning about the jobs in the kitchen.

Sifting the flour to remove the bits of leaves, sticks and (ewww!) weevils.

Setting the table for the grand dinner.

Scrubbing the laundry.

Mrs. Johnson's classroom.

Check out those attentive faces!

Cheers, Anne

A Rainbow Run

A week ago, my spirit soared to the mountaintops.

When I was a teenager, I discovered that I really enjoyed running. I ran cross country and track, and over the years, it has been the form of exercise that I always return to, even if I’ve taken a sabbatical every once in a while. I have come to understand that it is simply a therapy that helps me keep my life in order, by giving me a discipline and an enforced quiet solitude for processing my thoughts of the day.

I’ve never been concerned about being particularly fast or competitive, but I’ve always been intrigued by the distance of the marathon, the 26.2 mile holy grail of the running community. Since my children arrived, I have run two half-marathons, and achieved my only goal- to feel strong and well-trained. But I wasn’t completely convinced my life or my body had a marathon in it.

When our baby Lachlan headed off to full-day kindergarten this year (sniff- sniff!), I knew that it was now or never to give it a try. If I couldn’t figure out how to train with all three kids in school fulltime, and no work outside the home yet, I knew it would never happen.

While I would have loved to run the Sydney Marathon because of our affection for our adopted home, the only marathon that fit around our travel schedule this year was Canberra. Canberra is the capital of Australia (I know there are more than a few of you out there living outside of Australia, like a friend who will remain nameless, who believe that the capital is Melbourne or Sydney...) and like Washington DC was a planned city. Upon federation of the Australian colonies, Canberra was chosen as the site for the new capital. It was planned to be a city with large bands of green space, wide boulevards lined with large buildings, formal parks and water features, including the central feature of a large lake.

Canberra was completely panned by Bill Bryson in his travel book In A Sunburned Country, so we purposely avoided it during our first trip here, even though it is only 3 1/2 hours southwest of Sydney. What a shame! We have now discovered that it is a beautiful city full of amazing museums (Questacon puts any science museum I’ve ever visited to shame, and the Australian War Memorial Museum is the most powerful commemoration to the sacrifice of war we’ve ever experienced), great restaurants and miles and miles of family-friendly bike paths.

Last April, we made a family trip to Canberra during the April school holidays. But it was an angst-filled trip, as my mother was in the last days of her life. While Rick kept the kids occupied at the sights, I spent hours on the phone with my Dad and sister, agonizing over the decision not to return home until after she died, looking into travel arrangements and saying my final farewell to her. It was an excruciating time. As I trained, it occurred to me that the return to Canberra, at the exact same time of year, could be very therapeutic.

The girls biking in Canberra last year.

The race started at 7am on a Sunday morning. I must admit that in the days leading up to the race, my nerves were frazzled in anticipation, but by Saturday, I was starting to calm down, ready to just enjoy some time with my family. Saturday afternoon we drove down, checked out the route (yay- flat, flat, flat!), and had a carb-filled meal at our favourite Italian restaurant.

On Sunday morning, I rose before the crack of dawn with butterflies in my stomach and got myself moving- by daybreak, the predicted rain clouds were starting to roll in. As I looked out the window before I headed out for my walk from our hotel to the starting line, a rainbow appeared in the sky. My lingering doubts immediately disappeared, and were replaced with a sense of joy and peace, as I knew that my mother was smiling her love, enthusiasm and encouragement on me. A year earlier, minutes before Dad and Katherine phoned me to tell me of Mom’s death, I had experienced an inexplicable urge to sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” to comfort a grieving Claire, and then a rainbow appeared in the sky around the time of their call.

As I walked to the start, the image of the full rainbow embraced me, and was a strong encouraging presence throughout the race, urging me on. For the first 6 mile loop, we circled up around Parliament House. We then ran over a bridge across the lake and headed west, looped back and over another bridge, past my very vocal and soggy cheering section (Rick is famous around these parts for his enthusiastic and booming cheering at the girls’ soccer games!), before heading out for another loop. Unbelievably, I felt strong the entire way, never hitting a wall or feeling too exhausted to move on. I crossed the finish line in 4 hours and 10 minutes, the very best time I could have hoped for, feeling incredibly sore but strong and absolutely ecstatic.

We were all relieved to find that I still had enough energy to spend the afternoon at the National Museum of Australia before we drove back to Sydney. It happened to be the one day for a free Irish festival highlighting the museum’s “Irish in Australia” exhibit, complete with live music and dancing and free entry to the exhibit. The mood was incredibly celebratory and a perfect top-off for the day.

And wouldn't you know, starting this Sunday, I'll be accompanying my Dad on a trip to Ireland, a place that he and Mom had always wanted to see. We'll keep an eye out for rainbows....

One Heck of a Determined Lady

Yesterday, we celebrated the life of my mother, Priscilla, who died on April 15, 2010 after an amazing 23-year battle with breast cancer. Over the past year, I often thought about writing a blog entry about Mom. But what to share? Her zest for life? Her defiance of the odds? How we met the challenges of living halfway around the world from her? The profound impact that she had on our lives? How much we miss her? How truly blessed and grateful I feel that I had an encouraging, enthusiastic, spirited mother? Perhaps because there was so MUCH to say, I chose to write nothing at all.

But yesterday, I realized that, for the purposes of this blog, where I highlight our experiences in Australia, what I needed to do was to celebrate Mom's determined, adventuresome spirit. She was always eagerly embracing new experiences, even if they weren't originally in her life plan. She had never really thought about coming to Australia (although she did have a lifelong dream of snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef, which she got to do on her first visit here to see us in 2004), but when we moved here, she turned much of her traveling energies to experiencing life in Australia.

And so, to celebrate Mom's spirit, I've decided to share some images from her time in Australia. It astonishes and inspires me to recall that she was undergoing active treatment for breast cancer that had spread to her bones and liver during all this time:

Mom and Dad arrive at the Sydney Airport in 2007 after our move. Ah, the victory of surviving the 21-hour flight!

The joy of reunion.

Making an Easter Garden with Oma during our first Easter in Australia.

Mom and Dad's 3rd trip to Sydney in 2008- exploring the museums of Australia's capital, Canberra.

2009- On the Harbour with Mom's sister Martha and her daughter Becca. Mom made sure to see at least one show at the Opera House (which showcases much more than opera) every time she visited.

En route on a 3-day roadtrip down to Victoria in 2009- Pebbly Beach on the coast south of Sydney, where the kangaroos come right up to the beach.

At my mother's cousin's home in Ocean Grange in the Gippsland Lakes Region of Victoria.

Mom and Dad on Ninety-Mile Beach in Victoria

January 2010- Floating in our backyard pool during her last visit with us. She received a blood transfusion so that she could be away from her US treatment for 3 weeks. During this visit, she started suffering the pain that signified that her cancer had finally become too aggressive to manage. But she was determined to make her way to the pool, and enjoyed the freedom of floating with the kids.

Prior to Mom and Dad's 2010 arrival, we had planned a trip to Tasmania (the island state south of the Australian mainland) for all of us. Despite the pain, she insisted we go forward with the trip- ironically, the most ambitious of all her travels here.

The Freycinet Peninsula in eastern Tasmania. Thanks to wheelchair-friendly paths, we were able to enjoy this view together. The kids had a great time taking turns pushing Oma's wheelchair.

Browsing the Salamenca Market in Hobart. Much of the Tasmania trip was spent seeking medical help for Mom's pain and fatigue, but after receiving some positive medical news on this particular morning, she rallied and we had a lovely time wandering.

Mom's last "Australian" experience was a visit to the Chinese Garden in Sydney, an oasis in the middle of a bustling city. I had known Mom would love it because of the joy she found in gardening. We relished the peaceful tranquility after the strains and stressors of the last three weeks. But sadly, the tearoom closed its doors just as our family arrived for afternoon tea. I was thoroughly disappointed that my mother, who loved her tea, missed out.

Over the past year, as I thought about what we might do to mark the anniversary of her death, it dawned on me that we needed to return to the Garden, to wander its peaceful paths and soak in its beauty, remembering the joy it had brought to all of us. To celebrate Mom and her determination, and complete her Australian adventures, we would enjoy a lovely tea in the tearoom.

And so we did.

Peace, Anne

Our Love Affair

Today is Australia Day, Australia’s national holiday that celebrates what’s great about Australia and being Australian. Like the 4th of July in the US, it’s a day full of outdoor concerts, barbecues, family and community celebrations and fireworks, and lots of Australian flag-themed t-shirts, hatwear, tattoos and beachwear. And, with Rick’s contract up on December 31 this year, today is quite possibly the last Australia Day that we will spend Down Under. It’s got me reflecting on the Australia that we have fallen in love with.

You would have to be living under a rock to have missed hearing about Oprah’s Ultimate Australian Adventure, her recent four-part television event during which she repeatedly declared her LOVE for Australia. It was an eight-day adventure that had her travelling to some of Australia’s great tourist attractions, like the Great Barrier Reef and Uluru. She held two of her shows on the forecourt of the Sydney Opera House (renamed the “Sydney Oprah House” for her visit), interviewing famous Australians like Steve Irwin’s family, Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban and Russell Crowe. And she showered her largesse and generosity on some she encountered, with many weepy made-for-Oprah moments.

Because we too are Americans who LOVE Australia in our own gushy sort of way, we sat down as a family to watch the shows. Although she certainly shared some of the magnificent and exotic beauty of this country, and she was able to touch on some of the cultural aspects that define Australia (Terry Irwin’s tearful reflection on the core value of “mateship” really spoke to me), I was disappointed to come away with an overall feeling that she didn’t capture OUR Australia. Perhaps it was the slick advertising (and too much of it!) or the inherent limitations of an eight-day excursion, but it was too much video travel brochure for me. I wanted to see our Australia there, to proclaim to all the world why we have fallen in love.

But, I suppose that our Australia can only be appreciated after setting down roots and experiencing the everyday- not an experience that many Americans will get. The first thing that struck us about Australia, and continues to strike us to this day, is the authentic hospitality and openness of the Australian people. While I am generally a reserved and quiet person who likes to keep to myself, after four years of constant exposure to people genuinely welcoming me into conversation wherever I go, from the neighbourhood to the shops, sport and school, I have developed a legitimate outgoing streak. A few weeks ago while we were travelling on a ferry on Sydney Harbour, my sister was shocked to find me engaged in animated conversation with a stranger I had just met, a Guatemalan linguistics professor who worked at a local university. Where had her shy and retiring sister gone?

Another characteristic we have come to appreciate is the egalitarian nature of the society. The belief that everyone should be given a “fair go” is a key ethos of Australian culture. Australia provides universal health care, and we have had enough encounters with the health system to be very pleased with the quality of the health professionals and the care we’ve received. Higher education is affordable because of government subsidy- we’ve never heard anyone agonize over the cost of higher education. Tipping is essentially unheard of, although restaurants often have the “tip” line on their checks, hopeful to catch tourists unawares, I suppose. Service industry workers, like hairdressers, waiters and taxi-drivers are not looked down upon as “lesser”, but treated as equals and paid a fair wage.

We have truly valued the education our children are receiving here. Perhaps influenced by the laidback and open nature of the people, schools seem to be more open and accessible. While in the US we are used to lining up outside the main school door to greet our children as they emerge from enclosed buildings, here the parents gather in the courtyards and open spaces outside individual classroom doors. This means that you get a chance to regularly watch the children’s interactions with their teachers, as well as get a chance to have short chats with the teachers on the veranda steps. We LOVE school uniforms, which promote the egalitarian ethos and encourage community spirit. I am not looking forward to readjusting to life without them.

Although we would like to see smaller class sizes (Erin’s 4th grade class had 31 kids last year), we have been impressed with classroom discipline and the quality of teaching. In a refreshing departure from the madness about the separation of church and state in America’s classrooms, children are offered scripture classes every Thursday morning from a faith of the parents' choosing (or they can choose a non-scripture activity instead). And it is not at all uncommon for children to miss 2 or 3 weeks of school because they are travelling with their families on domestic or international trips, either back to home countries like India or China (or America!), or for family adventure.

We have also observed that life in Australia is simply more family-friendly. The standard entitlement for annual leave is four weeks (and everyone takes it.) Long service leave is also standard- about 13 weeks of leave is accrued once an employee is with an employer for 10 years. And while there seems to be some movement to increase working hours (trying, sadly, it appears, to adopt the American mindset), it is being strongly resisted. Australia also provides government support payments to families with children (sadly, not to its temporary resident visa holders). Working parents (men or women, as I understand it) are also entitled to one full year of leave after having a baby, with 18 weeks paid by the government at minimum wage.

There is one big problem, though. And that is that Australia is so far away from our families, and indeed most of the world. I don’t know- perhaps that is one thing that has allowed its culture to develop so uniquely. So despite our deep love affair with this country, culture and people, the US still calls us to return to our roots.

But no worries, mate. We'll still call Australia home.

.

A New Year's Eve in Sydney

Dad and the kids

My dad ticked an item off his bucket list two nights ago.

Since my mother died in April, Dad has been determined to see Sydney’s New Year’s Eve fireworks display up close. I am not sure whether this was a lifelong interest, but over the past couple of years, I know that it was mentioned more than once. But it was never a priority enough for my mother to get them out of the US immediately after Christmas so that they could make it here in time.

Although we assured him that the view from the tv screen was more than adequate, and far preferable to the crowds we would encounter, he was adamant. He was not to be deterred from this life goal. He paid a couple hundred extra dollars to leave New York City a few days before my sister and nephew, who are also visiting in January. Even a two-day delay out of New York City due to blizzard conditions seemed to strengthen his resolve, arriving just one day early on the 30th.

One of the attractions that makes Sydney Harbour so beautiful is that there is a huge amount of land that is set aside as parkland, reserve, or is otherwise open to the public. While crazy numbers of people make their way to the Opera House forecourt (look for it on Oprah!) or Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair for unobstructed viewing and partying, we decided to seek out one of the more family-friendly and theoretically alcohol-free sites. So, armed with our picnic dinner, two lawnchairs and a blanket, we made our way to the train at about 5pm. We got off at a train station that was a short walk from a park on Lavendar Bay, just northwest of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. We joined the masses setting up their blankets, chairs and tents at a spot with a lovely, close-up view.

It is important to note that December 31 was a gorgeous, sunny, hot summer day here in Sydney. The sky was perfectly clear, and the sun was just getting low enough that it wasn’t scorching hot (Australian sun is INTENSE). Remembering waiting until the last possible minute to brave the freezing wind chill at Boston’s First Night to view the midnight fireworks, we relished being able to luxuriate in the warmth and beautiful blooming gardens all around us.

Fortunately for us less hardy members of the family, Sydney is also a very family-friendly place. At 9pm, they have a family fireworks display, which meant that the kids and I could come along and see the show, and then head home, while the hardier (and more determined) members could stay until midnight. At exactly 8:45, red smoke lit up the bottom of the bridge, and a firework or two was set off to prime the crowd. At 9, the display began, including the display of the symbol on the bridge, which was an “X” for a “Make Your Mark” theme. It was, quite frankly, about the most fantastic fireworks show I think I’ve seen. One of the neat things about the fireworks is that they are spread out over numerous spots in the Harbour, including some of the buildings, lighting up great lengths of sky and sea. And we all enjoyed seeing the “X” turn into a giant red smiley face, and then an “Oooo” face with a rounded mouth, as the display neared the end. A little Aussie light-heartedness to finish off the show.

Afterwards, three tired children and a satisfied mother headed back north to Epping, with a slightly later bedtime than expected after an unintentional detour down the wrong train line. Dad and Rick stayed on. From all reports, the midnight display was beyond spectacular. Rick later recalled that during the finale, he was just so awe-inspired by the way the whole sky and harbour lit up, and the booming filled his chest, that he found himself involuntarily grinning.

But the best report of all? When I groggily greeted Rick as he crawled into bed at 1:30am, he simply replied:

“Your Dad is very happy.”

Camping on Cockatoo

Since we have moved to Australia, we have slowly developed an interest in camping as a family. This unified interest has taken time to develop. While I grew up camping with my family, Rick’s family tended towards B and B’s and cottages. Rick envisioned tents and campers packed together like sardines in a crowded campground and found that vision incredibly unappealing. I was eager to recapture treasured childhood memories of camping in the US National Parks and meandering across the US in the trusty VW camper, but cringed at the recollections of my harried mother trying to cook a meal in that tiny camper with the family crammed around her as the rain bucketed down outside. But we know that we are going to have to start camping if we want to explore some of the more remote areas of Australia that we are eager to see.

Fortuitously, an opportunity came along to join good friends for a night of camping on Cockatoo Island. How can one resist the novelty of camping on an island with a view of the Harbour Bridge in what is arguably the world’s most beautiful harbour? And better yet, camping with two other families would help ease the transition to outdoor living because they were sure to remember the items that we were likely to forget, and could give us guidance on tented living.

So, on a Saturday morning in November, we drove through the exclusive suburb of Hunters Hill (I gave a wave in what I thought might be the general direction of Cate Blanchett’s home) and arrived at the Woolwich ferry dock. All hands were required to carry the camping supplies one stop to the island. We were delighted to find that we had been assigned a spot right at the edge of the water and hauled our gear over in large trolleys provided for that purpose to set up our tents.

Cockatoo Island has an intriguing history. After the British arrived to found their penal colony in 1788, the island was chosen to house the country’s most dangerous convicts, and the convicts were forced to construct their own prison. Later, a reformatory school for girls was run there. In addition, it also became an important industrial and shipbuilding centre for the Royal Navy. During WWII, it became the major shipbuilding and dockyard facility for the South West Pacific following the fall of Singapore. In 1992, the dockyard closed (the prison had long ceased operating). Now facilities are being restored by the government, and activities are being held to attract the public. I wonder who came up with the idea of setting up a campground? That’s certainly thinking outside the box!

In the afternoon, we took a self-guided tour of the island to explore the buildings and ruins and the tunnels connecting the two sides of the island, and delighted to come across a man asking his girlfriend to marry him up in the Military Guardhouse with a lovely picnic and a sign spelling out in rose petals “MARRY ME”. I’m pretty sure that the hearty applause of 14 onlookers was not what they expected after their passionate embrace! We later saw a skywriting plane spell out "Marry Me Jax" and figured it was pretty fortunate that she had said yes earlier- otherwise, that skywriting would have been a bit of an embarassment. Later, we simply sat and visited, enjoying our front row view of the sailboats continually capsizing in the water as the winds picked up.

By dinnertime, the campground was full of tents, and the atmosphere became almost festival- like, with groups of campers enjoying each other’s company as they munched on nibbles and barbecued their dinners on the electric BBQ's. Outdoor living is something that Australians do so well. Almost every park has an electric BBQ or two- this camping facility had 8 grouped together, and people stood around and chatted as they grilled their Aussie BBQ standard beef sausages (mind you, this campground also had a huge fridge, four washing-up sinks, a microwave, and an instant hot water tap- we weren’t exactly roughing it).

As we ate our dinner, we became aware that the increasing winds seemed to be reaching gale force, and our tents at the unsheltered waterfront were starting to lose the battle. We tried to fortify them with guide ropes (thank goodness for those veteran campers!), but our flimsy nylon tents did not stand a chance, and they simply flattened with the wind. Finally, when the tent pole of one of the families in our party snapped, we decided to haul all the tents back into a more sheltered area, where the winds were still blowing, but not flattening, our tents.

I cannot say for certain that I got one wink of sleep that night. The lack of a pillow (I decided they were too much to carry, but I’m now willing to revisit that decision), the whipping winds and the unusual surroundings all conspired to keep me awake. But as I relished the aroma of everyone's early morning eggs and bacon sizzling on the BBQs and downed my much-needed cups of coffee, I couldn’t help thinking what a great adventure this was for our family. How many American kids (or adults, for that matter) will get a chance to camp in the middle of Sydney Harbour and explore Sydney’s convict history? And maybe now that we’ve taken our first camping step, we’ll feel brave enough to move on to more extensive camping trips- exploring more of the remote areas of Australia, and filling our family life with memories of more adventure.

Erin gives a try to hauling our camping gear in the trolley...

...but returning the trolley to its dockside location was a lot more fun!

The view of the Harbour Bridge from Cockatoo Island.

A view of the campground from above.

The girls loved having their own tent!

Cheers,

Anne