Judy Garland and the great city of Sydney, Australia

Australia’s first and largest city is Sydney established in 1788. One can tell a great city by its buildings, museums and infrastructure and Sydney fulfills all these expectations.  When I was about eight years old in England, I spent a year in a geography class studying Australia and I remember at the end of the year I could draw the outline of the coast freehand.   In the 1970s my daughter spent her year at an English school on the geography of New Zealand.  I wonder if these studies continue at this time.  Certainly the young people in England are still fascinated with these countries “down under” and many of my friends and relatives have young relatives immigrating and starting new lives there. 

In February this year I spent five days in Sydney, Australia.  I had always wanted to visit this city after Judy’s successful concerts in 1964.

The following is an extract from my book “Always for Judy”

Judy at press reception

Judy’s television series had ended and she planned shows in Australia.   On May 11 1964 Judy and Mark Herron, her companion, arrived in Sydney along with conductor, Mort Lindsey and others. There was a large press reception at the airport and Judy seemed relaxed and happy.  In the evening she gave a press reception at the Hilton Hotel for about forty reporters, including interviews for radio and television.  

On Wednesday, May 13^th she gave a successful concert for 10,000 people at the Sydney Stadium and on May 16^th she gave an even more successful concert;  performing for more than 90 minutes singing about 23-24 songs including ‘The Man That Got Away’, ‘Swanee’, ‘When You’re Smiling’ and ‘As Long as He Needs Me’.

Performing before 10,000 people at Sports Arena

It is reported that the Immigration people confiscated Judy’s medicine.  Medicine stays in the body for a few days and Judy was fine during the Sydney concerts but she had not been able to obtain her regular medicine, probably Ritalin, in Australia.  Judy went by train to Melbourne on May 19^th which was probably a mistake and she arrived exhausted.  She attempted to give a concert the next day but it was not a success because she was unwell although she managed to get through fifteen songs.

The Melbourne Sunday Herald reported on May 20, 1964 how kindly the staff at the hotel thought of her, so the trip to Melbourne was not all bad.  They presented her with a toy koala bear and card from maids to manager, saying, “A very small Australian mascot, but a lot of good wishes.” They found her quiet, polite and agreeable and when she left she told assistant supervisor, Mr. Clarry Crew, “I really appreciate what everyone has done for me.  I think you’ve all been wonderful.  I’ve never had service like it anywhere in the world.”  These comments are important because they show how charming Judy was when she was treated with kindness.

As I lived and worked in many of the places where Judy performed, I needed to be in Sydney and understand the city and people who gave her such a great welcome.  I know you cannot understand a people until you are actually on the ground in their city.   So finally I was in Australia with Cathy and Chelsea.   Immigration and the officials are smiling and friendly.   We must seem an unlikely trio.  Cathy and Chelsea have passports from New Zealand, I have a U.S. passport but I am obviously English.  Cathy and I have the same coloring and could be related, but Chelsea is exotic with dark, dark hair and a very pale complexion.  Somehow we don’t have the correct entry forms and rush to try and fill them in standing in front of the Immigration Officer.  Now I have gone through many Immigration check points and the officials are usually very formal and impersonal.  This man was very tolerant of our confusion and it was as much as he could do not to laugh out loud.   

In the fifties about 90% of the population were from Britain and Ireland – the rest being the first immigrants, the Aborigines.   After this time the government made a concerted effort to increase immigration and many people came from Eastern Europe and Asia.  But when Judy performed in Sydney the majority of the people would have been British.  These were the same people who had greeted her in London in 1951, 1957 and 1960; the same people who had loved her in the MGM musical and listened to her recordings through the years.   No wonder her concerts were so successful.

But then there is Melbourne.  There has always been animosity between the two cities, particularly on the part of Melbourne.  I caught an example of this attitude at Sydney airport on my way home.  I was waiting with a lady who had flown up from Melbourne and when I asked about her town, she said, “Oh I love it, so such a beautiful civilized city so cultured, not like Sydney” which she dismissed as being rough and uncouth.  This might help to explain why the people of Melbourne did not welcome her with open arms the way Sydney did.  If Sydney liked her, they would not.   But the main entry point into Australia was Sydney in 1964, as it is now and so it was logical for the first concerts to be there.   We spent the next few days exploring the exciting city with a bus and ferry pass from our hotel at Potts Point and Kings Cross Station (all stations, trains and buses are clean and well run).  

My first impression as we leave Kings Cross Station is that it reminded me of New York with beautiful trees everywhere; later I revise this to San Francisco when I see all the many beautiful bays.  

  

We have a nice clean room with two double beds and a small kitchen stocked with tea, coffee and milk.  We quickly take off with our bus pass to explore.  The 311 bus goes past our hotel and we catch a bus; where to, who knows?    Chelsea has eagle eyes and spies the Circular Quay and we get off and catch the first ferry we see, which is going to Darling Harbor. 

I am sure that if we had been on an organized tour we would have been brought to the highlights of the city quicker, but I wanted to savor the place and try to understand the people.  Our bus rides in the next few days took us all over the city, through the beautiful Royal Botanic Gardens once or twice a day.  We rode the ferry boats and talked to people; or at least I did.   Towards the end of our few days, when I had asked an old lady about the walker she used and tried it out, Chelsea commented, “you really do like to talk to people!”   People interest me and so no one is a stranger; one can learn so much from people.  One such woman talked to me for half an hour on a bus one day and I learned so much about the city.  She came from Chile and was half Spanish and half Irish; with no Indian blood she insisted with a smile.

Another day we make our way by bus to Haymarket as Chelsea wants to shop - well me too, I can always shop.  We plan to meet in 90 minutes.  I find a backpack on wheels to replace my old one - determined to travel with only this bag in the future.  At the end of 90 minutes I am completely lost and realize there are several entrances to this market and I have no idea which was our entrance.   Luckily, I had taken some photographs on the way down and someone identified our entrance.  Chelsea has bought some food.  Cathy wanted to find her nursing friend who she had not seen for twenty years, but remembers that she has a dress shop on Williams Street the Paddington area.  This is a very old area of the original city and at one time was depressed but recently has become very fashionable with haute couture dress shops.  I insist that we take a taxi because to navigate the city of Sydney as inexperienced as we are will take too long.   I’m glad because I always like talking to taxi drivers.  Sydney taxi drivers, as rather like London taxi drivers, have to be natives to navigate the haphazard streets, which go off at peculiar angles with no rhyme or reason and obviously no overall plan.   I commented on this and the taxi driver explains that we are following the paths of the old carriage roads when travel was by horse and buggies (the new immigrants are bus drivers).    He tells me that the trees were planted 2000 for the Olympic Games.  The trees are beautiful and line every main street and many side streets consequently there is shade everywhere and one can walk without sunglasses.  The taxi driver finds Williams Road and puts us down literally outside the shop of Cathy’s friend.  There is a joyful reunion with Ruth we arrange to meet the next evening.  Ruth had given up nursing a few years ago and took a clothing design course and obtained a four year degree.  She was in the haute couture business which meant she designed and hand made clothes for special customers; many of her dresses costing over $3,000 each.   This was a world I was unfamiliar with.    

  

We walk up to the high street and see a bus to Watson Bay.   “Let’s go to the beach,” I suggest. 

 It is a lovely long ride through so many different neighborhoods.  We find ourselves at this pleasant area over looking a beach and small harbor.   We find an ice cream shop and talk to a couple from England visiting their children.  The place is full of grandparents visiting their children.  We find there is a ferry boat going back to the Circular Quay.  As always Chelsea is the leader.  At some point I turn to Cathy and say, “When was this child born? “   “August” she says.  Of course, she is a Leo, I should have known.  Leos are born leaders.  We eat at the Circular Quay.  I find a large sausage roll for $4 which is a complete meal in itself. 

There is a Picasso exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales and of course we go.   It takes a big city with fore thought to bring such an exhibition from the Musee National Picasso, Paris.  The exhibition runs from November to the following March. 

Chelsea leads the way again from the bus and we walk near the beautiful Cathedral which we have passed so many times, and up the tree lined pathway to the Museum.  The exhibition is excellent and we have lunch in the museum cafe.

We find our way by bus back to Williams Street in charming Paddington, which so reminds me of New Orleans with its balconies. 

I meet two delightful Greek ladies who have been in Australia for over forty years.   One of them has a junk store set amongst the other fancy shops.  

When Ruth is finished with a client, because her customers are clients, we go down to a local pub and Chelsea and I enjoy listening to these two nurses reminisce about their training days.  They had both worked with elderly patients and very strangely Ruth turned to me at one point and started telling me this story about a patient on Ritalin. (She knew nothing about my interest in Judy and her drug problems). She told me that this poor lady had locked her medicine up for protection.  She lost the key and could not get into the box.  In her desperation for the drug she went completely mad and set herself on fire.  Ruth said it was ghastly and she considered Ritalin the most additive and most awful drug on the market.  I thought of Judy.

On our final day we take off for Taronga Zoo which is situated on 74 acres and one gets to it by ferry boat.  Most of the animals are in enclosures surrounded by moats with plenty of room to roam about in natural surroundings.  I was particularly impressed with the chimpanzees’ enclosure and I am sure Jane Goodall would love it. 

The ferry boat lands us back at Circular Quay and we are loathed to leave.  I find a sausage roll to eat again and we enjoy the atmosphere.  Cathy and Chelsea walk down to The Rocks where they can see the original houses of first settlers.  I sit and talk with a lady who lives inland and was just finishing a cruise, learning much more about life in Sydney and Australia.  We wander over to the other side of the Quay and Chelsea and Cathy talk with a Silver Man while I walk down the shops looking for some Wiggles toys for my grandson.  Instead of Wiggles I find a shop selling opals and of course I am in Australia and I must buy a necklace for myself.  I am so charmed by this city that I think I will frame a map so I can plan my next visit.

Judy Garland and the great city of Sydney, Australia

Australia’s first and largest city is Sydney established in 1788. One can tell a great city by its buildings, museums and infrastructure and Sydney fulfills all these expectations.  When I was about eight years old in England, I spent a year in a geography class studying Australia and I remember at the end of the year I could draw the outline of the coast freehand.   In the 1970s my daughter spent her year at an English school on the geography of New Zealand.  I wonder if these studies continue at this time.  Certainly the young people in England are still fascinated with these countries “down under” and many of my friends and relatives have young relatives immigrating and starting new lives there. 

In February this year I spent five days in Sydney, Australia.  I had always wanted to visit this city after Judy’s successful concerts in 1964.

The following is an extract from my book “Always for Judy”

Judy at press reception

Judy’s television series had ended and she planned shows in Australia.   On May 11 1964 Judy and Mark Herron, her companion, arrived in Sydney along with conductor, Mort Lindsey and others. There was a large press reception at the airport and Judy seemed relaxed and happy.  In the evening she gave a press reception at the Hilton Hotel for about forty reporters, including interviews for radio and television.  

On Wednesday, May 13^th she gave a successful concert for 10,000 people at the Sydney Stadium and on May 16^th she gave an even more successful concert;  performing for more than 90 minutes singing about 23-24 songs including ‘The Man That Got Away’, ‘Swanee’, ‘When You’re Smiling’ and ‘As Long as He Needs Me’.

Performing before 10,000 people at Sports Arena

It is reported that the Immigration people confiscated Judy’s medicine.  Medicine stays in the body for a few days and Judy was fine during the Sydney concerts but she had not been able to obtain her regular medicine, probably Ritalin, in Australia.  Judy went by train to Melbourne on May 19^th which was probably a mistake and she arrived exhausted.  She attempted to give a concert the next day but it was not a success because she was unwell although she managed to get through fifteen songs.

The Melbourne Sunday Herald reported on May 20, 1964 how kindly the staff at the hotel thought of her, so the trip to Melbourne was not all bad.  They presented her with a toy koala bear and card from maids to manager, saying, “A very small Australian mascot, but a lot of good wishes.” They found her quiet, polite and agreeable and when she left she told assistant supervisor, Mr. Clarry Crew, “I really appreciate what everyone has done for me.  I think you’ve all been wonderful.  I’ve never had service like it anywhere in the world.”  These comments are important because they show how charming Judy was when she was treated with kindness.

As I lived and worked in many of the places where Judy performed, I needed to be in Sydney and understand the city and people who gave her such a great welcome.  I know you cannot understand a people until you are actually on the ground in their city.   So finally I was in Australia with Cathy and Chelsea.   Immigration and the officials are smiling and friendly.   We must seem an unlikely trio.  Cathy and Chelsea have passports from New Zealand, I have a U.S. passport but I am obviously English.  Cathy and I have the same coloring and could be related, but Chelsea is exotic with dark, dark hair and a very pale complexion.  Somehow we don’t have the correct entry forms and rush to try and fill them in standing in front of the Immigration Officer.  Now I have gone through many Immigration check points and the officials are usually very formal and impersonal.  This man was very tolerant of our confusion and it was as much as he could do not to laugh out loud.   

In the fifties about 90% of the population were from Britain and Ireland – the rest being the first immigrants, the Aborigines.   After this time the government made a concerted effort to increase immigration and many people came from Eastern Europe and Asia.  But when Judy performed in Sydney the majority of the people would have been British.  These were the same people who had greeted her in London in 1951, 1957 and 1960; the same people who had loved her in the MGM musical and listened to her recordings through the years.   No wonder her concerts were so successful.

But then there is Melbourne.  There has always been animosity between the two cities, particularly on the part of Melbourne.  I caught an example of this attitude at Sydney airport on my way home.  I was waiting with a lady who had flown up from Melbourne and when I asked about her town, she said, “Oh I love it, so such a beautiful civilized city so cultured, not like Sydney” which she dismissed as being rough and uncouth.  This might help to explain why the people of Melbourne did not welcome her with open arms the way Sydney did.  If Sydney liked her, they would not.   But the main entry point into Australia was Sydney in 1964, as it is now and so it was logical for the first concerts to be there.   We spent the next few days exploring the exciting city with a bus and ferry pass from our hotel at Potts Point and Kings Cross Station (all stations, trains and buses are clean and well run).  

My first impression as we leave Kings Cross Station is that it reminded me of New York with beautiful trees everywhere; later I revise this to San Francisco when I see all the many beautiful bays.  

  

We have a nice clean room with two double beds and a small kitchen stocked with tea, coffee and milk.  We quickly take off with our bus pass to explore.  The 311 bus goes past our hotel and we catch a bus; where to, who knows?    Chelsea has eagle eyes and spies the Circular Quay and we get off and catch the first ferry we see, which is going to Darling Harbor. 

I am sure that if we had been on an organized tour we would have been brought to the highlights of the city quicker, but I wanted to savor the place and try to understand the people.  Our bus rides in the next few days took us all over the city, through the beautiful Royal Botanic Gardens once or twice a day.  We rode the ferry boats and talked to people; or at least I did.   Towards the end of our few days, when I had asked an old lady about the walker she used and tried it out, Chelsea commented, “you really do like to talk to people!”   People interest me and so no one is a stranger; one can learn so much from people.  One such woman talked to me for half an hour on a bus one day and I learned so much about the city.  She came from Chile and was half Spanish and half Irish; with no Indian blood she insisted with a smile.

Another day we make our way by bus to Haymarket as Chelsea wants to shop - well me too, I can always shop.  We plan to meet in 90 minutes.  I find a backpack on wheels to replace my old one - determined to travel with only this bag in the future.  At the end of 90 minutes I am completely lost and realize there are several entrances to this market and I have no idea which was our entrance.   Luckily, I had taken some photographs on the way down and someone identified our entrance.  Chelsea has bought some food.  Cathy wanted to find her nursing friend who she had not seen for twenty years, but remembers that she has a dress shop on Williams Street the Paddington area.  This is a very old area of the original city and at one time was depressed but recently has become very fashionable with haute couture dress shops.  I insist that we take a taxi because to navigate the city of Sydney as inexperienced as we are will take too long.   I’m glad because I always like talking to taxi drivers.  Sydney taxi drivers, as rather like London taxi drivers, have to be natives to navigate the haphazard streets, which go off at peculiar angles with no rhyme or reason and obviously no overall plan.   I commented on this and the taxi driver explains that we are following the paths of the old carriage roads when travel was by horse and buggies (the new immigrants are bus drivers).    He tells me that the trees were planted 2000 for the Olympic Games.  The trees are beautiful and line every main street and many side streets consequently there is shade everywhere and one can walk without sunglasses.  The taxi driver finds Williams Road and puts us down literally outside the shop of Cathy’s friend.  There is a joyful reunion with Ruth we arrange to meet the next evening.  Ruth had given up nursing a few years ago and took a clothing design course and obtained a four year degree.  She was in the haute couture business which meant she designed and hand made clothes for special customers; many of her dresses costing over $3,000 each.   This was a world I was unfamiliar with.    

  

We walk up to the high street and see a bus to Watson Bay.   “Let’s go to the beach,” I suggest. 

 It is a lovely long ride through so many different neighborhoods.  We find ourselves at this pleasant area over looking a beach and small harbor.   We find an ice cream shop and talk to a couple from England visiting their children.  The place is full of grandparents visiting their children.  We find there is a ferry boat going back to the Circular Quay.  As always Chelsea is the leader.  At some point I turn to Cathy and say, “When was this child born? “   “August” she says.  Of course, she is a Leo, I should have known.  Leos are born leaders.  We eat at the Circular Quay.  I find a large sausage roll for $4 which is a complete meal in itself. 

There is a Picasso exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales and of course we go.   It takes a big city with fore thought to bring such an exhibition from the Musee National Picasso, Paris.  The exhibition runs from November to the following March. 

Chelsea leads the way again from the bus and we walk near the beautiful Cathedral which we have passed so many times, and up the tree lined pathway to the Museum.  The exhibition is excellent and we have lunch in the museum cafe.

We find our way by bus back to Williams Street in charming Paddington, which so reminds me of New Orleans with its balconies. 

I meet two delightful Greek ladies who have been in Australia for over forty years.   One of them has a junk store set amongst the other fancy shops.  

When Ruth is finished with a client, because her customers are clients, we go down to a local pub and Chelsea and I enjoy listening to these two nurses reminisce about their training days.  They had both worked with elderly patients and very strangely Ruth turned to me at one point and started telling me this story about a patient on Ritalin. (She knew nothing about my interest in Judy and her drug problems). She told me that this poor lady had locked her medicine up for protection.  She lost the key and could not get into the box.  In her desperation for the drug she went completely mad and set herself on fire.  Ruth said it was ghastly and she considered Ritalin the most additive and most awful drug on the market.  I thought of Judy.

On our final day we take off for Taronga Zoo which is situated on 74 acres and one gets to it by ferry boat.  Most of the animals are in enclosures surrounded by moats with plenty of room to roam about in natural surroundings.  I was particularly impressed with the chimpanzees’ enclosure and I am sure Jane Goodall would love it. 

The ferry boat lands us back at Circular Quay and we are loathed to leave.  I find a sausage roll to eat again and we enjoy the atmosphere.  Cathy and Chelsea walk down to The Rocks where they can see the original houses of first settlers.  I sit and talk with a lady who lives inland and was just finishing a cruise, learning much more about life in Sydney and Australia.  We wander over to the other side of the Quay and Chelsea and Cathy talk with a Silver Man while I walk down the shops looking for some Wiggles toys for my grandson.  Instead of Wiggles I find a shop selling opals and of course I am in Australia and I must buy a necklace for myself.  I am so charmed by this city that I think I will frame a map so I can plan my next visit.

Second part of my New Zealand trip

It is often said that "the people of New Zealand are more English than the English,” or “New Zeland is more like England was fifty years ago.”  Both of these statements may be true.

As an anthropologist I am always fascinated on how a society or people envolve and why.  The majority of immigrants to New Zealand were British, with wave upon wave of basically kind, gentle souls (be it that they have a downer disposition caused by the miserable weather) being transported to a warm tropical climate and what happens to them?  They change into extremely outgoing, friendly people welcoming the next wave of newcomers. 

The British people love sports but they are hampered by the weather.  Not such a problem out there, cricket, soccer, rugby, hiking and sailing; beaches everywhere so everyone can have a boat if they wish.  Some of the great wins in championship sailing go to New Zealanders or Kivis as they prefer to be called.  They won the American Cup for the second year in a row in 2000.

Clive, grandchildren and Mika, John's wife. 

I found an perfect example of a new immigrant at a party at Cathy’s parents (Clive and Margaret) house for their grandchildren. They have five children over a range of years and so the grandchildren were from a 3 year-old to young grown ups in their twenties.  A young man was introduced to me and I was given a big hug.  Everyone who was there was family so I was hugged.  Later when I got to talk with him I realized from his accent that he was from Manchester, and had just arrived about ten months ago with his father.  He looked well and sun tanned.  “How do you like it?” I ask. “Oh, it is marvelous” he said.  “On Christmas Day, for example, instead of huddling over a fireplace we were out at the beach, fabulous.”  He was also dating one of the granddaughters and so had been absorbed into the new New Zealand family.  Both Cathy and her sister, Anglie, had married Englishmen.

One of the newest additions to New Zealand  and  Cathy's cousin

Maori art

Our days in Auckland were busy. One day we went out to the picturesque Piha Beach, on the west side of the island with the distinctive feature of black sand. Many artists chose to live there.  Another day we drove around the district on the water called Davenport, where early immigrants lived.  Another day we wen into the big Museum in Auckland where they have a show put on by Maori dancers.  Cathy felt it was artifical, something put on for American tourtists as the MC  had an American accent. The examples of Maori art were magnificent and I loved the boats the early explorers arrived in.   

Piha Beach

Another day Cathy dropped me off in the town and I wandered around the shops and finished up on the beach.  Cathy’s son Sam works in his father’s record/musical instrument store Marbecks, and also fixes computers and so I looked around.  They had a great selection of CDs and seem to be doing well.  Next I go into the jewelry shop where Chelsea works on Saturdays, Augerstein’s and buy a silver charm for Eliza.  I go into the newspaper shop and get an enormous weekend newspaper.  As I walk along the row of shops I sit on one of the many benches and read a piece of the newspaper before disposing of it.  There are seats everywhere, some in the sun and some in the shade.  Everything seems to be arranged for the comfort and convenience of the public.  At one point I sit and chat with a lady of my age, she is catching a bus to meet her daughter at the Westfield Mall.  She tells me about her life.  I ask about the buses, she says that seniors don’t pay for the bus, but the regular bus charge was $5 to get into Auckland.  I notice that Cathy’s boys don’t have cars.  They can either walk into the town or catch a bus.  What a savings!   

Browns Bay

I walk to the end of the row of shops and cross over the road and make my way back.  Stop for a cup of coffee, every cup of coffee I had in New Zealand and Australia was excellent.  At the junction there is a band playing country and western music and rock and roll and people strole around comfortably.  I buy stamps at the post office which is combined with the Kiwi Bank.  I move along to the beach and watch all the activity.  Families drive their boats down to the beach, unhitch, throw down an anchor and leave the children hanging on while they drive their SUVs off the beach to find a parking space.  Some bring their boats down by tractor. I am joined by a friendly couple from Bangladesh who loved New Zealand.  The young man had gone home to find a wife; they were Moslem and extremely happy  just learning they were to be parents.

Home on the beach

The next day we decided to take Chelsea to the Zoo. After our visit to Margaret and Clive and the party they were hosting for the many grandchildren, we went on to see Cathy’s aunt, sister to Clive.  The house was on the beach and naturally gorgeous.  I nearly fall out of the car.  “You didn’t tell me they were millionaires!” I exclaim to Cathy!  The house was magnificent, all  white inside and out with pale blue carpets. It is like something out of a magazine. I stagger in, “This house is marvelous, what is it worth?” I say disrespectfully.  “$2 million, $3 or maybe $4”?  They laugh and agree.  They are the sweetest and most charming couple.  They have lived all over the world, even in Northern California, and bring out a map to show me where they lived.  They are thinking of selling the house;  I tell them to keep it. 

But then it is time for Cathy, Chelsea and I to take off for Sydney.

            

Land of the Long White Cloud or Nieuw Zeeland

The first name was given to the island by the first inhabitants, the Maoris who came from Polynesian in the ninth century.  The second name was given by the first European explorers, the Dutch, who stayed only a short time being rebuffed by the Maoris.  The great British explorer, Captain James Cook arrived in 1769 and chartered both islands along with the Australian coast line.  He built up a good relationship with the Maoris and settlements began, mainly from Britain.  Currently 75% of the 3.8 million population come from England, Scotland and Ireland, 10% are Maoris and the rest from Europe and the islands. 

I’d always wanted to visit New Zealand and Australia and thanks to my friend Cathy it was finally going to happen.  I had met Cathy about 25 years ago in an English pub in Cupertino.  She was a New Zealand nurse working her way around the world and I admired her courage so much and envied her adventures.

Cathy and me in 1988 

February 2012

 

Cathy decided to stay for a while, got a job and rented a room from me for about six months before she continued her wanderings.   Eventually she married an English boy, had three children and settled back in New Zealand.   Through the years we kept in contact sporadically and I remember her hand written letters with photographs of the children; two blond boys and a dark haired girl.  About three years ago her daughter, Chelsea, found me on Facebook and our contacts were renewed.  Often I planned a trip to Australia and New Zealand but nothing ever worked out.  We had another friend from those days, Ming, English and also a nurse.  I had seen Ming often on my trips to England but I had not seen Cathy.  It is Christmas and I’m at my daughter’s house in Virginia and talking to Chelsea on Facebook, “Does your mother have Ming’s new address?”  “No, but I’ve got her phone number” Cathy calls out.  She adds, “I’ve got a spare room if you want to visit, my elder son has moved out.”   This was the motivation I needed.  “Oh I’m coming” I reply and so started the planning.

Tours in New Zealand are very expensive, they have a high standard of living (minimum wage is about $16/hour).  I decided that the South Island, although very beautiful, may be too strenuous for me to tackle, with mountains and fantastic scenery.   There seemed enough in the way of museums to keep me interested in Auckland and I really wanted to know about Cathy’s family and life. I had met her parents, Margaret and Clive Lawrence when they came over to California  many years ago.  But I really needed a tiny taste of Australia and I wanted to see where Judy (Garland) had performed in May 1964.  “Will you come to Sydney with me for a few days?”  “Sure” she replied, “but Chelsea wants to come too”  Naturally, why wouldn’t a 15 year old want to go.  Then started the planning.  I had joined a new writing group and they had a meeting on the Saturday so I planned to leave on the  Sunday.  Two weeks later my son had a big concert on the Monday at his high school so I would fly back on the Sunday.  Just two weeks!  I found a flight from San Francisco to Auckland – just 13 hours, I could manage that.  I would leave on Sunday afternoon and arrive at 5 am on Tuesday (New Zealand is 21 hours ahead of us).   We figured Cathy could get the time off work for three days and Chelsea could manage missing school that amount of time so we would fly to Sydney on the second Wednesday of my visit – they would return to Auckland on Sunday afternoon and I would fly back to Sacramento that evening.  So Cathy went ahead and booked our trip from Auckland to Sydney.  I found a flight home, through Honolulu to Sacramento.

Now to find a hotel.  We needed to be as near to the important places in Sydney, such as Opera House, Iron Bridge and Botanial Gardens I had left all my maps in California but I remembered that Kings Cross and Potts Point areas seem central and I started looking on line.  I found the Macleay Hotel in Potts Point within walking distance of Kings Cross Station and near the Gardens. It seems reasonably inexpensive and an area with loads of places to eat and two double beds, kitchen etc.  One reviewer said, “please get a room with Harbour Views,” which I did and it was worth it, particularly on the Saturday night when they decided for “whatever” reason to set off fireworks for fifteen minutes over the Habour. 

I get to San Francisco airport early and start to check in at Air New Zealand.  They look at my papers.  “Where is the evidence of your flight leaving New Zealand?” they ask.  Although Cathy had sent me this information I had not thought to print the out the flight details.  I show them my hotel reservations in Sydney and my flight home from Sydney to the States.  “No that is not enough. We cannot let you fly.”  I was in shock and could not remember which airline the flight was booked on.  But I had Cathy’s address and phone number with my passport.  They called her – Chelsea answered, her mother was at work and she gave them the number – they called and Cathy mentioned Air New Zealand and within minutes they had found the reservation and were content.  The printed it out for me, with instructions, “not to lose it otherwise you won’t get it”.  Naturally when in Auckland no one asked for the information!

The flight is easy and I slept some of the way.  As I wheel my suitcase out I meet and talk to a nice man collecting people for a tour – English - naturally,  who had came there years ago.  Cathy and Chelsea rush up, hugs all around and we go to find the car and visit her parents who live near the airport.   It is still early in the morning there and Margaret is in her night gown, but a cup of tea is quickly forth coming and some toast.  Clive comes out fully dressed and we stay for a couple of hours.  They have a delightful modern bungalow with tidy front garden and a camper in the drive way – they like to travel having just come back from back-to-back cruises around the islands and Australia. Chelsea is wilting and she has to get to school so we start off for Browns Bay where Cathy lives – about 20 miles north of the city.   I am taken with the beautiful vegetation and flowers and trees everywhere.  I also observe the little shopping centres in every town or village – averaging about 25 shops, coffee shops on either side of the road, all with overhangs, presumably to protect the shoppers from the showers of rain will come often.  It is a tropical climate, I never realized this before. Rain falls all year but January and February are summer and plants and bushes flower all year and most trees are evergreen.   

Cathy in her garden

Cathy takes Chelsea to school; usually she catches a bus and all the children wear school uniforms in New Zealand and in Australia.  Cathy’s house is up in the hills and her gardens weave downwards covered in trees, bushes and plants.  Everything grows wildly.  Her 18 year old son, Ben lives in a small house built by his uncle.  They have a Jack Russell terrier called Chloe, so my like my son's dog, Poppy, and two cats.  One cat lives in the garden and the other, who comes into the house, is called Charley and is a very strange cat, I fed her stickie buns.       

I am in a charming room that Cathy had decorated for who --  I don’t know.  Chelsea is in the downstairs bedroom, but inbetween inviting me Cathy has decided to rent the room to a friend of one of her sons. Renier is such an interesting character and quickly becames a new friend on Facebook!  So sweet natured Chelsea is sleeping on the couch and all her clothes and stuff is down in Renier’s room.  He doesn’t care.   These New Zealanders or Kivis as they call themselves are so easy going and pleasant.  Cathy is constantly doing laundry and bring up clothes which she sorts into baskets for the two boys and Chelsea.  The house is full of young people coming and going.  Suddenly it reminds me of my house in Sunnyvale in the 1980s.  Cathy’s marriage has ended and she is living with two teenaged children – my marriage had ended and I was living with two teenaged children with I invited Cathy to live with us for a while.  “Cathy” I said one day.  “You have turned into me!  No husband and a house full of young people.” 

Cathy, Renier, Sam, Maryanne and Chelsea