Awaiting the Ferry to Circular Quay


Waiting for my transportation, water splashed about of the sides of the sea worthy platform. The ferry to Circular Quay was running late.

I sat gazed at the tourists fumbling with pixels hanging from their necks. They seemed persnickety about photographing the outdoors, stressing about every setting their cameras should be on.

Appearing from the depths of shiny bus, excitement shouted over distant outboard motors as the gathering continued to grow into a dozen or more. A spotted a Nikon DSLR, Android, Canon compact and Galaxy Note as they amassed the beautiful bay. Fingers pointed and smiles erupted at the beautiful scene before them.

After a quick talk from the well-suited driver, one member broke from the group signalling the other eleven to follow. Ostentatious shirtless surfers watched on, filling in the midday waves with a spot of relaxed fishing. I had to hold back a chuckle watching the centipede of chatter shuffle down the boardwalk, the group walked back and forth, briefly stopping to capture what seemed to be the same image.

An old Australian couple sat alongside me shaking their heads as the entertainment forwarded. Clothed in pristine slacks, ironed polo shirts and bleached matching hats, I imagined they had lived in Rose Bay all their lives. Their obnoxious concerns were voiced a little to loud as the unconcerned group walked past their comfort, “their noisy aren’t they?”  I sat up in disbelief could they be so rude? Even if they didn’t speak English I’m sure a ventriloquist could have been more silenced.

For me I was reminded about my new world, a world, which was separated by money and class. Australia as I knew it was becoming a stronger divide. I simply hoped respect could be learned and not taught by the older generations.

 

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