Musical Wanderings in the Deep South

One single sentence described this place in my guidebook, so I’d skimmed over it. I wasn’t meant to be here, but here I was. I reflected on how this came to be, as I gazed upon the Lotus Pond, sitting in the shade of a Chinese Peony tree, sipping a surprisingly refreshing lychee tea as I was being thoughtfully scrutinised by a Noisy Miner. That morning the sun had come out in full force. The temperature had risen to 24C, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, only the briefest and gentlest breeze brought some reprieve. You’d be hard pressed to call this fall, but it was. I’d been touring Sydney Harbour all morning and towards midday, with the sun at its hottest, I was looking for some shade. As I began my search, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a finely sculpted stone wall near the pedestrian bridge. Curiosity got the better of me and urged me to go exploring. After all, the best adventures are the ones that happen unexpectedly as a result of open-mindedness and an inquisitive spirit. I soon found the entrance, guarded by two granite Fu Dogs.
As I paid my entrance fee, it became clear that I had quite haphazardly found the Chinese Garden of Friendship. This 1 ha secret Zen garden, encapsulated by four walls, is located at the South end of Darling Harbour. Initiated by the local Chinese community to celebrate Australia’s 1988 Bicentenary, it’s built on the Taoist principles of Yin-Yang, and the balanced use of the 5 elements – fire, wood, earth, metal and water – for a harmonious flow of Qi. A printed map shows the meandering path that takes you on a serene walk over bridges, past ponds and Buddha Statues, where Chinese pavilions have been fittingly juxtaposed against a backdrop of modern skyscrapers. The path culminates at the traditional Tea House.
In this urban oasis, you can easily forget the stresses of city life. You cease to hear the honking and the sirens so typical of the hustle-and-bustle of any metropolis. The outside chaos appears to fade away. All too soon, I will need to get up and leave this quietude behind. So, I give in to the moment, savouring a sip of sweet fruity tea, watching Koi carp coming up for air, hearing the waterfall in the distance. I’m surrounded by peace and quiet. All my senses come alive and a profound sense of tranquility washes over me. As I pause, I realise it’s a good thing guidebooks can’t cover all the attractions. If they did, it would hinder discovering such idyllic restorative places of refuge by yourself.