We set off from The Rocks to visit New Town, Sydney, about a twenty minute taxi drive away. It is not a new town at all. In fact, it dates back to Aboriginal occupation, then convict estates, and eventually became one of the oldest suburbs in the mid-1850s as Sydney expanded.

Today it is heavy rain, with little chance of a good walk or sightseeing session. Each car that passes sprays us with water built up due to inadequate drains. It is a pleasant surprise to find such a long street.There is a full array of small themed bohemian vintage shops, junk shops scattered amongst a bigger collection of restaurants and a vast selection of takeaway offers . I am smelling a lot of joints as I stroll part of this seven kilometer stretch of crowded narrow pavements. The young and their attire span all spectrums. Hippy, trendy, showy, scruffy and, what Jezzabel calls me sometimes, daggy.

After an hour of strolling and trying to stay dry, we think it is prudent to eat. So Hiranthi takes us to a 500-seater Thai restaurant on two floors, and it is packed. I initially doubt her judgement, but it does not take long to prove her selection is spot on. A smart, youngish Thai floor manager finds us a table and explains the menu. He has been working in the restaurant for twenty years, but would pass for a twenty-five year old. Hiranthi is clear on the food order and it is fantastic. I get my first IPA beer in Sydney after two weeks and it comes from Thailand.

The town’s history is more unique than its name, which appears to be linked to  a major retailer called “New Town”.As in many locations, the buildings are a way of understanding the splendor, this is nineteenth century history. When walking a high street, always look above the ground floor. There are so many amazing properties here in New Town . Lots of Victorian houses, called “two up, two down”, and also big mansions from the same era. The town had a massive migrant population, many commuting to jobs around Sydney. There is bohemian culture and gentrification, great music, alternative scenes, and LGBTQ+ presence.

A walk along the main drag highlights this booming town with history going back to the 1850s. The town hall, the churches, the old streets. As my father would say, “it is like viewing the great unwashed”, a motley array of people with a scattering of respectably dressed shoppers and workers too. The rain is so bad that passing cars spray unsuspecting pedestrians with drain water.

If you drive for about ten minutes from the centre of New Town you will still driving through semi-detached and turn-of-the-century gentrified properties. There is quite a bit of graffiti around the town, attracting some visitors . Jezzabel finds a lot of second-hand clothing shops, now called vintage, and we drop into a few record shops. We buy an old Bowie LP for our buddy Nitesh, a bit of a collector.

The joy of walking both sides of the road for me is to look up at the amazing buildings from yesteryear. Amazing architecture, big fancy windows, many buildings with colourful brickwork and interesting shapes. In their Victorian heyday, it would have been a stunning sight. Some buildings are five storeys high, no doubt many upper floors are unoccupied.

The rain and constant car spray make it a bit difficult to fully enjoy the shops, the people, and the characters walking along the pavements.

So, on our next trip to Sydney, which may be about ten years away, I would like to spend more time in Newtown, sip coffee, and watch people. Days could easily be spent along the nine to ten kilometres of shops. Jezzabel will be in her element. I may also do a quick visit to Camperdown Cemetery, where victims of the Dunbar ship disaster of the 1850s are buried. Jezzabel, however, will be shopping.