When I started on the transport beat at Guardian Australia, I envisioned spending plenty of time at airports and train stations, but I had no clue I’d end up posing topless for a beachy photoshoot.
Sydney has been gripped by a similar sense of surprise in recent weeks.
After seven years of almost invisible subterranean construction, all of a sudden a futuristic new train line opened up beneath the city, boasting zippy speeds, turn-up-and-go frequencies and snazzy new stations that feel out of place in a country largely reliant on 19th-century rail infrastructure.
The Chatswood-Sydenham underground extension of the existing north-west metro line has slashed travel times – for peak-hour commuters in particular, who can travel between North Sydney and Barangaroo in just three minutes while travelling at up to 100km/h.
While train enthusiasts have been riding the new metro city section just for the fun of it – including calling in sick on opening day, flying from interstate and overseas, and standing at the front window of the driverless trains as they zoom through tunnels – the line opens up new possibilities for seeing parts of Sydney and seeking out other, non train-related places for fun.
Here is our guide to having a joyride on the Sydney metro.
Central, 9.28am
Walking through one of the oldest stations in Australia, I head for the newest part – the metro platforms – where I encounter attraction number one: the longest escalators in the southern hemisphere, according to Sydney Metro’s media team, a descent of around 45 metres.
Once I reach the platform, I get about one minute to take in that new station smell – which remains in the air almost two weeks after opening – before our train pulls up. I board with other expectant passengers, the doors slide shut, and we’re off. It is warm outside, in the high 20s, but we wouldn’t know it as the platforms and trains are pleasantly air-conditioned.
Crows Nest, 9.40am
I haven’t had breakfast yet and I’m starting to feel hangry, so I probably don’t appreciate the industrial mosaics and neat brickwork patterns as much as I should as I exit the station.
I head straight for Crescent Croissanterie, a trendy pastry shop with a near-constant queue of customers and a display window jam-packed with buttery, flaky delights. It’s a brisk five-minute walk from the Clarke Street exit – faster if your pace is food-motivated.
I opt for an eggplant parmigiana croissant and a coffee. At $12, it’s not a cheap pastry, but it looks good. I take it to a nearby park on the walk back to the station to sit and scoff it, shaved parmesan falling all down my front as I do. A mere 31 minutes after leaving Central station, I head back underground.
As I get to the platform, I see the information board says the next service is nine minutes away. A lifetime, I think, considering it look me almost the same time to get here from Central. Just one minute later, a train pulls up.
While some oddballs may enjoy the element of surprise in waiting for a train, not-quite-right arrival time screens grow tiresome as I encounter them at stations throughout the day. I get on a 10.12am train.
Waterloo, 10.26am
Fourteen minutes later, I arrive at Waterloo station. Even if you’re not a train fan, you’ll want to spend a few minutes here admiring the various art installations and murals.
Escalators spit me out on Raglan Street, and I walk in search of some culture. Options are plentiful – I could have gone to the Sydney Improv Theatre, or gazed into the studios of FBI radio to glimpse my favourite show, but instead I turn the corner left on to Botany Road.
Inspired by news of the Oasis reunion, I try to picture myself in a rock band. Having only learned Three Blind Mice on the recorder in school, I’ve always had to rely on an air guitar to rock out. So, I head for Mannys Music, a vast instrument shop which is a four-minute walk from the metro exit.
I could spend hours looking at their colourful wall of electric guitars – it feels like a gallery. There’s also an impressive acoustic section, as well as electric drum kits to try.
Perhaps I’ve finally found my perfect rebrand? In front of a shiny glass cabinet where I can make out my reflection, I practise sticking my tongue out a la Gene Simmons, but I look more like that goofy shot of Einstein.
Chatswood, 11.32am
I get on an 11.13am train, and 19 minutes later arrive at Chatswood station, where, unlike the new stations on the section, I get off on a platform adjacent to the heavy-rail network – except the metro platform has safety barriers and glass doors preventing access to the track.
By this point I am getting hangry again, and in order to beat the inevitable rush, I decide on an early lunch.
I set out from the station precinct, resisting the temptation of Taco Bell, Guzman y Gomez, the lolly-stocked counters of two Chemist Warehouses and nine bubble tea shops, on what is a seven-minute walk to Xin Jiang Hand Made Noodle on Archer Street.
Chatswood is a sea of culinary gems, but it feels like I’ve stumbled into a true institution. The decor is welcoming and a neat shade of mint green, and there is a mural of Monet’s Water Lilies and Japanese Bridge on one wall.
Staff are beyond friendly, and I order a few things. The standout is the handmade noodles chopped up into shapes resembling mini gnocchi with lamb or beef – I can’t tell – tomato and other veggies. Green beans with mince, and steamed dumplings, also hit the spot and pack a nice amount of spice.
I spill oily noodles down the front of my shirt. I could blame my lack of chopstick dexterity but in truth this is the third shirt this week I have stained.
I worry slightly about how I’m going to look against the gleaming newness of the metro.
Barangaroo, 12.52pm
It’s 28C, and after that hefty meal, I’ve got the sweats and am in need of a cool down. I decide to go for a swim.
I get on a 12.42pm train at Chatswood, and 10 minutes later, I’m at the Mayfair of the metro line. Terrazzo-style tiles form the station’s flooring, with sandstone walls framing escalators up to street level.
I make use of the Barangaroo station bathrooms to change into my swimming gear. Much like all new stations on the metro extension, they are clean and functional, with entirely private rooms with toilets and basins with an automated locking door.
The Barangaroo station exit has one of the most impressive views from anywhere on Sydney’s rail network, up there with the view from Circular Quay’s platforms. It’s a seven-minute walk to the recently opened Marrinawi Cove, a rocky swim spot carved out of the reclaimed former industrial coastline around Barangaroo.
In a decision I will later realise is foolish, I instead head south towards Barangaroo’s food precinct in search of gelato. I imagine myself licking gelato while frolicking in the water.
Rivareno ends up being a 10-minute dash each way, and while I rate this as some of Sydney’s best gelato, its consistency is closer to sorbet and is no match for a harsh Sydney sun. One and a half of my three scoops have dribbled down my wrist by the time I make it back to Marrinawi Cove.
I strip down and launch in, and as I wash the sticky hazelnut and pistachio sludge from my skin, I find myself in one of the more bizarre moments of my career as a reporter.
While the swim spot is fantastically refreshing and not too crowded, it is slippery to get in, and there’s a noticeable collection of food wrappers and garbage swooshing around.
Marrinawi Cove also loses points for some fairly entry level facilities. There’s one cubicle for the men, nowhere to change, and is not particularly clean. There’s just one shower for everyone outside.
I wash off the salt water there, and walk back to Barangaroo station, where I change back into some pants. I say a silent thanks to the transport gods for the significantly better bathrooms in the metro.
Sydenham, 2.21pm
It’s a 12-minute trip from Barangaroo to Sydenham, the end of the metro line until at least the end of 2025 when the extension to Bankstown is – somewhat optimistically – slated to open.
It’s an unseasonably warm day and after all that mad gelato dashing in the sun, I am thirsty. There’s a smattering of breweries within walking distance, including Philter Brewing and the much-hyped Hawke’s Brewing Co with its 80s style Chinese restaurant/RSL feel.
I stumble into Batch Brewing Company, which is a six-minute walk from the metro platform exit gates.
I’m not the biggest beer fan, so I order a tasting crate of six different beers ($20), but sub out the “milk stout” for a refreshing lager.
It’s a nice way to quench my thirst, and finish up my metro joyride. Plus, I’m not hungry any more.