home sweet train station

I'm betting most people won't pick Wynyard as their favorite spot in Sydney. I'm not saying I exactly would, either, but I think there's an awful lot to be said for it, and I haven't heard very many other people doing any of the talking.

Mostly I love Wynyard because it feels somehow safe and homey. I know this sounds a bit of a stretch, but, really, it's not. I always feel better when I reach Wynyard -- I know home is coming soon, or, if it's morning, that Wynyard will still be there waiting for me when I go back. It's very reliable like that.

That said, I really don't usually pay much attention to Wynyard in the morning. I'm generally in too much of a sleepy daze to catch much of anything, but Wynyard never laughs at me if I trip on the escalator or my skirt blows up. It's very tactful like that.

It's the night when I really feel at home, though. Wynyard's the place that's seen me crying my eyes out, walking in miles and miles of circles at 11 pm as I call my best friend, because this is the time I can catch her at home. It's the place that's seen me giggling and gulping, walking in miles and miles of circles at 1 am as I call another friend to tell her she wouldn't believe what just happened to me, but I really shouldn't mention it out loud on the bus. Wynyard knows my secrets, and it keeps them. It's very trustworthy like that.

It's a sentimental spot, too. Wynyard's always where I direct my guests when they arrive in Sydney, and, consequently, where I always meet them. One of my friends was happy enough to meet there, but never managed to get the hang of saying "Wynyard." (It's "win-yurd.") For the rest of her trip we always talked about "that Wynward place where you first came," which was fair enough, considering there are relatively few words in the English language with a "yny" configuration plopped soundly in the middle. Not many "ynw" ones, either, but we won't dwell on that.

Wynyard was also one of the first places I came when I came to Sydney. I'd been in town certainly less than 48 hours when I boarded my very first E68 (it's a bus station, too) and proceeded to keep an eagle-eye lookout for the mysterious "Spit Bridge" (no one had told me it'd be a good 20 minutes down the line) and, after going over it, turned my own worn mapquest print out topsy turvy with every turn the bus made in order to locate the elusive Worrobil Street and make my departure. But like I was saying, that all started at Wynyard. And I distinctly remember thinking, "wow, they've got gorgeous bus stations here -- palm trees, those other cool trees, those other cool trees, whoa, even those other cool trees!"

And not only does Wynyard Park (in name, at any rate. I still consider it a gorgeous bus station, but feel that "Park" is really rather pushing things.) have trees -- it also has birds! No, I don't mean the pigeons, but the ibises. I don't know if you've ever seen an ibis, but if you have, I'm guessing you haven't forgotten it. It's one of the oddest looking birds I've ever encountered: it's designed more or less as any ordinary, roughly taller, thinner, leggier duck, but with the slight exception that, at some point, something clearly got hold of its beak and pulled to its heart's content. Either that or they're exceptionally prolific liars.

Besides the ibises, another friendly fixture at Wynyard is my friendly Big Issue seller, Sketch. We met one day when I bought a Big Issue, and have been fast friends ever since, if by fast friends you mean someone who regularly tells you you look lovely. Sketch is very good at holding up that end of the deal; he always perks up when he sees me and we usually have a bit of a chat if I'm not running too late. "You look lovely," he inevitably calls after me, as if he's just remembered this is a nice thing to say. It doesn't hurt to have a few fast friends like Sketch.

Sure, there are some shady characters who hang about at night asking for $3.20 because their car broke down (again! how terrible, that's the third time this week, now, isn't it?) and that amount will surely solve their troubles, but generally it's quite a pleasant spot.

It would be nice to have a few more fast friends on the upper level, though. There's not many shops there, but it's where I used to buy my bus passes before I decided they were too grumpy and took my business down two levels. On the lowest level there's a Newslink newsagent who very cheerfully sells me all my bus passes, as well as phone top-ups and occasionally mints. Right after buying my weekly red pass the other day I was stopped by a friendly lady holding a clipboard who just wanted a minute of my time to ask a few really quick questions.

Now I understand that many people do not like to answer such surveys, but I'm always so thrilled to be asked, I generally acquiesce quite easily. I told the lady I supposed I could spare a minute. She then proceeded to ask a series of roughly 100 questions, all relating to my standard purchases. The bus passes weren't major components (you don't buy any magazines? you're sure?) of the survey, and the phone top-ups weren't even listed at all, so most of my answers revolved around the mints. Yes, the confectionery was generally fresh. I bought it because I'd run out of mints, yes, I supposed she could check the box labeled "Brand." No, the value for money was not good. Yes, I planned to buy mints there again in the future. The only interesting answer the poor woman got was to the "why do you chose this shop?"

"Well, sometimes they have a cute boy working here," I confided. She smiled.

"I'll just tick the "other" box, dear," she concluded. And half a day later, off I trotted. Wynyard's friendly like that.

The other thing I really like about Wynyard is that I can get pretty much everything I need there. You could trap me in Wynyard for a week and I'd unquestionably live. First off, the entirety of the middle level is devoted to a Coles Express, which is open until midnight every single night. Keeping in mind most places close at 5, this is really beyond remarkable. Second, there is one of pretty much anything else I might possibly need: the aforementioned Newslink, a pharmacy, a post office, a tobacconist (for when the post office is closed and you need stamps, obviously), a florist, clothing stores, baked goods and an in-aptly named Dollar $tore. Finally, there is an ATM. And, for the icing on the cake, Max Brenner is less than 25 yards away.

And so, I really do like Wynyard. It's comfortable. It's predictable. I was going to say I knew it like the back of my hand until I wikipedia-ed it tonight and learned that, though its platforms are numbered 3-6, it actually has only 4. 1 and 2 were meant for trams and were destroyed to make way for an underground carpark.

I'd never noticed they were missing.