Italians in sky-blue capes, Brazilians in green soccer jerseys, Orange County kids in neon orange sweaters ‘mdash; World Youth Day 2008 in Sydney was a mass of color-splashed patriotism from around the globe. Flags from countless countries rippled in the cool, crisp air. Backpack-carrying pilgrims streamed through the gridlocked streets. Chants of ‘Bene, Bene, Bene!’ drove young Catholics on toward Randwick Racecourse, where the Papal Mass would be held. The push to see Pope Benedict XVI drew over 250,000 campers to an overnight vigil, dubbed ‘Holy Night’ in newspaper headlines the next day.
A week and multiple cleaning crews later, the city resumed its laid-back, San Francisco-esque lifestyle. Slicked-back suits and secretaries in four-inch heels strolled to the Pitt Street sky malls for $5 espresso. Teenagers scoured George Street for sales on lace vests and bellbottoms. Train stops burst with food: fresh croissants, sushi rolls, Turkish kebabs and Indian takeout.
Indie-licious, plaid-clad couples congregated in the Museum of Modern Art. The free exhibit featured four floors of social commentary, including Jesus nailed to a rocket ship, a roomful of colored hammocks and roaring Hendrix and a stack of ‘Fahrenheit 451’s printed backwards. The accompanying Biennale of Sydney brought over 180 artists to Cockatoo Island, the Aussie take on SF’s Alcatraz Island. Installations found new life in the original brick prisons. Filmed communist messages, screaming shadowy soundtracks, wall-size charcoal sketches ‘mdash; all communicated a wild, sprawling urgency underneath the professional city scene.
Other, more usual haunts ‘mdash; the Royal Botanic Gardens, the Sydney Opera House, Darling Harbour ‘mdash; couldn’t compare. At its heart, Sydney was less monuments and more masses. It welcomed the foreign pilgrim and the pierced native, both clenching cheap meat pies and searching the streets for the next great night.