32 | ST PATRICKS IN SYDNEY


www.nitravelnews.com


SYDNEY STRUTS THE GREEN


January 2026


only Irish on board were convicts. Today the Irish had taken over. Everyday tourists from round the world, looking chilled but baffled, were taking pictures; some had raided souvenir shops in the Rocks. Others, disgorged from a giant cruise ship, were sucked towards the food tents, (drawn by the promise of spud bread and sodas, or bags of cheese ‘n’ onion crisps, and baps over-stuffed with sticky, juicy, carmelised sausages and onions), while Tippin’ Trad were making merry on the main stage and all around us a tide of Guinness was coming in like an Irish tsunami..


Tom Adair concludes his East Coast Aussie Adventure by experiencing St Patrick’s Day in Sydney where new experiences collide with fond childhood memories...


BY TOM ADAIR


MY Downpatrick granny, who lived on the Shankill for much of her life, was 44 when Northern Ireland came into existence. Proudly Loyalist--fervently Irish--every St Patrick’s Day she would sport a fistful of Shamrock to regale us with tales of “the drowning of the Shamrock” during her childhood, when the plant would be soaked in whiskey “to toast Paddy’s health”. I know she’d have cheered my trip in March this year to Sydney, to see the St Paddy’s events Down Under. “Green with envy” I can almost hear her say, but she’d have protested at the street parade being held on March 16th to fit in with the weekend. “No good will come of it,” she’d have spluttered—and been wrong. For there stood ‘Himself’ in flowing green robes and fancy mitre, gripping his crozier, looking donnish, while slightly squinting through bifocals (searching for


On the ‘Order of Events’ was listed Irish classes, face painting sessions, a ‘Lookalike Contest’


searching for ‘Saoirse Ronan and


snakes?) the woman beside him furtively eyeing up his


sandals and well-turned


ankle as the rallying crowd in Sydney’s Martin Place, jostled into position, sporting greenery top to toe.


Bruise-coloured clouds were threatening


rain, but the Aus s i e - b lue sky came fighting back, casting like


spear- shafts


of sunlight between


tips of Sydney’s high rise. along


the All


Pitt


Street towards the Harbour people gripping tiny tricolours leaned of


out


awaiting action.


windows the


Then


it happened: a blast of bagpipes. The City of Campbeltown kilty band stepping off perjinkly, (as the Scots say), Yer Man behind them, sedately acknowledging the punters, a flow of humanity of incongruous variety: clowns, Irish dancing squads, Molly Malone displaying her wares, spectres on stilts,


pursued by The Golden Kangaroos Marching Band, a phalanx of twirling batons and fluffy pom-poms, kids wearing face paint, green, white,


orange, and Aboriginals sporting white body stripes and First Nations tribal headgear.


All down Pitt Street an ocean of smiles went trooping past the now static traffic, a flurry of flags and periscoped smart-phones, police, unable to resist it all, tapping their feet. Scotland skirled


the through


Brave the


air from the pipes of the City of Sydney Police Band.


The


City of Camplelltown pipes replied with Let Erin Remember. Call it parity of esteem. Stirred into action I


sensed the party getting ready in First Fleet Park for the afternoon’s fun at Circular Quay. “Get into line,” I said to granny. I think she smiled as we followed the buzz. The parade rolled on. The Travelling


Tavern, propelled by pedal power, serving drinks. High-stepping kids from the Kennedy School of Irish Dancing. Blokes in green toppers and fake


ginger beards, waving


placards on which was blazoned ‘Kiss Me, I’m Irish’, green umbrellas keeping time to a rousing rendition of Black Velvet Band. “Can that be right!” I said to Granny, for there, parading far ahead of us, like twin hallucinations,


bringing Disney to the


festivities, were Mickey and Minnie Mouse. “Have you been secretly hittin’ the bottle, Son?” I may have heard her mutter. Or was it “Slainte”? No Irish cliché was left unturned. First Fleet Park, a small grassy enclave with views of the Opera House and Bridge, was filling up quickly. Its name harks back to January 1788 when 12 British naval ships (the ‘First Fleet’) sailed through the Heads from the Coral Sea and claimed the territory in the name of King George the Third. The


and chips.” for


snifter,


Dressed like that he could hardly slip out a


quiet but


as the revelry c on ti nu ed , fiddles blazing, pints being tipped and dusk approaching,


I


fancied a walk and a chance to witness the celebrations from the Harbour.


“I’ll


show you a view of secret Sydney,”


I


whispered to granny.


caught the ‘Charlotte’


We at


Circular Quay, for the one-stop ride to Milsons Point near Luna Park, a heritage funfair and Harbourside icon no tourist should miss. Of course, you guessed it! I had to drag her from the lure of the helter-skelter, past


Paul Mescal lookalikes’; there’d be hula hoop displays and more Irish dancing than you could ever shake a shillelagh at, and music, continuous jigs and reels and hornpipes. Non-stop gorging of the senses. I spotted St Patrick by the flap of the Paddy the Baker tent, looking hungry, probably craving snake


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80