I wanted to get to the Rocks, and according to my map I could reach it by walking all the way around Circular Quay. So I walked around, past the statue of William Bligh with its slightly defensive inscription, past the large passenger terminal, onward towards the Sydney Harbor bridge, where people grew more and more scarce, pausing to look at the old stone paved ferry ramp now descending into nothing but a view straight across the bay to the tragic Luna Amusement Park, with its enormous scary-clown face smiling back across the water.

The walk became solitary and slightly intimidating. I was past the tourist area and strolling on the edge of the working bay, a shady sidewalk with a tall fence on my right behind which seemed to be rows of harbour buildings. On my left was a massive stone wall set into a hill, on top of which I could see the backs of stuccoed houses. For a long time there seemed to be no way of getting up there. I spotted one old stone stairway that stopped halfway down, and was decorated with a playful installation, an enormous web with a plaster spider the size of an Irish Setter.

Finally I saw a stairway that was apparently meant to be used and angled all the way to the top of the hill, so I crossed the street and climbed.

Now I was in a neighborhood. Not, apparently, a bad neighborhood, but an area where tourists probably didn’t venture often and were obviously lost. Modest houses and occasional apartment buildings, corner stores. A woman trundling a hand cart of groceries glanced at me curiously as she passed. I persevered. There were more stairs a little ways down the street, well maintained, rising, with a handrail. The place to go, I decided, was up. And I was right.