We actually saw some flying foxes around Darling Harbour, which seems an unfortunate name. I don’t like a place that randomly gives itself a compliment. A helpful Australian tried to tell me it was named after a guy whose last name was Darling but I wasn’t having it. “I don’t love it,” I explained. “It insists on itself.” The man nodded noncommittally, deciding it was better not to argue with a strange foreigner dressed in a full-body koala costume because it was cold and she didn’t bring a coat.
