Hyde Park, Sydney

Listen for a moment. Above the traffic of Elizabeth Street, you can hear the fig trees. Their leaves move in the harbour breeze with a soft, dry rustle. Under them the light turns green and dappled, and the gravel crunches underfoot. Somewhere ahead, water falls steadily into a stone basin. Office workers pass with coffee cups, and a few ibis walk across the lawn as if they own it. This is Hyde Park, the long green rectangle at the centre of Sydney. It is one of the oldest public parks in Australia.

The story starts well before the park had a name. This land belongs to the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation. They lived around the harbour for thousands of years before British ships arrived in 1788. In the colony's early years, this open ground sat at the edge of the town. Soldiers drilled here, cattle grazed here, and people collected firewood here. It was rough, useful space — nothing like the ordered garden around you now.

In 1810, Governor Lachlan Macquarie set this ground aside for public recreation. He named it after Hyde Park in London, a name that reminded homesick colonists of the city they had left behind. That same year the park held what is often described as the first organised horse race in Australia. Crowds gathered to watch. Over the following decades, the ground also hosted cricket matches and military parades. The governor wanted a proper colonial town, and a proper town needed a public common.

Now look at the shape of the park. A wide straight avenue runs north to south, lined with fig trees on both sides. The branches meet overhead and form a long shaded tunnel. On a hot Sydney afternoon, the temperature under these trees can feel noticeably cooler than the open street. Many of the figs are old, and some have been replaced over the years as they declined. If you look closely, you will see trees of different ages standing side by side in the same row.

Here is a detail most visitors miss. You are walking on top of a railway. In the 1920s, engineers dug the City Circle line beneath the park. Two stations sit under the lawns — Museum at the southern end, and Saint James at the northern end. Their entrances look like small, quiet stone pavilions among the trees. Stand still near one of them, and you may feel a faint rumble as a train passes under your feet.

Park Street cuts across the middle and divides the park into two halves. In the northern half, follow the water sound to the Archibald Fountain. It came from a bequest by J. F. Archibald, a founder of the Bulletin magazine. He wanted a monument to the friendship between France and Australia during the First World War. The French sculptor François Sicard made it, and it was unveiled in 1932. Bronze figures stand in a ring of water and fine spray.

At the centre stands Apollo, the Greek god of light, with one arm raised. Around him are other figures from classical myth. Diana, the hunter goddess, appears with her animals. Theseus fights the Minotaur, the half-man, half-bull monster of the Cretan labyrinth. Pan, the god of shepherds, sits among goats. Walk slowly around the full circle. Each figure looks different from each side, and turtles spray water at the edges.

Now walk south across Park Street toward the larger, more solemn half of the park. At the far end, a tall pale building rises behind a long rectangular pool. This is the Anzac Memorial. Anzac stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, the force that fought at Gallipoli in 1915. The memorial opened in 1934. It is a fine example of Art Deco design, with strong vertical lines, stepped forms, and very little decoration that does not carry meaning.

The architect was Bruce Dellit, and the sculptor Rayner Hoff created the figures on the outside and inside. Look up at the corners of the building. Seated figures represent the services and the people who served. Inside, the most famous work shows a young soldier lying dead on a shield, held up by female figures. Visitors look down on it from a balcony. The design makes everyone bow their head slightly — a quiet gesture, built into the architecture.

The memorial was extended for the centenary of the First World War. A newer lower level, the Hall of Service, holds soil samples gathered from communities across New South Wales. Each place sent a little earth from towns where people enlisted. It is a simple idea, and a powerful one. In front of the building, the Pool of Reflection holds the sky and the trees on its still surface. On calm mornings it works almost like a mirror.

Not far from the memorial, look for a newer artwork rising from the grass. Its name is Yininmadyemi, which means Thou didst let fall. Artist Tony Albert created it to honour Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who served in the military. Four large standing bullets and three fallen shell casings stand on the lawn. For many years, the service of these soldiers received little public recognition. This sculpture places their story in the centre of the city.

The park is also a place for looking outward. Around its edges stand some of Sydney's important buildings. To the east is Saint Mary's Cathedral, built from local yellow sandstone. Along College Street is the Australian Museum. On Elizabeth Street stands the Great Synagogue. At the northern tip, near Macquarie Street, are the Hyde Park Barracks, built by convict labour in Macquarie's time. In one walk, you can see church, science, faith, and convict history all facing the same green space.

On an ordinary weekday, the park belongs to the city's working life. People eat lunch on the benches, play chess, jog the avenues, or sleep on the grass in the shade. On certain days of the year, it becomes something else. On Anzac Day, crowds gather for services and the march. During festivals, markets and lights fill the lawns. The same paths carry very different moods, depending on the hour and the season.

Before you leave, stop under the figs once more. Notice the roots pushing up through the soil, and the bats or birds moving in the branches above. Listen again for the fountain, the trains below, and the traffic beyond the trees. For more than two centuries, people have come to this ground to rest, to remember, and to meet. As you walk back into the streets, you carry a little of that quiet with you.