The allures of a port, all around the world.

I've always thought there was something magical about port towns--the constant flow of water bringing new stock, new ideas and people.

Trapped dead-center in America, beyond the cornfield in the backyard, I was connected to water only through a small pond. And many a times, like the fish, I too was surprised that I lived there. I felt trapped, as if in a figurative desert, thirsting for water as only a fool without it can feel. I was the only one to blame, equally trapped in another box, my never-ending wanderlust dreams. As it so often goes, the beauty of the land lost on me, until I left.

But it's easy to see why, the world-over, port-towns thrive. They're alluring, mysterious and if you don't want to live there, you'd be lying if you didn't want to visit at least one: Seattle, Stockholm, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, but that's just a few, the world has 926 such towns in 109 countries. And the world's biggest cities (and busiest ports): Los Angeles, Singapore, Hong Kong, and Mumbai.

With Shanghai being no exception to either rule. What defines the city is not the stamped entry, but the port's connecting river into the busting metropolis of 22 million. Not small in any marker of the word, but a pumping beast that smoothly divides the city into two. Making Shanghai look like a soul with split-personality disorder, the new and the old.

And Australia's Sydney would be no different to this story, except that communism never cracked down on their party, but that's another tale.

If there ever is a man of legacy to Australia, James Cook is it. Aussies celebrate him for finding and claiming the place. And to be fair, it wasn't an easy task, even if the mass of the large island down under is roughly the size of the 48 states.

Today, Sydney is best seen from the harbor that started it, including the penal colony history and all. The ships rock in the sea and tourists clamor to fit the Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House into the iconic photo frame to add to their collections. A respectful place for any Sydneyer to hate, understandably. Ingrid and I sealed our trip there (we had to) with postcards of the same, but also added some shirtless Aussie men, reminiscent of the Gold Coast, to mix it up.

(Inevitably telling someone, "Yes, hit the silver button. Nope, ah, that wasn't a photo, push it harder--Greeeeat--this is what I wanted.)

The port isn't the same as James Cook found it, in fact, it's commercial value has outpaced any other city in the country, including Melbourne, but its beauty doesn't reflect that. It's classic, as a port will always be to me.

As I inked my postcards, reflecting on it, I thought of the magic of a port's honest reality, arrival and departure. And how this intersected with our philosophical ports, the different chapters of life that define and shape us, not just as the traveler, but all of life.

Not alike an airport, at all.

And if you go:

The best harbor-side place to be in Sydney sans crowds, easy, the fish market. As told by Rough Guides' East Coast Australia, it's the world's second largest (Tokyo being number one, of course). Ingrid and I pushed snooze to the 5 a.m. rush, but did manage to arrive for a late salmon and tuna sashimi breakfast, complete with fresh mussels, altered only with lemon juice.

Birds flocked, ship men may have stared and we ate the best, freshest fish our of lives. We may have even called our parents to let them know...

Evidence (despite that face, we really enjoyed it, promise).