NSW: Bitten by the Sydney bug

Sydney's magnificent harbour can be glimpsed from various spots around the city, including the Sydney Tower and Taronga Zoo. Photo / Tourism New South Wales

My 16-year-old is afraid of the grass. She's stalled on the edge of a green that's separating her from one of Sydney's finest harbour beaches, Watson's Bay, and a feed of fish and chips on the wharf. She is convinced the lawn is alive with funnel web spiders and carpet snakes.

That's where listening to Sydneysiders gets you. They spin yarns like a garden orb (they're the spiders as big as your hand that catch small birds in their webs).

I'm hoping Catherine's encounter with Tim Jackson, the friendly reptile expert we met earlier at Sydney Wildlife World, will cure her of her habit of going barefoot in public. He has that Australian gift for understated hyperbole.

"Most snakebites won't kill you," he says, pointing out a local death adder so well camouflaged in its Sydney sandstone enclosure it has escaped our notice. "But it can take years to recover from the muscle tissue damage."

He rather spoils the effect when we move to the funnel web, the most dangerous spider in the world, which makes its home in the ground. "There are lots of stories about funnel webs," he says. "People say they can bite through your boots.

"But if you leave your boots on the porch, they'll probably think they're a good place to hide."

At Watson's Bay, Catherine puts on her boots, the ones with the holes that she says add character. We're in Sydney to discover what it has to offer families. It's long had a reputation as a grown-ups place, with its boutiques and fine dining and air of sophistication. Kiwis with kids are tending to bypass it for the Gold Coast and theme parks with names like Wet'n'Wild and Whitewater World.

But after a four-day weekend in which we were slamdunked by Bondi Surf, shaken and stirred at Luna Park; forced to test the strength of a glass platform 300m above ground at Sydney Tower and then locked in the bearpit at Taronga Zoo, we reckon Sydney could be rebranded: scary.

Catherine and sisters Philippa (14) and Greta (12) found much that disturbed them in Sydney and, as kids do, peppered their father with questions best left unanswered - like: why are Australians so optimistic, why do they answer every query with "no worries", why do koalas have white bottoms and why is everything bigger and better?

To get our bearings, we started with a leisurely guided cycle ride with Bonza Bike Tours but I was soon wondering whether Bonza wasn't a drongo idea. That was when our guide, Nick, bolted through an intersection on one of Sydney's busiest thoroughfares, leaving us facing a peak hour wall of pedestrians, buses and taxis.

Luckily there's always the footpath - in fact most of the tour takes place on the network of walkways which hug the harbour from Double Bay to Haymarket before the dash up Elizabeth St to Hyde Park and the safety of the footpaths.

From there, it's all downhill along Mrs Macquarie's Drive and into the Botanic Gardens, watching for low-flying bats, to emerge at the harbour by the Opera House.

The girls' initial concerns about physical exertion soon ease and Philippa decides the cycle tour is not just a fun way to see the sights but a useful history primer.

Nick tells us that the touristy Rocks area was once a sailor's ruin - a labyrinth of opium dens and pubs - but he's especially enthusiastic about the remnants of the sandstone wall built to keep ship rats from invading the town during a bubonic plague outbreak at the turn of last century.

We freewheel past Darling Harbour cafes on what was the Hungry Mile, where unemployed would wait for work on the wharves in the Great Depression. We may be in the Great Recession, but the buzz from the suits suggest the long lunch is lingering well on Friday afternoons in Sydney.

Another way to see the sights, and marvel at the world's best harbour, is Sydney Tower. Again the girls took some convincing: they'd been led to believe that Auckland has the taller tower but Sydney's viewing platform, at 268m, dwarfs our Sky Tower's. Bigger but not necessarily better.

While you can't bungee jump off it, the Skywalk - an outdoor walk harnessed to railings - adds a thrill factor to the outstanding views. The highlight is a retracting platform which leaves you suspended on glass, looking down with a sinking feeling.

Darling Harbour, where we're staying, also wins the waterfront redevelopment comparison: there are Viaduct Basin-style bars and restaurants but they also have the family-oriented Wildlife World, Sydney Aquarium and Australian Maritime Museum.

At Wildlife World, if you listened to Tim too much, you could conclude that Sydney is too dangerous to venture outdoors. Even if, watching the reddish/brown death adder lure the curious with the slightest shimmy of its tail, you feel sympathy for the snakes that once roamed the sandstone edges of the harbour but are now confined to the outskirts of town.

The local python species is the carpet python which can grow to 2.5m. They're still found in the bush but because of their camouflage are rarely seen. "If you had one in your backyard it would actually be a good thing - they eat rats."

Indoors isn't actually much safer. The rather large Huntsman spider is a feature of many homes, says Tim.

"You get big welts from a Huntsman," he says casually. "But they're good to have around the house because they eat cockroaches.

"The most dangerous thing they can do is scuttle across your windscreen on the highway - I reckon that's caused a few accidents."

Through cunning design, Wildlife World and the next door Sydney Aquarium are much bigger inside than meets the eye. And what a lot of marsupials there are to meet: dunnarts, potoroos, bilbies, goannas, wombats, kangaroos and koalas.

Tim soon has us feeling sorry for a 3m crocodile found in the Northern Territory and Queensland; the bigger ones are critically endangered.

"I don't think it's right to shoot them but I don't have to deal with the danger," says Tim.

"If you hang around the water's edge in areas where there are large crocs you are putting yourself on the menu."

He puts himself on the menu when he queries our attitude to the cute furry possum, saying accusingly, "You kill them over there."

Twelve-year-old Greta isn't letting that one go: "At least we don't have killer spiders."

Next door at the Aquarium a pair of dugongs, the only ones in captivity in the southern hemisphere are a worthy attraction, despite their marketing link to that very wet Aussie soap Mermaids, which Philippa accuses me of watching. It's the horizontal tails they have in common. They're sharing one of the aquarium's three big tanks with giant rays. The kids' verdict: "Everything about it is bigger and better."

Darling Harbour has other distractions including the Maritime Museum and, closer to Haymarket, the Powerhouse Museum which we don't have time for. We're off surfing at Bondi where, in the weeks before our visit, sharks have been sighted. The girls rather prefer the sound of the publicity about oggling "some of the best bodies in the eastern suburbs".

But Dave Hannagan of Let's Go Surfing, Bondi's only licensed surf school, is not about to let Catherine and Greta relax on the beach. Big Wave Dave, as he's known, arrived here 10 years ago and sees no reason to leave.

The eastern suburbs boast a succession of great bays from Maroubra to the harbour (and the Bondi Explorer bus stops at several of them) but Bondi's south-east orientation ensures it never runs out of surf. Even on a calm day, there's enough pace in the broken surf for novices to catch a ride.

First, however, we have to sign our lives away - the waiver covers everything from nose diving into the sand to "muscle strain" and getting bitten by a great white. I'm more scared of Big Wave Dave.

He takes us through the routine on dry sand, forcing us to lie on our boards in wetsuits and t-shirts and perform a routine that involves chicken wings, a harbour bridge, and a helicopter in front of the Bondi throng - who simply ignore this silliness.

All of Dave's prep is, of course, forgotten when it comes to standing up on a moving wobbling board. But at the end of our hour long lesson, everyone has stood up and experienced the buzz of surfing without too many mishaps. We are, as Dave says, too cool for school.

There are more sedate ways to experience this city's intimate connection with water. One is the ferries - from the small wooden veterans that criss-cross between Circular Quay and north Sydney bays to the sturdy Manly ferries. A late-afternoon ferry trip back from Manly or Watson's Bay, with Old Ironlungs (the harbour bridge), city office towers and the Opera House silhouetted against the sun, is hard to beat.

Manly Kayaks, on the harbour-side of Manly, gets you even closer to the water. Host Mysan Sidbo will direct you to nearby secluded bays where you can walk to a waterfall and "not know you're in Sydney".

She arrived from Sweden six years ago and is "never going to leave. If you love a healthy lifestyle, Manly's the place".

Just watch that a ferry doesn't sneak up behind while you're kayaking though. They have very loud horns.

The loudest place in Sydney is Luna Park. At least that's what newbie apartment owners at Milson's Pt decided in the 1980s and campaigned to have the Big Dipper closed down. The theme park has had a roller coaster history and some Sydney folk seem to regard it as passe.

But that's a large part of the charm of this place which, among other attractions, houses the last European-style funhouse in the world. Its monkey barrels, moving plank walks, distorting mirrors and sack slides were, in Philippa-speak, "hooty".

Outdoors, the Wild Mouse roller coaster instils white-knuckle fear in those of a certain age while the younger generation remind the neighbours who was there first on the Whirling Spider, the Ranger and Flying Saucer. Neon lights add to the atmosphere at night, even if those pesky residents have it shut down by 10pm.

Perhaps the riskiest call we made in Sydney was giving up our comfortable apartment at the Medina Grand Harbour to spend our last night under canvas - in close proximity to wildlife that could tear us apart, or kill us in more imaginative ways.

But Taronga Zoo's Roar and Snore experience was, inevitably, a step up from Safari Nights at Auckland Zoo's Old Elephant House. Overnighting at the zoo has proved so popular that Taronga have invested in flash new tents with comfy beds and a 5-star shower block.

About 30 have brought their overnight bags on this Sunday night and we're invited to drinks and nibbles in the lounge, just beside the viewing platform with yet another splendid angle on the harbour. The real icebreaker, however, is zookeeper Amelia's snake necklace.

While the grown-ups enjoy the wine and cheese, the children are soon patting snakes and letting phasmids (stick insects) crawl all over them. Very sophisticated, very Sydney.

After a buffet dinner we're off on safari by torchlight, spotting animals going about their nocturnal activities. Amelia and colleagues Elli and Justine are as at ease with people as they are knowledgeable about animals. Justine has been a paid keeper for 14 years after arriving as a volunteer.

"People stay," she says. "We've got people who've been here for 30 years."

In the dark, our sense of smell and sound is heightened. A distinctive odour tells us we are approaching the Himalayan tahr exhibit.

"When he's trying to pick up a girlfriend, you just don't come here," Elli tells us. The fragrance is an occupational hazard.

"I call it eau de mountain tahr - I once threw a jumper I'd been wearing into my car and the smell has never left."

A noise as loud as a one-day cricket crowd banging cans turns out to be the chimpanzees saying goodnight. But our night is remarkably roar-free until kookaburras signal the approaching dawn.

After breakfast watching the sun rise on the harbour, we're put to work hand feeding the giraffes and putting the food out for the Kodiac bear, who looks rather peckish behind his padlocked door.

There are opportunities to pat koalas and kwokas (small wallabies) before Roar and Snore is officially over and they let the hoi polloi in.

We're free to spend the day roaming the zoo, which is rather bigger than Auckland's, and with a similar commitment to what our guides call "enrichment" for the caged exhibits.

But time is running out and the girls are getting nervous. They've heard the thing to do in Sydney is shop - and Catherine has decided she needs a sturdy new pair of boots.

CHECKLIST

Getting there: Air New Zealand offers over 50 non-stop flights every week from Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch to Sydney with connections available from all around New Zealand.

Where to stay: Medina Grand Harbourside, Darling Harbour, offers family-friendly accommodation.

Things to do: (Prices in Australian dollars)

* Sydney Wildlife World, Darling Harbour. Adult $31.95, child $17.95, family (2 adults, 2 children) $85.

* Sydney Aquarium, Darling Harbour. Adult $31.95, child $17.95, family (2 adults, 2 children) $85.

* Skywalk, Sydney Tower. Adult $58.50, child $40.50.

* Discovery 3-pass (Wildlife World, Aquarium, Sydney Tower). Adult $69.95, child $39.95, family $180.

* Bonza Bike Tours' Sydney Highlights Tour. Adult $89, child $49, family $259.

* Luna Park, Milsons Pt. Go Wild (all rides) pass $43. Friday Night Lunacy $25.

* Let's Go Surfing, Ramsgate Ave, Bondi Beach. Per person, 1 hour $79, family (up to 5 people) $350.

* Manly Boat and Kayak Hire, Manly Wharf. Tandem kayak, 1 hour $40.

* Roar and Snore, Taronga Park Zoo. Adult $216 (Sun-Thurs), $240 (Fri, Sat); child $166.50, $185.00; family (1 adult, 3 child) $715.50, $795.

The Cumming family's visit to Sydney was assisted by Tourism New South Wales and Air New Zealand.