Sydney itself spreads around the gigantic harbour created by the confluence of a number of rivers flowing down from the mountains behind. It is very flat - even the high rises aren't so high - and, out in the suburbs, bungalows prevail on the plentiful land. The city feels familiar with its Anglo origins clearly displayed in suburbs called Cheltenham, Epping, Liverpool, Richmond, Paddington and Kings Cross. Others meanwhile, such as Warraganta, Kurrabury and the wonderfully named Woolloomooloo, point to a different heritage entirely.

The first real difference I noticed when I got here a few days ago is the flora and fauna - the first indication that you're on a completely different continent. Almost none of the trees are familiar and, amongst the birds, only the pigeon is recognisable. In the spectacular botanical gardens bordering the harbour (the only place where I've ever seen a "please walk on the grass" sign) strange dog-sized birds probe the grass with their curved beaks, unusually patterned birds sing unfamiliar melodies to each other and troupes of parrots flash blue-red between the tree-tops. In a small crop of tall trees a riot was in progress - an appalling racket. At first I thought it was a huge flock of birds but, as I wandered through, I spotted black leathery forms hanging like strange fruit from the upper branches: a colony of flying foxes - rabbit sized bats with red fur and foxy faces. Half their band try to kip in the midday sun whilst the other half bicker and squabble for sleeping room.

Sleeping is what another of Australia's indigenae excels at. Koalas sit for 18 hours a day in the crook of a branch of a eucalyptus tree dreaming of eucalyptus. The remaining six hours they sit in the crook of a eucalyptus tree eating, predictably enough, eucalyptus leaves. When awake, they move slowly, as if only gesturing to the concept of "awake". The only exception is when they climb to the top of a branch and, in a brief burst of activity, fling their soft furry bodies to a nearby branch. They look as surprised as the onlookers at their achievement.

One recent non-native introduction to the fauna of this continent comes from Japan and lives in the Powerhouse Museum in central Sydney. Called Pixel it's the offspring of the Sony Corporation. It's one of the robot dogs I saw at Sony in Japan. But this one was alive. It is young and so has not learnt a lot yet, but it wags its tail, yawns and wanders around on its wobbly legs following a pink ball rolling around the floor. Despite the fact that it is silver and black it behaves in an uncannily realistic way. Apparently Sony has more robot pets to release; next up for grabs will be the robot fish and, curiously, a robot lobster.