A lunch with my uncle is a rare event. The younger brother of my late father, married with three children of his own, he is the only family we knew upon migrating to Australia in 1987.
Growing up in north-west Sydney while our cousins lived in the Macarthur region, we generally saw each other only at Christmas.
Everyone has their own lives – and extended family tends to become a backdrop.
There for special occasions like weddings and funerals, but not really present from week to week.
So when I told my uncle I wanted to meet, I thought long and hard about where such a potentially awkward summit should take place. I settled on Harris Park.
To me, it’s become the beating heart of Parramatta.
Church Street is taking shape, but it has a lot of chain restaurants crowding out some genuine gems. The street furniture sometimes gives the impression of a toy town.
Wigram Street, Harris Park, by contrast, is truly authentic, being home to some of Sydney’s finest Indian restaurants and pumping from late afternoon to night. Sumptuous dishes are tossed up inside former residential bungalows.
Diners enjoy the lavish hospitality of entering a family home. Meanwhile, a few people sit outside and peer out over white picket fences at Parramatta’s gleaming and ever-evolving skyline.
My uncle enthusiastically approved the suggestion. It turns out he used to come to Harris Park from Campbelltown for tax accountancy advice back in the 1990s. He and his wife (my aunt) were also big fans of Billu’s, one of the first Indian restaurants on the strip.
Today, a trip to Harris Park for him is an event; whereas for me, it is just around the corner.
Over an entrée of makai palak kebab (deep fried corn, potato and spinach, stuffed with cheese and dipped in fresh mint chutney), especially recommended by the waiter, our conversation takes me back in time.
We don’t realise how special this suburb is. Through the efforts of local leaders, including the ever-smiling and ubiquitous Sanjay Deshwal, president of the Harris Park Business Association, Harris Park is starting to be marketed as ‘Little India’ to put it on the visitor map. It’s been compared to Brick Lane in London’s East End (although when I was there last year, I ran into more vintage clothes stores than curryhouses).
It’s more accurate to say that Harris Park defies characterisation. Today, ramshackle, higgledy-piggledy apartment blocks and snarling local traffic are a startling counterpoint to some of the nation’s most venerable heritage properties.
They include Experiment Farm, the very first acreage bestowed by the fledgling colony in 1793 to the settler James Ruse for growing his own food.
The land was sold to surgeon and magistrate John Harris who constructed Experiment Farm Cottage. Elizabeth Farm was built in 1793 for John and Elizabeth Macarthur, the area’s original orchardists and wool pioneers, while Hambledon Cottage has also been meticulously conserved.
The oddity of Harris Park is that these heritage treasures are ensconced among a largely unwitting migrant population that might as easily be conversing in Gujarati, Hindi, Punjabi, Nepali or Telugu.
According to the Census, the suburb’s median age is 31, making it one of the youngest areas in Sydney. Less than one-tenth of people live in standalone houses.
It would also be inaccurate to focus on Harris Park’s South Asian community to the exclusion of all others.
The Our Lady of Lebanon Maronite church draws worshippers from all over Sydney and there is also a growing Chinese Australian population.
Today, Harris Park is becoming a place where – ironically – it’s impossible to find a park.
Not enough trains stop at the station. It is also an adjunct to the Parramatta CBD, meaning that its heritage values stand to be eroded in the push to create more housing.
Nevertheless, a new generation of migrant restauranteurs, doctors, lawyers and accountants ply their trade.
After lunch, my uncle and I retreat to the Lebanese cafe, SweetLand.
As a diabetic, he politely refuses the baklava. But we sit, drinking coffee, asking after each other’s families, and watching the world go by.
Alan is a journalist and communications specialist. He writes a weekly column for Parra News.