By Jordan Baker
You’ve probably never heard of this suburb. I hadn’t until I tracked it down on Google Maps a decade ago when my brother moved there.
If you have heard of it, your exposure may be due to the brief period – a matter of hours – it lurked in the furthest corner of the national consciousness last year when its prosaic RSL hosted Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s victory party.
Hurlstone Park is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it patch of leafy quiet in an otherwise gritty part of Sydney. It sits on the border of the inner west and the south-west – woke politics on one side, drive-by shootings on the other.
An event celebrating the Cooks River at Hurlstone ParkCredit: Brook Mitchell
It was once described as the Paris end of the Canterbury-Bankstown local government area. The locals like that moniker and point to features Hurlo shares with the City of Love: a dirty river (the Cooks), good coffee and a preponderance of dogs.
Hurlstone Park is often overshadowed by its eastern neighbours Dulwich Hill and Summer Hill, in the way a make-up-free beauty can be eclipsed by sequins and lipstick.
Those suburbs have fancy bars, restaurants and boutiques. Hurlo has a more earthy vibe: a vintage shop, a thriving soccer club and a cluster of excellent cafes. One of them is HP Source, which was forced to change its name from Saint Lucifer after being hounded by hardline Christians.
Until recently, Hurlo also had its own version of Stanmore’s Olympia Milk Bar – a Greek cobbler who emigrated after World War II and worked for five decades in his tiny shop cluttered with shoes and cigarettes. He died a few months ago.
Rhys Williams at HP Source cafe, Hurlstone Park.Credit: Janie Barrett
Nowadays, it even has small bars. One, HP Bowlo, next to Source – the first small bar in the Canterbury-Bankstown LGA – is named after a beloved 70-year-old lawn bowls club across the road that was pulled down amid great local grief because it was too unsafe to stand.
HP Bowlo has preserved the spirit of its namesake. There are meat trays, local brews and, better still, the strong likelihood that if you walk in at any point in the evening, you’ll know another patron – even if it’s the barman.
That’s the gem that lies at the heart of this humble little suburb. It might boast beautiful heritage homes, leafy figs and ample green space along its healing river, but the thing that sets Hurlo apart is its kindly, welcoming community.
Local resident Barney Soloman swims in the Cooks River at Boat Harbour, Hurlstone Park (it’s not recommended).Credit: Brook Mitchell
No one flashes money (even though, like everywhere in Sydney, it’s increasingly wealthy). Kids still ride bikes around the streets. There’s no need to change out of ill-fitting trackies for school pick-up; pretension is surrendered at the Inner West Council border.
I don’t actually live in Hurlo. I’m now, after my brother introduced me to the area, HP adjacent. I’m also HP aspirational; I love its vibe so much that I interlope regularly and have never been made to feel less than a member of the family.
Riverside picnics at Hurlstone Park.Credit: Brook Mitchell
Best cafe?
A tight race between HP Source, with excellent coffee, and Kylon, with its delicious breakfasts.
Best restaurant?
A picnic by the river on a summer’s evening.
Best beach, park or pool?
Canterbury Pool, a modernist gem, has closed for an upgrade. You shouldn’t swim in the river – too polluted – but you can rent a kayak.
First place you take visitors?
For a walk along the Cooks, which is coming back to life after decades of neglect.
Perfect night out in your suburb?
A few lazy drinks at HP Bowlo, running into locals.
What would make your suburb better?
A restaurant that wasn’t next to a pokie den.
Best secret spot in your suburb?
The entire suburb is a secret.