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Don’t Hassle the Hoff

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And with the passing of February we say goodbye to summer. Officially the first day of Autumn on March 1st and the countdown to winter begins.
I always chuckle to myself when I hear Australians talk of winter and the need to “rug up”. I mean, winter to us from the northern hemisphere conjures up images of roaring fires.  Central heating on high. Hats, scarves and gloves. Using your work pass to scrape ice off the car windscreen before we can start the trudge of the daily commute. Winter in Sydney means long pants instead of shorts. Maybe putting a pair of socks on.  At a push.
There is talk of acclimatising. Getting so used to the summer heat that our northern skins immediately notice cold 28′ winter days. Inclement weather and nights so bitter that a friend of mine even has to pull the doona all the way up to his chin as he gets settled and tucked up for the night with Harry bear.  I’ll keep you posted if I need any thermal long john’s posting over.
Other then reverting to whingeing pom mode, what tales have I got to regale you with this month?
Some of you may have seen that I recently changed jobs. I left the academic world of the University of Technology Sydney (UTS) and moved to RaboDirect, an online savings bank.  This was not before we had a very special guest appearance at UTS.  We had a visit from Mr David Hasselhoff himself.  Let me make clear at this point that this was totally unrelated to me deciding to leave.
I’m still a little unsure why he had come to Sydney, and even more unsure why he decided to do a public appearance at UTS.  That said, staff meetings were put to one side as me and a good friend, Sponty, decided to go and get a prime viewing spot.  I think Sponty wanted to be as close as possible to hear the pearls of wisdom from the Hoff.  Whilst I was secretly hoping Pamela Anderson might spring out of a box in a Baywatch bikini.  Alas, my hopes were dashed.
Not long after, seriously, it was nothing to do with missing out on Pammy, I moved jobs.  I had interviewed last year for a role at RaboDirect and out of the blue got a request to go back for a chat.  In one day, the chat turned into a 12-month contract offer that I couldn’t turn down.  So now, I’m back in banking, that’s BANKING.  Working for the little guy, trying to “steal back the dreams of savers” that have been taken by the big evil banks, who shall remain nameless.
In between the excitement of the Hoff’s visit, and my subsequent disappointment, ok, maybe the lack of Pammy has hit me harder than I thought, and the start of my new job, I had a cheeky little trip to Hobart.  If you haven’t yet, go and read the blog that I recently wrote about this great little city.
The new job is located smack bang in the middle of Darling Harbour.  A cracking location.  Just as I was starting, my old mucker Rich Medley was leaving.  Unfortunately the time limit on his working holiday visa is coming to an end so he needs to pack up his thongs and return to the UK.  If anybody is looking for an excellent Business Analyst, Medders is your man.  Thanks for the intro at Rabo chief, and I’ll buy you a beer in the Percy Shaw in Halifax come June.
Last week saw me and a bunch of pals head out to the Sydney Football Stadium to watch the NRL rugby league season opener.  The Roosters, fielding Sonny Bill Williams upon his return from rugby union, facing off against the South Sydney Rabbitohs my adopted team. Not really my sport to be honest but a good occasion and as good an excuse as any to have a few beers.
Talking of which, there is a funny story related to this.  Due to the responsible sale of alcohol in Australia (RSA) a person in the ground is only able to buy 4 beers at a time. So along I popped with @scottbarton8 as we needed 5.  Upon ordering I got told I could only have 4, to which I replied there were two of us, and pointed to said friend.
The response? I can still only serve you 4. Your friend will have to buy the other.  Really?  He’s just stood here.  Sorry.  So we had the ridiculous situation whereby I ordered and paid for 4.  Got my change.  Handed it to my mate stood right there next to me.  He then ordered one beer with my money and then also got handed MY change back, despite the barstaff seeing that I had given him the money in the first place. Seriously Australia, your attempts to deal with drinking problems are laudable, but the way you implement them is laughable.
On that note, I’ll go put the winter doona on the bed and settle in for another month.
Hasta luego chicos.

2015, end of year wrap up – New Year Evolutions

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Quite pointedly, you will see that I have not referenced “resolutions” in this.  Why is that?  As we all know, resolutions only ever turn out to be a temporary state of affairs.  Very ephemeral.  They don’t even sometimes last beyond the first hangover of the year.  When all you are craving is a bacon, egg, and black pudding butty.

The first time you fall off your own particular wagon, then it is a case of, “oh well, maybe I will try that again next January.”  I am a firm believer in living the very best life you can.  All the time.  Not once a year.  And not as a result of a guilt fueled post December blow out.

I do like to set myself annual goals though.  Things I want to do and achieve.  With my life.  With loved ones.  It’s the truest of truisms that time flies when you are having fun.  And a truth universally acknowledged that it goes even faster the older you get.

This was brought very sharply into focus recently when I happened across a blog post from a chap called Tim Urban (www.waitbutwhy.com).  A posting he wrote about “life in charts”.  When you can see all your life on one chart, it is visually very powerful.  When you can cross off the time you have had, and see the remainder, it reminds us that we are not immortal, and don’t in fact have all the time in the world.

Cross off what you have had, it is powerful

It went something like this, as applied to me.  If I am lucky enough to last to the ripe old age of 90, I have 46 years left.  I currently see my family maybe once a year on average.  If I do nothing to increase that average, I will only get to see them properly again for a maximum of 46 times.  I don’t want to consider what this means to the times I get to see my mum, who, barring a miraculous, medical discovery, won’t be around to see me reach my 90th birthday.

This isn’t supposed to be depressing.  Rather, a reminder that we should make the most of the time we do have.  Use it valuably.  Don’t waste time on arguments or petty grudges.  Because folks, life really is too short

Setting goals for the year motivates me to make sure I am living my life the way I want to.  Filling it with great experiences. So as I look back over the year, at times like these, in the rear view mirror, over my turkey, and pigs in blankets, I do so with satisfaction and not regret.  

Looking back over a list I made myself at the start of 2015, I haven’t done too bad.  Some items will carry over to this year, but isn’t that the idea?  Create an aspirational list, and see where you land.  My one perennial item, that always gets carried over is “lose weight”.  Not because I want to go on some fad diet, and lose lots of weight.  But rather, to maintain the lifestyle I enjoy so much, which includes lots of eating out, and lots of cocktails, then my weight is one thing that keeps me in the gym so many times a week.

Items on my list for last year included:

  • Go and actually see something at the Opera House (rather than just using the toilets) – ticked this off in December, when we went to see the amazing “Sleeping Beauty” ballet.
  • Eat fish and chips in England – ticked off courtesy of the wonderful friend, with whom I had a splendid, boozy, lunch of fabulous fish and chips at the new Catch restaurant in West Vale, Halifax.
  • Visit somewhere new – ticked off with a first visit to Jervis Bay, Huskisson, and Hyam’s beach on the south coast of New South Wales.  What was going to be a quiet night in the famous “Husky” pub turned into a big night after being told we had to “push on”.  So we spent the night listening to a live rendition of such Aussie classics such as Khe San by Cold Chisel. Harper and Tarimo, go and google them.  Obviously not as popular as The Proclaimers in the hot spots of Halifax and Huddersfield.
  • Learn a bit more Spanish, and speak it in Spain – ticked off with a weekend in Marbella, with some of my oldest (and they are quite old) mates.
  • Continue writing – something I have strived to do with regular-ish blog updates.  If I am honest, I would like to write more, but not sure you would all agree that’s such a good idea 🙂
  • Continue finding new places to eat in Sydney – not much of a hardship this one.  And with an exploding, world class dining scene, it is not very hard to achieve either.

And then the year had lots of highlights, and lots of firsts
I attended the world’s largest BBQ with my new friends Pam and Roy.  I’m convinced that they will still be eating the leftovers.  To this very day.  I also attended the world’s slowest BBQ (in fact I must point out that Mr Kent did an admirable job on his first occasion of using a behemoth of a gas BBQ. He wasn’t in fact quite as slow as Miss Harper has painted him out to be).  If only wee Tom could have been there to see him.

At the age of 43 I went ice skating for the very first time…at Bondi Beach.  Yes folks, you read that correctly.  Once a year an ice rink gets put up on the promenade overlooking the world famous beach.  It was great fun, even if I did resemble a drunk Bambi, trying to keep from falling over, as 5 year olds zoomed past me like Torvill and Dean.

Whale watching made the list of firsts, even though it was the second time I had been out on a trip. This was the first time I had actually seen any whales.

Stand Up Paddle boarding was a first that will definitely be repeated.  Despite needing even better balance than when I went ice skating, I surprised myself by being able to stay upright for long periods at a time.  I was even upright for a whole 10 minutes at one point.

Despite living in Sydney now for over 3 years, 2015 was the first time I had been to the “Vivid” light show in Sydney.  An annual lights extravaganza that has to be seen to be believed. www.vividsydney.com

January saw us welcome our first visitors of the year from the UK.  And the first time I had seen a person visibly melt in the sun in front of my eyes, like an ice cream left outside for too long.  A day at cricket at Sydney Cricket Ground saw us battling with the heat in ways not usually experienced in Greetland.

Thailand – and a return to Koh Samui after about 15 years.  Needless to say the place had changed, and in a good way.  We had an excellent time, fueled by cheap beers, pad thai and me discovering piña coladas.  How damn good are those bad boys?!

August saw me bring in my 3 year anniversary, and we finally got to have cocktails (about $1m worth!!!) in the Shanghai bar.  Known to you and me, and the rest of the world, as the Shangri La hotel.  And what a view from the room.  The ultimate staycation.  Matched by a stay later in the year at the wonderful Ovolo hotel down on finger wharf at Woolloomooloo.  Free mini bar, AND free drinks in the bar between 5pm to 7pm.  Beat that.

A trip home to the motherland in September, with Ma Cormack returning with us, for her second visit, bringing Helen in tow.  This was covered in my last posting.  And a holiday back to the wonderful Palm Cove in Far North Queensland over xmas rounded the year off perfectly, before spending NYE down at Sydney Harbour, for a fireworks display that always leaves me breathless.

And so, onto 2016, and all that brings.  Hopefully a good one for you, your family, and all your friends.

p.s. another first – the first blog post I have done on my new toy, the gargantuan iPad Pro.  I also have the “pencil”, and have started sketching, so I may follow Winston Churchill into painting out the later years of my life.

Does the Pipe and Glass do England’s best high tea?

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Surprised, one morning, I was told to pack a bag, we were off for a night away.  How exciting. A staycation on our vacation. Coming to the end of a packed visit to the UK, catching up with family and friends, we hadn’t had that much time together.  Slightly frazzled from trying to cram in 2 years of life updates in under 2 weeks, we needed some time out. Enter the “date day”. So, finding solace in our silence, we found ourselves driving east, along the M62, the main artery that crosses from the historic dock city of Liverpool, ending in a slightly less historic city of Hull.  Our destination was somewhat more quaint than Hull, in my humble opinion (nothing against Hull if we have any readers from there. I loved the Housemartins, if that helps.) We were headed to the country. We were slowing things down a little. We were headed for South Dalton, near Beverley. Our search for the best high tea continues.

The church spire in the village of South Dalton, near Beverley
The village of South Dalton

A former coaching inn on the majestic Dalton Estate, since 2006 The Pipe and Glass has been run as a pub by James and Kate Mackenzie.  And run to great acclaim, achieving a Michelin star in 2010 for the excellent restaurant (we had dinner that evening). There are also five boutique suites to make a night of a perfect day. 

Living in Sydney, I yearn for the great British pub. And the Great British Pub at Pipe and Glass is up there with the best of them.  Low ceilings. An open fire, the aroma of which hits your nostrils long before you see it. Add a wide selection of hand-pulled ales. A snug. Which self respecting pub hasn’t got a snug?  And of course, great British food. Sitting in the bar, with my pint of Black Sheep, a rarity in my adopted home town of Sydney, I was excitedly anticipating the food were here for this afternoon. You may have read that I like a good high tea. In fact, I like all high teas (almost all…a recent weekend in Sydney was a disappointment but that is for another day), but I really, really like a good high tea.

The beautiful Pipe and Glass pub and restaurant, South Dalton.
A slice of England

My ongoing search for Sydney’s best high tea is well documented.  And will continue. But the search recently moved to England, with the first cab off the rank being high tea at The Devonshire Arms.  A high tea that I would highly recommend. Now it was time to sample the best that the Pipe and Glass had to offer.

High tea at the home of a Michelin starred restaurant.

Driving through the verdant, bucolic countryside in and around Beverley, through to the quaint village of South Dalton, my mouth was watering in anticipation.  On arrival in South Dalton we were greeted with a sight that to me is quintessential England. White cottages lining the streets. All the cottages perfectly maintained. One of them occupying the old post office, with the original GR red post box still in situ.  With the reign of King George being over since 1952 you are more likely to see postboxes bearing the insignia of his daughter, the Queen of England, ER (Elizabeth Regina).  Green gardens, perfectly mowed lawns, stripes even my brother in law would be proud of, and pathways in full bloom with the early summer flowers.  The smell of freshly cut grass taking me back to childhood games of football in the local park.

Can you name a better looking high tea than the one offered here by the Pipe and Glass?

Taking our seats in the bar, in the bay window, we were soon sipping a glass of Gardet champagne, signifying the start of our “Pipe and Glass Afternoon Tea”.  As we raised a glass, anticipating what lay ahead, we were soon presented with our range of rather excellent sandwiches. The quality of sandwiches with the high teas we have had in the UK really are a joy to behold.  Today we had a selection of three. Mature cheddar, smoked salmon, and ham. Often described as having eyes bigger than my belly, which gets less likely with every passing year and new notch required on the belt, it always helps that the sandwiches are small.  Each mouthful, each morsel is enjoyed, and treasured. Leaving you wanting more. Delicious.

The “more” is what follows.  The second tier of the high tea tower. For some the piece de resistance.  The scones. When writing about the Devonshire High Tea, I may have got carried away with my description of the clotted cream.  Whilst it may have been the most delightful thing I had ever tasted, at that point, enter the clotted cream at Pipe and Glass. Oh man.  Oh. Oh oh. And the scones? I could live on them. They were that good. Serving scones warm always helps, and as I slowly nibbled (yeah, right!) my scone I felt I was in a very happy place.

Scones and clotted cream from the high tea at The Pipe and Glass
Check out that clotted cream!

I could have stopped there.  Stopped there and been a happy man.  However, duty called. I still had to eat the top tier.  No, I HAD to. The selection of cakes, delicacies, and nibbles. Whether I had room or not was a moot point.  I had some research to do. These blogs don’t write themselves.

After all that food and champagne, I was ready for a nap.  Lucky for us, we had elected to stay the night so we were able to repair to our cottage, Sage.  An old barn, converted into luxury accommodation, the cottage was everything you would expect from luxury, boutique accommodation.  The decor was delightful and the bed large and welcoming. I took full advantage.

Home for the night, cottage at the Pipe and Glass in South Dalton, home for today's high tea.
Home for the night, “Sage” cottage

As I’ve said, the Pipe and Glass is also home to a Michelin starred restaurant, and we were booked in for dinner.  Yes, more research. More food. Thankfully, it was a late booking, so I had slept off some of the afternoon’s excesses by the time we sat down in the spacious, but still intimate restaurant. The food lived up to expectation, with the fish pie described as “quite possibly the best ever had”. High praise indeed. An excellent sardine dish opened my evening, and a traditional “bubble and squeak” followed. All excellently complemented by a bottle of New Zealand Pinot Gris. If we lived a little closer, not on the other side of the world, I could see the Pipe and Glass becoming a regular spot for dinner.

The amazing fish pie, served for dinner at the Pipe and Glass in South Dalton.
The famous Fish Pie
Sardine entree at the Pipe and Glass in South Dalton
Sardine entree

The cottages we stayed in each had a private courtyard, and this is where we decided to have our breakfast.  You may sense I like food. You would be right. And one of the joys of staying in a historic British hotel is the proper English breakfast you get.  What, you ask, is a proper English breakfast. Well, ladies and gentlemen, it is a breakfast that includes a thick pork sausage, a slice of fried bread, and a hunk of black pudding.  Everything else is incidental, but greatly welcomed, such as bacon, beans, and a sunny side up fried egg. That, my friends, is a proper “full english”. I don’t want to be unfair to the bacon, or the bloody good black pudding, but “James Whites” pork sausages are the kind of sausage that could see a man pack up all his worldly possessions and head on a slow boat home from Sydney.

Breakfast is served in the courtyard of the Pipe and Glass in South Dalton. Still full after the high tea.
Breakfast is served

Very full, and very happy, it was time to leave this slice of paradise.  Staying overnight allows for rest and relaxation, but it never quite feels like long enough.  Maybe that is the secret. You are always leaving when you wish you were staying. So the memories you take away are ones of longing.  The Pipe and Glass is so well run, that you can’t but wish you were brave enough to undertake that tree change you have been promising yourself for many years now.  Move to the country. Perhaps do something in hospitality (due to your love of people!), such as a boutique bed and breakfast, or maybe that small wine bar you keep talking about. Give people the kind of experience, and memories you have just had.

Who knows, one day maybe? Until then, I’m off to look for my next high tea.

Time flies when…well, time just flies

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How fast?

Time flies. Doesn’t it go fast? Even in a pandemic. This week marks the start of our third month in Perth. We definitely aren’t, but if we were travelling as planned, I would be slightly anxious that we had already had 2 months on the road. Our trip, when it finally happens, and it will, is open ended, but after 8 weeks I will certainly be praying for the time to slow down.

Time may have just slowed down for Victoria, as in the last week she has started work. Spending the first day in the office, ostensibly just to collect a work laptop, and ensure that she was able to log into all the necessary work systems. She did. And she was.

Time flies when you have to be on calls all day in a pandemic.
Bringing home the bacon

Now, like all her colleagues at the small, local bank she has joined, she is working from home. This is mooted to be at least for the next 2 weeks. I know how hard it is to join a new organisation, and how long it takes before you start feeling settled. Having to do this remotely adds a level of complexity that can be hard to navigate. I will be sure to keep her supplied with strong cups of Yorkshire Tea.

The elusive job search

Whilst making tea is only a part time occupation, this still leaves me on the hunt for a job. In the 8 weeks we have been here, I have not seen one role for an agile coach advertised. This does not bode well. Either the job market is taking a long time to rebound from the pandemic, or I could have picked the only major city in Australia where I can’t find work. 

I did get a slight surge in positivity last week when I joined my first (remote) MeetUp here in Perth. For the uninitiated, MeetUps are organised groups of people with a common interest. And they, well, meet up, obviously. In the world of “agile” which I work in, they are very popular. Agile does love a good echo chamber. 

I often attended the Sydney Scrum user group whilst over on the East Coast, and this week I joined the Agile Perth group. To hear that there are over 2000 members in the group self identifying as “agilists” suggests that they must all be working somewhere. I just need to find out where.

Always learning

That said, I am not sure where I will fit work into my busy schedule. Anyone who tells me that they would be bored in retirement, just haven’t got enough interests. My days are amply filled with researching and writing potential articles, studying and revising for my WSET Level 1 wine course, sketching out a possible workshop I could deliver remotely to clients, learning more about the craft of professional coaching, and where I get time, reading widely. Phew. 

Learning about wine on the WSET Level 1 wine course
Having fun combining my passions

To relax, I am getting through a list of books that I have wanted to read for a long time but never committed to. After finishing the excellent “Long Walk to Freedom”, by Nelson Mandela, I am now working my way through “Middlemarch”, by George Eliot. Described by Virginia Woolf as “one of the few English novels written for grown-up people”. At 838 pages, and with other books on the go at the same time, it could take me awhile.

Time flies when you have this kind of reading material - the excellent Middlemarch
A behemoth of a book

Keeping fit and healthy

One thing that has been good, with not working, is that our exercise levels have increased from the already high levels we had in Sydney. Not being in an office all day has allowed for a number of long daily walks, taking our average daily step count well in advance of the 12000 target I had in Sydney. Averaging at around 25000 steps a day, and with no increase in weekly alcohol consumption (no decrease either, to be fair), my clothes seem to be fitting better than ever. Once I can afford a haircut, I am convinced that I will be even lighter.

This week we had another positive step on the journey to a “new normal”, post COVID19. Western Australia has fared very well dealing with the virus, and as of writing we have only had 2 new cases in the last week, with only 1 person in hospital. This means we have 3 active cases.

On the back of this, our State Government has allowed pubs, cafes, and restaurants to re-open, albeit for only 20 people at a time. With the 2sq metre rule still in place, this does mean that each venue can only have a few, spaced out tables. This makes for a somewhat strange experience, but I am not sure I would advocate what I saw in the news, where some restaurants are sitting mannequins at tables to make the dining room appear to be busier. That is just creepy. Here in Perth, every real person dining in has to provide their contact details, no doubt to allow for contact tracing should there be a spike in cases.

Back to normal? Kind of…

I’m excited to say that we are going out for our first dinner in a restaurant this week. Friday evening will see us dining at the renowned Balthazar restaurant in the city. This will be the first time we have eaten out since the Sunday evening before we left Sydney. That night was the last that pubs were open and I shall hold on to fond memories of the chicken parmy I had In the Hotel Mosman. My mouth is watering at the thought.

Time flies when you have this kind of coffee to help you through the days.
Oh, how I have missed you

I finally had my first coffee in an actual glass, and sat in a cafe, in over 2 months. Praise the lord. That coffee tasted good. Not only are paper cups bad for the environment, but I also find that coffee does not taste as good in them. On top of this, baristas pour less love into each cup of coffee they make, as they can hide their rushed work with a takeaway coffee cup lid. My impression of the coffee industry in Perth so far is that it is perhaps the Championship to the Premier League that is Sydney and Melbourne.

I often talk about my love of coffee (stop rolling your eyes!), and how my morning brew is one of the simple things that I am grateful for each day. I am hoping the quality of coffee improves now that we can sit in, and the barista has nowhere to hide.

Hello autumn

As the temperature starts to drop in the mornings, with us looking at the quickly approaching winter, it will be me hiding. Inside. I may fantasise sometimes about being back in a cold climate country. Digging out the winter wardrobe. Long walks in the snow. Cold pints in front of a log fire. And believe me, I do pine for this. Probably more than I should. Then I go for a walk around the village, and along the river, and even with the mercury just dipping into single figures I am ready to get back inside, to warm up.

Time flies, when you have to get the winter clothes out already.
Probably not as cold as it looks 🙂

To warm up, at this time of year, we are usually packing our bags, and heading to Europe. And how I would love to be able to do this now. Facebook memories are not helping. At all. Who wants to see that cute little restaurant in Positano, when you are stuck in the middle of an epidemic? Or that time your only worry was the fact that your beer was warming up, languidly laid around the pool at the villa in Kos.

Time flies when you are day dreaming about visiting Positano.
Dreaming of visiting places like this. Beautiful Positano.

Here is hoping that time flies, fast forwarding through this year, and we can all get planning our next holiday. Whether that is to support your local tourism industry, and we will be doing a lot of this in 2020, or if you plan to take yourself off to a beach for a while to put this year behind us.

Tell me, how are you?

I’d love to hear how you are all getting on. How you are adapting, and adjusting to the current situation. What you have learned as a result of this. What you are grateful for. And what you hope will change when we come out the other side. The things you don’t want to “go back to normal”. I would love to write a blog post all about you, and share all our experiences with each other. So drop me a line.

Until then, keep safe, keep physically distant but socially close.

Thinking of you all.

Beef Hula Hoops anyone?

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Why it’s ok to feel down even in the Promised Land

This is a little bit different to my usual posts. My customary ruminations of life on the road. How I got there, and how long did it take? What I did on arrival. The weird and wonderful foods I’ve tasted. Who could forget the immediately unforgettable snake I had in Beijing? And my experiences as I delve into foreign cultures.

However, this is a rather more personal post. A side to the Yorkshire Expat that maybe you don’t always see. A side that perhaps not many people see would be a more accurate description. What life is really like for a new expat. When you up-sticks and travel to countries both near and far, but not your “home” country. However long you live in a new country, your home will always be the same. Will your heart ever migrate as well as your body? Well, that’s something I will write about in future posts.

The idea for this post came to me the other day as I was walking around Cremorne reserve, on the North Shore of Sydney. Every time I turned a corner on the path I was greeted with a world-class view. Genuine picture postcard stuff. And the deep, melancholic side of my nature wondered, where do you go from here. Not literally, but spiritually. In the UK, on dark, dank, miserable days, a picture of a sunny beach, or a boat filled harbour would immediately lift my flagging spirits. The thought of logging onto Expedia and booking a flight somewhere bathed in sunshine put me in a sunny disposition.

This got me thinking. When I have a down day, and they will inevitably come, what will it take to subsequently lift me out of the doldrums? A friend has suggested beef hula-hoops and a vigorous dance to Beyoncé. I remain to be convinced but bought the hula-hoops earlier and am just downloading the latest track from the big bootied beauty.

With migration, the brochure sells the dream. It doesn’t give instructions on how to live it. That part is down to the individual expat. And all of us will have different ways of approaching it and adapting. The need to become a social chameleon. Blend in to the new surroundings. Make friends. Find your favourite coffee shop, nearest bottle shop, best local Thai takeaway, amongst the multitude of choice. Which newspaper will you prefer to read, and importantly in Sydney, which rugby league team will you adopt. I think I have this one sorted, South Sydney Rabbitohs. And where are the best fish and chips? Another one I think I’ve nailed. They may not be Mr Chips of Whitby, but Doyle’s at Watson’s Bay run them a very close second.

Apartment hunting is another mystery. It’s something of a dark art in Sydney. You don’t find a few you fancy and then casually make appointments that suit you. Each of them has their own 15-minute “inspection slot” and everybody turns up to that. The other day, there were about 10 of us literally falling over each other as we attempted to view a 1-bedroom apartment. I have seen 4 (recent update, now 5) so far and, needless to say, the search continues.

As I draw the curtain on the first month of being away, and we move from winter into the first day of spring, some of the pieces are falling into place. I have my Aussie driving licence and am now registered with Medicare, the health service. But I still have lots of the jigsaw missing. Pieces that I may not find and slot into place for quite some time yet. But as I was told, change is a process, not an event. And big change is a bloody big process, so bear with me whilst I complete the puzzle.

‘Til the next time…

And into month 5 we rock

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I say it every month.  I will probably keep saying it every month.  So, apologies in advance.  Am I in month 5 of this new life already?  The days and weeks are flying by, to the extent that I am already one and half months into my 6 month work contract.  Where did those weeks go?

Now, we are on the run up to Xmas, and some well needed time off work.  I suspect the next few weeks will go equally as fast.  The second half of my Spanish course.  Which, by the way, I am really enjoying.  Something I should have done a long time ago.  Regular gym visits, now I have formally committed and joined on a 6 month contract.  Nothing to do with the manager being a very attractive girl who twisted my arm into joining.  Nothing at all.  How shallow do you think I am?  Football twice a week, with the odd after football beer (or 3).  We do play on Thirsty Thursday after all, and from what I have seen the last few weeks, Thursday looks a particularly good day to wet your whistle.

Santa lording it over Darling Harbour
Did I mention Xmas?  Oh yeah, I’m sure I have seen Santa around town.  But if it wasn’t for the incongruous tree, basking in the mid-day sun in Martin’s Place, or the one below lighting up the interior of the Queen Victoria Building (QVB) one could be forgiven for forgetting we are in the Yuletide season.  Yes, some shops have trimmed up.  Or at least, made a token effort.  Some of the Xmas trees they have put up have seen better days.  If there was a “Comic Relief” charity for sorrowful looking trees, these specimens are the ones you would see on your screen.  Paraded against a backdrop of “Everybody Hurts” by REM.  I saw one in Starbucks that looked as though it had had all its pine needles stolen.  With all the money Starbucks are saving on unpaid taxes in the UK, you would think they could afford a healthier looking tree.

QVB xmas tree, or part of it.  It goes through 3 floors

With Xmas comes yet another birthday.  Not that I have ever worried about them.  What’s age but just a number.  I’ve never let it define me, or influence how I live my life.  That said, I do use the time, strategically placed at the end of the year, to reflect on what I have achieved the preceding year.  And this year, it is fair to say, has been a productive one for me personally, one in which I feel I have continued my growth as a person.  Moving to the other side of the world, on my own, was never going to be easy.  But it was something I wanted to do, and so to coin a phrase, “I felt the fear and did it anyway”.  

And here we are, entering month 5, and the festive season.  A time I am looking forward to, with visits from friendly faces from home, to help celebrate Xmas and New Year.  I suspect it will be a fun filled time, with plenty liquid refreshment and a champagne fuelled, inebriated Skype call home on Xmas Day to speak to mum, my sisters and my nephews and niece.  As I nurse the resulting hangover, I’ll be wondering what next year will bring as I continue to search for my raison d’etre.

Glebe Street Fair

The last month in Sydney has seen my going to a few street fairs on the weekends.  These are always bigger events than I anticipate.  I went to the Glebe Street Fair the other day and was staggered by how busy it was.  Glebe Point Road was full of market stalls, end to end, with evocative food smells drifting in the air, and the number of Sydney-siders who had come out in their droves to support it was truly impressive.  A fantastic community effort all round.  I had a mooch around, sustained by a coffee from Mano Espresso, as recommended by a new twitter friend, @NickiGirlStar.  Twitter really does open up a world of local knowledge when used well.  I have also been getting good coffee and food recommendations from @msnessiel, another virtual Sydney neighbour from cyber space.  It is not who you know, but rather, who you don’t know.

One recommendation that didn’t come from Twitter was “Scenic Dogging”.  I didn’t know what it was either.  Honest.  On a recent day out at Bradley’s Head, Mosman, (one of Sydney’s best look out points) on arrival a friend said it looked a great place for this afore mentioned, unknown to me, activity of scenic dogging.  I’m not sure what surprised me more.  The fact that I immediately agreed with him, once he explained to naïve little me what it meant, or who the suggestion came from.  Maybe that young man has secrets we don’t know about.  Not as innocent as he appears.  He did seem rather well acquainted with the bush up there.  Stop it!  You know I mean’t the Australian bush.  Such filthy minds.

As we roll into December, we usher in summer.  Scooter rides in thongs (the Australian version), long lazy days at the beach, apple based alcoholic refreshments in the local.  Spending the evening on a new hobby.  Counting freckles.  The sun brings them out you see, and it’s a good barometer of how well you are catching the sun.  Whilst always remembering the sunscreen.  Which is as tenuous a link as is needed to re-post this fantastic song again. Sunscreen song.  Working on getting the tan just right for when Pommie friends visit, and I can sufficiently gloat.  Well, after all, isn’t that why I moved here?

Hasta luego chicos and see you in month 6.