Explore with Fran

Join me on the journey as I travel, eat, and drink my way around the world

Europe Revisited

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I seemed to countdown forever, but the trip finally arrived.  My visit back to the UK and a tour of all the culinary delights that I have been sorely missing.  Although I should probably clarify here, the purpose of my trip wasn’t just to put on the half stone that I did.  It was primarily to see family and friends.  And if those visits entailed long, leisurely lunches and decadent dinners, who was I to complain?
In keeping with my documented goals of 2013, I again travelled somewhere new in the world.  Kicking off the holiday with a weekend in Munich for the, now annual, boys weekend jaunt.  Munich is somewhere that has been on my bucket list for a while, but actually for Oktoberfest.  That said, even if we had waited a few months I’m not sure even we could have drank many more pints of good German beer. 
And talk about good hangover food, I think we had more visits to the Golden Arches than we did hours sleep.  Munich itself turned out to be a very beautiful city.  Full of big open squares, leafy gardens and the odd beer hall.  But a word of advice.  If you ever plan to visit the outstanding Allianz Arena (home of Bayern Munich), don’t go in searing heat, with a hangover, when there are works and restrictions on the train lines.  Just saying.
With regards to hangovers, Steve, shame you never managed the world record, but we always have next year. 
After Munich, came England, and specifically beautiful Yorkshire.  For the following couple of weeks I gorged myself on traditional English fayre and the Yorkshire countryside.  And when I say traditional English fayre I don’t just mean pies and pints of Copper Dragon Golden Pippen, but also delicious garlic laced curries of the sort that don’t seem to have made their way down under. 
Amongst many highlights, some would say the coup de grace was the amazing lamb henry, slow cooked one Sunday morning and served up at lunch with copious amounts of wine.  Oh, and cider.  And vodka.  And port.  I think it was a good day, but I’d need to ask somebody else who was there to confirm.  If the amount of time it takes you to eat a bacon and black pudding butty is a barometer of how drunk you were, I’d say some were very drunk.  At least the alcohol made me forget the rice pudding you could hang wallpaper with.  If I was the chef, I’d stick to main courses. 
Family, friends and a sun baked Yorkshire treated me well.  I ordered sunshine to remind me of my antipodean home and boy did the old country deliver.  The 2 weeks went by in a flash of catch ups, belly laughs, food, beer and wine.  
Reminding me of who and what is important to me in life I was truly sad to be leaving.  If only I could have stayed longer.  There were people I missed out on this time, due various reasons, including conflicting holiday plans.  I know I will see them all next time, whenever that may be.  And there are others I already can’t wait to see again, and I know I will, all in good time.  I just need a little patience.
Beautiful Yorkshire
For now, I return home with some fantastic memories, ready to face the start of my second year of this Australian adventure.  And what a start it will be.  Going to the 3rd Lions test in Sydney, which of course is now going to be the decider.  Watching Man Utd in the same stadium, some 2 weeks later play a team of A-League All Stars.  And celebrating “Xmas in July”, an Aussie tradition, in between. 
With new motivation, a game plan to be agreed upon, and the aim of getting fitter, the rest of 2013 could turn out to be one of the biggest years yet. 
Signing off, the Yorkshire Expat.  
Films watched on plane(s)
Django
Killing Them Softly
Stand up Guys 
Side Effects 

Life of Pi
Trance
TV series watched on plane(s)
The Thick of It  – whole of season 4 (bloody brilliant)

Hasta Pronto Amigos

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And I will see (many of) you soon.

As I start to reflect on what has now been the best part of a year being an expat, I now also look excitedly to my upcoming trip to Europe.
I will be flying into Munich on Friday 14thJune to meet up with the “annual get away” crew.  As with our previous jaunts to Las Vegas, and Prague, no doubt there will be much marveling at the architecture and we will surely see the insides of many churches and museums.  I’m even told the Germans brew quite a mean beer so maybe we will get to sample a few of those, if the itinerary allows!
Then I join the boys on an EasyJet flight into England late on Sunday 16th for just short of 2 weeks catching up with as many friends and family as I can possibly fit in.  Being the commensurate project manager, I have a timeline, and an almost full spreadsheet covering each day that I am there.  There could yet be a couple of slots made available so if you fancy a beer / wine / cup of tea, let me know.  I have a UK phone number for the time that I will be there.  If you want it, just drop me a message or a mail.
But what I will say, can you please collectively (or even individually!!) not make it TOO enjoyable or I will not want to return.  And then I will have some very big decisions to make.  From memory, England is bloody cold at Xmas.
What have I been doing in the lead up to it, besides counting down for the last 3 months?  I managed to complete level 3 of my Spanish lessons.  This means I have now done 24 weeks of lessons and have to say I have managed to learn a lot.  Although the further you scratch the surface of learning a language, the more you realise you have to learn.  Having a Spanish speaker at work helps and despite my feelings of inadequacy when we speak in Spanish, she tells me she is very impressed with what I know, and my accent.  I must be doing something right then.  Muy bien!  I have put a temporary hiatus on my studies due to the holiday.
You Facebookers out there will know that I recently did something in Sydney for the first time.  Something I always said I wouldn’t do because of the cost.  No!  Not that Steve.  Kings Cross isn’t that expensive these days 😉
Top of the world mamma!
I finally did the Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb.  Taking the philosophy that a) life is short, and b) I don’t really know how long I will be here, I decided to take the plunge.  And I thoroughly enjoyed it.  I joined a “Twilight Climb” which entailed going up in the day light, and down in the dark.  It was a fantastic experience and would recommend anybody ever in Sydney to do it.  And rewarding yourself with beers in The Australian pub across the road makes for a great day and night.
Whilst I was in the spirit of smashing the #sydneybucketlist I booked myself onto another first, whale watching in the ocean off Sydney harbour.  I had a great day, in the sun, on the water, but “whale watching – whales = watching”.  Yes, as the season had only started the day before, all I got to see was lots of dolphins.  However, all was not lost as I was given a voucher for a free return trip to take anytime I like before the end of the season in November.  So I may get to see whales yet.
Anybody seen a whale passing here?  Not very big!
Other than the usual stuff of crazy nights out, a couple of rugby games (both league and union), and the daily grind of work, nothing much else has happened.  We are now very much in Autumn, and I can feel it.  I am going to even have to buy a thicker duvet, or get a bed mate, as the nights are getting very cold.  Where did I put those pyjamas?
I have put in an early order for sunshine whilst I am in England, so can you all see what you can do for me #prayforsunforfran


With that, I will sign off and the next time I speak to many of you may well be in the flesh.  To say I am giddy is an understatement.  See you all on the other side.
FC

Not 19 Forever

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Photo credit: photobucket.com
Not, as I thought, the collective noun for a bunch of old Ford cars (Cortinas), but in fact a (pop?) band.  The Courteeners.  A band responsible for the song of this blog title, played over the tannoy to a very happy Old Trafford as the 20thtitle was secured in style versus Aston Villa.
This being the main reason I have been walking around Sydney with a big stupid grin for the last week or so.  We have been champions elect for some time but until we made it safe I was still having nightmares about the end of last season.  When I see Man Utd play at the ANZ Stadium, Sydney in July, it will be back in our rightful place as Champions of England.
I also feel that the writing of my last blog seems to have been the best therapy I could have had.  Massively cathartic.  And heartening to get so many positive messages from friends.  The outlook seems sunnier now, quite literally despite it being Autumn, and I am doubly looking forward to my upcoming visit to England, just over a short 6 weeks away.  Yes, really so soon.  In typical Project Manager fashion, I have a plan, a timeline and a very full spreadsheet.  And for the last 2 months, Mum has been stocking up on the booze and has a few of my favourite meals lined up.  Aren’t mums brilliant!

The 6-week countdown to my trip ushers in the start of month 10 as life as an expat.  I’ll say it again.  Where is the time going?  I’ve had my well-documented ups and downs, but seriously, I’ve nearly been here a year already?  The writing of this blog really brings home to me how time is passing. 
People ask how long I will be here for, and whether this is “forever”.  What is forever?  I’m not sure it exists as an entity.  More a collection of “nows”.  All the “nows” add up to create the moments and various chapters of your life.  Some chapters are longer than others.  This current chapter is currently a good read, so it will continue.  That said, this is not how I want the book to end.  As alluded to in the last blog, this story is just getting started.  I’m ready for bigger and better things.
What else do I have that I can share with you?  Well, this has been a very expensive few days.  Last Thursday was ANZAC (Australia and New Zealand Army Corps) day in Australia, a public holiday.  ANZAC Day – 25 April – is probably Australia’s most important national occasion. It marks the anniversary of the first major military action fought by Australian and New Zealand forces during the First World War.  Following dawn services, the afternoons are traditionally spent in the pub playing a very strange game called “2 Up”.  A variation of “heads or tails” that gets the pubs packed and has loads of people gambling on the outcome.  I didn’t get roped into any gambling but did savour a few cold ones.  It’s fair to say that the following day at work wasn’t my most productive.
Then we get to Saturday and after a day at the beach, I return to the flat to make @scottbarton8 a cup of tea only to find that we were locked out of the flat.  The thing is, I had my keys, but just not the key I needed.  I have 2 locks on the apartment door.  A yale lock, for which I have the key and is the lock I always use.  The other lock is one of those that you lock from the inside and then close the door.  I never, repeat never, use this lock.  What must have happened is that I appear to have pressed in the lock, on the inside by accident, then pulled the door closed.  Upon my return, I could unlock the top lock, but not the bottom, the key for which was inside the flat.
We jumped in the car and drove to the letting agent, only to find it closed.  I then rang them, only to find they were out of town.  My only option it turned out was Mosman Locksmiths!  He promptly turned up and after about 5 minutes of what appeared to be just trying to ruin the lock, and $140 later, he had me back in the flat.  And before you tell me, yes I know, there is a lesson in there.  It seems I’m learning a lot of lessons recently.
So, as I go and copper up, working out how much spending money I will have for my trip to Europe, I will leave you to enjoy your emerging Spring (if you are reading from the UK).  What’s that you say?  It’s snowing again?  Spare a thought for me.  It’s Autumn here.

Maudlin Musings

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Just follow it

When you have everything, yet have nothing.  A lot of people think I fall in to the first part of that statement.  I feel increasingly like I relate more to the second.  On the surface, as outsiders looking in, the life of an expat, especially one lucky enough to be living in Australia seems idyllic.  Like one long holiday.  It’s all sun, sea and BBQs isn’t it? 
Well, no actually.  It’s just the same as living anywhere in the world.  I still have to go to work in an office 5 days a week.  Laundry and the weekly big shop still have to be done.  And my work shirts don’t iron themselves, unfortunately.
So you get the drudgery of everyday life, but without your friends, family, and loved ones around you to make it all worthwhile.  I’m now ten months into this expat experiment and of that, I have only really had one month of pure happiness.  And that was when I had a friend over from the UK at Xmas and I was able to share this beautiful city with somebody.  One month from ten where I have been genuinely happy.  Not a very good return is it?
A close confidante and me often play the “percentages game”.  What percent chance of you being there over 1 year.  Percent chance being there 2 years.  Percent chance of being there forever.  I think we have already ruled out that last one.  And she tells me she suspects I know in my heart already what the answer is.  I’m starting to fear that maybe she is right.  Yet I keep holding off.  Waiting for the switch to come on and for it all to fall into place.  But things are in place.  I’m working, in a good job, decent wage.  I’m managing to play a game of football each week.  I’m progressing well with my Spanish, now on level 3.  And I have friends outside work.  So all the components of a good life are in place.  Yet I feel empty.  Wondering if the switch will ever come on.
So when does perseverance become stubbornness?  How long do you give it?  Do you sit out the months simply because you feel you have to, and one day it will all be worthwhile?  Somebody keeps telling me that life is short.  It is, she is right.  It’s time I stopped running away, and started running towards.  Life dishes out harsh lessons.  I’m starting to learn from them.   At what point do you listen to your heart and follow what it is telling you?
I remember travelling through South America a couple of years ago, having a great time.  But I also distinctly remember when I realized it was time to go home.  I booked my flight and immediately felt a sense of peace, and happiness.  Enjoying the journey, yet counting down the days to being home with close friends I had missed.  I’ll never forget the unadulterated joy I felt at seeing my friends face as she picked me up from the airport.  So with this knowledge, I can’t help but wonder how I would feel if I booked a one way ticket home.  Not quite yet of course, as I am on those shores in just over 8 weeks.  But that trip will be the litmus test for me.  A temperature check on how I really feel.  Will I feel “home”.  Seeing all the friends I have arranged to catch up with, will it feel “right” and something that I no longer want to turn my back on?  Taking into consideration the second half of this year, I have no such plans for friends to visit this xmas and I already know I don’t fancy the prospect of spending my birthday here, alone.  
Just to further complicate matters, I think I could be starting to have my first mid-life crisis, feeling the urge to face my commitment issues head on.  I won’t blame the last book I read, “The Rosie Project” as my thoughts since turning 40 have been quietly bubbling away, but I’m ready to quit putting myself in isolation constantly.  I think my solo travels could be a thing of the past as I look for somebody to share the world with.  My search to find some meaning to the journey that is life is starting to narrow and what I am wanting for the second half (see previous blog on turning 40) is coming sharply into focus.  I’m in danger of allowing alone to morph into lonely.  I won’t allow that to happen.
Look out, the Yorkshire Expat is coming!

Where’s the baby?

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Calm down mum, there is no baby.  At least not that I know of.  Or at the very least that I’m admitting to.  If anybody comes knocking at your door, you don’t know where I am.  You think I could pay both Sydney rent AND child support?!?  And don’t you think you currently have enough grandchildren?
Photo credit: Classical Beaver
No, the “9 month” of the title refers to the month that I’m now entering as a Yorkshire Expat in Sydney.  Yes, I don’t know where it’s gone either.  Did I really leave the UK all those months ago?  Evidently I did, yet would struggle to describe how I have filled those months.  Without, of course, recourse to these blogs.  Maybe I should do that one quiet night, get a(nother) bottle of wine in and recall what I’ve been up to.
It’s been quite an emotional few weeks, for one reason or another.  Not withstanding the running out of Manchego cheese, counter balanced by finding an amazing Chilean pinot noir to drown my sorrows, the major event this month has seen me saying goodbyes.  When I was in the process for coming out here, a work colleague was counting down the days til he left Blighty, for these shores, on a 12 month working holiday visa.  And we were more colleagues than mates.  Sharing the Yorkshire love, we met up in my first week in Sydney and over the intervening months we have forged a really strong friendship.  Alas, the sands of time on his visa expired and he has now returned to the UK.  I’m keeping my eyes on the Nando’s share price as I expect it will be the thing that will suffer most. 
In traditional fashion we had his leaving drinks.  And boy, can he put away his liquor.  Decamped in Paradiso bar near work, at Darling Harbour, we were on the cinnamon whisky shots at about 16.30, followed not long after by Patrone shots.  Some drink I had never heard of.  Don’t worry, I was told, it’s only tequila based.  Oh, that will be ok then!  A great night was had.  I think.  It went by in a flash.  Or, as I tried to recount the day after, a series of flashbacks.  Shots…beers…friends…taxis…chicken tikka roll kebabs (seriously, you have to try this Neutral Bay speciality)…friend’s irate neighbours…wine…walks…international phone calls…unconscious.  In that order.  I think. 
I had a more sedate meeting this week.  Catching up over coffee with somebody I haven’t seen for a long time.  About 20 years she reliably informs me.  Really?  I was young then.  And had dark hair.  Moving out here last year we figured it was time we met up finally.  And we had a great catch up, chatting like we had last seen each other only the other week.  Us Yorkshire expats have to stick together.
On another topic, I seem to remember I had written about homesickness recently.  The “elephant in the room”.  So on that, I must pass on a heartfelt thanks to all my UK based friends.  Thank you all for knocking any residual homesickness out of me with all your arctic “spring” pictures.  I may be suffering in the unseasonal Autumnal heat, yet don’t have to contend with being snowed in and having my life disrupted as seems to happen with increasing frequency at home.  Be careful what you wish for is an adage close to this pom’s heart.  I just hope the snow has cleared by June.
At the time of writing this, I have the long Easter weekend ahead of me.  I think I’ll make another trip up to the Blue Mountains.  I went over Christmas when a friend was over from UK, and we couldn’t have picked a worse day.  The train ride itself was trying enough, with a very annoying little lad shouting “are we there yet” at every station.  On a 2 hour journey.  I kid you not.
And when we got there it was a proverbial pea souper.  Probably even worse, a mushed pea souper.  Not a mountain or a eucalyptus tree in sight.  Anywhere.  We had to buy a postcard just so I could prove to her that the “3 Sisters” mountain range does in fact exist.
Photo credit: environment.nsw.gov.au
Hopefully, this time around, I’ll get a better day.  You’ll find out next month.  Until then, hasta la vista chicos.

Dreams

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We all have them, to some extent.  Dreams that get us through the, sometimes, humdrum slog of everyday life.  Things we hang on to, strive for.  Work towards, setting goals along the way.  Milestones to tick off along the journey. 
For some people the dream is to fly into space.  Mr Branson is going some way to allow the more affluent amongst us to realize that dream.  For others, the dream is to have a little shed at the end of the garden that you can retreat to with a little scotch and a good book under the pretense of “doing a little work”.
But dreams are tricky to nail down.  They can often be a moving target, needing to be realigned at various times in your life.  Dreams can disappear in a flash.  A popular marketing strategy of a bank here in Australia is to portray large banks stealing your dreams.  By stealthily “robbing you” of the interest you could be earning.  But it is not just banks that steal your dreams. 
Who was it that said “life is what happens whilst you are making plans”?  This is so true.  Some events happen that we have no control over.  Or sometimes it’s a person that “steals your dreams”, leaving you ripping up the plan and starting again.  The strength you gain from this adversity makes the achievement of the dream so powerful.  The journey being the reward.
But, that’s the thing with dreams.  What do you do when you have achieved it?  What then?  Sit back and enjoy the achievement?  Bask in a warm self contented glow for a while?  Or does the achievement motivate you?  Showing you what we are capable in the short time we are here?
I had a dream of living in Australia.  You might have heard about it.  Sampling the fabled lifestyle of beaches and BBQs.  It took me a long time.  You could argue it had been a dream ever since first visiting in 1994 for a year on a working holiday visa.  But I persevered, and eventually, being granted my permanent residency visa in 2012 I upped sticks and moved here. 
This hasn’t been without its own challenges along the way, but I’m here, settled, working and enjoying the lifestyle.  

But here lies the rub.  

It was a dream that I have now realized.  Therefore, what does it become?  It is no longer there, on the horizon dragging me through another Monday morning at work.  Safe in the knowledge that the job was a means to an end.  Another day, towards another pay day, towards the travel fund, towards the dream.  In some respects, the dream has become the end.
So I have a quandary.  Do I become like the bloke who settled for his little shed at the end of the garden?  Or do I aim for space with Mr Branson, metaphorically speaking?  What becomes the new dream?  Now I look back, the years I have waited to get to this point have passed by in a flash.  I know the next few years will seem to pass at an equally frenetic pace.  So I need to make sure I am still moving forward.  Achieving something worthwhile.  The difficult question I now have to ask myself is, by maintaining the new status quo, am I developing, or stagnating?
And this stymies me.  I just don’t know.  What I do know is that I am starting to get that itch again.  And when that happens, I don’t know myself where we will end up.  Maybe it’s the curse of the unattached.  Floating and bobbing along the sea of life without the ballast of a partner to keep you grounded.  Who knows, maybe the ballast is what I am ultimately looking for.  Chi cerca trova, so goes one of my tattoos (he who seeks will find).   The search continues.
When I do take stock of my life, and start thinking about what I want to achieve in 2014, things may become a lot clearer.  

When they do, you will be the first to hear.