Search Results for: label/Australia

And just like that, we are into month 7…

January 27, 2013 by Fran 4 Comments

After a very busy month 6, I have had a bit of transition to deal with.

My impeccably behaved house guest left these shores, presumably to go off and make snowmen. Now I have to re-adjust to doing my own washing up, and remembering where I put the iron. On the plus side, I can get my diet back under control. I have never eaten so many peas.

I recently blogged on my goals for 2013. I should provide a little update.

Fitness and drinking: I started off quite well, enjoying the mountain bike rather than a mountain of food. I dusted the bike off and had a good few hours cycling from the North Shore, over the Harbour Bridge and around the inner city. I’m sure the city didn’t feel that hilly from the buses I’m usually on. The last week I have lapsed a little, what with the bank holiday weekend, but am determined to get back to the gym again next week. If I can remember where it is.

Hobart harbour

New places: Booked a long weekend trip to Hobart, the capital of Tasmania. Tasmania is an island south of the Australian continent, just across the Bass Strait, and is one of the last remaining Aussie outposts that I have not yet vsisited. I’m really looking forward to rectifying this, especially after hearing and reading so many great things about it. One thing I have been told to check out, although it is obviously not my thing, is the collection of 150 or so casts of vaginas, at the Museum of New and Old Art (MONA). Don’t they all look the same anyway?

War & Peace: I bit the bullet, and started this behemoth of a book. Thankfully, besides the actual book, which is helping with my fitness as it’s so heavy, I also have a Kindle version for when my arms get tired. My Kindle version kindly informs me that I am 13% complete. We are currently in Austria, fighting the French. I’ll plod on.

After the success of the Spanish course last year, I have now started level 2. Another 8 week course beckons, lesson 1 of which was last week. A timely reminder of why I want to learn this beautiful language. Nothing to do with the beautiful women that are Spanish speakers. Nothing at all.

I had a particularly bad week in the the post. And no, not because of postcards and letters I’m receiving, I enjoy those. But I received a speeding ticket and $150 fine on day 1. On day 2, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I received a further $50 fine, this time from the thieves at Thrifty car hire. Apparently, it costs them this amount in “admin” for them to kindly pass on my name and address to the authorities for the aforementioned speeding ticket.

If I’m to be able to stick around in Australia beyond month 7 I think I better stick to the beloved scooter.

This weekend we had Australia Day on 26^th where the whole nation comes together and celebrates; read, drinks beer and waves flags. I’ll not be complaining though, as we get Monday off as a public holiday so the long weekend will be greatly enjoyed, drinking beer and flag waving.

In other news, I have secured myself a new job. My current role was only ever a 6 month contract but I have been offered, and accepted, a job at Rabobank in the meantime. This is a 12 month contract, based in Darling Harbour and gives me an opportunity to work back in the private sector.

Working at a university has been good experience but I don’t think it’s my natural habitat. And before I hear you cynics pipe up, I don’t often get to see the students! Moving to the new role will give me the comparison between 2 very different working environments, the public and private sector.

Oh, and the view from the office aint all that bad.

That’s all folks.

Don’t Hassle the Hoff

March 10, 2013 by Fran 1 Comment

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.

Dreams

March 21, 2013 by Fran 2 Comments

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.

Happy Australian Anniversary…

July 27, 2013 by Fran 3 Comments

…to me. Well almost. By the time you read this I will be 1 week shy of being in Australia for 1 whole year. This is on Sunday 4^th August. Granted, I have had a couple of weeks back in the UK, but the milestone has come around so fast. Plans are in place to celebrate with friends with a monster schnitty (chicken schnitzel) at one of my favourite drinking haunts, The Bavarian in Crow’s Nest.

This comes with the added bonus that I recently found out that the following Monday, 5^th August, is a bank holiday! However, note the wording, “bank holiday”. This doesn’t quite mean the same here as in the UK. It means you only get the holiday if you actually work for a bank. This is true. So my friends don’t get to share the same privilege.

The last month, since we last spoke, has gone by in a blur of sporting success and free flowing beverages. (Some of them quite hoppy Chris). Although the first event almost turned in to a personal disaster for me. This was, what subsequently turned out to be the unforgettable Lions match in the Sydney Olympic Stadium, now rebranded as the ANZ Stadium. In the excitement to get on the beers, I had rushed around at home, got into the obligatory Lions jersey and got picked up. Relaxing with a cold stubby, enjoying the sunshine, and ready to head off to town, I was asked, “final check, tickets?”. Shiiiiiiiiiiit. Seriously?

I’m just glad I was asked at 1.15pm, so we had time to remedy this emergency, and not when we had got all the way out to the stadium and in a slightly more inebriated condition. I would have missed one of the greatest nights in Lions history as we tore the woeful Wallabies to pieces. Lions! Lions! Lions!

The following weekend saw me heading out west of the city, sadly not on a big yellow bus, to celebrate “Xmas in July”. I am not sure of the exact provenance of this tradition, but from what I can gather, it is for European ex pats that wanted to celebrate Xmas when it was cold and in winter. OK, I agree with the winter part. But cold? I suspect it is just another excuse to get out the mistletoe.

We had a fabulous time, with the carols playing, having a secret santa, and sat around the table having a full xmas dinner. The host had also gone to the trouble of making some rather excellent homemade mince pies. Mulled wine and marshmallows toasted around the open fire ended a great evening.

Weekend 3 in July brought the arrival of Man Utd for their Sydney leg of the pre-season tour. On the Friday night they held an open training session, selling 20,000 tickets for this at $15. At just over the price of 2 beers this was too good an opportunity to miss so off we went with the hordes to the Sydney Football Stadium to watch the new manager Moyes put the lads through their paces.

I’m not sure it was just as a result of that particular training session but the following night we crammed 83,000 fans in to the ANZ Stadium and watched Utd stay in first gear as they battered the A-League No Stars 5:1. It should have been the “A-League All Stars” but in a team bereft of Alesandro del Piero and Shinji Ono there weren’t many stars on show.

Other stand out events in a fun packed month include an Italian cooking class at Signorelli’s with the whole team from work. Around 50 of us were broken up into small teams, and after watching and learning from the head chef we had to go and make various dishes. Caprese salad, pumpkin risotto and a bit of wagyu beef completed the evening’s menu. Relaxing after with the complimentary wine (free flowing all night) we found out that our team had won. I now have a brand new cook book as a prize. Dinner anybody?

I have booked my next scooter course which, if passed, will allow me to move off my learner (L) plates and onto my provisional (P). 12 months on the Ps and I can remove altogether and will have a full licence.

Finally, in a fit of extravagance, I have now bought my first TV in Australia. And a DVD player. I am coming into the modern times. Apparently I can also get the internet on the television but that might be a step too far for me right now. Baby steps. And whilst I was at it, I have finally ordered Foxtel, the Aussie equivalent of Sky television. I have bought the sports package, obviously, that shows every English Premier League game. And despite them being on at odd times I will have Sky+ so I can record them and watch at my leisure. Life is good. Just need the season to hurry up and start now.

Well, I think just about sums up July, and year 1. If you are still reading, well done. And thank you. I promise to have a shorter blog next month. I don’t expect it to be half as eventful but things have a funny way of working out. Before we know it, I will be writing about Xmas (not the one in July) and all that brings.

But until then, stay safe, stay happy, and keep living.

Yorkshire Revisited

April 18, 2014 by Fran Leave a Comment

You may have noticed it has been a while since my last post. You may even have been worried I had come to some harm. But fear not, I think I just had a case of writer’s block. Or more literally, blogger’s block. I seem to have now gone the other way and have written what is perhaps my longest blog ever.

In truth, it has been a very busy few weeks, much of what I’ll cover in the next couple of posts. Those of you tuning in, eagerly hoping to hear of the exploits of Ma Cormack on her antipodean adventure will be disappointed. This blog will be to recap on my trip back to the UK and thus, the “Mary in Mosman” blog will follow in a few weeks.

So the end of February saw me jetting back to the homeland. The primary objective being to escort mum back to Sydney with me. An expat’s life and location can be very precarious and I figured that if mum was ever gonna see the land down under, I would have to go and literally bring her. I once worked in Dublin for 18 months, a 40-minute flight away, and she never got across the water. So I was determined to get her Australia passport stamp!

The timing couldn’t have been better, with my 1-year contract at work expiring at the end of February, and me flying to England the next day. With luck (scratches head and wonders if this is the right word), and maybe a smidgen of hard work, I had secured a further 1-year contract at the same bank, on the proviso that my current trip stood and I could have a month unpaid leave. A well documented hand-over to my hard working team (just in case they are reading) and I was off, knowing everything was in safe hands ’til I returned in April-ish.

Leaving Sydney did feel very strange. A much different feeling to when I went home last year. I suppose I was mentally in a very different place last year and wasn’t sure if it was the start of the end of my Australian odyssey. A year on and things are very different. I felt like I was leaving home, to go home. As a good friend reminded me at the time, “we are lucky now, we have two beautiful homes”. And he is right.

Returning to Yorkshire again reminded me of why it is one of the most beautiful places I have been to in the world. And I have been to a few. I’m not sure there are many places that compare. Where folk actually talk proper. And without getting too sentimental, although it seems to be happening more as I get older, I have the best group of friends and family a person could wish for. Maybe an eclectic, diverse set of friends. And a hectic, on the edge of crazy, family. But I wouldn’t change any of them for the world. You guys are what make my trips.

Every day I was reminded of the importance of keeping your special friends in your life. And how those bonds grow stronger despite the distance between us. It may sound ironic coming from me, the guy who upped and left, all alone, as far away as he could possibly go, yet I have never lost touch with people. A phone call here, postcard there. And what we would do without FaceTime and Skype these days? My Easter got off to the best possible start with a call from home this morning.

I only had a couple of weeks at home, not really long enough to do everything I would like, but long enough to do many of the things I like. Need I mention the food? Those with a keen eye for detail will already know I have an obsession with fish & chips. And not the very inferior version I can get here in Australia. But I mean real, proper fish & chips, wi’ bits and curry sauce. A pot of tea and slice of bread on the side. Fellow diners in Blakeley’s of Brighouse may have thought I had just been released from a long stint in prison, at the rate I devoured my plate. Now THAT is what I am talking about.

Of course curries featured highly in my “diet”, as did Yorkshire puddings, and the now annual lamb dinner. Thanks sis, what a great day that was, even though I did end up driving and chauffeuring the more inebriated amongst us home.

Service at some of the eating establishments did baffle me, at times leaving me creased over laughing at the sheer absurdity of it. On one very memorable morning I thought we had wandered into Fawlty Towers, and I kept waiting for Manuel to pop out. Breakfasts were ordered, and arrived, upon which I thought, “hmm, quite an expensive breakfast to only receive 1 slice of toast”. The waiter then proceeded to tell us that more toast was on the way, it was in the toaster!

Now, I have not spent much time in the hospitality industry, but wouldn’t you wait until ALL the toast was ready, and THEN bring out the breakfasts?

It got better. I asked for some brown sauce, and he promptly returned with some, in a coffee cup!!!! Have you ever seen the like? The morning’s shenanigans didn’t end there. Half way through munching my toast, another young chap who worked there, approached me at the table, with a half eaten cake in a box, and said, “before you forget sir, your cake”. By this point I had fallen off my chair laughing. Just WHO did he think I was? And why would I have a half eaten cake in his restaurant? Good grief, I said take me home. There is only so much fun somebody can have in one morning.

One morning I definitely was not laughing was following a fantastic night out in Leeds. One in which catching the last train home was the target. The last train was at 11.20pm. It didn’t happen. Even with the female contingent bringing their posh handbags (which supposedly means they couldn’t POSSIBLY stay out late).

Cue a very funny night, finished by drinking England’s supply of champagne, coupled with some bizarre concoction that my sister insisted on adding to each drink. I think it may have been slightly off, maybe out of date, as I think that is why I was so ill the following day. Then again, getting a lift home off my sister, who took a speed bump so fast I thought we wouldn’t land until we hit Sydney, could have precipitated my downfall.

I was so green I could have hidden in a bowl of peas. And once getting in my own car, my attempt at the same said speed bump was hilarious. Trying to protect my delicate head, I rolled up to the bump so slowly that I didn’t get over it. I just hit it, and the car rolled backwards. It was going to be a VERY long day.

There are many other memories from that trip, way too many to cover in what has now become a very long post. I hope you are still with me. But needless to say, I had an amazing time, even saw a beautiful part of Yorkshire I hadn’t been to before, and had some amazing food. Thank you. Even if I won’t be adding Ripon to my list of “must see” places next time.

The usual heartfelt goodbyes signalled the end of this trip, not really knowing when I will next be in the country. So there is nothing else for it, it’s time to come the other way, to me. Get planning. Sydney awaits.

Well, once more, like my brief trip home, it is now time to wrap it up folks. I have to dash. I have a Pannini football World Cup sticker album to try and find.

Anyone for swapsies?

And so, into year 3…

August 4, 2014 by Fran 3 Comments

Yeah, I had to read that twice as well. I am actually in year 3 already of my move from sunny Yorkshire, down under to the sun kissed shores of Australia. To Sydney, to be more specific.

If you have been reading the travails of the Yorkshire Expat from the very beginning, from the embryonic outset of And we are off (a blog from exactly 2 years ago today), you will see that it has been quite a journey so far.

One of the very first pics, August 2012

And this is perhaps not a blog that you, let alone me, maybe envisaged me writing maybe 12 months ago. The move from familiar surroundings, ones that have cossetted you for the first 40 years of your life, to a land down under, some 11,000kms away, is not one without its ups and downs.

Give it at least 12 months people said. More seasoned observers advised making that 18 months. Here I am, 24 months in, and I have to say that they are right. Not until you have lived through certain milestones, celebrated at least 2 of an annual event, do you really get a sense of “being”.

Having a secure(ish), enjoyable job helps. I work, and have worked, with some great people, and have made some good friends. I am settled in my apartment and have been here almost 2 years, in a great suburb, with everything I could ask for. An amazing beach on my doorstep, great cafes and restaurants, and a choice of commute into the city by bus or ferry.

One of the many friends I have made

I have now gone through 2 winters here, and know how much I appreciate summer. Readers in the northern hemisphere may scoff when I say this, but in a country where properties don’t have heating, including my apartment, this place feels bloody cold some days, and most nights through winter.

It is now spring and how I yearn for the long summer days of November and December. Days when I can reacquaint myself with sunscreen, flip flops, and my, currently cast aside like an old lover, BBQ. Where I can sit on my balcony, with a cold sauvignon blanc, watching the planes fly overhead, piercing the azure sky, on their way to destinations near and far.

The esky needs dusting down and I again start my, now annual, hope that this year is third time lucky. In that I get sun on my birthday, Christmas Day. The gods have been against me the last two occasions and I am determined to be quaffing champagne on the beach, with the seas lapping against my feet, come December 25^th.

If life is about chapters, I have read of few over the last couple of years. Chapters about change, and transition. Chapters about dealing with grief, from a distance, across the lonely seas, as the circle of life marches inexorably on. People have been taken from me. And new people have come into the world to replace them.

Xmas 2013, not on the beach

As an expat, it is as though you watch these scenes unfold from behind a pane of glass. You can see, and hear all that happens, but the main characters are heart breakingly out of reach.

As I turn yet another page, a new chapter is about to start. Year 3 brings new beginnings, in economic parlance, “green shoots of recovery”. An exciting chapter, that in a sense feels like the start of a new book. A book I don’t know the end of yet. I don’t even know the next chapter, but I know how the plot goes. I’m writing that part myself.

A friend once asked me, over a year ago, what the chances were of me remaining in Australia for a full 2 years. I think I replied “17%”, without skipping a heartbeat. Obviously a totally arbitrary figure, but one that gave a sense where my head was. If that same friend was to ask me know, I would need a moments reflection. However, after that short contemplation, I would say that the chances are considerably greater.

We don’t know where life will take us. And although we are in charge of our own destinies, life happens whilst you are making plans. A John Lennon quote that I know I’ve used before. But it is so true.

A lot of life’s journey relies on timing. And sometimes that timing is just not right. But then, every once in a while, the stars align and the world intervenes. And this is when you know you have to grab your moment.

So all we can do for now, is keep making those plans, and hope life is kind to us. And with that in mind, I see no reason why I won’t be writing a similar blog in 2 years time, as a citizen of this great country. Four years being the qualifying criteria for an Australian passport, something I thought would be out of reach this time last year.

But right now, I may only have a 17% chance of still being here in 2 years. It could be a 77% chance.

All I can do is take it one chapter at a time.