Our Little Jaunt

Mind the Gap

When I first arrived, I thought that I would spend the next twelve months living in abject fear of being eaten / bitten / generally subjected to nasty surprises by the plethora of beasties that Australia has to offer. But after only a week, ladies and gents, with a blatant disregard for my own personal safety (and that of my arse), I no longer check under the toilet seat for spiders before I sit. I know. I live a truly crazy existence. I will be grasping nettles with my bare hands, next.

The rite of passage came on Wednesday afternoon when, nonchalantly moving around the kitchen, I came face to face with a cockroach. And it wasn’t wielding an axe or generally acting suspiciously and so kept my cool and I did what any self respecting, independent female would do – I called A to remove it. But it made me think. If that’s the worst that it’s ever going to get in the suburbs of Sydney (and there’s not much worse than your cockroach, let’s be honest), then it’s all going to be okay. I guess if I started to get bored and wanted to move it up a gear, I could stick my pinky in the nearest funnel web’s house or failing that, just do the Sydney Bridge climb.

And talking of the Sydney Bridge climb, I’d been quite up for it until yesterday on the underground when I faced my first escalator and almost adopted the brace position as the moving stairs pulled me close to the edge of the sheer drop. I’ve never been one for heights to be honest. But on the plus side, I successfully fought the instinct to curl up in the foetal position and wail for my mother so it may be that the bridge climb idea lives to see another day. My biggest fear is that I’ll just freeze and stand rooted to the spot, legs shaking Bambi style, before having to be winched off the top like some upmarket 21^st century version of ”Flying Doctors”.

One thing that has struck me about Australian men is that on the whole, they’re not as macho as I’d anticipated. In fact only today in Supré, (in my mind a god-awful Hades crammed with cheap Chinese-made threads, most of which are either a) so awful even Pat Butcher wouldn’t be seen dead in them or b) I’d be hard pushed to get my left thigh into), a strapping young man flanked by two blonde lovelies was holding a baby pink lacy vest top up to his manly chest and asking them in all seriousness if they thought it was his colour. I promise, he wasn’t joking.

For the most part in Sydney, the boys mince around the city in skin tight jeans with silly hair (like Antipodean Russell Brands, if you will) – a far cry from the stereotypical butch, surly, beer swilling, stubbled, crocodile-wrestling, shark tooth sporting men I had somehow expected. I find it quite refreshing, if I’m honest.

The area we’re living in, Darlinghurst, near to King’s Cross, is well known for its colourful inhabitants. We saw a Thai lady boy in a bar on our first afternoon (but to be honest, we saw dancing hippos that afternoon too – that’s what 38 hours without sleep can do to you.). I imagine that as we get further North, the men will become more like Crocodile Dundee.

Last night at our friends’ place in Kirribilli, we got on to the topic of the rich and poor over here. There are some strange areas around the city where a ‘Millionaires Row’ will be flanked by virtual ghettos and the difference between the ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’ is stark.

Apparently, Russell Crowe lives in a $14 million penthouse in Woolloomooloo’s Finger Wharfe. Just metres down the road though, the area changes for the worse and local drunks frequently cause a great deal of trouble. Usually, though, the police will just move Russell on and tell him to go home to his palace.

But seriously, it’s an interesting concept. Woolloomooloo (1.5 km from Sydney’s CBD) used to be an area associated with great poverty but is now an up and coming area with new money coming in – which is a very positive thing as clearly it creates a precedent for similar areas. I guess this is something I will come back to in the future once I’ve spent a bit more time here.

Over and out.

Tags: Australia, dangerous animals, Sydney, Sydney Harbour Bridge, Wooloomooloo

Our First Time In KirriBilli, Sydney

Before we came over to Australia, V got in touch with an old work colleague from Nantwich, who now lives in Sydney with her Irish boyfriend. We met them last week up near where we are living in Darlinghurst, and last night they invited us over to theirs apartment where we have been invited for New Years Eve…

The view from V&F's Balcony in Kirribilli over Sydney Harbour Bridge

I swear – this picture isn’t zoomed or anything – that is the view straight off their lounge… They were quite nonchalant about the view, saying that the constant fireworks and celebrations at either the bridge or the opera house generally interrupt them every time they watch a DVD. I think secretly they know how we feel about it – because surely they felt the same when they first saw that view!

They basically live looking straight out over the Sydney Harbour Bridge (Some great pictures of it being built here), CBD and the Sydney Opera House – it is possibly one of the most iconic views in the world – how could you get used to it? They basically live looking over this view: Syndney Harbour Satellite Picture

The views of the city office blocks, hotels and towers lighting up and the sun setting and reflecting off all of the glass was fairytale – almost the complete turn around from where we got engaged at the Ice Hotel in Jukkasjärvi, Sweden almost 3 years to the day ago – but the colours, the reflections and the light was equally mesmerising. I was pretty lucky not to get burned, as we were sat on the balcony for 10 minutes simply gawping, and well – I thought I had just managed to catch my lower legs and feet whilst we were chatting – it is SO easily done!

Anyway a few more pictures from the night in Kirribilli:

[View with PicLens]

Himself.

Tags: Australia, Kirribilli, New Years Eve, Sydney, Sydney Harbour Bridge, Sydney Opera House