Sven's life in Oz

On the whole, since moving to Australia, I’ve found it fairly easy to adapt to my new life. It’s really not that different to the northern hemisphere, except the water goes down the drain the wrong way and the closest pole is the South. But one thing I have found a real challenge is the upside-down seasonal backwardness that comes with living here. At present we are enduring a particularly biting Australian winter, with frost on the ground and a wind that makes even my European bones shiver. Despite all that, I am still the envy of my peers thanks to a fabulous tan, gained after ten days in the summery sunshine of the New York.

I’ve been to New York before and this time, since I was visiting a friend, it was nice not to have to rush around and do the touristy things again. Nick’s family live a little out of Manhattan in a beautiful country town where we could sit on the dock of the lake at night, drink wine, get bitten by mosquitoes and try to attract the resident bear with imitation mating calls. When we weren’t pestering the local wildlife, we got some target practice with the family guns, of which there were more than enough to fuck you up should you come looking for trouble. Turns out I’m a natural with a firearm; I’m considering jacking in the writing lark and becoming a marksman. I’m sure I could make a mint in downtown Sydney with my wicked skills.

Of course, I didn’t go all that way just to sit out in the countryside getting a tan and beating people at Scrabble and Rummikub; those were just additional benefits. I went to the Met to see a couple of exhibits (including one on Aboriginal art – how’s that for poetic?), caught a Broadway show (Phantom of the Opera – excellent), and spent a day at Six Flags. I also shopped my ass off. I left Australia with one suitcase and came back with two. That’s some serious retail. The total inventory looks something like this:

• 2 x sunglasses
• 2 x jumpers
• 6 x polo shirts
• 2 x formal shirts
• 3 x jeans
• 3 x shoes/trainers
• 2 x bedsheet sets
• 1 x writing set
• assorted gifts/cards etc

Considering I have done virtually no shopping in the past six months, I think I was actually very reserved. I didn’t spend all my holiday cash on clothes, however: I also ate like a king and drank like a fish. You haven’t lived till you’re drunk on champagne in Central Park at 4pm on a Saturday afternoon, thinking that margaritas and mexican food is a good idea. (It isn’t, as your colon will remind you the following morning.) So, while I didn’t see the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building this time, I did see the inside of Vlada and Therapy, which was probably more fun. After all, when was the last time you got home-distilled vodka on the Staten Island ferry?

Photos of my trip (including me looking fierce with firearms) are in the usual place.

In exactly two weeks I will be checking in at the airport for my flight to New York and a fabulous eleven days of American summeriness which should help (a) beat the winter blues and (b) top up the tan. Time seems to be flying and I haven’t even thought about packing yet, which is quite out of character for me. Perhaps I am becoming a well-adjusted individual after all this time. One swallow does not a summer make, so let’s reserve judgment on that for now.

This will be my first time flying over the Pacific and, as a Brit, it feels like I’m about to go the wrong way around the world. Living in England, you get used to thinking that London is the centre of the world (it is zero longitude, after all) and everywhere rotates around the flight paths out of Heathrow. Despite living in Australia now I still think of it as a country on the very edge of the world, as though we are clinging onto the map and just beyond the shores there be monsters. New Zealand is literally dangling over the abyss. I’m a secret flat-earther and I never even knew it.

Three things excite me about my upcoming flight. First, I will cross the international date line. I’m going to try and stay awake as we go over it: I know it will pass completely without event it will still be a little thrill for me. The second thing is linked to the first, in that I will get to see the same sunrise twice. I leave Sydney at 10am, so I will see the sun come up as I head to the airport to check in. As the sun travels through the sky in one direction, my flight will go the other way around the planet and catch up with the same day as we approach LA. I know that it’s just a flight and it happens every day, but it still blows my mind to think of it like that. Living in the twenty-first century is just great. Finally, and perhaps most stupidly, my return to New York means that I will have gone completely around the world once. I left New York after my last holiday there in 2004, and although it has taken me six years with lots of stops, side-trips and doubling back, it marks the end of one complete circuit. I don’t care what you say: I think it’s pretty awesome.

Of course, all of of this is merely the beginning: I haven’t even started on the holiday itself! Not only am I hoping to meet the fabulous New Yorkers from my circle of bloggery, but Emma Blonde – beloved friend and university housemate extraordinare – will be in town; New York Gay Pride kicks off on the second weekend; and the rugby team will all be flying in after their Bingham Cup tour concludes. It’s just too exciting, so to ease myself into the fun we’re having an afternoon in the Sheep’s Meadow in Central Park on 19 June. If you’re in the city, come join me – I’ll be the one drinking champagne and exuding fabulousness.

See you there!

Exciting news, US readers: I’m coming to New York in June. Yes, your fabulous nation is about become even more amazing for ten days as I grace your spangliest city with my presence. (I’m also trying to slip in a few days in Montréal if I can. Canadian readers, you can rejoice too!)

So far my plans are pretty flexible. I’ll be arriving on 17 June and leaving on 27 June, and I’ll be staying with my friend Nick (he of the sick-covered flip-flops) throughout. Currently the only firm engagement I have is to hang out in Central Park on 19 June (weather permitting) and enjoy the sunshine. Come join me! And email or comment with your suggestions for other fun blogger meet-up ideas. They don’t all have to include drinks, more drinks and dancing, but if they do I won’t complain.

See you all soon!

I’m back! I decided that connecting up my internet was daft since I was leaving the country for three weeks, so upon my return I set about getting myself back online.  This week I finally received my new modem and got back online, meaning I can blog, tweet and browse from the comfort of my sofa again! (I could do all that with my iPhone, in truth, but the keypad is RSI waiting to happen if I tried serious browsing on that tiny device.)  More importantly, I can get back onto feedly and catch up with everyone else’s blogs…

…erm, maybe not.  I might just have to scrap the lot and start again.  If you read me maybe you could leave a brief summary of your past couple of months in the comments, or pick one or two posts that could bring me up to speed? Thanks so much.

So, my sojourn in the UK is over and there isn’t time to write up everything that happened – it was non-stop from the moment I arrived to the time I left.  Much fun was had and the photos are up on flickr (several of me looking trashed and disheveled, you’ll be delighted to know), but more than that, I learned a few lessons about myself which I think I needed my friends to remind me I already knew.

1. I must write. The number of friends who gave me a serve for not having moved my novel on at all can’t be counted on my fingers.  Having a job where I get to write is good, but it’s not enough for my friends who, for some crazy reason, have faith in me and get disappointed when I’m not fulfilling my potential.  I know, unreasonable, right?  However, it’s not all bad news – this month I am researching my MA options properly, so hopefully I can start study in February.  I need someone to beat me into completion, so I figure an MA is a good way to do that whilst also networking for a future career.  I’ll keep you posted.

2. Being single is nothing to fear. I haven’t really been alone before in my life. Obviously I’ve been on my own, but I’ve never been properly on my own – I’ve always had my family, flatmates or a partner to keep me company. When I visited Liccy and Robin in London and they headed off to work on Monday morning, I think it was the first time I have ever been truly left to my own devices. Nothing depended on my achieving anything that day: I had only myself to please and the whole world to do it in. I went around St Paul’s Cathedral, and walked to Hyde Park Corner, Buckingham Palace and St James’s Park before heading back to meet my hosts for dinner. Some of that was new, some was well-trod, but all of it was my choice – no stopping to eat when someone else was hungry, no going somewhere or missing somewhere else as a compromise.  At the start of the day I was almost paralysed with the prospect; by the end I was pleased with what I had done.  Being alone is no big deal, and certainly nothing to fear.

3. I am a catch. When I discussed with my good friend CaroMel how I was a bit intimidated by dating someone who was older and more successful than I was, she practically jumped down my throat.  “You are brilliant and anyone would be lucky to have you,” she roared vehemently, “don’t let anyone make you feel like you aren’t.”  This is exactly what I say to others in my position but sometimes you need to hear it from someone else to remember that it also applies to you.  (I remember telling my self-deprecating friend Al: “Oh, I’m not having any of that” when he tried to suggest his now wife might be out of his league.  “You’re fantastic. Now get over there and talk to her.”  I’m nothing if not direct.)  No one should intimidate you: we’re all just muddling along as best we can, hoping people see that we dressed for the party and don’t notice our fly is open.  Confidence is sexy: if you’re intimidated by your date, he’s not going to be your date for very long.

4. Friends are food for the soul. No matter what, there is always someone who would be thrilled to hear from you. Good friends give so much, even if you feel like you have so little to give in return.  Even though my holiday wasn’t restful in the traditional sense, being with people with whom you “need be neither brave nor reticent” is a rest in itself.  Starting a new life in another country takes stamina and perseverance, so going home to familiar faces and being able to share the bad stuff as well as the good without seeming to whinge is a relief.  Listening to friends fills up your soul; their stories, their care, their advice all help you to grow.  So long as you have friends, you can do anything.

Leaving England was harder this time, perhaps because it was not the big adventure it was last time, but more likely because I better appreciated what I was leaving behind.  The flight itself was uneventful and I slept most of the way so my jetlag only lasted a couple of days.  Within a week things were back to normal and it was like I had never been away.  My Australian friends were as thrilled to have me back as my English friends had been to see me, and they were keen to fill my diary with all manner of parties and events.  Of course I took them up on the offers, such as tonight’s Sleaze Ball.  I’m still a big bag of insecurity and overconfidence and arrogance and doubt, but I’m damned if that’s going to stop me having a good time.  I am who I am, and life is too short.

My UK break is great fun, but there’s something very odd about being back in a country you used to call home. I’m sure everyone knows the feeling – it’s the same as going back to your university city or the neighbourhood you used to live in.  Everything is so familiar and oddly distant at the same time.  It’s like tangible nostalgia.

The thing that struck me hardest was how strange things weren’t: I felt as though I hadn’t been away at all.  Coming home to my parents’ house, to James’s parents’, to old haunts and venues; it was as though I had walked out the door yesterday.  I don’t know if I was expecting huge changes or anything, but I did expect to feel different, more alien perhaps, than I did.  So little has changed.

Now I live in a large, cosmopolitan city I expected to be refreshed being back in a little country city where the fields are never more than ten minutes walk.  It turns out I am not.  Watching the local news, overhearing the local complaints in the street, it all feels so … parochial.  I miss the busy city life and of course, the beautiful Sydney weather: it’s been rain rain rain since I arrived in Britain.  I’ve been remarkably busy since I got back, but in the downtime I often find myself itching to get back to Australia and get on with my life over there.

That said, the highlight of my trip has been seeing my friends and family.  The break might have been needed but more than that, the chance to spend some time in familiar company feeling like you’ve never been away has been the recharge I was after.  I’m looking forward to coming home to my new friends and my new life, but this time with my old friends has been worth every second, and I’ll be sad to leave it again.