winter?

Chilling out on the rooftop, writing the blog.

Not much to say about the last two days, apart from the fact that we have found a flat to stay in for the next few weeks. It’s a shared flat with an English guy, just next door to our backpackers. In fact, we can see its balcony from the rooftop of our hostel. It’s a pretty flat, with stunning views of Sydney (including the harbour and Russell Crowe’s place), there’s a swimming pool in the building (free for the residents) and a huge rooftop terrace, where BBQs will be de rigueur. Phil still can’t believe he’s going to be flat-sharing. He thought staying in a youth hostel and using public transport was it. Clearly things can get worse for him... This is a photo of our youth hostel.

The guy is cool, he sounds Australian, although he’s from Birmingham. He gave us the list of all the things that are better back in England. The list is short: decent sausages, Coronation Street, Alan Partridge and football. And my list is even shorter, as I don’t watch Coronation Street, don’t like Alan Partridge and am really not bothered about football.

We didn’t go to the beach yesterday as we spent most the day looking for a place to stay on a longer basis and applied for teacher and social worker registration. It turns out to be a pretty lengthy process. We also need an address here, that’s why we were quite desperate to find a flat. So desperate, that the only solution is to find a spot in the sun and enjoy freshly juiced watermelon and strawberry smoothie.

Early this morning, we had a lovely surprise. Mum called us. How nice! It was great to hear your voice, Moz, I do miss you all. But next time, can you please avoid calling at 4.30am... I love you and all, but I need my beauty sleep. (No, but seriously, I was truly deligted to hear your voice, so call me whenever you want, even half-way through the night).

A few moments ago, we were on the rooftop, when something bad happened. We were preoccupied with post BBQ digestion and I was quietly writing this for the blog while Phil was chilling enjoying the view, when I saw IT.... Yes, you all guessed: my biggest fear, there it was, crawling under my chair: a Cockroach!!!! Ahhhhh! I had to run back inside, to wait for my brave husband to gather the computer and the dishes so we could sit in the safety of the communal area. The view’s not as good, but it’s safe ( Sorry Ju, but a communal area filled with smelly backpacking hippie swines is not my idea of safe ... at least not when hygiene is concerned). At least I know it’s unlikely I’ll get eaten by a giant creepy crawler here (yes, there’re jus as big as in Vietnam). Speaking of eating, here is a photo of Phil warning me off his food...

While Ju goes to recover from her terrible and unwelcome ordeal, I shall do my best to inform you of the latest ...

While sapping/interrogating a local Australian waitress for insider knowledge, she divulged to us that the best place for a dip would be a place called Cronulla Beach. She described it as being a snorkelling paradise. With mask and tuba in hand, we skipped joyfully to this little known spot. As we arrived, this unsightly whisper of a cloud disturbed our blue sky and a light breeze picked up (you can see this ghastly cloud in the left hand side of the photo bellow). The temperature dropped well below 30 Celsius and mild consideration was given to perhaps doing up a button on my shirt. Winter is well and truly on its way. Pfff...

As we reached the ‘snorkelling paradise’ it became clear that local advice should be treated with contempt, suspicion and general disbelief. This is particularly true when the interrogator is a posh sounding Pom and the interogee is an overenthusiastic Aussie.

The beach was made up of a stretch of reinforced concrete with steps leading to dark and ice-cold looking water. After consoling ourselves with chips we gathered enough courage to go for a swim. When it takes Ju a good 5 minutes to go into the water (followed by moments of frantic paddling), I know that the water can only be described as glacial. With my wife already in the water and the natives watching my every move, I had no option but to make a swift dive into the sea. Clearly a foolish and school-boy error. I should have feigned an injury and made a discrete retreat. I spent the next two hours recovering from the icy clutches of the Pacific Ocean.

Once in the water, however, the fish were simply amazing. There were dozens of different fish ranging from schools of tiny little things to a massive blue (and perhaps shark-like) thing. My experience left me with two definitive thoughts. One, these fish were not bothered by us and were close enough to touch. They were so big and so slow that even Nick could shoot these guys with a harpoon gun. So thus, I need a harpoon gun. Two, I need a wetsuit.