Saturday 28 January 2012

The ( French) tourist

I just got back from the beach and now having Lamingtons while listening to the Hottest 100 songs of the year 2011 on the radio. It's hot outside , It's January and it feels natural to me. Today became my second favourite day of the year after Xmas. Today is Australia Day.

Today is the day I am fully embracing australian culture and REALLY feeling the belonging.

Today is also the day that I officially become ... A TOURIST. Ironic hey ?

26th January 2011 was the day I first entered Australia and was legally allowed to work for one year.

Today I'm offficially too old to renew the working holiday visa and I am now officially a middle aged french woman on a tourist visa until the 20th March. You know, a tourist. with a red nose holding a map , the '' excuz me where iz ze station of trainz?' sort of people Yeah, that one.

So............... , I can talk about Julia Gillard's hair cut for more than 10 minutes, I use a stubby holder , I answer oi oi oi to aussie aussi aussie, I can say that I prefer Melbourne to Sydney , I supported Tommic agaisnt Roger Federer , I had a beer at 5am at the memorial ANZAC day service , I can listen to the Hottest 100 for 6 hours straight, I drink VB and know that fosters in a Pommie illusion, I eat capsicums and egg plants , wear thongs everyday , and I almost ( but not quite) understand the rules of cricket and yet, today i'm officially a French tourist.


It's true that, when you look at it, when you are a foreigner hanging out with the locals , you still feel like a tourist deep inside. But when there is no other tourist around to complain with ( the sort of '' It's so much better back home'' complaints) you have to keep going. and challenge yourself to fit it while keeping your identity intact. Mate, that's the real challenge of travelling.

'' Annabelle, it's a snake!'' Garcon says ( He's the Man I live with . Why this nick name ? Because he thought that posh french women in Paris ( ie ALL french women) were still addressing any waiter in France that way ( with arrogance, of course) . So yes , I decided to call him that. What a french tourist thing to do hey.

What? a snake? I jump , yell, but had my camera ready in my right hand.

''It's a branch , mate but you were so funny''. he says.

'' HAHA. I was acting. Of course I'm NOT scared of snakes or even those deadly red spider thingies. Don't be silly. I'm tough, mate. And no ,I wasn't trying to take a pictures of absolutely everything by the way''

Some Aussies can be very annoyed that that we, Europeans, see australia ONLY as the most dangerous place in the world. Not the most beautiful, the most DANGEROUS. .
'' Give us a break with damn dangerous animals, and get real. How many times have you seen snakes and deadly spiders in a whole year Annabelle ? an Aussie said to me one day.
'' Not many times, it's true'' I answer , understanding why he was annoyed. I'm also annoyed that when people think France they only think '' country of people who are never happy and always on strike'' .
But... the problem is that, in both cases : It IS true!

Yes, in Australia, you have to pretend to be tough and be one with Nature to NOT be seen as a precious tourist who is scared of her own shadow.
Of course, I do it quite bad.

The other week I traveled with a real aussie dude from Sydney to Melbourne. A country guy who has solid knowledge about everything that involves Nature. Surviving in hostile environment is in Aussie blood. Obviously NOT in mine.

And I wondered for hours how to tell him that I was not really the practical kind.
He soon found out when I read the map on his i phone wrong and sent us in the exact opposite direction. Oh and he had read my blog too. Especially the one about common sense and my lack of it.
Then came the moment of caping. In a national park. In the dark.
'' I 'll do it for you'' he says , adding a delicate '' I would not want you to break my tent''

Sure.

When you're standing there , watching helplessly for the whole 3 minutes and half it took him to put the tent up you REALLY feel like a tourist.

Looking back to a year in Australia I realised how many times I looked like a complete outsider . Especially when I was living in the bush with my aussie parents last year .

'' John ,there is a big toad in my toilet''
'' So? Did you eat it?'' My Aussie dad asked
'' So I went to pee in the bush but there was strange noises''
He then came to remove it.

Bloody tourists

Then there were bush rats.
'' Annabelle, why exactly are you scared of things that are a fraction of your size. Imagine what they think of YOU''

So we try to act tough.

'' I'm NOT scared. Just a bit surprised''

I'm terrified

Then comes the fun bit. When Your culture meets Aussie culture.

'' Are you scared?'' I say to Garcon the other night
'' Yes, clearly'' he answered , quite seriously.

No,we were NOT talking about the fact that I was supposed to stay for one night and , 10 days later, I'm still here....... No. I had just told him that I was going to teach myself french cuisine and just asked him if he wanted to be my..... guinea pig. Yes, ME . COOKING. I've come to the realisation that It's just the best way to share your culture.

2 days and some burnt croque monsieur later I was teaching him ( and myself) how to make french crepes. And we happily shared them with the kids next door.

As I was telling them what these strange pancakes were , They looked at me with awe thinking :
Wow, they come all the way from France and they are still WARM? Then I heard them going in and tell their mum '' Muuuuum we've got food from Fraaaaaance''

Happiness and Feeling of belonging : 200 %.

But, ''The Universe'' clearly wanted to tell me something as it was insisting on sending me every now and then to those places called backpackers hostels ,
I realized yesterday , that as much as I hated it, the message WAS clear :

.'' You're like the rest of them in the end ,mate, you don't really belong here''

So where the hell do I belong? That's when the pain hits you HARD.

But I don't feel I JUST belong to my country either.I'm still proud to be french but '' I'm from France'' is now for me a conversation starter to exchange funny cliches and open people's minds about somewhere they don't really know. I feel the same about England.

That's when you enter your darkest hour. That's when you feel like a homeless looser wandering aimlessly in the streets of Melbourne ( that was me yesterday). You start thinking that you'll be always be a ''visitor'' who will always be offered less because not REALLY from here. And who can seriously LOVE a visitor?
You know, the feeling that everything is a f****** illusion and nothing will last.

But after the painful feeling of belonging NOWHERE comes the blissful joy of belonging EVERYWHERE. You just need to hang on, it will come.

Because in the end, we're all the same...

Saturday 21 January 2012

Free Spirit

Ah travelling without a plan.... Adventures, taking risks, not knowing where you'll be tomorrow, seizing the moment.... The best way to free your spirit and see where it wants to take you. Stuff that you 'd never dare to do back home.
Life as it should be. With the roller coaster and that.

Guess where MY free spirit took ME? To stay in a house in the suburbs with a man . THAT , mate I would NEVER do back home, for sure.
Hey, Spirit... you're kidding me right?

'' I'm usually not that type of girl '' I tell him trying to reassure me after what I had just done. Did I really do that? Oh nooooo.......

It's Sunday morning . I'm wearing an apron and I'm holding a broom. I just cleaned the whole house. Including folding Male underwear. I even asked him THE question '' DO YOU HAVE ANY LAUNDRY to do? ''

People who know me will laugh. People who know me well will try to get me Home ( wherever that is) ASAP.

I look around me.The bed is neatly made, the bathroom spotless and the kitchen shines.
Seriously. ME.
The only time I would do this back home was at my work. And I was paid good money to do so. I probably miss my work, that's it.

But it's not like I'm being held hostage or I have to do this for accommodation. I ENJOY IT. ( scary huh)

You know what? 2 days ago I even cooked.....! Since then? We're having tuna sandwiches.

He gave me a precious tip that I shall remember my whole life. Any shit food tastes amazing with a French name.
So now, I name my food in French. Like : '' pommes de terre brulees et ses petites carottes pas cuites'' Sounds cool hey?
It means '' burnt potatoes and uncooked baby carrots'' .

It's awesome to be French in Australia.

A woman stopped me on the street the other day to tell me : '' You have the best tattoo I've ever seen'' . Yeah, my tattoo says '' Made in France'' . I was very careful to hide it back home in England or even back home in France ( That's f****** racist mate), I don't even try to go to Italy anymore ( not that I want to) , I haven't tried to get in to the US with it yet but I would probably have to change it to ''Made in Liberty Fries country'' , but here , in Australia, I can show it proudly. Yay.

'' It was really good to meet you, I could change my vision of French people'' says my Melbourne man.

Sure. French women are known to be classy, mysterious, always sexy, confident and good looking.

GLAD I HELPED YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND, MATE.......

Then he told me what some Aussies REALLY thought about the French. The Truth.
Precious , delicate, arrogant, smug, know-it-all and no sense of humour, plus they all own French poodles ( Where the F**** did they get that one from)

I just replied one (very meaningful) thing to end this awful cliché:

'' No, we're not ALL from Paris..............''

We go out in town on Saturday night and meet several people in the local pub.
'' You're from France?'' says that older man , giving me THE look '' and you're coming HERE in this pub... in ''Bogan Town Frankston'' ?''

Why not? I don't get it.... Ah, maybe I'm too ''precious''..... So I went on talking to him about random things drinking my 3rd beer (thus completely drunk) for a couple of minutes.

He left, probably thinking French people are not that precious or classy in the end. They just have a problem with alcohol.
That's an improvement .... right?

I went home drunk holding an Australian Flag that we stole somewhere .. speaking frenglish. Now THAT 's travelling ( for me anyway)

If opening up people's mind (including mine) and break clichés is where my free Spirit is taking me, then I'm in.

But next time...Give me a French maid's apron 

Thursday 19 January 2012

A Tale of 2 cities. My truth about Melbourne and my decision.

Going South... For us, Europeans, it means Sea, Sun, Spain ,Summer holidays. For the French it means going down to the coast for 1/ a family trip in a cheapish campsite and drinking Pastis while playing Petanque ( which is a white trash thing to do but anyway) 2/ A road trip with friends that has for main goal Sea ,Sun, booze and Sex if you're lucky.

Back in Sydney, that's what I was thinking as I was waiting for my lift to Melbourne. A road trip down South. Hell yeah. I've never met the guy before but hey , I AM GOING DOWN SOUTH. And we're going camping. Yay!

After a night in a tent looking for the warmest clothes in my backpack, I woke up with the outfit I was wearing the day I left England. A pair of jeans , a jumper and a Winter jacket. I realized as I started to sneeze that, going South was not going to be quite what I expected. It f***** freezing.

I also left Sydney with the certitude that I would prefer Melbourne. Because EVERYONE does.

'' Tourists usually don't like Melbourne because they think there is nothing to see. Only locals can really enjoy Melbourne for what it is '' my lift says.
'' I 'm not a f**** tourist'' I answer angrily. I hate tourists. I do.

Of course that night I ended up in a backpackers' hostel . I felt like Home in a minute and a half and even started helping the staff to clean the kitchen in return for a free dinner.
But, 3 days later I decided I HATED backpackers' hostels. Weird for a girl whose main address in the world IS a backpackers' hostel in the South of England. No mate, not the same. This one is HOME. Way different. And it should not be called a backpackers hostel that one. Kipps is a ''Homepacker hostel'', mate.

Don't worry; backpackers hostels hated me back too.

Sharing a dorm with 18 year old Danish girls who probably are still on European time zone as they as chatting like it's f**** daylight when everyone else is ( trying to ) sleep.

Of course when I said something I was the weird one. Even for those who were trying to sleep. They ALL gave me THE look:
First trip away from Mum and here she is , the old French twat , telling us what we can or we can't do. Go home and have babies you silly old woman.

That's how Mummy Annabelle spent her first 3 nights in funky Melbourne. I loved it already.

The next day I decided to take a free walking tour to go see some landmarks and that.

'' This building was voted the 5th ugliest building in the world'' says the guide showing an actual ugly building as we were starting the tour in Federation Square. No time to say more as it started to pour down with rain. The temperature dropped to 15 degrees in 2 minutes and a half. The guide even had UMBRELLAS ready for tourists...

I decided that the hardest job in Australia was Weather Forecaster in Melbourne. It is known to be the '' 4 seasons in one day'' city. (The easiest job in Australia being History teacher: no so much to work on.)

In Melbourne you have to get out of your house in the morning with 1/ an umbrella 2/ sun block 3/ no expectations.

''This is the Royal Exhibition building. It does not serve no real purpose anymore, except for end of school year exam'' the guide continues.

At this stage the only thing I loved about Melbourne was its History. Our guide was so passionate about it, it was hard not to fall in love. Do you know it should have been called '' Batmania '' after that guy called BATMAN. How cool is that. What happened? The Brits took over.

Also, there was that guy called William Buckley. He escaped from Prison with 2 of his mates in 1804 hoping to get to Sydney. Crazy idea huh. Well, he survived. Living most his life with aborigines, he almost forgot his own language. Lucky huh. He was later used as a peace maker. How cool is that man.

'' To have Buckley’s luck'' became an Aussie saying ( mainly used by males when they get lucky with someone way of out their league)

Also, there was that dude Ned Kelly. He was a bushranger who He robbed and terrorized a whole town in the 1880’s to finally get caught by the cops. He killed one of them. Then what did the Aussies do? They built a huge statue in his honour in that town. Now he’s remembered as a hero. My French rebel side says '' I like'' . AWESOME. .


No, there is no ''tourist bucket list'' anything to SEE in Melbourne. My lift was right. But yet I could feel something ... different. No idea what that feeling was until the cool guide (awesome dude really) took us to ugly narrow streets all painted in beautiful Street Art. Or graffiti. Depends on how you see it.
'' Most of Street Art in Melbourne is illegal. But the paint is still provided legally so it's up to you what you want to do with it ‘‘ Hell yeah. My French rebel side says '' I like'' again. You make your own luck, mate.

Then the city got to me. Like ANY city in the world (so it does not count). I could not cope: I had to go AWAY.

I decided to go 2 day camping trip at the week end with 2 people I had never met ( a Scottish girl and a French guy who luckily was NOT from Paris)t and a German guy who saved me from staying another self-destructive night in a hostel. (God bless Germans and their organization skills)

Like almost non Aussie we were sh*** at camping.

While we were struggling with one knife for 4 , no plates or glasses, 1 tent with no mattress and the F**** cold, the Aussies next to us were watching telly on their double bed by the heater in their huge campervan. D'oh.

But somehow, together as a European team, we made our own luck and we happily made it to the 12 apostles on the Great Ocean Road feeling like a Scottish- German- French family at the end of the week end.

Time to get back to Melbourne.

I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK TO MELBOURNE. I don't like it. And I thought I'd love it. No no no noooooo!

There is something missing in my experience. Something I’ve experienced in Australia before.... Something called connection. And I'm fed up with bloody sandwiches for brekkie / lunch / dinner too.

'' Annabelle, us backpackers, if we want to see most of Australia on a budget in such a little time frame, we HAVE TO sacrifice stuff. '' Says my new backpacker friend.

'' I DON'T WANT TO SEE MOST OF AUSTRALIA. '' I said it. Sh**
Well not at this price anyway. No thanks.

So.. There are only 2 options in travelling right??? 1/ Staying in cheap backpackers and skip 2 meals a day , eat pasta for breakfast for the sake of seeing 12 cities , a kangaroo in a zoo and one local person in a souvenir shop in one year ... and go home ?. 2/ work your ass off for 10 years and stay in a Holiday inn, book tour guides to see the whole of Australia in 5 weeks and go home too ? In both cases you sacrifice so much and... WHERE IS THE CULTURAL EXPERIENCE IN THAT??????

They gave me THE look '' Well... If you want a homely feeling and basic comfort then..... You should actually go HOME now then. It may be time for you to settle down, you know at your age...''

I get agitated. It’s never a good sign.

Well Travelling is not for me then. I'm ready to give up and go back HOME up in North New South Wales when I start thinking about that Buckley guy again ( the one who made his own luck)

So I texted him. ( not Buckley. I wish, though) . My Melbourne Man , you know, the one I woke up next to on New Year's day in Sydney ( Happy New Year me) and whom I could listen to talking about Australia for hours.
Told him the whole truth about me in Melbourne, not feeling any connection at all and how depressed it made me. My last chance of loving my life as a traveller: staying with him. Somehow, being a traveller, he got that and said yes. That's how I ended up in Frankston, 40km South of Melbourne Central. Where no tourist goes.... Because there is NOTHING TO SEE.

Imagine having a French girl turn up to your doorstep with her whole life on her back saying '' My life does not really make much sense anymore'' the first thing you'd probably think as a bloke would be: '' Why the f*** did I drink that much whiskey on New Year's Eve ??? Got me into trouble.She is now going to move in....'' and you’d freak out. He did not. Instead he said:

'' Let's go to the beach, mate''

That's when I saw my first ‘’Beach Sunset’’ in Australia. No, they don't get that in the East, do they?
And the game Sydney- Melbourne was on again...

He did not have any answers for me, but he had Goon ( the most disgusting wine in Oz. Comes in a bag. you can make a cushion out of)

After 2 glasses I went on and on about Community feeling and how travellers should try to connect more to the country they're visiting with such a passion that I'm sure I almost convince him that I was not really a stalker who pretended to be a traveller just to get a husband and babies. That I was a genuine f**** dreamer.

2 days later I was still there, quite naturally eating ''Weetbix'' for breakfast, watching the Australian Open yelling '' Go Tommiiiiiic'' , and jog to the beach saying ''G'day'' to neighbours,while still being my French self that I would not give up, not for anything in the world.

It still says '' Made in France'' on my neck and it always will. It's just a matter of connecting with locals, mate.

He teaches me Aussie culture I teach him French and British English. I'm a happy traveller again. Because I have created a Home for a little while.

And I know that there is only one way of travelling now: yours. And if it does not exist invent it, mate. Whatever makes you happy. I’m officially a ‘’Homepacker’’ ( yes , I even made the WORD up)

Somehow I made my own luck.

It's a bit like Melbourne. Nothing is offered on a plate in Melbourne. There is nothing spectacular to see on the surface. But it gives you an opportunity to look further and experience something different ,

Whether it's a legal can of paint to do illegal street Art, or the first step to Freedom for a convict. Melbourne gives you the opportunity to make up your own story. You can, like Buckley, take the risk of making your own luck, or not.

I don't know how long I will stay here, or even where I'll be tomorrow or next week but I know that , in the name of '' Buckley's luck'' , I am now and forever will be.... a Melbourne Girl.

Sunday 8 January 2012

A tale of two cities: My truth about Sydney.

''Don't stay here, it's dangerous '' tells me a random guy who decided he would stay with me , here by the xmas tree, until my friend comes to pick me up.

Dangerous... It's kind of a vague concept for an Aussie. Deadly spiders , scorpions , sharks , snakes, they 're all FINE. But Sydney Central station, full of drunk idiots on New Years eve is DANGEROUS. My bodyguard was not even from here '' Are you f*** crazy , I'd never live here. I'm from the bush, mate''.

That was my first taste of Sydney

A couple of hours later I turned into a DANGER myself ( mixed french wine and whisky) watching the firework in the distance with friends. I remember crying saying ''no other f*** city can beat that, man'' . Yeah I was as stupid as an aussie tourist weeping in front of the Eiffel tower. Travelling does that to you mate.

At that stage I thought that my decision was made.Sydney Firework was the most spectacular thing I had ever seen while drinking french wine.

Next thing I know I wake up next to a man... from Melbourne.

And the game was on again ....

After a hard core Sydney hung over I decided to go explore the city . My challenge was to stay in George Street ( the VERY city centre) for 3 hours. Lunch time, Monday. Time of arrival 11.30 am. Time of freak out 11.45am .
Never say to a friend '' I'l meet you in Starbucks on George street . Because there are about 200 of them. Don't even try Mac Cafes.It's packed. ( but you can still stand in front of it to pick up free wifi)
You can also go to the Apple shop to check your emails for free if you want to queue for an hour and have the spirit of Steve Job following you for the next 2 hours.

Shops even sell winter stuff. It's 28 degrees. Who would buy boots just because it's Winter in Paris. Many people I guess. No, I did not.

The only thing that reminds you where you are, are the '' I love Sydney Tee shirts'' .You sort of remember when you are because there is still a HUGE xmas tree on Martin's place. Other than that , you could be anywhere else in the world. That's the sort of pictures you have to label because 10 years from now you ll struggle to remember where you've taken them .

'' Hong Kong! Hang on, no... was it Paris?''

So.... Where the f***do I go?

That's how I ended up in the library. I always end up in the library. But this one was special. It gives you 20 minutes of free internet AND free wifi. Compliments from New South Wales State Library

I spent my last hour eating chips in Coles. I NEVER eat chips. When my friend offered to walk home I gave her THE look. We took the bus.

Oh transportation in Sydney.... It's really easy.When you know where you are going. Like most tourists, I did not. Unless you already KNOW that the train to North Sydney is on platform 16 you need to read 15 other signs before you get to the right one. Sweet. But you will NOT forget the ride , mate. Unless you live in Sydney and it will just be another day on the bloody train back home.

Indeed, the train to North Sydney goes through the bridge. yes, THE bridge. There I was , my camera in one hand and a hanky in the other . I am on SYDNEY HARBOUR BRIDGE. I could not believe it. Another awesome moment made in Sydney shared with.... no one who could understand.

Other aussies were playing with their Iphone looking up only to check if I was crying for a valid reason. Just another tourist mate, all good. Go Back to facebook. I felt like the first time I raved about an Ibis on the street in Murwillumbah and someone told me that it was the equivalent of taking photos of pigeons in Europe.Or even worse : squirrels in England D'oh.

You also have the bus in Sydney. Ask for a 2 dollar ticket. They'll ask you for 2 dollar 10. Julia's decision from 01st Jan 2012 , they'll say. Tickets are pre paid. Meaning if you show up in the bus with no ticket between 7am and 7pm you can get legally kicked out, even if you have the money. Obviously I did it. My rebel french side I guess. And also the fact that most places that sell tickets close at 6pm.Yes, in Sydney , between 6pm and 7pm you just WALK.
I get in the bus with my 2 dollars 10 and my best french accent
'' Can I pay for zee ticket wizz you pleazzzz'' ( I love my thick french accent)
'' No''
Shit.
'' You can have a free ride baby'' he says , not looking at me in the eye but a little '' down under''
I LOVE Sydney bus drivers.

'' What do you pay all these tickets for? '' says my new friend from Holland.
There was a PASS. 20 dollars pass that does ferry / train/ bus for a whole week. That, if you are a student or italian ( and are prone to cheating and PRETEND you're a student) If you're a normal person It's 40 dollars.

'' You can get it from the machine there. No one asks you for student id ''

That's when I became a 32 year old ( italian) student.
Sydney is awesome.
2 hours later I lost the pass and went back to paying every single ride. Imagine the lucky fake student who found it!


Back to my post George street traumatic experience. So what do Sydney people do the relieve The Stress?
I found a meditation group on couch surfing.com
Unblocking your chakras with a cool aussie dude , overlooking Harbour Brigde for free? Just awesome. Every Wednesday night. Check out couch surfing.com activities in Sydney. Thanks Robbie. Good luck to inner peace in the city.

What else?
They go to the beach, mate. A couple of years back I went to Bondi Beach. Full of expectations.What did I find there? A beach. Yes, man, a beach. And ''I love Bondi Beach'' tee shirts.

This time me and my couch surfing friends decided to go to Manly. Manly and Bondi are like Melbourne and Sydney. You're either a Bondi dude or a Manley person.
I'm a Manley person. How much character to these little beaches. Waterfalls , natural shades for Pommie tourists , all I needed to chill out.

Sydney people also have a beer to chill out. So I decided to have a beer.
WHAT? PERONI????

All these Years of Foster's in England and I come here and the trend this year in Sydney is to drink ITALIAN BEER? Seriously......
'' Foster's shit mate , it's just for Pommie commercials''

After a couple of beers you can also go to the museum. What? 12 dollars?

'' In Melbourne museums are free'' says my Melbourne man , proudly.

In Sydney even zen has a price. 6 dollars is the entrance to the Chinese garden of frienship. And you'd better hire a car and go to the bush to see wild animals. It's be cheaper than going to the zoo here : 50 dollars.

So I hang out with Europeans, people from Melbourne but.... I don't seem to find anyone FROM Sydney. I write to a couple of people on couchsurfing.com. The answers are usually
'' Sorry I'm from Perth actually. I live here for work''
'' I'm from Brisbane, and away in Melbourne for the week end , sorry''

Saturday night was the start of the Sydney Music Festival that takes place every year after New Year's. And guess what?It's FREE!
That's how I ended up dancing barefoot in the grass in January ( still weird for me) with groups of people singing in french ( and who had NO IDEA what they were singing!) . A favorite band of mine was just on and I never had the chance to see them in my own country.
Sydney, you ROCK.

Going back home I accidently got lost and ended up in KINGS CROSS. Yes, I knew about Kings cross. The only tricky thing was telling those who were doing it for free from the ones who charged for it. Tough competition, mate. Yeah guys, it is the Red Light District. Any straight man would pick Sydney over anywhere else at this very point of my night.

And you had me in my jeans skirt , baggy tee shirt and converses stinking of banana ( I accidently sat on my dinner ooops) swimming through an ocean of top models with tiny little dresses and high heels .It's like all the hottest and classiest english girls had been selected and shipped to Oz ( book your next ship now girls)

A girl was handing flyers from a posh local club. She looks at me. And gives it the girl just beside me.
Sydney. Or how to boost your self esteem.

The word BODY seems to have a huge importance here. So I decided to go deeper into it ( for work) . All those hours looking at men with hot bodies jogging half naked in the botanic gardens were painful. Because there was hot women too. Everywhere. Running.Exercising. All the time.
It makes you want to eat fish and green beans for the rest of your Life. But you eat chocolate. Because it's exhausting, just to look at them.

I forgot all about it when I changed my facebook location to ''Opera House Sydney'' a bit later that day. Proud. Impressed. I love Sydney.

'' The ideal would be Melbourne with Sydney's weather'' says my Melbourne man later that evening as we were having beer and Vegemite chips ( I love them by the way. Sometimes it just takes a man from Melbourne...) on the roof of the flat we were staying in.

'' What?'' I asked , wrapped in my Winter jacket from England. . Except for 3 months in England I spent the last year in half tropical weather in North New South Wales and the 2 Winter months in Thailand. I was freezing , here in Sydney. Images of snow and hail storms crossed my mind.I pictured me wearing ''I love Melbourne gloves'' next week.

'' You never know until you've been there '' tells me someone .

True.

I've been to Sydney , Australia. It's something you can never forget. Bucket list material. Spectacular that is. Breathtaking views and experiences.
It's just missing that little something, that thing called '' sense of '' the Sydney atmosphere'' .

That sense of belonging....

Tuesday 3 January 2012

A tale of two cities ( Part one )

One is ''full of uptight, classy, posh people'' The other one is ''full of pot smoker hippies who can't grow up''.

When I asked my friends up in North New South Wales to choose between Sydney and Melbourne they were all unanimous:

'' F*** the city mate, live in the country ''

That's what I was thinking too. I lived in the Aussie countryside for 6 months. 3 months in ''Silk Pavilion'',an amazing B&B in Mount Burrell with wallabies and other interesting species of the bush and 3 months in Murwillumbah, a small country town that I now lovingly call '' Home'' . I loved it.

But it was time for me to move. See another aspect of Aussie culture.
There is a war raging. 2 cities.2 life styles. 1 choice. And I have to choose a side, too.

Because you have to. In Oz, you're either a Melbourne person OR a Sydney person. No REAL other option, I've heard. Because Perth is not really in Australia , it's in ''WA'' , Hobart is in Tasmania ( that will be independent , one day) Brisbane is so hot that your beer won't stay cold for long and they felt so sorry for Canberra that they made it the capital.

Whether you're Spanish, American ,Swedish, Aussie does not matter. The first impression an Aussie will have from you is based on whether you like Sydney OR Melbourne.

That’s, I suspect is even something you can put on your resume

Hobbies:
Likes surfing, Vegemite , cricket , French cuisine, Melbourne (OR Sydney).


I ve never tried surfing, still can't stand Vegemite (I tolerate it with cheese though) I still don't understand cricket but I love to listen to Aussie men talking about it. I'm French but I can't cook for my life and.... I have yet to choose between Sydney and Melbourne.

I know my choice will be hard to make. Why? Because I HATE most big cities. As a person who grew up in a country town in the North East of France I naturally despise cities. Yes, even Paris. Especially Paris. That's what most non Parisian French do best. We hate Paris. You know what you usually think of most French people? The ‘’arrogant, patriotic, smug’’ thingy? It just really ONLY applies to Parisians. We (the rest of France) are lovely people.

The French equivalent to ''Sydney vs. Melbourne'' would be Paris vs. the rest of France. A VERY important decision to make. It can influence your WHOLE life.

So I decided to spend some time in Sydney (on a budget. Check my Facebook page called ''citizen of the world'' to follow my financial situation) and some time in Melbourne (on the budget I have left), and at the end of January, pick one. Yes, you're allowed to give me your point of view, pass this page on to your friends, try to bribe me, sponsor me, it could work, who knows.

First stop Sydney . I’m staying with 2 Aussie male friends who just had an interesting conversation as I was telling them about my ''Sydney vs. Melbourne'' challenge

Friend 1 : ‘’ Beaches are f**** freezing in Melbourne and they’re soooo remote , it’s insane mate. So much better here in Sydney’’
Friend 2 , agitated : ‘’ What are you on about, mate? How long did it take us to go to Bondi yesterday? F**** ages!!! ‘’

Wanna know what is REALLY cool about this conversation? Friend 1 is from Melbourne. Friend 2 lives in Sydney.

I’m going to love this game…




To be continued.....