Procrastination

1749 words written out of 3000. My Russian music history essay is well on its way, but I can’t quite face it yet this morning.
Instead I feel like penning (or typing) some thoughts and feelings, as I only have two weeks and one day left in Australia. I feel a bit sick when I think about leaving because I’ve had such an awesome experience out here, but there have been times throughout the year when I’ve looked at the 29th June in my diary and wanted it to come around faster.

Two occasions in particular spring to mind. The first was when landing back in Sydney after being in New Zealand for Christmas. I cried as the plane hit the runway because I wanted to be landing back in London. After going on holiday you usually get to go home afterwards. Much as I adore Sydney, I have never thought of it as home; perhaps because it’s always been a temporary residence in my mind. It has always had a time limit.

The second big bout of home sickness occurred about three months ago when the weather turned colder. In England, that means we get festive celebrating first Halloween, then Guy Fawkes night, and then Christmas and New Years. We collect conkers, crack out the fireworks, have bonfires, eat soup…but here in Sydney things just carried on as normal with an extra jumper to keep warm. I did a lot of nostalgic cooking that month, recreating my mum’s classic recipes for a piece of home.

It will be interesting to see how I feel in a few months time back in the UK. Will I get Sydney sick? I expect so. There are so many places and people here that I feel affectionate towards. It’s been a big part of my life, and I think I’ll struggle.

For now, I just have to enjoy my last fifteen days. My favourite sushi place shut down last week, so the timing feels about right. My diary for this week has two or three things noted for each day- last dinners and coffees and trips- so it will probably fly by. Eeesh I don’t want to leave. But I do want to go home. Perhaps if I can just move Sydney a few thousand miles towards Europe?

A tale of three cities

I was told Melbourne was the ‘liveable city,’ and many people prefer it over Sydney. I was keen to make my own opinion, so visited with my parents over the Easter weekend.

Our hotel was situated very near the river and the southbank, which is an area I’d been advised to explore, so after dumping our luggage we headed there. Coming from Sydney and its massive harbour areas, and having lived in London with the Thames southbank, I have to say I was expecting something a little bigger. Quaint is perhaps a word that would spring to mind. And a bit of ‘Oh, is this it?’

Surprise number two was when we sought out Federation Square, the main events square in the city. Once again, with images of Trafalgar Square and Martin Place as my benchmark I was surprised. This time it was for the lack of the traditional. I would be pushed to call it a square; more an irregular quadrilateral, with its modern walls of jerky angles, mixtures of glass and stone, and a sloping floor. But good on them. For once the Australians hadn’t tried to copy a part of Europe, but had instead come up with something unique and totally their own. I actually became quite fond of it.

Somewhere they did imitate Europe was with their new London eye style observation wheel in the docklands: the southern star. Alas, it is a stationary wheel. A month after it opened at the start of 2009 it was closed due to ‘structural defects’, including buckling and cracks. The rumours were that the 40 degree temperatures melted the metal, but according to wikipedia it was an engineering mistake, not the sun. Ooops. That’s a bit embarrassing for the engineers.

I’m afraid that, overall, Sydney and London still win by far. Sydney’s main market in china town is far more central than Melbourne’s Queen Victoria Markets. The Opera House and Harbour Bridge take a lot to beat, and what we saw of Melbourne’s botanical gardens didn’t outdo Sydney’s.

And London’s London…with its massive history, great museums, beautiful parks, and amazing landmarks. It would take something stunning to eclipse my capital.

However, in three days I developed a certain affection for Melbourne, so in three weeks or three months who knows what would happen. It’s still being developed, and the population is still growing, so I’d like to see it in a few years time. The shopping is really good and offers variety, with enticing side streets and alleys to explore, and the cafes are plentiful with lots of character. And of course they have a beautiful casino…

Bizzare

I’m starting to feel like the world is falling apart. Honestly, things just aren’t doing/ being what they’re supposed to be anymore.

Firstly we have freak weather. Masses of snow in England, masses of rain and masses of fire in Australia.

Next we have the financial crisis. Loss of jobs, loss of money, loss of things making sense. It starts to feel crazy when I’m told Woolworths will no longer be seen on UK high streets, and people in America leave their houses and post front door keys though the letterbox because it’s simply cheaper that way.

These things are all fairly major though, and have no real direct impact on me. This week, however, crazy land caught up with Esther Stewart of 1 Wigram Road.

Sitting in my practice room in the basement level of Sydney conservatorium I was hammering away at some Mozart when the world went dark. The red flashing light from my metronome was my only indication that I hadn’t gone blind. The fire alarm siren starting creeping into my eardrums (they start them quietly here and increase the volume, possibly to prevent heart attacks?) Oh not another fire drill please. This is the fourth one in a month.

No, not another fire drill. Leaving my practice room and bumping into other musicians we found our way stopped by shutters blocking the corridors. I felt as if on the Titanic. Had we been locked in? Were we the sacrifice that had to be made?

Thankfully a member of staff, donning his luminous jacket, showed us to a back exit; a path snaked around the back of the building and into the open. The fire brigade were already there, and the news spread of a power failure. Half an hour later, we were allowed back into the building to collect belongings. Feeling in the dark I found my bag and jacket and decided to abandon the rest until the morning.

On leaving the conservatorium, we discovered that the whole circular quay area of the city was in black out. Chaos. Policemen were playing substitute for the powerless traffic lights, people were sitting in dark cafes finishing their drinks, helicopters were flying overhead filming the footage I saw later on TV, and the streets were jam packed with the hundreds of office workers heading home. I felt like on a movie set.

On returning to my suburb of Glebe I found relative normality. Not long lasted. Wednesday morning I woke up to find the power cut had followed me home. A shower in the dark is an interesting experience. Thursday morning the power was back but we had no water. It’s a good thing I like drinking milk, but any kind of washing had to wait until I arrived at college (I was careful not to breathe on anyone during the bus ride).

What will tomorrow bring? More freak weather, or money madness, or will my house actually fall down? Who knows. It’s an exciting life at least.

Hail to the bus driver, bus driver, bus driver...

Something which struck me in the first few days I arrived here was the pleasant Sydney bus drivers. It sounds a trivial thing, but it makes such a difference to the feel of a city if when boarding a bus you are welcomed with a smile and maybe a vocal greeting. Passengers do not hesitate to ask the driver questions about the destination of the bus, and if it is not the correct bus the driver will more often than not give directions to the right one. The pleasantries are reciprocated by passengers, as it is normal practice when getting off a bus to call ‘Thanks driver.’
I suppose the only other place I’ve used public buses on a regular basis is in London. The London bus system requires the passenger to buy a ticket before boarding, which seems to create the impression that there should not be any communication between passenger and driver. A lot of the drivers certainly like to encourage this practice with their rude and short responses on any questions. I obviously do not speak for every London bus driver, as some are very pleasant, but it’s quite a contrast to Sydney. I have actually found myself shocked when coming in contact with a moody bus driver here, as it’s so unusual.


I suppose that in a way bus drivers are ambassadors for their city. Who else do tourists and locals come in contact with every day? Shop owners perhaps, or taxi drivers, but their business may be affected by their manner. Not so with bus drivers. They get paid as long as the bus gets from A to B.


I cannot say for certain the reasons behind the pleasant Sydney drivers, but I can make a few guesses. The first is the fact that Sydney bus drivers are trained well. We had a talk at university orientation from the Sydney transport system. The drivers are well educated in the routes and zone system of Sydney, and are therefore equipped to answer questions from passengers. I suppose then that it is part of their job to be helpful.
Another reason might be that there is respect between driver and passenger. It is a relationship which seems to have gone sour in London, where I’ve witnessed many arguments at bus stops. Here in Sydney even drunk passengers at night seem to respect the driver, whereas in London they would be more likely to throw abuse.

The last explanation is the most simple. It is a fact that people are happier when the sun shines, and it shines a lot in this part of Australia. The passengers are happy, as it’s easier to get up in the morning when the sun shines through your window, and it’s easier to de-stress at the end of the day when you walk out of your office block/college into the a bright golden environment. I love riding the bus when the sky is blue, as everything looks gorgeous, and the drivers are allowed to appreciate that all day.


I’ve experienced a lot of new things since arriving here, but perhaps the most unexpected was this morning when an idea entered my mind; if bass playing doesn’t work out, I’d quite like to be a bus driver.
No, I must be more specific, I’d quite like to be a Sydney bus driver.