Not 19 Forever

Photo credit: photobucket.com

Not, as I thought, the collective noun for a bunch of old Ford cars (Cortinas), but in fact a (pop?) band.  The Courteeners.  A band responsible for the song of this blog title, played over the tannoy to a very happy Old Trafford as the 20^th title was secured in style versus Aston Villa.

This being the main reason I have been walking around Sydney with a big stupid grin for the last week or so.  We have been champions elect for some time but until we made it safe I was still having nightmares about the end of last season.  When I see Man Utd play at the ANZ Stadium, Sydney in July, it will be back in our rightful place as Champions of England.

I also feel that the writing of my last blog seems to have been the best therapy I could have had.  Massively cathartic.  And heartening to get so many positive messages from friends.  The outlook seems sunnier now, quite literally despite it being Autumn, and I am doubly looking forward to my upcoming visit to England, just over a short 6 weeks away.  Yes, really so soon.  In typical Project Manager fashion, I have a plan, a timeline and a very full spreadsheet.  And for the last 2 months, Mum has been stocking up on the booze and has a few of my favourite meals lined up.  Aren’t mums brilliant!

The 6-week countdown to my trip ushers in the start of month 10 as life as an expat.  I’ll say it again.  Where is the time going?  I’ve had my well-documented ups and downs, but seriously, I’ve nearly been here a year already?  The writing of this blog really brings home to me how time is passing. 

People ask how long I will be here for, and whether this is “forever”.  What is forever?  I’m not sure it exists as an entity.  More a collection of “nows”.  All the “nows” add up to create the moments and various chapters of your life.  Some chapters are longer than others.  This current chapter is currently a good read, so it will continue.  That said, this is not how I want the book to end.  As alluded to in the last blog, this story is just getting started.  I’m ready for bigger and better things.

What else do I have that I can share with you?  Well, this has been a very expensive few days.  Last Thursday was ANZAC (Australia and New Zealand Army Corps) day in Australia, a public holiday.  ANZAC Day – 25 April – is probably Australia's most important national occasion. It marks the anniversary of the first major military action fought by Australian and New Zealand forces during the First World War.  Following dawn services, the afternoons are traditionally spent in the pub playing a very strange game called “2 Up”.  A variation of “heads or tails” that gets the pubs packed and has loads of people gambling on the outcome.  I didn’t get roped into any gambling but did savour a few cold ones.  It’s fair to say that the following day at work wasn’t my most productive.

Then we get to Saturday and after a day at the beach, I return to the flat to make @scottbarton8 a cup of tea only to find that we were locked out of the flat.  The thing is, I had my keys, but just not the key I needed.  I have 2 locks on the apartment door.  A yale lock, for which I have the key and is the lock I always use.  The other lock is one of those that you lock from the inside and then close the door.  I never, repeat never, use this lock.  What must have happened is that I appear to have pressed in the lock, on the inside by accident, then pulled the door closed.  Upon my return, I could unlock the top lock, but not the bottom, the key for which was inside the flat.

We jumped in the car and drove to the letting agent, only to find it closed.  I then rang them, only to find they were out of town.  My only option it turned out was Mosman Locksmiths!  He promptly turned up and after about 5 minutes of what appeared to be just trying to ruin the lock, and $140 later, he had me back in the flat.  And before you tell me, yes I know, there is a lesson in there.  It seems I’m learning a lot of lessons recently.

So, as I go and copper up, working out how much spending money I will have for my trip to Europe, I will leave you to enjoy your emerging Spring (if you are reading from the UK).  What’s that you say?  It’s snowing again?  Spare a thought for me.  It’s Autumn here.

Maudlin Musings

Just follow it

When you have everything, yet have nothing.  A lot of people think I fall in to the first part of that statement.  I feel increasingly like I relate more to the second.  On the surface, as outsiders looking in, the life of an expat, especially one lucky enough to be living in Australia seems idyllic.  Like one long holiday.  It’s all sun, sea and BBQs isn’t it? 

Well, no actually.  It’s just the same as living anywhere in the world.  I still have to go to work in an office 5 days a week.  Laundry and the weekly big shop still have to be done.  And my work shirts don’t iron themselves, unfortunately.

So you get the drudgery of everyday life, but without your friends, family, and loved ones around you to make it all worthwhile.  I’m now ten months into this expat experiment and of that, I have only really had one month of pure happiness.  And that was when I had a friend over from the UK at Xmas and I was able to share this beautiful city with somebody.  One month from ten where I have been genuinely happy.  Not a very good return is it?

A close confidante and me often play the “percentages game”.  What percent chance of you being there over 1 year.  Percent chance being there 2 years.  Percent chance of being there forever.  I think we have already ruled out that last one.  And she tells me she suspects I know in my heart already what the answer is.  I’m starting to fear that maybe she is right.  Yet I keep holding off.  Waiting for the switch to come on and for it all to fall into place.  But things are in place.  I’m working, in a good job, decent wage.  I’m managing to play a game of football each week.  I’m progressing well with my Spanish, now on level 3.  And I have friends outside work.  So all the components of a good life are in place.  Yet I feel empty.  Wondering if the switch will ever come on.

So when does perseverance become stubbornness?  How long do you give it?  Do you sit out the months simply because you feel you have to, and one day it will all be worthwhile?  Somebody keeps telling me that life is short.  It is, she is right.  It’s time I stopped running away, and started running towards.  Life dishes out harsh lessons.  I’m starting to learn from them.   At what point do you listen to your heart and follow what it is telling you?

I remember travelling through South America a couple of years ago, having a great time.  But I also distinctly remember when I realized it was time to go home.  I booked my flight and immediately felt a sense of peace, and happiness.  Enjoying the journey, yet counting down the days to being home with close friends I had missed.  I’ll never forget the unadulterated joy I felt at seeing my friends face as she picked me up from the airport.  So with this knowledge, I can't help but wonder how I would feel if I booked a one way ticket home.  Not quite yet of course, as I am on those shores in just over 8 weeks.  But that trip will be the litmus test for me.  A temperature check on how I really feel.  Will I feel "home".  Seeing all the friends I have arranged to catch up with, will it feel "right" and something that I no longer want to turn my back on?  Taking into consideration the second half of this year, I have no such plans for friends to visit this xmas and I already know I don't fancy the prospect of spending my birthday here, alone.  

Just to further complicate matters, I think I could be starting to have my first mid-life crisis, feeling the urge to face my commitment issues head on.  I won’t blame the last book I read, “The Rosie Project” as my thoughts since turning 40 have been quietly bubbling away, but I’m ready to quit putting myself in isolation constantly.  I think my solo travels could be a thing of the past as I look for somebody to share the world with.  My search to find some meaning to the journey that is life is starting to narrow and what I am wanting for the second half (see previous blog on turning 40) is coming sharply into focus.  I’m in danger of allowing alone to morph into lonely.  I won’t allow that to happen.

Look out, the Yorkshire Expat is coming!