home is where the heart is

End of week 1.

I landed in Sydney on Sunday evening around 9pm, the perpetual 21 degree air conditioning in the airport disguised what awaited me outside. I flew through immigrations (ah, bless. Caught a flight full of Other passport holders), collected my bag and headed for the door. i dived headfirst into the muggy Sydney evening, and having come from crisp cold London, this was like... I don’t even know how to describe it. It was a little like walking through something solid, wading my way through goo, or maybe like Patrick Swayze in Ghost, where he could walk through something solid, but with a little effort.

In about two tenths of a second, I was drenched from head to toe in sweat, and it didn’t help that i had been on a 22 hour flight, with no showers in between. The BO meter was off the charts. I took deep, wet breaths and trudged on. By the time I got to the cab, I felt like I’d been dunked in the BO ocean, retrieved, and not wrung out very well.

BUT. This isn’t a cranky story. It could have been, had I just landed anywhere else in the world. But I was home. In Sydney. And i could smell it in the air. I AM HOME.

It’s been a week people, and I have fallen back in mad crazy love with the city which in truth, I had never stopped loving anyway. It’s like we’ve renewed our vows. I had the first two days off to play tourist and tour guide, and I wonder, why did I ever leave? This city is perfect in so many ways.

Lazing in the sun at Circular Quay, the ferry to Manly, the beach, the sun, the people, the food, the smells, the freshness of everything.












And lastly, on Wednesday night, a reunion of my pals in Surry Hills...


It actually feels like I never left. I'm even loving being back in the office, seeing everyone, and feeling right at home.

And Ying, if you’re reading this, I’m not even counting sleeps. Are you proud of me?