Home, Sweet Home
My three weeks back home in sunny Sydney, was a compression of every season that the city has to offer in a year. Rain, wind, sun. Sometimes all in a day, just when you thought you had dressed correctly for once.
Rain
A blessing and a curse. In this country, we can have both droughts and floods, simultaneously, in the same state. So when it rains, it comes down. My advice is to get yourself to higher ground, and watch the carwash from afar (it also looks better).
Wind
“A land of sweeping plains…” This holds true even in the city. When it rains, it comes down. When there is wind, there is no place to hide.
So bask in it, as you would in the sun. Sydney may be known for its soft yellow sand and brilliantly blue beaches, but to me it will always be a harbour city. Take a walk under the bridge, and let the wind remind you of the smell of home.
Sun
Australians are the sunniest tourists pillaging the rest of the world for their snow — we have little to none. So when you take the ten-hour flight to down under, the least we can do is promise a spot of sun. The last high-20s day of summer (that also happened to fall on a Sunday) saw Bondi tiled in beach towels, edge-to-edge all across the beach. Head a little further south to Bondi’s little sister, Bronte.
Wearing a little too much for March, I arrived at Sydney Airport ready to board, already my seventh flight of the year. One transfer and twenty hours later, I find myself in Narita Airport once again, wearing too little all over again.
