So I’ve been operating under Newton’s Law of Motion this first full week in Sydney: An object in motion will stay in motion, etc. etc. Friday night I went to Surry Hills to meet up with a couple of American gals who work at a different ad agency, and ended up having a dinner “girl date” with one of them that was absolutely lovely. The benefit of having a more intimate social encounter is that I didn’t feel the need to be as “on” as I’d had to at the industry parties I’d attended the few days before. And it was nice to have real girl talk for the first time since I came to Sydney. Fortunately, the evening ended after dinner and I was able to get home and be in bed by 11 to catch up on the missed sleep from the days before. After getting a solid 13 hours of shut-eye, I felt amazing. And decided that it was time to explore the beach.
I went up to Manly, the Northern Beach suburb that I had originally been drawn to when doing my pre-move research. And, of course, my instincts were dead-on. It. Was. Adorable. Like a cross between Pacific Beach in San Diego and Newport in Orange County. Lots of really nice apartment buildings along the walkway next to the beach, tons of restaurants and shops along the main drag from the ferry landing and all along the beach walk, dozens of beach volleyball courts, and surfers galore, even on a chilly winter day. And the kicker, EVERYONE had a dog. Almost every other person I saw walking the beach walk had a leash attached to a pup.
The only drawbacks – it’s far from the city, and not convenient for late-night adventures at or near the city center. Basically, if you live in Manly, you go out in Manly. And I don’t really know anyone in Manly, yet. There is a ferry every 30 minutes that drops you off right in the city, but it stops running at midnight. This would put a serious cramp on late-night adventures and making new friends outside of the area. Plus I have to factor in the dependent creature that will be joining me and will require being fed at a reasonable hour every night. I think that Manly would require roommates, and probably a houseshare situation of some sort, and I had kinda had my heart set on living on my own for the first time in my life, since I feel a little too old to do the sorority house thing anymore. People who don’t live in Manly have been overwhelmingly pushing me toward Bondi and the Eastern Suburbs, saying that I can get the same experience with much easier access to the city (but crappier access to the office). I didn’t have a chance to get out that way this weekend, so we’ll see.
Beautiful Manly Beach on a Chilly Winter Day
After my daytime excursion to Manly, I met back up with an American expat I had met with the first few days I was here. He had some of his friends join us and we went out drinking. And drinking. And drinking. I didn’t realize how much I’d had until we started dancing. And then I realized I’d had far, far too much to drink. I was so proud of myself up til this point, thinking, I’m doing a really great job of staying busy, doing things, making a social life, seeing the city. Staying in motion. I realized that I was heading straight for a giant brick wall.
After managing to make to make it home without getting sick, I awoke the next morning with a really vicious hangover. Oh, and no credit card, passport or cellphone. Fortunately, I managed to remember that I had taken them out of my purse when we had decided to leave it and our coats in a booth, and I had given them to my friend to keep safe in his pockets while we tore up the dance floor. I managed to get back to Central Sydney to meet up with him and get my things, grab a bite of breakfast (which was nearly impossible to get down), and rush back to my apartment to curl up in a fetal position. The. Whole. Day. And. Night. I’m really way too old at this point to rage for four days straight and not think that I might possibly die as I dealt with the after effects. It’s really sad, actually, because just a couple of short years ago this would have been nothing. But I guess it’s a good reminder that an object in motion doesn’t need to be desperately hurtling through life at breakneck speed. I suppose I was trying to prove to myself that I can do this, assimilate quickly and have just as awesome a life as I’d had by the time I left Seattle. I’m remembering that it took me a good amount of time to get there at home, and that there really isn’t any rush – I’m going to be here for a while. So as my hangover faded I started making plans for getting myself back in motion, but this time at a much more docile pace.