Indefinitely (part ii)

When I told Rondoners I was leaving town, the number one response was, "That's soo sad!"

Erm... Not really :) I can tell you that my last 12 months in Rondon has taught me to be optimistic beyond optimism. I can tell you that I went to temple every week to ask for guidance and the courage not to breakdown. I can tell you that the only time I felt quiet and at peace was when I was in a room with my golden gods. I can tell you that I had a lot of people whinge to me about their relationships, their jobs and their lives. To the point where I just wanted to smack them and say, "Muscle up princess" :P

Got to look forward, no time to feel sorry for myself. Get over it, because it ain't going to get easier until you do. *cliche* *cliche* but it's true.

What do I loves about being back in Sydnery?

WELL, the first person I called was Boozy Floozy *grin* He made me swoon over a welcome back lunchies of tuna sashimi marinated with soy and truffle essence sauce AND a black cod marinated in white miso *swoooon* I never gets tired of that dreamy tuna... Boozy Floozy and his Missus have kept me in a constant Friday hangover state since I've been back *grin*

Immediately after were S&J, "Surprise!!! I'm back, whatcho doing?" Followed by a wunderbar evening out on the warm outdoor terrace of Ching-a-ling with the fresh-from-Japan-pow-pow de Freres and the gang (^_^) Capped off with a roast cooked with an USB temperature gauge *uh huh* at H&B's place.

Two weeks back and I'm working in the city. Won't talk about the job, but will talk about Shuai being my lunch and coffee buddy at Vella Nero :) Friday mornings definitely wouldn't be as much fun if I wasn't hungover at Vella Nero and catching up on the news with Shuai.

What's there not to love about being back?

I haven't even mentioned the magical laundry basket at home yet *grin* Oooh yeah, I loves being spoilt. After 4 years overseas, and before that, 6 years out of home - I've finally learnt to appreciate just being with my parents.

On the flipside, there are the babies. TONS of babies. It's a bit weird to be hanging out with friends from Uni, whom I used to catch the train with 10 years ago, and whose kids are now all playing together. Put me in the mix and you'll be playing the Sesame St game "One of These Things is Not Like The Other". I can now tell you about childcare rebates, toilet training and The Naughty Corner. It's still all good.

A city is what you make of it. Right now, what makes Sydnery for me, is being with those I heartses the mostest. And having the fun with them that I've missed out on in the past 4 years *big grin*

Now if only B was here...


I drinks my coffee every morn at Single Origin:

I ates at Sumalee with my visiting Rondon lovelies:

_Bestest_ eggs at Kawa:

I screamed like a girl:

(...and then I screamed some more when my Dad pretended to pick it up and chuck it at me)

If you ask me what hurtses the most about being in Sydnery, it's not having Chubby here. I swear, I can still hear him *huffing* and snoring. I can hear his nails clicking on the floorboards...

Staycation

Living in Rondon doesn't mean you have to leave it to enjoy it :) Well, err, actually, it does mean that, but you don't have to leave the country to enjoy it *grin*

One of the best holidays I've had, is at the Lakes District. You get the freshest air, you get the greenest view. Value for hiking effort. All about 5 or 6 hours outside of Rondon.

What's a "Staycation", I hear you say? It's when there's a GFC (the one that didn't hit Australia but Australians seem to think it did... and it makes me think of KFC) and you can't afford to leave the country for a holiday. So you take a break and eksplore (my retarded "aks" key doesn't work on my MBP anymore) your own territory.

Most high-larious thing - I was the only one without hiking shoes, and I was the only one who survived without injury ;)

Anyways, enough rambling, here are some proper rambler piks :P

Here endeth my travel tales...
It wouldn't have been the same without the Ladiezzz :)
*MUAH*

Sidetracked

"Asian in Sydnery" just doesn't have the same ring. However, here's what I'm thinking tonight.
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I'd like to think that I'm pretty open minded and non-prejudicial. I looooves my curries. I looooves my garlic and onions. I looooves my booze. All this must reek the next day, and I wouldn't know unless you tells me.

But FFS, how can it be that bad that even though my nose is against an open window and there's half a metre between us - I CAN SMELL YOU ENOUGH THAT I HAVE TO STOP BREATHING?!?

I'm sorry to say, the stinky curry stereotype is true. You want to know how tolerant I am? I stayed in my seat until the next stop 15 mins away. *15mins* of inescapable body odour without a dirty look or word.

The other gripe I have, and I'm saying this because it seriously vexes me - total fatties on trains. I'm talking about fat to the point of I understand why it's called morbid. I'm not apologising for thinking this either. You know what? I eat. I loooooves my food. If you look at my genetic history, my father's side is filled with pot bellies, size 16-20, zipper club triple bypasses, bowel problems, secret diabetes and hypertension. My point is, in our time and generation - we know better. I've learnt from it and I don't eat lard as an everyday food like my Dad used to (yes, it's nommy). You don't fcking eat to the point where you waddle. You don't fcking eat to the point where a seat for three is a competition between me and two fatties.

Yes, that's what my everyday mornings on the train are like.

An evil glance at the two fatties who take up a seat for three. For this I have to stand for 40mins. I seriously *tried* once to squeeze in between two fatties. I had to stand up again when my butt obviously couldn't fit. You know what's bad?!? The fatties _didn't bother_ to make space at all. No shuffling over. All I needed was an inch or two either side. To which I'm internalising, "fat fckers". Gawd forgive me for thinking bad thoughts about humankind.

Can't wait for those heart attacks to happen :P

Yes. I think you _should_ feel bad about taking up an extra half seat. I fcking run when I *hates* running. At least try to take some pride in your body, especially when you're a fatty at <= my age.

To be fair, I'm not a morning person.

Don't even get me started on fatties on planes.

Indefinitely (part i)

It's been a strange end to an amazing, rollercoaster journey.

Some of you know - I've left Rondon. Returned to Sydnery. Indefinitely.

The others - I can hear you *gasping* now :)

It was never planned, I just had a ticket. My life felt like it had been on hold for the past twelve months. Push eventually came to shove and I'd lost this round against destiny and my gods. When the decision was made to leave Rondon, I had one week to pack up four years of my life. 28kgs of singlet tops (some things about me never change), another 7kg of extra-gawd-knows-what later, I was on a plane home. So, here I am. After eight months of dredging through the Rondon job market, I found myself a job in Sydnery within two weeks.

In my last week in Rondon, I got immensely queasy and ill with Babsy :) Bad oysters, bad clams or just too much alcohol? We'll never know *grin* I had one last dinner date with Mrs P, who has been my constant cake and chocolate buddy since... 2003! I made a batch of laksa from the last of my stash for Sus, Wazzz and Frisbee (surprised that we're still friends? So am I!). Niffies and M-San fine dined me at Marcus Wareing at The Berkeley (where I was politely told to put my camera away or the chef would get upset). I had my last Benito's Hat burrito with Hottie and Mr D. Then I felt queasy and had to go home *grin*

My last day in Rondon? I woke up early, met my aunt for brekky at The Wolseley. Walked out to a crisp sunny Rondon day. As I walked from Piccadilly to Oxford Street to pick up my Uniqlo jeans, I was quiet and happy. The streets of Rondon were more familiar to me now than Sydnery. 4 years in Rondon had gifted me with a LOT of love and adventure. Ups and downs.

Tell you a not-so-well-kept secret - I hated living in Rondon when I first arrived. It was complicated, filled with paperwork, and I had *nothing*. I was in tears a lot, and at one point, ready to pack it all in and go home. Now I love it because it has never ending possibilities. It's about having choice and empowerment. Hottie and Mr D made the biggest impact on me before I left. They showed me that what I want is possible, especially in Rondon... If only I could focus long enough to figure out what I wanted!

My last day in Rondon I donated a crapload of clothes and books to Oxfam. I met up with Mrs P for an almond croissant at South Bank. I packed, and unpacked, and packed. For a "minimalist", I had a surprising amount of crap.

If you ask me what I miss most about Rondon - it's B. I can't tell you how much I miss B. The constant in my life for over a decade. The first person to greet me when I was fresh off the boat. Seriously, B was on the doorstep with a Timeout Cheap Eats guide waiting for me :) The only one who made me teary when saying "see you soon" before I left. The persona who is always there for me. Strangely, this is the first time we've lived separate lives. My final night dinner was with B at Barrafina, my fave tapas bar. The only thing missing was the hawt Spaniard waiter! Haha :)

I'll avoid the cliches. This is all I'm going to say about leaving Rondon - Thanks to all who have made Rondon a bloody good time for me. You know who you are. It's not goodbye, it's see you later ;)