So, I’ve been back in Melbourne for 4 months, and no one has tried to touch my hair.Continue reading “we move”
So I took a detour on my route to finishing up my days in Melbourne, by heading to Tokyo for 6 days to visit my little sister. So just a casual trip really. And oh yeah, it was EPIC. Here are some highlights.
It’s happening guys, the year is finally coming to an end, and we all know what that means; self reflection time. Oh yes. Kicking yourself for making resolutions you knew you’d never keep? Wondering if there are anymore famous actors you used to love that aren’t sexual predators (doubtful, just based on the stats alone)? Regretting the decision to make 2017 the year you finally started caring about politics? Welp, me too. Let’s look back fondly together, shall we?
The desert is a heavy blanket that wraps you in a red heat. This is how it felt to visit Uluru in the Northern Territory for the first time. I spent too much time at the airport getting there, making the flight connections that usually come with cheap plane tickets. But once I arrived, greeted by the wooden cradled lodgings and friendly smiles of staff, I finally understood the laissez-faire stereotype usually associated with Australians, who welcome you calmly with their hospitality even though it’s 35 degrees outside and there could be a snake at every turn.
It’s official; dating in Australia is a fool’s game. By that I mean that it’s frustrating, sparse, and unfortunately for me, sometimes mildly racist. More generally though, dating culture is fairly new in Australia, and not wholly successful for non-Aussie’s coming from countries where casual dating is just a part of social life.
My thighs ache. The balls of my feet feel strained under the hard wooden floors. The temperatures rising. My arms are up in the air and my chin is pointing towards the ceiling. Tonight for the first time, at just about half past ten, I’m surrounded by darkness and only one thing matters in that moment. Because for the first time in history, it’s going to start raining men. The beat drops like a thousand raindrops on my face and if I could freeze frame mid jump in the air like a 70s TV show star, I would. IT’S RAINING MEN, HALLELUJAH! IT’S RAINING MEN, AMEN!
Oof, I have not posted in a long while. Sorry to any die hard fans of this blog, but I have been distracted with that old chestnut we affectionately call ‘life’. So what exactly have I been preoccupied with? Oh I don’t know; dealing with my hair identity, my expat identity and my relationship status/identity. So let’s deal with the hair stuff first; or start from the top, as they say. Pun well and truly intended.
Here’s the thing about living in a new country on a one year visa; everything feels pretty impermanent, because it is. It’s kind of a slightly lengthier version of the classic question; if you had one day left to live, what would you do? Thankfully I have more than one day left to live; I have a year (OK more than a year but you understand my clunky extension of the saying). My point being, you find yourself living as if you will never get the opportunity to live this way again. Which is kind of true no matter where your are in your life. It just feels more poignant once you’ve relocated to another country.