six tales of two cities

A lot has changed over the past few weeks, so I thought I’d try to explain it all with six short pieces…

moving

New house

pink flowers
The flowering tree in our little courtyard

We’ve been living here for less than two weeks and everything still feels giddy. There’s a small tree in our courtyard that has burst into pink blossoms in the past week as if in enthusiastic welcome. We’re right in the middle of a group of attached townhouses, and we’re slowly getting used to the sounds of our neighbours moving about their homes – the way their muted voices drift through our open windows on warm evenings.

Everything might be new, but the top stair still creaks reassuringly when we come upstairs at night, just like the last place we lived.

I’m slowly cataloguing the thousands of little noises that come along with this new place; still finding places for all my Sydney things and my Sydney memories.

Soon, when we both get new jobs and begin to forge new routines, this will stop feeling like a holiday – but I’m secretly hoping that this transitory moment lingers as long as possible.

train window
Sunset, as seen through the door of a Sydney train

Train announcement, Upfield line, 9.30pm, 11/3/2015

“Our next stop is Melbourne Zoo. The zookeeper’s just radioed through to let me know that a few of the lions have just escaped. They’re all out looking for them, but if you’re in the area, please take care…”

It was a practical joke intended for a group of primary school kids on a nocturnal excursion to the zoo. Someone in my carriage audibly groaned, but it amused me.

 

No place like (nearly) home

It’s not such a big deal, moving to Melbourne. I’m originally from Melbourne.

Our temporary dinner table. One diner at a time, please.
Our temporary dinner table. One diner at a time, please.

(Actually, that’s technically not true. I grew up in a small country town an hour out of the city. But Melbourne has always felt like home to me.)

Moving back wasn’t a snap decision, although the way everything came together so quickly makes me feel like it was. It was something we’d been talking about for years. In the last months of 2014, the decision was made – and now, here I am, a thousand kilometres south of the city in which I spent the past eleven years, feeling a little like what Dorothy must have felt when she landed in Oz.

At least Dorothy got to take her house with her.

We sold a lot of our furniture to make the move cheaper. Including my giant bookshelf. Now all my books are piled up against the walls again, the way they were when I started this blog. It feels like things have come full circle.

Piles of books against the walls, again
Piles of books against the walls, again

My struggle (with nostalgia)

We spent a week and a bit in my hometown, staying with my parents while we were looking for somewhere to live. I packed a ridiculous number of books for the time we spent away, but I only ended up reading one – A Death in the Family, the first book in Knausgaard’s My Struggle series.

Sunset in Blacktown, just down the road from our old place
Sunset in Blacktown, just down the road from our old place

I’ve been thinking about nostalgia (in literature, but also in myself) a lot lately. Knausgaard’s relentlessly introspective look at his childhood and impossibly awkward teenage years brought back floods of memories of my own.

There’s really no better place to read Knausgaard than in the home in which you grew up. The combination of words and place set my memory whirring.

To tell the truth, I’m a little bit in love. If I didn’t have an embarrassingly large pile of books on my desk waiting to be reviewed, I’d have already started the next book in the series. Maybe soon.

#thanksdad

While staying with my parents, my Dad asked me about hashtags, so I tried to explain and ended up handing over my phone and showing him Twitter.

“But what’s Twitter actually for?” he asked me.

“Well, you send out a message using fewer than 140 characters and people who follow you on Twitter can read it and respond” I responded.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Um – because you want to tell people about something you’ve done, or a thought you’ve had – or talk about a book you’ve enjoyed. Other people follow your tweets and see all the things you talk about”

“How many people follow your tweets?”

I told him.

“What? Why?

My phone is full of pictures of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. I lived in Sydney for eleven years and I had to take a picture every time I went past.
My phone is full of pictures of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. I lived in Sydney for eleven years and I had to take a picture every time I went past.

Things I’m sad to leave behind (or: yes, even more nostalgia)

The Blue Mountains in the distance through my study window

Flowering Jacaranda trees (or perhaps specifically the one outside my former workplace?)

The jacaranda tree outside my old workplace
Jacarandas in bloom

Reading on the train to work

Dressing up to go to the Opera House

Our favourite Chinese restaurant

Going to Gleebooks after a long day at work

Wednesday night expeditions to the Art Gallery of New South Wales

Glen, my Big Issue guy

A burger with the lot from the milk bar near my work for lunch on Fridays

My glasses fogging up instantly as I walked down the stairs into Town Hall station into a wall of humidity

People-watching in Newtown

Predictable weather

Saying hello to Christina Stead every time I’d walk past her plaque at Circular Quay

The 343 through Redfern, even though it never ran on time

Getting to know my fellow commuters over the years without ever exchanging a word

Old wallpaper preserved behind clear perspex on the walls of the New South Wales Writers’ Centre

Lewisham, the home of Sydney’s friendliest cats (and people)

(Talking of people, there are far too many of you to name individually, but you know who you are)

Driving to our favourite beach for the day

Getting lost in The Rocks (and thinking of Playing Beattie Bow every single time)

Hot chocolate from Central station on the way to work in winter

The many places I never managed to find time to explore

greenclocksmaller

It’s sad to be gone. It’s good to be back. Things are happening all at once. I’m unpacking boxes. I’m looking for a new job for the first time in nine years. I’m making plans. I’m writing.

I’m still working out what happens next.

Michelle

Reader, writer, wannabe. Literary critic (with training wheels on). Blogging my way through the 20th century's classic novels in chronological order.

7 thoughts on “six tales of two cities

  1. This is such a lovely post – almost makes me miss Sydney, even though I’ve never lived there. I hope you can still read on the train in Melbourne. As for twitter, that’s almost exactly the conversation I had with my mum – in this case, I think our parents may be right.

    1. Thanks Jane. In retrospect, I think I’m okay if my parents don’t get Twitter. Imagine if they wanted to start tweeting? Eep.

      My Sydney commute took just over an hour, whereas here in Melbourne, I’m twenty minutes from the city. That’s barely enough time to sit down and take out my book! (okay, I’m exaggerating slightly, but it’ll take some getting used to)

  2. You might like to know that the lovely pink flowering tree in your new home is a crepe myrtle. They are one of my favourites (after jacaranda’s). Except crepe myrtles can give you pleasure all year round – their pastel streaky bark in winter is gorgeous too.

    Good luck with settling in, nice to catch up with you’re doing.

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