The week that was…

Seven days. I can hardly believe it has been a week since I landed in this city. The reason I say that is because it feels longer than that.

My grand entrance on February 12 at Sydney airport was A DISASTER. I was a nightmare on heels. Imagine a short girl trying to drag two suitcases, one cabin bag, a laptop bag and handbag – all at once. Let’s make it more entertaining – she was in heels and trying to talk on the phone while purchasing a train ticket. Yep! Silly goose. I got every possible stare from every random person that I could. Old ladies were trying to convince me to buy a pair of havaianas. I overheard a kid say to her mum, “Is that girl going to break her back?” A mature man laughed and said to me, “Maybe it’s a good idea to travel with someone”.

Maybe wearing heels while travelling alone wasn’t the smartest decision I’ve made, but I’m a firm believer of ‘travelling in style’. What if my future love was in the same flight as me? I didn’t want to look like a pathetic loner who couldn’t even dress well. Let’s forget the reality that I sat next to an ugg-boot wearing bogan couple.

The nightmare ended when I reached my temporary home, but things weren’t looking very good for my posture.

Let me explain.
For only a few weeks, I’m couch crashing a very lovely couple’s house. It has a waterfront view. My room has a lovely balcony that almost overlooks the Harbour bridge. There is a HD TV with foxtel which pleases my addiction of trashy TV (oh hello Kardashian). The suburb is cluttered with roadside cafes and health shops. My air bed leaks. BAM!
Basically I sleep on a cushioned, comfortable bed and wake up on the wooden floor with the bed folds curled around me. I’m living out of two suitcases and a box. I have limited shoes, very limited clothes and hardly any food in the pantry.

But as my mum says, it’s all a part of the experience. I stepped out of my comfort zone and landed on an air bed with a hole.

The past week was all about playing catch-ups with old and new friends. It was about spending a lot of money (that I don’t have) on coffee and food. It was about getting a new hair style. It was about staring at my favourite building in Sydney and dreaming of the day I’ll get to walk through the doors as an employee. Somewhere in the moving mania, I also managed to buy a new pair of shoes and I blame peer pressure for that. I got addicted to macarons but didn’t find a French boy. I went for my first pilates class in 11 months and it was like reuniting with a long lost friend.

The past week was weird. It was different. It was more like a holiday than a move.

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