A rainy balcony

Do you ever sit there and think: it was all worth it? A struggle, a set of circumstances, anything - seeing it come to an end, relieved. All it took was a rainy balcony for me to recognise just how lucky I am...

You may know I live in Sydney at the moment because you're a recurring reader, or because, well, it's in the bloody name. What maybe you didn't know - as you can imagine, it's not something I shouted about - I lived in a share house with at least twelve other people. TWELVE. Shared kitchen, bathroom, the like. 

"Hey, it's a bed to sleep in, and it's cheap," very true, wise words. Moving there back in December was absolutely the right call at the time; now in a new place, living with friends, it all hit me just how much I need people to relate to - a living space for more than just, well, living.

The old place felt like a house, not a home. Then again, with the state of Sydney real estate, can anywhere feel like home for a twenty year old?

Just a quick thought, anyway. How are you? Welcome back. Another big week, a hectic weekend, back into the 'thick of it' after a relaxing trip up the coast, straight back into the fire that is work/life balance. That beautiful, gorgeous construct. That being said, this week has felt more like a work hard/play hard balance, and I can tell you this now, the play hard part of that is conducting some top performances.

You don't work in a bar, do big hours, unless you're going to celebrate finishing accordingly, surely? Nothing too excessive, but for fuck sake, have a beer. Maybe four.

New settings

Picture this - a shit load of bags (one of them full of spices, because i'm cool like that), Georgia (my work mate) and Ryan (also, work mate) - two legends. They picked me up around 5pm, it was - quite literally - the perfect afternoon. Sun beaming, but not too much, a humble breeze, brushing between my ears and hair as we drove over that gorgeous Harbour bridge. It took me back to that first walk around Circular Quay (where the bridge & Opera house are) with Declan. That little photo we took. The chats about how this was a dream since we were kids, and now, my drive to and from work/outings in the city? Crazy.

Passing over the bridge was that moment of realisation. It's over - no more passive-aggressive kitchen encounters, or hearing the scouse woman next door complaining about something, or even, and this was - as you know - the determiner for me leaving, the fucking rats. Rats. Yuck. Anyway, it's done, a new place. We pulled up 15 minutes later, the sun starting to set, pink clouds above, and smiling faces. North Sydney is fucking gorgeous, now my home for the next - and my last - six weeks in this amazing country. 

Let's talk housewarming. My 'official' party for it is next Sunday, this coming one, but on the Sunday I moved - just gone - we had to conjure up a plan. Me, Ryan, Lauren, Bella & Georgia, headed to Coles and the decision was? Drumroll please...GREEK. Souvlaki skewers, Lamb, Chicken, Green Salad, Tzatziki, Halloumi, Feta, everything. A spread fit for Henry VII, except, if you spread his appetite over five people. It was absolutely incredible; Lamb with Garlic stuffed into small incisions, chicken pre-marinaded, gorgeous, then Greek salad drizzled in olive oil and sprinkles of mint. I could go on about this dinner forever, the vibes, the music, some good stories, but what you should know is, we had a great night, many beers and finished it off with beautiful, but borderline somber vibes. Jeff Buckley, Corey Taylor [slipknot], etc etc. It was awesome.

The house is amazing. I'm with two mates from work, Bella & Georgia, in this sort of Duplex. Is that the word? Like a house that hangs on a hill, it's awesome. My room is cute, a single bed, cupboard, and a window out to the Jungle-like view. Cockatoo's screeching, all the time, and I mean all the time, only giving way to the crickets to do their little noise at night. Then, at the crack of dawn, they return, serenaded by cackling Kookaburra's - an Aussie classic. A reminder of life back in Byron Bay, where those Kookaburra's laughing sounds woke me up pretty much every day. Now you could moan about that odd 5am wake up, or just think - how fucking mint is this? Woken up by the native bird, a cool breeze passing through the window, overlooking the trees as you drink your coffee in the morning. That, that is awesome. 

My room is a mess; Bella walked in earlier and described it as a - to quote - "bomb site," i've acquired a few more clothes than I came with, I can tell you. She was right, it was, only until tonight (hence the late vlog, my bad) that I cleaned the room. Clothes away, rubbish binned, things where they need to be. Now, I no longer have a desk, but here's the thing - we have A) a gorgeous living room and B) balcony. Balcony: study? Beer? Lunch? Breakfast with Georgia's cat, Chunky. He really is a chunk, so much so, when he sunk his claws into me to jump on my lap and stare at my eggs while I eat breakfast, I felt as though he was ripping my flesh away. He did it, he got up on the chair, and we had breakfast together. The first balcony breakfast experience was a good one - cheers Chunky, lad.

Oh and that Rainy balcony? Sitting there, on a warm sofa, wrapped up, watching it absolutely piss it down. That was the moment I realised how awesome this place was. Sorry if this paragraph feels sort of random, I'll be honest, I forgot that I set this blog up for the theme to be a rainy balcony - the element of surprise, hey?!

This is going to be the best end to the trip, I just know it - I'm so lucky, and incredibly grateful.

Wild weekends, and a big goodbye 

I couldn't write this blog without mentioning someone who's been there for me since working at Cabana, the bar that i've been at since November. A witty, charming, kind French bloke - best way I can describe him, and make it sound as British as possible. I think one way of determining if he was loved at work was the amount of people who cried when he left.

The night he left was hectic; tills down. bar tabs not working, a $22,000 (£11,000~) tab - all done on paper - not too many staff, and 300 people upstairs. THREE HUNDRED. We got through it, it ended up being a 4pm-2:45am shift, not that we left straight after - work drinks after a shift like that are essentially mandatory. Anyway, we did it, so, we live to tell the tale.

I walked in and saw Arthur at shift start, there's always that horrible feeling you feel when you leave somewhere, or when someone you love working with is going. I couldn't help but feel, well, shit - he's going. Before officially leaving, he had the Sunday off, then flew to Cairns - for non-Aussie mates, its North Queensland, on the countries North-Eastern coast. After landing, he picked up his camper van which he's paid, somehow, $1 a day for - ridiculous deal. A big week long trip awaits for him, then he flies home at the weekend - home being Paris, France. The one good thing about being in Europe is, I'll probably see a lot of these guys again, and I wouldn't say it would be infrequent!

All I want to hear is Arthur calling me up, telling me he's coming to watch a Nottingham Forest match with me, and shouting: "YOU REDS!" In return? I head to Paris, and chant in French about how good of a coach Luis Enrique is, and my new found love for PSG - Ici Cest Paris!

Saying goodbye is never easy, but it is a reality of travel. It's a frequent occurrence here. You get used to it; I don't want to leave anyone i've met here, but we now live in an age of unlimited transport opportunities, and some amazing Visa's - it doesn't have to be the last time we see each other. That's the beauty of it.

So, on Arthur, good luck mate. I hope you're reading this, and planning your trip to the UK - let's make sure it happens! Will be a great trip. It's been the greatest pleasure working with you; busy shifts never felt too hectic, and the quiet shifts never felt too boring, you balanced it out nicely. Teaching me the odd French word, dancing at the Ivy, or a hectic staff party - we have some memorable moments to discuss over a nice coffee in the city centre of Paris, don't we?

Good luck mate, it was a pleasure.

It's getting closer, this is how I feel

Going home, it's nearly here. I don't want to think of it too much, not because I don't like home, I mean, a hug from my Mum right now, and every day since I arrived, would be so good. You know those days you wake up, maybe sigh a bit, and think, what would my Mum say? Yes, sure, she's a call away, and my mum would pickup no matter what, but it isn't the same. 

My mum runs our family pub, she has since my Grandad, 'Gumps', passed away back in 2019. She's the strongest person - had to hold it together through some seriously difficult shit. All of this while raising me to be the best man I can be, and that responsibility, she feels, will never go away - although, I would like to think her influence has allowed me to "self-teach" a lot of things, or simply carry over those principles. Those mornings sat downstairs, my Mum writing down a stock list, checking order sheets, paying bills, talking to the bar staff opening up, having a cuppa with the Kitchen staff, those mornings, how can I not miss them? It's home.

Travelling, unfortunately, creates internal conflict. It's not 'reality v the dream,' that's a bullshit take. If you are lucky enough to travel like I am, and so many others are, chances are, 'the dream' of moving somewhere, experiencing a new culture for longer, or whatever it may be, can absolutely be the reality. And there's the problem. 

No, not a conventional problem; not a problem such as, let's say, late rent? No food in fridge? Something like that. More so the issue of choosing. You feel, or at least I do, like I'm picking between a life I would live for longer or seeing family. It isn't that way, as I said earlier the world is connected on a scale our ancestors would have never dreamed of, you're never more than 24hrs (so to speak) away from your loved ones. What a world. But even then, the mental burden, cost, all sorts, it makes you question the 'choice'. But in reality, you do just have to live life for you, and remember, your loved ones are always there, and true friends the same. At the same time, it is always a choice - you can do as you please. That is one of the many beauties of travelling.

So the feeling? Conflict. Choice. Guilt. I don't want to leave my place, Sydney, but I do want to go home. Then when I'm home? I don't want to leave my family, my mates, but I want to stay in Sydney, in Australia, and explore. It's fucking awesome.

However, even with these thoughts, I think - and say to myself - the same things: Stay humble, be grateful for what you have, and remember, if you're willing to work hard for it, you can go wherever you like. That's it.

This weeks takeaways 

A big takeaway this week? You can feel lonely in a crowd. How strange does that sound? Lonely with loads of people around you - like, what?

That share house had around 13/14 people in it including me. Turnover of occupants was frequent, very frequent, once every 2-3 weeks i'd say. Even with all those people, once my mates left, it was as though I had no one. Nothing. No one to chat with, laugh with, cook with, nothing. I didn't fully understand how lonely I was until it came to moving in with Georgia & Bella, having that big 'family' style meal on the Sunday I moved in. It made me realise just how lucky I was to be offered to live there, have better circumstances, and so forth. The fact I wake up, speak to people I like, laugh, cook together, everything, it's so fun.

Even last night, once I stopped writing for the night, I was immediately in the kitchen, with them both, making caramelised Banana's and Ice cream, Bella, with her genius, which I hate to admit because she will now use that against me, decided on adding a dash of cinnamon to it. Delicious. I was half tempted to make Affogato: Espresso & Ice Cream, we even have chocolate Bailey's in the fridge, aren't we classy? But no, I was sensible. A midnight sleep, ice cream with Caramelised banana & Cinnamon, and a glass of water. That's how I end my nights. Can't say it's a bad life, can I?

Another week goes by, I'm ending this blog in a coffee shop smack in the middle of Martin Place, Sydney, Oat Cappucino to takeaway, but drank inside - didn't fancy spilling coffee on my laptop. Got to be smart! Hoping your week goes well, and you smash through everything you want to achieve this week.

Have the best week, keep smiling, and see you next week for another blog!

Love,

Jamie 

Pictured: Me, Arthur, Isabella, during *that* hectic shift as he left Cabana for the last time