Making Friends With The Neighbours

From 2000, I lived in Sydney for nearly four years. It was only last decade, but sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago... When I first moved there, I hated it. I found it shallow, noisy, bright, vain and self-obsessed, and I couldn't find my own rhythm in amongst the pace. I'd never lived in a city before - I'd always found myself by the sea or in the countryside in small communities - so to move to Sydney was quite a big deal and lifestyle change. I found the lack of community, the disregard for each other and the focus on money and status to be strange and silly and petty, but what I found most difficult was the the grime, the constant sound of traffic, and the lack of stars. With the beautiful bright lights of the skyline came the loss of the night, the stars and the sounds of the ocean. In the end, I found ways to love Sydney, and I remain smitten. I love the harbour, I love the bridges, I love the parks, the pools, the buildings. I love the busy middle of the CBD, th

My friend, Brett Caller , is a super fun person to surf and hang out with. He constantly froths and is always encouraging and supportive, while still managing to tease the hell out of me. Watching him surf, I have learned how to get waves in a busy lineup, while still being generous and respecting the people around me. He has his own blog , but also posts over at Valla , which is where I found the following post and image (by Dane Peterson ); ***** Growing up all I wanted was to do the biggest most radical turns I could do and the thought of not moving and simply just trimming across a wave bored the absolute shit out of me. Now days it's probably one of my favourite surf time's. I love the free feeling that you get from a 8'9 Alaia, no fins, no drag just trim. The speed is like no other I reckon it the fastest I have ever been on a wave in a straight line.

Sitting at home in the city trying to work - with the thick, muggy air crowding me, clothes clinging to my skin, last night's drinks scratching at my brain, and the task of willing eggs on toast to appear ready and prepared in front of me taking all my energy - and all I can think about it how much I would like to be immersed in the ocean, looking back at a green and rocky headland. What sweet bliss, what sweet relief it would be to plunge under the waves, under the water, the coolness of it washing the remains of last night's excess away. The long, cold shower I take instead is a poor compromise. Ugh.

Like all nations with a vibrant tourist industry, Australia produces some pretty questionable postcards. Which, may I admit here and without shame, I love. I love them. In fact, I used to have a whole sort of side-project, where I would keep my eyes open for them and send them to friends who were over the seas and living abroad.* I bought these ones the other day to send to you all via my blog. I hope you enjoy them... (I feel like this would have worked better if the Koala was on the nose of a longboard - hang ten, man!) *Send me your address if you're keen!

So I finally made myself some time to look through all the blogs and sites I have been unable to get to recently. Some of them I have been saving up, as I know they will be full of shiny jewels like the clip below (which I found on the always excellent The Endless Bummer );

Next night out, I am bringing this back. Katie, Nat and Sarah, you have been warned... (In my head, I'm the chick in the blue dress.)

I saw this photgraph by Paul Worsley over at Common Ground this morning. I love it. It is such a great image and a common one around where I live. In fact, this photo is the summer version of the very break I wrote a story about nearly two years ago... Rivermouth I clamber down the sandbags that now constitute my beach track and head south along the sand. The sky is clear and the sun is warm and my jumper comes off pretty fast. There's some little waves breaking out the front that might be fun later. It's been weeks since I've been anywhere near the beach, so I just want to go for a walk and look around and check it out again. The beach seems pretty empty, but I notice a couple of guys up in the dunes looking south, checking the surf. And a couple more. And more. And some with chairs. They're really engrossed. It must still be working further down. Harley told me last night that it was about the only bank in the whole region doing anything at the moment.

(I can't actually believe I didn't know about this until now. Sigh.) The California Surf Museum is currently hosting an exhibition called: Women on Waves: Performance, Beach Fashion and Feminine Mystique in the World of Surfing . I reckon it looks great and I really wish I could go and check it out. If you have seen it, can you let me know what it was like? Thanks! Women on Waves Exhibit from Angelica Bonomo on Vimeo .

In my heart, I always knew. In my heart I always held a place ready for the fallout and the pain. In my head I pushed aside the thoughts that lingered like shadows; whispering, pointing, asking questions, anxious. In the end it is your shadow that haunts me; whispering, pointing, asking questions, anxious. But now the clouds have drawn themselves across the sun, and shadows cannot live without light. They disappear, their stories fading... Forgotten. In my heart, time passes.