I start this blog directly from Sydney, where I can finally say that I have been to and where I now have to start again completely from scratch. I landed today, Tuesday 12th July, after I left on Sunday 10th July… practically an almost uninterrupted flight, where “almost” means check-in/check-out, baggage check, passport control, which is increasingly difficult because the longer I continued, the more my face receded and the more the photo in the passport, frighteningly resembled dark circles of a world champion boxer. If one day I have a tattoo, I want pink flesh coloured circles under my eyes so I don’t have to worry about it again.
However, arriving in Sydney and I undergo the most straight forward inspection: they ask me if I have food in my suitcase, or something “alive”, plants, seeds, animals, etc.. or any wooden objects and even check sports shoes if you declare that you went for a run near a sea or a lake …Then, as if they have reason not to trust to a complete stranger, they give your luggage to a hyper-paranoid dog’s nose that sniffs along wildly. After that, I finally get outside under the sky of Sydney, which is clearly much more blue, much higher, in fact, much more “sky”.
Thinking of having to jostle to get a taxi I go to the end of the dedicated lane, where I find an Australian in flesh and bones, complete with a walkie-talkie that is there only to turn the crush of sub-humans that comes, in to a neat row composed people. I grant the pitch numbered and wait for my taxi. The Taxi that arrives after five minutes is driven by an eight meter tall Maori with two humpback whale like flippers instead of hands. He mutters something in a dead language, I reply with a “Hi!” That sounds more like a cry of pain, I load my “30 kg formatted life” and sit in the car.
While he’s driving, I look at the city with the classic facials of a child with Down syndrome: open mouth over flowing with stagnant drool, lidless eyes, head crooked, eliminations of thought. In addition, a very slight erection. The city is fucking beautiful! As soon as you turn a corner you are among skyscrapers of glass and steel, which is reflected in the sea, then turn another corner and find yourself in the land of Harry Potter. Heavy traffic, but no horn or crazy people who overtakes you, they don’t even exceed the speed limit and especially great, the taxi driver will not break my balls talking about nonsense things that I don’t give a shit about.
I Check-in at my new “home”, undo my bags and … collapse in bed like a beached sea lion after a meal. I haven’t slept for about 48 hours. In the evening, after a shower I feel more or less presentable (apart from the usual circles) so I get out and go straight to Circular Quay to see the famous Sydney Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House, which both confirm the high expectations. Spectacular! The thing you immediately notice in Sydney, with its 4.5 million inhabitants, is that at night there is no one around from eight pm. Maybe because it’s winter, but there is not a living soul, and most places are closed, except for a few restaurants in the most strategic points or some clubs, waiting for the weekend …The first day is gone in thirty seconds. The next morning: breakfast at Starbucks. I do not know exactly how, but I found myself handling a hectolitre of coffee. Actually I wanted it, but I wasn’t able to say anything to the cashier, speaking in a type of broken English that even a dumb man can’t show off. In any case, he seems to understand what I wanted because I’m now sitting in-front of the sea with my giant coffee and a massive croissant.
The day after, I went to the agency’s office to process some documents and, as I expected, in a mid-morning I got a bank account, health insurance and a tax file number to work. In particular, the bank surprised me: they will send you a completed form via e-mail and the next day you get a confirmation that your account exists. Hopefully it won’t be deleted with the same ease. Today, however, I made an ass of myself with English: I almost lost the orientation on the bus and I ended up miles from where I had to stop. Blasphemy shot softly from me. From that moment, I’ve been pressed up against the window like a fucking hunting dog when he sees a pheasant falling to the ground, not caring about the people on the bus. At the last second I saw my way, but the doors were already closing … At that point I did not find anything better to do but screaming a rough “Sorry” obviously marking both R with a strong Italian accent, but then remembered that it was not the right word, as opposed to “excuse me” that just for the rush I came out like “excusami.” Totally awful. Come on, who does this? And I’ll do even worse, for your entertainment! I went to see an apartment, almost in front of the ocean, in a part of Sydney at the east and below Bondi Beach. After seeing the house I went back on the street cursing, the proposed accommodation was a room in a house with a young couple and two kids. If I go there, or I instil evil in their pure hearts, or they instil good in mine: both options are not acceptable. So I find myself in a corner of the road to the sea, alone, with a storm coming, without a living soul around and completely unaware of where the first bus stop is, at ten kilometres from the city.
In those moments you think you are 15 thousand miles from home just like the famous molecule of sodium. But then I solved the problems and negativity by reminding myself “what the hell, you’re in Sydney.” In fact, this formula works pretty well. Eventually I find the bus and return home. This concludes the third day, after which I’m not going to resurrect… so tomorrow I’m going to get a closer look at the famous Sydney Opera House. Stay tuned for further developments.
This post is also available in: Italian