Officially, 73 Old South Head Road. In Bondi Junction, a 30 minute walk from the oh-so-popular Bondi Beach, a Whistler made of sand. The longest, prettiest beach closest to the city, with loads of tourists, girls in bikinis, men carrying surf boards, sidewalk cafes, pastel-colored buildings, and the ever present terracotta tiles.
And my little room is upstairs in a rooming house with other young people, its about the size of a dorm room, with a window and a bed and two wardrobes. Close to the bathroom. The house itself is close to the train station.
So now there is the job matter, but that should resolve itself shortly. I worked at a 'fish emporium' last night that wanted me, but if this potter wants me then that is what I will do. Pray for decent pay!
After reserving the room (I don't move in til the 13th) Jacky and I walked down to the beach and lay there roasting like any decent tourist. We then ate ice cream we bought with the ten dollar bill we found on the train platform earlier that day.
I'm realizing how unprepared my mind was for this travel. Officially, I was prepared: all documents checked out, money was good, tickets booked. But in my mind, there were no big changes on the horizon, I was getting ready for a winter in Cape Breton, snow and tea and all. Not ready to work, not ready to shift, really.
But it's all working out.
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