Last evening in Sydney. I have felt the energy levels fading recently, having spent a great chunk of each day strolling around the city- perhaps a little bit of Sydney Saturation. So maybe it’s good to have a day on the train to rest the feet. I feel that I have been fairly pro-active and successful in exploring, although I would need another couple of weeks to get out of the central districts and see the city properly. Redfern has turned out to be a good base (I chose this area last time because the Art Fair was nearby); I am back in the room downstairs now, and my back is surviving the mattress well. All has gone smoothly, with minimal bother from other guests, apart from a new guy who last night was determinedly yanking on the locked door between my room and the empty room in front. Just as I was getting out of bed (at 2am) to investigate, the door opened and I was able to get in a quick burst of cursing before closing it and going back to bed. It’s been quite pleasant having the little kitchen to rustle up such delights as Spaghetti on Toast, Cheese on Toast, Crunchy Nut Cornflakes, Boiled Eggs etc. This has meant I’ve been able to keep eating out down to a minimum, although the cafes have still been tempting; the vegetarianism has been half-maintained, but has had to give way to a few tasty pies.

The two weeks have been a blur of walks though quiet and leafy streets- endless foliage and balconies. I don’t remember any of this style of street from my first visit when I was 19, so clearly I didn’t explore the city too much. I’ve been trying to dredge up what precisely I did on that visit (where did I stay, eat, who did I meet?). I think I just wandered around the coast and the botanical gardens etc. I remember watching a piano recital in a small room at the Opera House, watching Oliver Twist (the old film), playing pool in a pub, seeing Bondi beach. I wasn’t used to cities, so it all probably loomed strange and slightly menacing, vaguely alluring. I don’t think I had much skill at engaging with people in a confident manner, so my present state has probably lead me full circle, having passed through peak-sociability some years ago. 

I’ve seen a lot of the Head On exhibitions, main and subsidiary, at venues dotted around the city. As a result, over the last couple of days my ability to engage and have a bit of chit-chat has definitely improved. Obviously having no language barrier, plus a general focus, helps a great deal. That leaves me feeling mildly positive. I didn’t have high expectations of this trip, and in some ways that has been sensible. The photo exhibition itself has come and gone without too much fuss, and it’s hard to know how much of a sensible investment that has been, but I am very happy with the host-gallery and the group show in general. I have been taking photos of the city almost semi-consciously, camera always with me as usual, and I’ve just been ‘clicking’ any composition that looks vaguely interesting. I am looking forward to having a period of calm so I can sift through all the work from the last few months. Feeling detached when I take the picture makes me much less present in the scene; when I took pictures before I would alway remember when and where I took the photo, as well the associated mood of the moment. Now I rely much more on simply looking and the instinctive sense of whether it will make a good photo. The experience of being in that scene is muted. 

Overall, I feel I have a witnessed a good slice of the city: the busy downtown, the beaches, the residential streets. I’ve been lacking a bit of social interaction, but then again the short conversations I’ve had with people in galleries have been enough to keep me going: micro-doses of sociability. Walking and taking pictures is tiring in its own way, as is visiting galleries, so I haven’t had much energy left over. I’ve seen Maria and Andrew and Sofia four times in total: 1) that first time at the restaurant, 2) at a preview performance (an older lady from NY performed an act describing her life, with songs and musical accompaniment from a jazz trio), 3) another dinner at their home, 4) a dinner last night at a very nice middle-eastern restaurant in Bondi. Plus I went to dinner at Rob (who I met on the plane from Hanoi to Hong Kong, en route to Sydney) and his wife Lisa’s place. Plus I had one chat with the guy at the gallery and met my photo-friend for lunch. All that has been good: just getting on with it, socialising though the fog, trying to accept that it will be strange but unavoidable. By giving in to the numbness I can at least ease myself towards acceptance and neutralise some of the anxiety. This does, of course, lead to certain apathy and a general sense of absence from the scene in question- yet the absence of anxiety is more important. If I can keep myself numb and functional, then the day can pass without so much stress and discomfort. I’ve kept myself occupied, and when I’ve felt tired I’ve just sat on a bench and stared at the view or found a cafe/random bookshop. I’ve also managed to go to about seven yoga classes on the two-week intro-pass, adding another activity to the routine. 

The taxi-drivers have had a number of cameos, and I’ve been able to tick some more countries off the list and enjoy the subsequent conversations: Indonesia, Senegal (stereotypically excellent music: 1990s Afro-jazz), Nepal, Lebanon, India. One guy was quite serious and well-built, plus I was knackered after yoga, so I didn’t get into a chat with him. Perhaps the most interesting guy I spoke to was the aboriginal/Irish guy who was always outside the metro. He saw my camera and started telling me about his friend who made double exposures, and about the aboriginal designs in the metro station. He was pretty sharp but sometimes he was a bit too hyper and his sunken features told a story. Another day, while discussing the election results, he told me he’d taken DMT about 800 times. I guess he was a very clever guy who saw through the fakery of the world we live in, and yet was in some sense a victim of not wanting to, or being able to, fit into it. So in the end, he was asking for coins and writing satirical notes and probably being mostly ignored. 

I’m now on the train heading to Melbourne. I rushed to get to the station early thinking there may be some kind of security, but actually five mins before departure would’ve been fine. Getting trains in other cities is more stressful. Slight waste of a taxi (Thailand), but I did have quite a lot of bags to hoof. I accidentally left the food bag containing bread, cheese, mayonnaise, jam and Turgenev before leaving the house, so the air bnb lady will know that I’d intended to steal a knife. But she does get Turgenev. I bought a 1st class ticket thinking it would mean spacious luxury, but I was seated next to a big snoring man (I’ve moved), and then an odd-smelling man got on with two teenagers, deposited them in front of me, sat down across the aisle, ate a chicken burger then immediately fell asleep and started rasping like a dying goose. The two teenagers were laughing, coughing, eating and snogging. I have deferred to a calmer corner by the buffet car, where all is serenity, apart from a lady with a choking, gasping cough. The scenery is charming: golden leaves, eucalyptus trees, rolling hills dotted with sheep, fields of green, the odd horse, things that are possibly creeks, a lively sky of clouds. Strange absence of kangaroos. 

So farewell Sydney. Shall we meet again? We have to face the fact that most places we see we won’t see again. It’s a good place to live: the weather, the gentle pace, the beaches. Could I see myself living there? In a way, yes. Although it’s not cheap- a nice place for a surfer with a house, job, family. I’ve definitely seen myself able to calm down there. And I like that the city has a distinctly Asian flavour, adding an extra dimension to the atmosphere. Maybe I’ll add it to Helsinki and Berlin as places I could feasibly have lived in for a youthful stint. I probably would have gone for runs and turned golden brown in the sunshine.