When you find yourself in sunshine this bright, it makes the past and the present feel like a dream. Was I ever in Chicago? Was it a regular -12C only a day or two ago? Now my legs are being whipped by a refreshing southerly. I dive into the cool blue waters of the Tasman Sea to emerge refresh, reenergised.
I feel as though time has stopped. I’ve felt like that a lot since I departed Sydney a few days ago. It’s a combination of different time zones, emotional exhaustion, odd sleeping habits and anxiety.
I am winding up my last week here in Sydney before I head home to San Francisco via Singapore. And tomorrow is Anzac Day, the one day of the year we thank those who went into battle for our nation, and those who are currently serving.
I switched on the TV and the lounge room flooded with the familiar voices of Kruk and Kuip. On the other side of the world, I was plugged in to the SF Giants – my World Series-winning baseball team. And all without searching for it.
Last Friday night, I was lucky enough to score a ticket to the opening of the Archibald, one of Australia’s premier art prizes. I love the art, the controversy and the debate around this event: the Archibald always delivers. And this year is no exception.
Since returning to Australia, I have not ventured too far from my family’s home in southern Sydney. Staying put usually makes me antsy, but I’ve enjoyed adjusting to the the slower pace of life in the suburbs. Overall, the feeling is one of familiarity, like my favourite PJs.