My dear Reader,
When last I wrote, I was about to head off to the sunny shores of Vietnam. My suitcase was packed. My online check-in was done. My hair was a mess (thanks to the "technique" of my sadist hairdresser), and my heart belonged to Ryan Gosling.
And now, 3 weeks later, where do I stand?
Well, firstly - back in Sydney. Honestly, words cannot express what a relief that is. My return flight shook so much that several days later, the world still seemed to be gently vibrating (not as fun as it sounds). That the plane stayed up in the air seemed more like a miracle than a feat of mechanical engineering. It was definitely one of the more nerve-wracking experiences of my life, and that includes a battle to the death (almost) for the last giant Malteser in a box of Celebrations, with a friend who is as much of a Chocoholic as me...
But anyhow, I digress.
For two blissful weeks, I enjoyed / endured in equal measure: quality time with my parents, sunshine, empty beaches, the sight of my father taking Vietnamese lessons from our lifeguard (not for him quiet relaxation poolside - oh no!), minor food poisoning, and the consumption of a mystery meat (which I keep telling myself / hoping was beef...)
What has changed since my return? Well, firstly - and most importantly - not my Ryan Gosling love. That remains as steadfast as always, and those who doubted this shock and appall me.
Next - and only with slightly less significance - my hair. Yes, gentle reader, my hair has grown, and the Haircut of Horror is, for the most part, disappearing from sight. Phew.
But the biggest change has been how I've felt about returning home. To Sydney. Because it does feel like home now. And whilst some of the most important people in my life are not here, and there are times when I struggle with that, I'm also aware that I have some very wonderful friends out here who make this city for me. Now, in my book, there are many ways to prove your friendship. There's giving someone your last Rolo. Baking them a cake. Cooking for them (is it bad that I see a direct correlation between feeding and friendship?!). But more than any of that, is helping them out around the house.
You see, as I mentioned previously - before I left for Vietnam I'd found a flat. Living with the family was over, and a new period of independence was being beckoned in. There was just one problem - I had to move. And somehow, in my 8 months here, I have accumulated A LOT. This wasn't just a move I could make with a few boxes and suitcases, this was a move which required serious manpower. Being a single girl (alas) there was no partner I could drag into this. No, I had to do a la the Beatles, and get by with a little help from my friends. And so I did. Whilst one set came to physically help me move, another turned up the next day to assemble my bed / stop me having a nervous breakdown when the various flatpack instructions seemed to resemble some form of acquatic squirrel rather than the furniture I hoped to end up with.
At the end of 48 very long stressful hours, victory - and some seriously aching muscles - were ours. I am now the proud owner of a bed, a wardrobe, some other miscellaneous furniture (I could go into detail, but do you really care that much?), and - gulp - 6 spare screws. Let's hope they weren't for anything important...
Boys and Girls, I may now be the Queen of DIY. But it's not an accolade I want. Bring me the friends who'll do this for me, whilst I sit and eat their last Rolo - that's what I need in my life.
I'll write again soon.
With love,
Belle x
When last I wrote, I was about to head off to the sunny shores of Vietnam. My suitcase was packed. My online check-in was done. My hair was a mess (thanks to the "technique" of my sadist hairdresser), and my heart belonged to Ryan Gosling.
And now, 3 weeks later, where do I stand?
Well, firstly - back in Sydney. Honestly, words cannot express what a relief that is. My return flight shook so much that several days later, the world still seemed to be gently vibrating (not as fun as it sounds). That the plane stayed up in the air seemed more like a miracle than a feat of mechanical engineering. It was definitely one of the more nerve-wracking experiences of my life, and that includes a battle to the death (almost) for the last giant Malteser in a box of Celebrations, with a friend who is as much of a Chocoholic as me...
But anyhow, I digress.
For two blissful weeks, I enjoyed / endured in equal measure: quality time with my parents, sunshine, empty beaches, the sight of my father taking Vietnamese lessons from our lifeguard (not for him quiet relaxation poolside - oh no!), minor food poisoning, and the consumption of a mystery meat (which I keep telling myself / hoping was beef...)
What has changed since my return? Well, firstly - and most importantly - not my Ryan Gosling love. That remains as steadfast as always, and those who doubted this shock and appall me.
Next - and only with slightly less significance - my hair. Yes, gentle reader, my hair has grown, and the Haircut of Horror is, for the most part, disappearing from sight. Phew.
But the biggest change has been how I've felt about returning home. To Sydney. Because it does feel like home now. And whilst some of the most important people in my life are not here, and there are times when I struggle with that, I'm also aware that I have some very wonderful friends out here who make this city for me. Now, in my book, there are many ways to prove your friendship. There's giving someone your last Rolo. Baking them a cake. Cooking for them (is it bad that I see a direct correlation between feeding and friendship?!). But more than any of that, is helping them out around the house.
You see, as I mentioned previously - before I left for Vietnam I'd found a flat. Living with the family was over, and a new period of independence was being beckoned in. There was just one problem - I had to move. And somehow, in my 8 months here, I have accumulated A LOT. This wasn't just a move I could make with a few boxes and suitcases, this was a move which required serious manpower. Being a single girl (alas) there was no partner I could drag into this. No, I had to do a la the Beatles, and get by with a little help from my friends. And so I did. Whilst one set came to physically help me move, another turned up the next day to assemble my bed / stop me having a nervous breakdown when the various flatpack instructions seemed to resemble some form of acquatic squirrel rather than the furniture I hoped to end up with.
At the end of 48 very long stressful hours, victory - and some seriously aching muscles - were ours. I am now the proud owner of a bed, a wardrobe, some other miscellaneous furniture (I could go into detail, but do you really care that much?), and - gulp - 6 spare screws. Let's hope they weren't for anything important...
Boys and Girls, I may now be the Queen of DIY. But it's not an accolade I want. Bring me the friends who'll do this for me, whilst I sit and eat their last Rolo - that's what I need in my life.
I'll write again soon.
With love,
Belle x
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