Every so often during my first year in Sydney, I would look up and marvel at the fact I was even there. Before I left though, I was so overwhelmed with what was happening with me and in the world that I could barely say “goodbye”.
Yesterday, I found something that I was writing just before the lockdown, and as a ritual of gratitude, I decided to finish it as if I was still there.
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I love being too foreign to take this place for granted and too intimate to feel like a tourist. I love walking everywhere just cause there’s a feeling in the air that anything could happen.
I love Sydney’s spring, when the Jacaranda trees paint the streets in purple making you feel like you’re in the middle of a romantic movie.
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I love the fluorescent green grass in the parks and that unspeakable connection with others who are also enjoying a comfortable shadow, sharing the same sun. I definitely don’t love Sydney’s winter and don’t trust anyone who does.
Cold, rainy, windy days when the umbrella hits your face while you’re trying not to die in the middle of the street? I didn’t sign up for that. But I do love Vivid’s lights, people dressed up, and having a good reason to warm-up my body with red wine and a whole Frankie’s pizza.
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I love Sydney’s summer, when everyone complains about the packed beaches but still spend the inteire day burning on its sands. I love surfers’s reaction when the shark alarm rings, acting like nothing’s going on.
I love snorkeling in my ever favourite Gordons Bay, which I’m sure that looks like a beach in the south of France even though I’ve never been to the south of France. I love all public libraries and I could easily take a bag two pillows and move in to Double Bay’s.
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I love how Bondi feels like an old version of me who was amazed by a city I barely knew. And I love all the other suburbs that I called home, but even more calling myself a Manly citizen. I love that I remember every single corner I’ve ever been to, but if you ask me for directions, all I can do is guide you towards George Street.
I love going to a cool new restaurant but ending up in a good old one cause I didn’t make a reservation.
I love Sydney’s coffee culture which turned me from someone who used to say that “Seven eleven coffee is not that bad” into a specialist (meaning, addicted).
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I love the extremely confident seal goals and when (instead of stealing my food) they’re clumsy flying next to the ferry, which keeps me smiling at nothing the whole way home. I love Insitu’s cinnamon drink that tastes like apple crumble.
I love going for a swim in the ocean then walking barefoot from the Corso to Ruby Lane just to get their banana bread.
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And, more than anything, I love all the encounters that Sydney allowed me to have, some of which I feel emotional just from thinking about it right now. I love all the dreams this blue city inspired me to dream, even the ones that didn’t turn into reality. (…Yet).
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I love knowing that the next time – and every time – I land there, I’ll feel home. No matter where else in the world I live, Sydney will always be my magical place.
Australia, July 2020