Crazy Things that Happen...

My current home city isn't always the most exciting place on earth; it's often referred to as 'the city that fun forgot' and though I wish it were untrue, it tends to be really quite the opposite.  And, even when fun manages to sneak through, my locals are withdrawn and boring.

So today, when a 5.5 magnitude earthquake struck, these boring people took to the street in a moment, and took in the sunlight of an otherwise fabulous day.

It started small, as these things do, with a little rumble that felt more like construction than a real notable event, but only a few seconds later the earth began to sway, the power went out, and started screams rang throughout the office.  It felt like minutes - as if there were time to logically try to work things out - however apparently it was a mere 30 seconds.  The lights didn't come back on, and the sirens began to blare throughout the city as emergency crews attended to the numerous alarms.

Not long after the earthquake, we were given permission to leave and head home.  The city streets were full of people, all milling about, many of whom were holding their cellphones to the sky; the network was so inundated that they crashed.  No news to be googled, no twitter updates, and certainly no phone calls.

The lack of technological accessibility was at first incredibly disconcerting - I'm not accustomed to being 'out of touch' for any length of time, but especially not when there's something worth talking about!  Alas, as Chantal's big black Benz worked it's way up Bank Street, it was incredible to see the people in the streets, milling about, and the impromptu picnics that suddenly lined the lawns of the big buildings.

Only here is an earthquake cause for a picnic.

Traffic was crazy, as were the torrents of people rushing along the sidewalks, but in the end of it all, I got home in a reasonably good time, and with minimal damage sustained.  There's a few things damaged, including a stand that needs repair due to the vibration, some pictures that fell, and some dishes that tumbled, but I figure a few small things are relatively acceptable when considering how much worse these things can be.

Sometimes this city surprises me, while other times it just amazes me.

No Worries...

Although I've been home for a couple of weeks now, I was entirely reluctant to post an update of my final days in Sydney.  Originally, my concern was too sombre a post and really nothing much to say aside from how much I missed Australia.  Though that is somewhat true - there is less to say from here, and I miss our travels desperately - I've realized that being back is as much of an opportunity to 'reset' my life as any.

My final 24 hours in Sydney were filled with sadness as I debated what coming home would mean.  I had grown so fond of the lifestyle we were living in Australia, that I knew coming back would be tough.

On the Friday afternoon, I made my way to Patty's Market, bought a few souvenirs, and then wandered to the Powerhouse Museum that was highly recommended to me by numerous people I met along the way.  The weather was good, but there were still spots of rain throughout the day, and the thing I wanted most was to absorb some of the Australian culture.

My adventures on my last day were incredible; the city that I had come to know quite well after only a week started to feel more like 'home' than any place else we'd visited along the way.  Being stationary for more than a day or two at a time I suppose facilitated the closeness I was feeling with the harbour, the bridge, and the people themselves.

Friday evening there were fireworks in the harbour, and though I rationally knew that they were for the Jazz festival that was kicking off, a part of me liked to think they were for us, and for all we achieved during our travels.  Certainly two women, one four year old and a car for 30 + hours deserved a little bit of fanfare even if only in our minds.

On the Saturday morning that I left, I watched the sunrise from the balcony of our hotel, packed my bags and said goodbye to Australia.  It was harder than I would have thought and for a few minutes I stood out on Liverpool Street wondering if I could stay behind, living under the bridge if the need be.  The sobering reality of it all was that I am not blessed with saleable skills, and as such, my potential as a busker would be somewhat limited.

The sadness loomed over me for ages - through checking in and waiting at the airport, boarding, and even while in flight.  The distance between Ottawa and Australia is so great (and the expense comparably gargantuan) that I didn't know when I'd be able to return - which I so desperately wanted.

Thankfully, as we flew into the evening - a strange enough thing having taken off just after sunrise - there was a peacefulness to seeing the sunset only hours after watching its birth.  Cliche as it might be, the reality that the sun was setting on my vacation was both saddening and encouraging.

Coming home meant I would once again have access to a few things that I did miss while away.  My cats, who clearly would at least yearn for attention, were back home in Ottawa, and my family (though whether they were yearning for attention is possibly less predictable) were all 'back home' too.  The possibility of waking in the same bed for more than three mornings in a row also struck me as comforting and desirable, though the reality of having to make my own bed was hardly as pleasing.

Several hours later, as the plane neared LA, I watched the sunrise again - this time the sadness of leaving Sydney was lessened by the reality of being on my way home, and on my way to see the people I love.

Two sunrises in one day, and what would eventually be two sunsets somehow seemed to be the nearly perfect way to leave a wonderful, magical time abroad.  Things that are impossible in daily realities become possible while away and though the wonder of these events never cease to amaze me, they give me comfort that daily reality also has such awe-inspiring potential.

Coming home to affordable (though significantly less palatable) coffee, and my own home that remained as it was left while I was away was comforting - just as reliving the memories of our adventures in Australia remind me of the beauty of travel.

Now that I'm home, I'm searching out a different reality than the one I knew previously.  I'm accepting that beauty and awe can be found close to home, and for significantly less money.  The little things are more important and the time I've spent debating where home is reminds me that it's where I choose to wake up every day.

Travel will be back-burnered for a while, which is a hard thing for me to say.  I've lived the last 9 years searching for adventure anywhere but here, but I might be getting a little too old to be quite so obsessive in my compulsion to get away.  I do hope that the adventure here in town, and in the surrounding areas, will give me an opportunity to see the world in which I live a little differently.

In the interim, I plan on providing a little distraction therapy for myself in the form of hebrew studies and planning for what I hope will be a trip to Israel in 2012.

For now, though, I'm going to enjoy the view outside MY window, and learn how to love where I am right now because, sadly, reality is that you can't wake up in a new room every day - eventually you have to make your own bed.