Three years in Sydney

Monday marked three years since we moved to Sydney. Like is so often the case with these sorts of anniversaries, it seems like just yesterday, but at the same time so long ago. I remember so clearly getting into the hire car at the airport and thinking that if Jamie wasn't with me I'd turn around and get back on a plane. I remember walking back to the hotel after work down George St and being amazed how many people were still out on the street at seven pm. I remember everything being foreign and overwhelming and a little bit intimidating. And I so didn't want it to be - I wanted to be a cool and collected city girl who totally knew what she was doing. Slowly though, things have become familiar - I know my Pitts from my Parks, I've eaten at so many of those restaurants that I only knew as vague concepts in magazines, I've set up a home with and married the lovely man who moved across the country just because I wanted to, and I can bust it down a crowded footpath leaving the meeker, less willing to elbow, in my wake.

I'm not taking it all for granted though.  There are still moments that I like to just sit back and take in. Today, I was in a cab going home, and approaching the city at dusk - there were dark stormy skies and the buildings were all lit up, and it was gorgeous. It was one of those moments that if it was a movie, it would be in slow motion. I still love seeing the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. Walking through the top of Hyde Park through an arch of really old trees always makes me happy. The familiarity of walking down our street while so many others flock in to take part in Surry Hills always makes me smug. I feel like we are creating our own routines and habits, and lots of lovely memories we can look back on one day, and it's a really, really nice feeling.  Sydney has really got me, and I hope it's something that continues for a long time.