A Broad Abroad- Sydney: It’s All Fun and Games Until Somebody Loses a Flat

The moving process to Australia was quite the roller coaster: unpredictable and turbulent. Any time it seemed like I might be able to relax and cruise, I was thrown for another loop that nearly knocked me out. But unpredictability is such an old friend of mine, it's become comforting... in a disturbing way. The only thing I have to fear, is fear itself - right?

After learning that my initial plans for lodging were not to be, Jess and I searched like maniacs for an apartment. Across the world we sent links and forwarded emails back and forth. I was back in California for my visa, and she had begun her indentured servitude to the green monster.

But when I landed in Sydney I knew everything was going to be alright. The view was so stunning and peaceful and quiet with the sun rising over the ocean cliffs. Outside it was simultaneously bright, warm, and Spring-chilly at the same time. A nice change from the paralyzing triple-digit heat in California. I'm not one for describing surroundings and views- I always skip them in books, but it was breathtaking. There's something about nature that puts things into perspective for me.

I landed at 6am and we hit the ground running with an impressive list of flats to see for the day. Jess and I got ready in a hurry and filled out an application for a flat at a café round the corner over coffee and eggs benedict. We spent the rest of the day trekking around Pyrmont and Bondi Beach viewing place after place. Full of ambition, we were certain we’d find something by the evening. Making notes of how close each option was to transportation and shops, our hopes were delusionally high.

The brisk day turned into a hot one, and it became sort of a cruel joke when we realized that every single flat was located at the top of an impressive hill. 4pm rolled round and I was convinced we were walking up that same effing hill we’d been walking up and down since noon. Our dreams of Bondi Beach summer living were properly smashed, then kicked in the face. At that point, we’d settle for anything that didn’t resemble an abandoned hostel or nursing home.

We had one last stop, but true to the theme of the day, the flat looked like council housing at it’s worst. It was dark and dingy with furnishings that hadn’t been updated since the 50’s. The building was ironically dubbed ‘mansions.’ Our bad luck was so ridiculous, all we could do was stare wide-eyed at each other and laugh until it hurt... and of course go for a well-deserved drink. Maybe those apartments in the city weren’t so bad.

We returned with our tails between our legs to our favourite city flat, Boomerang Place, and put down a deposit. Then it was time to wait. Jess’ amazing and angelic-like friends who barely knew me at the time - bless them- let me crash at theirs until the flat was ready. Then the realtor said we’d have to wait another week to move in… then another. Then, late one dark and stormy Friday night, we received an email saying we couldn’t move in at all.

What ensued was a raw mixture of shocking and unflattering noises from two distraught blondes in the middle of a pub. And as luck would have it- in front of our boss, who sweetly reassured us she wouldn’t let us go homeless.

The next morning through tears and hangovers, we tore through Gumtree with a vengeance and scheduled to see two flats that day.

When we walked into the second one, it was like the door to heaven opened. I could’ve kissed our dear old Chinese realtor. We took one look at the light pouring through the endless windows, the epic views and the matching furniture, and said we’d take it- in less than a minute. Thank God, I have a home.