baby, i’m feeling bootyliscious

‘do you ever see people shagging?’ he asked as we stood on my balcony. it wasn’t the first time i’d been asked that question by a guest. you see, we live opposite the a hotel. every day, 100 bedroom windows tantalisingly open their curtains begging us to look in.

when i moved in i thought i would see a gigolo-concierge appearing in room 305 and then in room 378 one hour later. i imagined naked models having out-of-control pillow fights. and i assumed that late night skinny dipping would be rigueur-du-jour. but as i tell all my guests – and they almost all ask - all i’ve seen is an obese old dude walking around without pants and a busty teen’s back as she jumped into the pool topless. hardly, mills and boon.

the reality is, it is the hotel guests who have been getting an eyeful. at first, i was very careful, gentlemanly perhaps, and made sure i was never naked in view of the windows. but gradually that changed. i reasoned five-seconds-of-flesh didn’t justify shutting my curtains. dressing in the hidden-from-the hotel’s-view bathroom was a hassle when the floor was wet. and is opening the balcony door only wearing my shirt really that bad?

well played hotel... it appears the voyeur has become the voyee.

fleeting past, fish and chips future

the problem with history is that they teach it at schools. 

today, piero and i headed to watson bay - one of the entry points to sydney harbour. these days, the place is famous for doyles' fish and chips and breathtaking views of sydney city. but 223 years ago it was here that the first fleet passed on their way to landing at port jackson.

learning about the first fleet in school is important but the sheer scale of what the british achieved in taking 8 months to transport 1,400 people in 11 ships 12,000km to the other side of the world is often lost. standing on the headland staring at the ocean which stretches until it touches the sky, it struck me what a truly miraculous feat it must have been, how terrifying it must have been for so many of the convicts and soldiers, and how peculiar it must have been for the aborigines watching the ships arrive.

i think history crosses the line from school-yard-yawn to stop-you-in-your-tracks-fascinating when you stop thinking about it as events that happened and think about it as something that was once happening to people like you and me.

what they would have seen 223 years ago

piero with the city in the distance



standing tall

after our five-week-steak-and-wine-tour of south america, the thought of slipping into a body-hugging wet suit for a surf lesson was a bit daunting. but after yanking, pulling and jumping around to squeeze the suit on, i realised something: the suit is less body-hugging and more body-shaping.

after checking (and re-checking) every bulge in the mirror, we then headed to the waves for two hours of fun. both piero and i managed to stand up and piero even earned the coveted nose-dive-of-the-day award.

here’s a few photos from the day...

skinny flat white

it happened to me while drinking a skinny flat white at zinc. staring at the picturesque tree-lined street, watching the well-dressed potts point locals scurry by, the nice cars seemingly hurry-free as they pass... i felt a wave of happiness sweep me up. i felt i belonged.

perhaps it had to do with the beautiful card piero gave me the day before, the fantastic dinner we had last night at smiths's on bayswater - butchery and wine merchant or maybe it was just taking time to reflect on the now. whatever it was, it felt like i was at exactly the right place.

city virgin

experiencing something new is one of life’s great pleasures. experiencing a new city is a pure pleasure feast: finding a great local cafe, seeing a famous landmark for the first time and discovering how to walk somewhere without consulting a map. what makes the experience even better, is sharing it with mates.

since setting up flat, we’ve been lucky enough to be visited by friends from london, brisbane and melbourne: 

• we’ve laughed ourselves stupid with ms hong and oliver at the opium den
• watched the sun set over bondi from the deck of icebergs with emma and damon
• cooked graham an italian feast in our new flat
• partied with michael up and down oxford st
• and competed with jayde in tranny bingo

our next big arrival: piero’s mumma and fratello from sardinia for three weeks.

piero, me and jayde

cinema al fresco

in sydney, it’s all about the water. we live, work, play and, in summer, even watch movies against a big blue backdrop.  

last night, with the city skyline and opera house framing the screen, we checked out the matt-damon-acted, clint-eastwood-directed flick, hereafter, at the st george open air cinema.   

the movietrots rather than gallops along as the three main characters struggle to deal with aspects of the hereafter (the solution, apparently, can be found outside a london pizza express). but with the sydney harbour as the backdrop, the city lights glowing and bats flying overhead, the night was simply stunning.  

even sex and the city 2 would have been passable with this backdrop... well almost.

good flat hunting

i was warned. people told me. i listened, expressed interest but always disbelieved. i was wrong. flat hunting in sydney is abominable.

we’ve seen hallways described as second rooms, told not to worry about the tramps that go through the outside garbage bins and have had a tour of a flat from a very camp, very eager gentleman who excitedly told us he’d ‘done the nasty’ in the walk-in-wardrobe.

we weren’t being too demanding: we just wanted a two-bedroom flat that’s walking distance to the city with make-your-friends-jealous views. 

after viewing dozens of flats, putting in two offers on flats we probably didn’t want that much, the very flat we had imagined seemed to land in our lap. an out-of-the-blue call from an agent... a viewing that afternoon... and our moving in not 48 hours later.

here’s the view. go on, play your part, tell me your jealous. just don’t do the nasty in my wardrobe.

take me to the centre of everything

madonna supposedly uttered these words to her cab driver when she arrived in new york. if i uttered this when i arrived in my new home city - sydney -  they’d probably have asked me for directions, told me the road doesn’t exist and then dropped me at elvis pizza on bayswater rd.

after seven years in the northern hemisphere's best city - london - i've relocated to the southern hemisphere's equivalent: sydney. and despite the staggering incompetence of some of this city’s cab drivers,  i’m on a quest to find the centre of everything... well, the things that i deem cool at least.