Jetlag and Gelato

This morning I woke up for the first time since Xmas morning and felt like I'd slept through the night. The 20 odd hours of flying, that strange stop in Bangkok where it may as well be the moon in terms of your internal geography, arriving at 6am and then two days of interzoning; that odd state between sleeping and wakefulness where your body scrabbles around for a point of reference in terms of time and space have gone and I awoke to the brilliant white light of a Sydney morning.

Since arriving I've been ticking off my Sydney basics. A mystery meat pie with tomato sauce squirted through the hole in the top. Walking through Leichhardt and stopping for an espresso and dinky pastry treats, listening to the old boys and thinking that you could be in Rome for all the spoken Italian you hear. Sipping a stubbie whilst gliding under the harbour bridge in a borrowed sail boat. Eating gelato strolling down Darling Street in Balmain and the tang of the harbour and the smell of exhaust from the ferry puttering across to Circular Quay. An $8 steak and a schooner of beer. Finding tiny patches of sunburn where you've missed a bit with the sunblock. I've been away for four and a half years but I'm slipping back into the pace of things with ease and I am remembering why I love this city quite as much as I do.