The plane lifted off from the CHC runway in rainy, cold weather, in the darkest hour before sunrise. Three and a half hours later we broke through the scattered cloud cover over Sydney on the northern approach, the sun reflecting brightly off the sea in a way that starkly silhouetted the iconic harbour bridge and opera house in beautiful ways.
And as the plane hit the tarmac again, I felt a familiar excitement rise through me once more—the excitement of Newness, and the promise of a better life that glisten like the sea of the harbour around me.
I’m about to head out to find a bar or restaurant job, which I hope will sustain me for the meantime while I figure out exactly where I’ll be kicking off my massage practice. I have to call a bunch of mining companies in WA to see if they are interested in taking on a contract masseur, and then I’ll be saving up a grand or two to start me off, whether I stay here in Sydney to open a one-man practise, or head across to the outback. There’s also the possibility that I’ll hate Sydney, and shift again, to Melbourne; I know already that I really dig that place.
Sydney, though, I must say, looks good. There are THINGS here, and people whom I know. In fact, I realised a few days ago that I know more people here in Sydney than I do in Christchurch, or even Melbourne. It’s been a delightful surprise to find out that so many of my old friends are kickin’ around in Sydney.
I just finished re-touching my résumé for the umpteenth time this year, and shall now take a walk down to Newtown and then up to Darlinghurst on the hunt for what will be my NINTH job this year.
By the gods… it better be the last. Ha ha!


















