It smells like fall. "And the leaves that are green turn to brown..." (Simon & Garfunkel). Nice. Clean. It feels like late October. Football, pumpkins, sweaters, cider. Wait...it's May?!? Funny how the weather can confuse.
Sydney's fall is funny, with New York's as a touchstone. Some people are in full winter gear, hats, scarves. Others in summer dresses and flip-flops (thongs, as they call them). It's hot in the sun, cold once the sun sets. And at first glance, the city is much more culturally mixed than Singapore. Multicultural, even among native Aussies (pronunciation: Ozzies). I like. I have to admit, the people seem a bit more tawdry here, though. Bleached out beach culture, fashion trendier than classic. More LA than NYC. Granted, I've only been here for 6+ hours. Who am I to judge?
I'm having a Kilkenny at Paddy Maguire's, in homage to South Park. The bartender is from the Czech Republic, working, from what he says, among Irish. How is it that all over the world the bartenders are Irishmen? I guess we do what we're good at. And we do what we like. The song Joey just came on in the music rotation. I'm defecting.
Here's the next plan. To live spring and fall only. Travel the globe chasing the two, or perpetually escaping hot and cold. Forget the extremes. I'm going to live moderation in the moderate. Ha. What a laugh. To travel to spots all over the world that would allow me to live out those two seasons only for the next two years. Nothing dieing, dormant. Only life anew and the hint of winding down. Then, I'm off! But I wonder. Would you then spring forward in October? And fall back in May? Oh, me. Time is constant, regardless of who keeps it.
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