My boyfriend Chris and I have spent the better part of our first week in Sydney looking for a place suitable for us to rest out heads at the end of each glorious day (i.e. an apartment or flat depending on your persuasion). It’s essentially become our only topic of conversation, our main point of interest, it’s taken over our Google searches and is my main daily activity. But, I digress from the point I’m aiming to make with this post. One place that we’re particularly fond of is an almost terrace style house on a street called “McGarvie”. I say almost because there is only a terrace on the 2ndfloor, the first floor door opens straight onto the street whereas the standard terrace houses have small front decks with planters and such to buffer your door from the street. In American English, one would see the street name McGarvie and pronounce it, as anyone who’s most likely reading this blog would do, with the R. However, Australians aren’t too pleased with the letter R and typically drop Rs out of every word they speak. Thus, there is a chance we’re going to live on a street more commonly understood to the natives as McGavie (absence of an R). I wonder now, why even bother with naming the street McGarvie in the first place if it will be constantly pronounced as McGavie?
Sitting in my short term AirBnb apartment in Darlinghust, a village of Sydney Australia, I listen to the rain patter and stream down the windows, drenching the poor souls below including my boyfriend Chris on his walk back home from work. As I revel in the sounds of nature in the midst of this bustling international city, I am struck by the beauty of this place. Our apartment view is of nothing in particular (no harbor bridges or opera houses in sight) but don’t let that make you think it is not absolutely, stunningly lovely and eye catching. The sky stretches for miles outside the window. It displays all manners of clouds; from the dark and bluish grey variety with rain falling from their bellies to the light and wispy white ones leaving their mark against the sky’s baby blue color. Our window has delivered a stream of delights since our arrival; some of note are of the Australian variety. This morning for instance, I turned toward a light banging on the window to find a yellow crested Cockatoo sitting on the sill, taking a peek inside our apartment. What a surprise and a welcomed change to the standard site of the New York pigeon I had become accustomed.
Later that afternoon, upon returning from the grocery store and enjoying another look out the window, I found two half arches of rainbows! Australia never fails to amaze.