My pot of gold at the end of the rainbow

The degree of luck and joy I feel I have found in my new little flat in Potts Point was reflected beautifully one morning by a rainbox ending just outside my window. A pot of gold indeed it did lead to, but rather than coins, my pot is full of hope and glee.

I feel inordinately lucky to have found my little home: I had always dreamed of living in a place with a view, that would inspire and excite and calm me. But unfortunately, views don't come cheap, and as a single lass, they certainly don't come cheap enough. So after several weeks of flat-hunting through dingy shoe boxes and over-priced niches, I was resigned to live in a more modest abode.

So when a random real estate agent called me back from a phone call I don't remember making, it was with reluctance I agreed to view a property he was managing. It was too much, and I was just getting tired of it all. Nevertheless, I arranged to meet him in my lunch break. After all, I did need to move out of my parents house.

Unsurprisingly, I was late to my appointment, so I was literally sprinting down Victoria Street (past all the backpacker hostels) in my heels and pencil skirt, and finally arrived panting and pink to an unexpectedly beautiful part of Sydney. The gorgeous terraces give way to an uninterrupted view of the city skyline and the Harbour Bridge, and there I found what was to be my home.

I knew as soon as I walked in - light poured in through the omnipresent light. Almost every wall was covered in a window or a mirror, which meant not only was it glowing, but besides light, it was also letting in 'the best of Sydney'. What do I mean by this: from my window I see all the things that make Sydney Sydney: the city skyline with the western sky behind it, and its juxtaposition with St Mary's Cathedral and the Domain's verdant greenness; Woolloomooloo Wharf; Harry's Cafe De Wheels; the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge, Fort Denison, the harbour; and Sydney's Navy Base and massive ships. The flat itself is cute and perfect for one. And there is a roof terrace with a pool and BBQ area, with 360 degree views of everything. It is quite spectacular.

I saw the place and loved it, yet managed to contain my excitement enough to determine if the flat was livable: but a quick investigation proved it was: internal laundry, all appliances built-in, tonnes of storage, security building. I had to negotiate on price a little, but once that was done, I was ready to move in.

And it has been heavenly since. I splurged on my furnishings, and have made the flat a real haven. I literally walk in at nights and call out "I love you, little flat! You make me so happy!". I love to laze around, to sit by the window at nights and gaze at the city lights, to watch the sunset behind the Harbour Bridge with a glass of red wine by the poolside terrace, to have friends over and chat for hours on my dining table where ever seat has water views (courtesy of the mirrors!). And especially at this time in my life when I am struggling with so other new challenges, its deeply reassuring and motivating to have a beautiful base that inspires and nourishes me. It truly is a treasure, a pot of gold even, that rainbows can't help but shower with glory.

Settling

Its now been over 3 months since I have settled back in Sydney. Its been unsurprisingly a very eventful time. I wonder if my life will ever be ordinary (I sincerely hope not).

I will spare you the details of what has been a horribly difficult time for me, enough to say that moving countries is not an easy thing to do, and some things that you wish were different have stayed stagnant, and other things that you thought were constants in your life show their weaknesses.

But I climbed Kilimanjaro for goodness sake. I can handle a few life upsets, right? So I start every morning with the wonderful Inaya Day song 'Hold your head up high', and as I stride along Wooloomooloo Wharf, with the sun glinting off the harbour, on my way to work. And I have surrounded myself with wonderful people who make my heart well with joy. The newest of these friends is a girl called Sunita.
I met her on Mardi Gras night at Damien and Sean's house. It was one of those meetings that if she were a guy would have been love at first sight. I seem to have that kind of falling-in-love-with-girl-friends phenomenon with all the women that become my best friends, and with Sunita it was sharper than ever. In fact, I have come to realise she was an angel sent to me from the heavens to help me through challenging times. OK, thats rather cheesy. But sometimes people enter your life that in retrospect you realise were fundamental to your life path.

Within weeks we were camping together, going on road trips together, having adventures. We were each others last-person-to-speak-to-before-you-go-to-sleep. We were able to communicate with just a glance. We had random mussel nights and dressed as porn-stars at gay parties. Sunita made my home-coming not only palatable, but thrilling. She was the element that turning 'settling' into 'scintillating'.

So now I face my life here refreshed. I still miss London terribly, particulary at this time of year when the sun sets at 10:30pm and everyone spins in a heady mania of joy. But you know, I have here in Sydney the things that truly matter: my family that I adore and finally really enjoy spending time with, warmth and sunlight and water and seafood, and of course, almost all my closest friends. All that was left was the determination to make my new reality into something extraordinary and thrilling, and I can now state - with the help of people like Sunita - this is finally happening.