Monday and Tuesday are gorgeously hot days, and so I head off to Sydney's most famous beach - Bondi.
Snobs either from Oz, or travellers from Britain, have been known to turn their noses up at this beach. It is the most popular and therefore the most stereotypical, and many people seem to prefer the more quieter beaches to the north.
When I get off the bus, my immediate feeling is one of depression. Some of the buildings have seen better days, and a group of local chavs screech past on motorbikes. Shit. I've arrived in Newquay by mistake...
A closer inspection of the place tells a different story, however. The beach itself is stunning, with gorgeous white sands and the famous surf building up ahead. The area is also littered with scores of really nice bars and restaurants that belittle the image other people had given me of the place. It seems the area has had a face lift in recent years, which may also be a consequence of the 2000 Olympics, when the Volleyball tournament was staged on the beach.
My thoughts are dominated by when I should start looking for somewhere more permanent to live, and then of course somewhere to work. I promised myself when I arrived on Friday that I would spend a few days enjoying myself and getting to know the city, but I don't have an endless supply of money and I did come here to live/work - not arse around.
Still, arsing around here is not exactly a chore. My thoughts are already turning to what I will do if I get a job and somewhere to live that I enjoy, as the city itself appears the perfect place to live. Hmmmm. Shouldn't really think like this too early in.
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