Here

People keep asking me to blog, but I’m yet to be inspired to prose by this transition. There’s been too much going on for our little dial-up connection to capture, though I’ll now try to do my best.

It’s both strange and completely normal to be in Melbourne. My accent has returned quickly making it easy for me to pass as a local. The problem is that I have no idea how things work here, and I’m quickly discovering that it can be quite different to the way things work in the States. For example, I passed a bank branch last week with a sign in the window advertising new, extended hours. I glanced at the times listed and noticed that “extended” in Australia means M-F 9-5:00pm. Yep, that’s right: they don’t close at 4:30.

There are lots of other small things, like the traffic and pedestrian lights which last much longer than in SF. I find myself racing toward the corner when I see the light go green only to realize that it will stay green for a while and that there was no need to hurry.

The rental process here was also different. As far as I can tell, at least 99% of all properties are let through a realtor. They are responsible for showing the property at open houses, which are approximately every two weeks and last a total of about 20 minutes. We’ve had a few frantic days rushing between properties.

We found exactly one house that didn’t have something wrong with. “Wrong” in other buildings included a bright, apple green kitchen, which may sound fun but wasn’t; a hole in the wall; carpet that looked like the padding used under a carpet; a construction site next door; the most hideous tiles of swirled purple; a shower cubicle the size of my leg – just one leg; a bedroom in the attic accessed by a rickety ladder leading through a small hole in the ceiling; and most commonly, having to make the choice between living and dining rooms. But we did find one place we liked and so we applied for it. There weren’t many people at the open house, a refreshing change from other properties that were so full of prospective tenants that you could barely see the rooms. And, shocker of all shockers, we were chosen to be tenants! We sign the lease tomorrow.

Why so shocking? Well, Z doesn’t have a job and can’t legally work for the next couple of months while we wait for his residency to be processed. I’m a temp. We just arrived in the country and don’t have enough of a credit history to qualify for a cell phone plan. So, we got references sent in from the States and are paying two months rent up front. Eek! The good news is that we won’t need to pay rent until December.

And we move in on Thursday. Us and our four bags, two mugs, one bowl, one spoon (stolen from an airline), and brownie pan. We have a dining table and chairs coming this weekend, a couch set at my grandmother’s house, and we’re borrowing a bed that’s a little too small for either of us to get a good nights sleep. The obvious missing item is a fridge, which we’ll need to get on the sooner side.

And the place? It’s great. It’s a terrace - one of those places that has houses right against it on both sides. It’s brick – a novelty after years in the earthquake-prone bay area. It has a large kitchen/dining/living room with exposed brick, a skylight, and a wall of windows looking out on our twee yard with a couple of rose bushes, a wooden deck just waiting for a bbq, and the all-important clothes line. We have a bathroom with bright blue sink, toilet and tub, a laundry room, bedroom with built-in-robes and a nice office in the front. And, inexplicably, under the maple tree in the very small front yard, is a black bowling ball.

I still can’t believe we got it and that it’s so nice and that we’re going to be living in it in Melbourne for a few years. I can only assume that one day this will feel more real. Until then, I'm here. Just here.