The other weekend The Girl and I had out first holiday in the Blue Mountains. We’ve had a rough couple of months, what with relocating and car accidents, so it was a real treat to escape the city and just have fun. Especially when we realised that in the four months we had been in Australia we hadn’t really left Sydney, apart from a quick trip to Brisbane.

We joined up to a car sharing service called GoGet, which works just like Streetcar. There are vehicles all throughout Sydney, but we’ve got a lovely little Toyota Yaris just outside our flat which is really convenient. And using this service is a lot cheaper than buying and running a car. A downside to sharing is dealing with the potential mess of previous renter. In this case, pastry flakes everywhere. But we were able to get ‘credit’ from GoGet for vacuuming, so that was good. At times I still struggle with the automatic gearbox. After a lunch break I kept confusing the break pedal with the non-existent clutch pedal. Not really something you want to make a habit of while pulling on to a busy road.

The Girl had meticulously vetted every possible hotel, motel, B&B, resort, cabin and commune in the Blue Mountains before she settled on Eagle View Escape. The area approaching the cabins was already beautiful enough; lush, remote and familiar. Not saying it was the UK, but it was the closest Australia has come to it. The resort is located on top of a hill, next to a lake in the middle of nowhere. You have to drive on un-Tarmaced road for ten minutes before you get there. There is a small building sunk into the ground with a few rooms and then there are some wooden self-catered cabins scattered around the property.

We were in an open plan cabin complete with a kitchenette, small living area and outdoor area with BBQ. And maybe the reason The Girl chose this place – a spa bath sunk into the floor. “It’s not the only reason” she says defensively. She would be right. The cabin was great – well-built and environmentally sensitive. And the location was stunning. At dawn and dusk kangaroos would surround your cabin and nibble in the grass. During the day you would hear kookaburras laugh and see rosellas brighten up the sky. There were even a couple of alpacas and some goats wondering around.

We visited three places in the Blue Mountains; Katoomba, Scenic World and Wentworth Falls. We only went to Katoomba for grocery shopping. It’s also my first bogan community experience – reminded me a lot of Devon.

At first Scenic World looked like a soul sucking place, overrun with school children and crying babies. But I actually enjoyed it. There are a couple of cable cars to take you above the rainforest, some very scenic views of the mountains, a rainforest walk and the steepest railway in the world. The railway – a remnant of Victorian miners – descends 415 metres at 52 degrees through a cliff side tunnel. It’s steep and fun. Though The Girl didn’t agree. After the train ride you can walk through the rainforest and learn about the miners who worked in the area over a hundred years ago.

On our last day we stopped off at Wentworth Falls for a quick stroll and poke around the waterfall. We only trekked for an hour, but that was enough to whet our appetites for a longer walk in the future. Maybe when it’s not so hot. Sadly my camera died at this point, but there were some even more spectacular views here. Well worth a visit.

During our drive back to Sydney we passed two fire engines and a few police vehicles. We thought that there must have been a car accident. Then some more police cars. Another fire engine. An ambulance. After an hour into our journey back to Sydney we counted over fifty emergency vehicles racing in the direction of Katoomba – and some were still passing us. Something much more serious than a car accident. We had noticed some smoke while we were at Wentworth Falls, but we assumed that it was part of a controlled burn. The next day we learnt that someone had started a fire near Scenic World. There was some property damage, but no one was hurt.

I loved the Blue Mountains and can’t wait until I can go again. But it’s made me even more determined to see other places like Kakadu, Perth, the Great Ocean Road and Tasmania.

Ever since I arrived in Australia I’ve been fascinated by the clothes the locals have been wearing. Not to pick-up some style inspiration – I typically buy whatever is on the Topman clearance page – but because of the layers they’ve been wearing. I’ve seen people with wooly hats, long scarves and thick coats; all while the sun is beaming and temperature is hovering around the late teens / early twenties.

During my first weeks I was constantly tickled by what I saw; sometimes so much that I would make a comment to The Girl about it later that day. She was often indifferent in her response. But as weeks turned to months I gained a new understanding for the Australian weather. Most days have been bright, sunny and warm; almost like a perfect English spring. I’ve even managed to tan a little. But often, out of nowhere, an Arctic Antarctic wind will blow in and chill you to the bone. At first my naïveté (read:arrogance) meant that I would freeze while everyone else, everyone that I teased, was comfortable. I’ve since learnt to always carry a jumper and a rain jacket if I can. Rain storms can also be as unpredictable.

Despite this new found sensitivity to Australians “over dressing”, I have to tell you about one guy who I saw the other day in The Rocks. It was an especially lovely morning and I had already started to glow quite heavily during the 100 metre walk from the bus stop to the office. Up ahead I saw a man wearing a Drizza-Bone cape-coat and matching hat. I was incredulous. As I approached him I also saw that he was wearing a thick gilet. “The lunatic” I said to myself. Then as I passed him I spied that he was carrying an additional coat in his reusable supermarket bag.

The weather has started to improve recently, which means the jumper is being carried more and worn less. The rain jacket might even stay at home tomorrow. But now I face a new meteorological peril; the heat. And my melting in it.

Yesterday morning I was on the receiving end of some very mild racism (read: verbal abuse from an angry idiot) while I was waiting to catch the bus to work. As usual, I stood there trying not to sweat as I listened to my music when a smartly dressed man with a large belly, iPad and iPhone approached me. He moved his mouth. I took my headphones off.

This is our conversation. Just keep two things in mind – I was polite to him and he was already a little bit angry.

Thom: “Hello.”
Man: “Do you know if this bus goes into the city?”
Thom: “Yes it does. It terminates at Circular Quay.”
Man: “I know that, but what streets does it go down? I haven’t taken the bus in a while.”

By this point the man is getting unnecessarily annoyed and his face is starting to turn red. I desperately try to remember the names of streets in Sydney.

Thom: “Hmm… it goes through Hyde Park…”
Man: “Where?”
Thom: “Hyde Park. The big park near the Australian Museum.”
Man: “I don’t want to go to the fucking park. I want to go to the city. Where does the bus go?”

I composed myself.

Thom: “Err… Elizabeth Street and… You know what? Sorry, I don’t really know. I’m new to Sydney, but you can call the bus helpline on 131500. Someone will be able to answer your questions.”
Man: “You know? That’s just typical behaviour of you fucking snobby poms. Think you’re all too good for us, don’t ya? You’re all alike – moaning, elitist and think yourself so fucking fancy.”

He looked like he was going to carry on so I turned round, popped my headphones back on and carried on listening to Jerusalem.

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