New Digs

Sometimes, you just need a change of scenery.

So, for the past few weeks, we've been embarked on the grand adventure of "moving house."

For the last year, we were in a little converted studio. What it lacked in charm, it made up for in an amazing bay view and massively convenient location. But, after a year, I was ready for some charm. And more closet space.

In the U.S., I never had any problem finding apartments. When I lived in NYC, I lucked out on a huge shared house in Brooklyn that I took sight unseen off Craigslist and lived happily in for two years. Moving to Florida, I moved right into a building that a friend also lived in. Her word was essentially good enough for the landlord, who was happy to have a nice, responsible arts worker in her place. As they say here - no drama.

Finding an apartment in Sydney is a whole different ballgame, folks.

The first thing you do is go on realestate.com.au and domain.com.au and look for places that fit within your price range, neighborhood choices, and specifications. (I should also mention that prices listed are per week - many expats I know pay per week nearly what they paid per month at home). Then, you go through the list, look at the few pictures to try to get a sense of whether the place is worth seeing (oh heavens, there's a lot of dodgy stuff out there), and then find out when the showing time is.

The showing time is fifteen minutes, either on a Thursday or Saturday. You see the apartment with 10 - 40 other hopeful tenants, all with excellent poker faces.

Partner-in-Crime and I probably looked at a dozen or so places before we found one that we even wanted to apply for. Then, the party really began.

In order to be competitive, we put together a thorough application with information on everything save from my bra size and P-i-C's favorite color. We bid up the price because ... well ... that's just what you do here.  And then we sent it off and told ourselves not to get our hopes up.

Hopes held low, we got approved, and happy dances were held all around.

The joy of moving translates to any country, so I'll spare you the gory details, except to say that we are so lucky to have awesome friends who gave up their Saturday afternoons to help us haul furniture and boxes. Thank you, our favorite expats.

One thing I learned in the moving process is that Australian apartments are BYOF - Bring Your Own Fridge. I guess we just got lucky that our old place had a fridge in it because it turns out that it is standard to keep your fridge and move it from place to place. That's so different from the U.S. where the fridge comes with the apartment/house. So, a'fridge shopping we a'went.

My very first brand new fridge.

Fridges don't come standard, but strangely enough, dryers do. Not washers, just dryers. Don't ask ... I don't know ...

Standard issue.

In any case, we're close to settled in, and absolutely loving the new place. Our new neighborhood seems quiet, and it's very green. It's a bit further to travel for work, but not wildly inconvenient. I've located two thrift shops within walking distance, and our local grocery is what you might call American size. We can't quite see the Harbour Bridge from our apartment, but I discovered last night that you can see the fireworks that frequently go off over the harbour. More fireworks!

We have a kitchen. So. Much. Storage!

We have a bathroom! It's super ... bathroomy ...

We have a pantry! And my food has labels.

We have a balcony. Future home of many a barbecue.

As we finish up the moving in, there are a few more furniture pieces that we need to pick up. I'd been telling P-i-C that we really ought to get a wine rack, and we've been looking for one to fit in a little spot in the kitchen. Lo and behold, what appeared on the side of the road, yesterday - a perfectly nice wine rack. Oh, sidewalk shopping ... 

What shall I tell the universe that I want next?