Writer Charlotte Ward charts her travels and reveals all about the highs and lows of her new life Down Under. As well as her regular blog on iVillage.co.uk, you can follow Charlotte on Twitter and also catch her at www.charlotteward.net
The Curious Incident Of The Friendly Sydneysider…
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I’ve always considered myself to be a friendly person but there is something about London that can make you a little cold.
I’m not saying that my beloved Londinium is a horrible place, far from it. I lived in the big smoke for seven joyous years BUT the fact is London can be a place where you become conditioned to see through people and not to speak to folks you don’t know.
Whenever I returned to London after time away I’d find myself making a mental note to speed up my walking pace to avoid the tuts at perceived pavement procrastination. Or not to smile or look too long at people while taking in the world – the average Londoner just thinks that’s weird.
Occasionally I couldn’t help but try and chat to people. If something made me smile I wanted to share it. Once while travelling on a bus in Kensington I was amused to see a photo in the paper of the Queen stepping aboard a First Capital Connect train. Anyone who has experienced FCC will know why this tickled me.
The height of luxury it is not. So I showed the picture of Liz to the man next to me and giggled. He gave a fake smile to humour me and then stuck his head back in his newspaper.
In the past I’ve lived in Liverpool and Birmingham, places where I’ve quickly made friends with my neighbours, but until I made an effort to chat to like-minded people from my area on Twitter I neither met or socialised with folk who lived near me in the capital.
I wouldn’t say London people are naturally unfriendly it just seems to be a city where everyone inevitably gets caught up in the hustle and bustle and starts to conform to a common ‘keep your head down/don’t make eye contact’ norm.
In stark contrast just two weeks into my Sydney stint and I have been completely overwhelmed by how friendly the city is.
I arrived hitting the ground running immediately starting freelance shifts at a magazine. It was pretty overwhelming but after a brilliant first day I made my way to Redfern train station and tentatively tried to work out which ticket I needed to buy. I braced myself for an unfriendly reception from staff. But instead they were ridiculously helpful.
Later, after I’d done my food shopping, I waited at Bondi Junction to catch a bus to my new home in Bronte. As the bus pulled up and I struggled to pick up my wares a dashing man in a suit appeared next to me.
'Let me take those for you,' he said, sweeping up my bags and carrying them onto the bus as I stood there stunned. Well this small act of kindness floored me. Suddenly I had a weepy moment.
I’m not sure why it touched me so much. Perhaps because I’m a sucker for chivalry and it was just a poignant little reminder about an ex who never offered to carry my bags even if I was struggling with several and he had none.
'You’re perfectly capable,' he’d say while striding ahead. 'Stop being such a princess.'
So sat on the bus on the first day of my new life I wiped away a tear from under my glasses hoping the nice chap hadn’t seen and didn’t think I was complete nutter.
Since then I’ve realised that friendliness is a bit of a theme for this city.
Working for myself in London I’ve trawled numerous Starbucks, Costas, restaurants and cafes with my laptop and yet I can remember just one occasion where someone made an effort to befriend me (Thanks again Greg in The Alice House, West Hampstead!)
Yet during my first Sydney weekend as I sat outside a beach café two guys on the next table started to chat to me and on hearing my newbie status immediately gave me their numbers telling me to call and hang out whenever I liked.
Meanwhile, friends of friends who I’ve never met have sought me out on Facebook inviting me for dinner or drinks and a kindly woman who I spoke to for five minutes at a midwife conference emailed offering me the chance to stay with her in Newcastle as she has spare beds and ‘truly lives in paradise.’
The icing on the cake came just days ago when to my dismay my bus failed to stop after a half an hour wait and a nice man called Steve gave me a lift to the train station in a taxi he’d hailed.
Getting out at the lights he passed the cabbie ten dollars and instructed him to drop me wherever I needed to be.
'It’s no problem! I’m your neighbour!' he said as I thanked him profusely.
I think I’m going to like Sydney a lot…
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