At this point I've been away for long enough that home feels unreal. Part of the reason I feel this way is that I'm getting oddly settled here in Sydney. I'm renting a little house in a nice neighborhood, and I have my routines here. I know where to walk for breakfast, and where to go for Internet access, and what the local bus and train schedules are like. I have my local to drop by at the end of the day, and I can even walk over to the synagogue for services, should that be something I would ever choose to do again. It's quite an illusion of residency, and I'll be gone before that illusion gets shattered I think.
I'm not filling my days with specific tourist things, at least not as much as the guidebooks advise. Today I went to the Marrickville festival, a neighborhood festival in one of the neighborhood/suburbs where the Sydney Homotones (the local lesbian/gay band) were performing on one of three stages. I checked out the booths and the shops and I watched the locals for several hours. Then I took a train to the City and met Julian C. for tea at the Tea Room in the former ballroom of the Victoria (Something) building, an ornate refurbished shopping arcade. Tea felt very proper and lovely, then we hung around for a while before I went home and watched the Simpsons and rested up before my evening, which will consist of stopping back at a few used bookstores and finding a place for dinner and having a nightcap at the Newtown Hotel. It's like a pleasant weekend day at home, if home didn't seem so insubstantial at the moment.
Tomorrow, my last day, will be more touristy stuff. I had planned to head out to the northern suburbs to meet up with some folks I met at the conference the other week, and perhaps go to the Sydney Zoo in that general area, but instead I'll do the Saturday activities I put off to attend shul. I will check out the fish market, and find a restaurant for lunch where I can eat Balmain/Moreton Bay Bugs (a lobster/crablike thing), and maybe I'll go the Aquarium or maybe the Australia Museum or maybe I'll just take a ferry ride and contemplate my whole trip while sailing across Sydney Harbour.
My shoes are relatively new and good quality, but I have worn through the inner lining at the heel in one and have come close to doing so in the other. One of the books in my rented bedroom in Dame Edna's autobiography, My Gorgeous Life, and it seems the right sort of mindless reading for my stay here.
I'm not looking forward to the long long flight to Los Angeles, but I'll get through it. It should give me time to reset my brain, if I'm lucky.