Occasionally, in Perth you might feel like a shit.
Let me explain it better for you.
The sun is high, there is no trace of clouds and you just walk out the door early in the morning of your day off, enjoying those twenty-eight degrees, the silence around you and that fresh breeze that does not make you feel the heat. You can appreciate the wind in the trees in the quiet streets of the neighborhood in which you live.
I stood at the corner of the street and decided to head in the direction of the pier. After a few steps, I find stuck on my face four flies so intrusive that you could define discrete as clistere. They became so attached that they the could be mistaken for moles during a skin scan.
At first I thought it was an isolated phenomenon then, over time, by discovery amidst super stressful walks in the sun, I realized that we have to live with them. There 's nothing that drives them out.
Worthless are sudden movements of my hands around my face, even when performed with both. Then, after a while, I start to invent increasingly complex alternatives, with the hope of finding the combination that will allow you to take a few steps without dreaming a depth diving suit - one learns to keep ones mouth closed and yes they will fly up your nose!!
Here are those tested so far, all with poor results:
rotation of the hands around the face and head, alternating right and left so that there is always one hand in front of the face; wax on wax off!!
rapidly shaking head and shoulders ;
frantic waving of arms stretched outside to at least try to widen the circle;
passage of the hands in contact with the face and hair to try to keep them at least an inch away;
quick puffs to at least try to keep them out of the mouth (note: they may take advantage of the breach);
get intimately close to a tramp hoping to distract them with a more appropriate source of flavours that match their tastes;
get totally sterilized with chemicals to cancel any body odor;
forget personal hygiene to blend in with the environment;
at the end, I almost gave up, thinking to become soon like those people who don’t even pay attention to them; you see them talking quietly with one or more flies on different spots in sensitive areas such as the nose, eyelid, corner of the mouth, upper lip, ear, eyeglass lens, forehead.
Some of them, the most extreme, accept sublingual flies in other innermost, intimate, caverns. I have heard of people that, yawning carelessly, will devour swarms as though they sent them down in buckets as they would tic tac’s. The trick in this case is imagining that they have a specific taste you like. Before I get to that point, anyway, I would rather try a couple of countermeasures first.
That said, I'm finally back in the Perth.
For the most attentive and elegant at this point you could run a spontaneous reflection and formulate a thought like:
Fuck mate, weren’t you in love with Sydney? did you not want to stay there forever?
Or for the more direct of you:
you stressed the shit out of us for two years with articles on Sydney and now you come out with Perth?
Thank you so much for your thoughts guys.
To all of you I say:
Yes, I do like Perth very much.
I will go through all the details, but for now I would simply say :
I like it because it is not Sydney.
Alright, alright, I already hear the chorus of thanks mate, now it’s clear...
Put it this way.
If Sydney looks like a fashionable and hot girl that turns all eyes, Perth is a beautiful, discrete young woman. She becomes appreciated as you get to know her.
Its small CBD , the few skyscrapers, its cleanliness and huge parks, all contribute to give a result on a human scale. Little traffic, few people (especially after four o'clock when a mysterious epidemic makes everyone invisible) and relaxed atmosphere typical of a city who knows that there is only itself around for thousands of miles and seems to say: you can’t go anywhere else and you know that. Deal with it.
And then the local coffee shops. Plenty of them, but almost invisible.
In Perth there is in fact this strange phenomenon that seems there is nothing but houses or offices; it’s only when you go through an anonymous iron door and find yourself in front of a brand new, parallel world. Out of nowhere, coloured lights, tables, people and trendy furniture. It almost seems that you have to know about the existence of certain places to find them, otherwise they are barred from view.
If all this seems strange to a tourist eye, that to a resident it can not fail to please. When you know a few of these places it means that in Perth you’re not just passing. There you live.
So, I returned from Sydney.
What the fuck were you doing back in Sydney? Try to make up your mind to stay - that I do not understand - shit, mate.
Thank you very much for asking.
In Sydney I went to work, or better, to avail my noble person to the Red Cross for two weeks volunteering as a member of the Digital Media Team, a fancy name for the team that dealt with the website of the Red Cross and related social media accounts.
After receiving the offer via email while I was in Perth, I thought it was a good opportunity.
Arrived in Sydney, strangely, I was not welcomed by an attack of nostalgia, but I went around for the first twenty minutes circling arms and hands to ward off flies that, apparently , exist only in Perth (at this point, in the throes of terrible doubt I turn to those of you who live in Perth: you see them too right?!? I expect many affirmative answers in the comments below ...).
To accommodate my sculptural body (the fact that it is modeled on a rounded shape is another story) for two weeks, a couple of friends who know very much my slight intolerance to insects. Exactly because of this, they engineered a “funny” joke.
After a shower, I headed back to my room, dimly lit at that time since it was already evening.
All of a sudden I heard the hum of the phone ringing, I turned to grab it and respond when I realised that there was a huge cockroach peacefully lying on the screen.
At that point, everything slowed down to a stop. I froze and assessed what should be done by scrolling through the different options clearly appeared in front of me:
being a hero and avoid the foul beast with feigned nonchalance;
grasp the edges of the cell and do a very queer shake to get the vile beast off;
drop thirty tons of heel while yelling a protective spell;
finally give up on the phone and head to the nearest store for a new purchase;
flatten insect, phone and bedside table under a boulder promptly grabbed;
invoke Thor's hammer and disintegrate everything within two blocks;
fuse animal, phone, bedside table and part of the wall and shoot them into the sun;
come into contact with the filthy animal to move it, answer the phone, and then book three years of psychotherapy;
Luckily I did not have to choose.
A few seconds later, when everything returned to normal speed I heard a faint grin from behind the door.
I turned around and found the nice couple, with the addition of a friend (real creator of the joke) that could barely hold back a laugh that burst in as soon as I saw them.
I realised at that point that it was a joke and that the evil insect was really on my phone, but at least it was dead.
Oh... ok then...
Only one year of therapy, not three, thank you.
While sterilising the phone with shots of pure alcohol and fire, I meditate revenge that will be fulfilled sooner or later...
The rest of my stay in Sydney flew away between some home-made mojitos , more mojitos and other homemade mojitos.
I returned to Perth satisfied of the two past weeks, already thinking of the future and the various projects I have in mind and I enjoyed the quiet of Perth and its air with the scent of sun.
On leaving the airport after a flight in the company of three screaming children that made me think about buying the Ironman armor and set the plane on a fire globe, I took a cab and headed for home.
Yes, now I call Perth “Home”.
Writer wannabe, mojito and absinthe lover, one day I want to see the Earth from space.