The shades of the plane open to blinding light.
It is so pleasantly sunny, but it is also pleasantly not stiflingly hot outside. It is easier to acclimatize this way, after being flung across the ocean in 15 hours while still wearing multiple warm layers, mostly black at that.
The fact is there is a cyclone in the general area so the temperatures have dropped and it’s windier and cloudier than normal; all it does is make it feel more like home, I think.
Not quite Canada
A strange non-feeling: I know it isn’t Canada but it doesn’t quite feel like “elsewhere” either.
The air feels just as fresh, just warmer. The language is the same, just with an accent. The roads are the same, just in opposite directions.
We’ve driven right-hand drive in left-sided countries before but it takes Moreno seven lane changes before he stops turning on the windshield wipers and uses his right hand to hit the turn signal instead.
Just a little different
We drive through tunnels underneath the city, and when we emerge and exit past the boundaries of Sydney, everything is greener than I expected: valleys of green trees and bushes that remind me more of some strange amalgamation of Hawaii and South Africa rather than the red earth Oz I imagined was everywhere.
The off road vehicles on the two lane motorway look like they’re actually worthy of dirt: like everyone’s just ready to drive off into the bushes and play.
In the morning when we wake, it is pleasant. It isn’t cloudy and raining as forecasted but sunny and warm and slightly breezy and really comfortable and it feels just like home but warmer. Just like Canada but…different.