On Thursday Jacinta and I had lunch in her backyard in Wimbledon to enjoy my last sunny and warm day on England’s shores. We sat in the sun, trying to say everything we needed to, not saying enough. As we sat back, I glanced at the sky and remarked that it was the closest to Perth-blue that I had ever seen it. I couldn't have been more wrong if I had tried.
On Saturday I had a window seat on the flight from Kuala Lumpur to Perth and as we left the Malaysian landmass we flew out of cloud cover and out over the Indian Ocean. We flew into a sapphire, blue sea and blue sky shimmering around us, my eyes, used to more subdued colours, draining all the blood from the rest of me in an effort to drink it all in.
We followed the Western Australian coast, so vast and sprawling and monochrome in its subdued khaki that although you knew that you were travelling at a good speed, the ground seemed not to move. I watched hundreds of kilometres of beach inch past below me and I was shaking from my need to be on a shore, I needed to be where the white of the sand and the breakers met the green of the shallow water and the deep blue of the ocean.
As we neared Perth small settlements appeared like tiny red flowers at the top of the thin grey stems that were the long roads that lead into them. As we approached the city the roads stopped being vast and lonely gridlines with rarely more that a few intersections in sight to heady numbers of two and even three roads running parallel into the bush.
Today I went for a long morning walk into the city and up to Kings Park, the air so refreshing, the sun so strong, the sky so blue I could feel the atmosphere around me wink cheekily each time I took a smiling step. I stood at the highest point in the park and watched the sunlight stream in solid fingers through the high rises to spotlight the river, while the ranges in the distance thawed from black to green in the sunrise.
I started my summer holiday with a gorgeous and crisp winter day, and with Perth delivering so spectacularly in winter, I really can't wait for the summer.
On Saturday I had a window seat on the flight from Kuala Lumpur to Perth and as we left the Malaysian landmass we flew out of cloud cover and out over the Indian Ocean. We flew into a sapphire, blue sea and blue sky shimmering around us, my eyes, used to more subdued colours, draining all the blood from the rest of me in an effort to drink it all in.
We followed the Western Australian coast, so vast and sprawling and monochrome in its subdued khaki that although you knew that you were travelling at a good speed, the ground seemed not to move. I watched hundreds of kilometres of beach inch past below me and I was shaking from my need to be on a shore, I needed to be where the white of the sand and the breakers met the green of the shallow water and the deep blue of the ocean.
As we neared Perth small settlements appeared like tiny red flowers at the top of the thin grey stems that were the long roads that lead into them. As we approached the city the roads stopped being vast and lonely gridlines with rarely more that a few intersections in sight to heady numbers of two and even three roads running parallel into the bush.
Today I went for a long morning walk into the city and up to Kings Park, the air so refreshing, the sun so strong, the sky so blue I could feel the atmosphere around me wink cheekily each time I took a smiling step. I stood at the highest point in the park and watched the sunlight stream in solid fingers through the high rises to spotlight the river, while the ranges in the distance thawed from black to green in the sunrise.
I started my summer holiday with a gorgeous and crisp winter day, and with Perth delivering so spectacularly in winter, I really can't wait for the summer.
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