Happy Aussieversary!

Today is our first anniversary of arriving in Sydney.  I can't believe it's been a year already, but in some ways, it feels like we have been here for much longer.  We feel settled, if not yet fully established.  We have a good social circle, a flat (sorry, a unit), routines, (second) jobs.  We agreed that we would have a date night on each anniversary and discuss if we wanted to stay, but we knew months ago that we were both game for another year.  I think there are two primary reasons for that.

The first is our neighbourhood, Surry Hills.  We love it.  I am happy every day when I walk out my door onto Reservoir Street.  It's everything I want a neighbourhood to be: central, walkable, multicultural, charming, characterful, but not sanitised.  There are cocktail bars and restaurants, upscale and downscale galleries, and gays galore.  But there's also social housing, backpackers, dive bars and legal brothels.  I am happy here like I have only ever been in Chelsea and Clerkenwell.  My spirit feels uplifted walking these streets.

The second is that my greatest fear did not materialise.  Shortly before we left London, I shared this quote with my friend Mike to highlight my angst:

A melancholy lesson of advancing years is the realisation that you can’t make old friends.

- Christopher Hitchens

To which, proving he is wise as well as handsome, he responded:

"You can't make old friends" implies that deep, meaningful friendships can only be formed over time and new friends lack depth. Sweetie, I’ll take quality over quantity any day. I’ve lost so many friends over the years for various reasons: death, changing geography, changing paths, disappointments, growing up, bending with the road. Over time people change and grow. But there are new shared experiences with new people, who offer fresh perspectives, new energy. Just look at you & Larry and how you became fast friends over the shared event at the World Trade Center.  Old friends have a special place in our hearts, but the idea that we can’t make old friends overlooks the potential for meaningful connections with new people. Friendships form at any stage in life.

And he was right.  We have met a solid group of friends in our first year here.  There's not the same level of casual understanding that comes with having shared years of life with someone, but we have found some of our people, and we do not feel socially bereft.  We feel like we fit; we feel at home.  At 51, this is a blessing.

So a bonza first year.  Here's to year two!

G'day,

Shaun

Even the Fountain of Youth runs dry eventually...Sushil turned 40 last month!  We celebrated in a properly middle-aged way, renting a villa in Koh Samui, Thailand.  We had a week of good food, friends, cocktails and massages.  But very few hangovers, and even several good naps.

Cheers to the birthday boy man!

We had a few Londoners - Leslie, Craig and Johnny - join us on the island.

A highlight of the week: we had a personal chef come to the villa to make us lunch.  The som tum?  Was delish!

Sushil and Leslie worked off lunch with a vigorous game of water polo.

Contemplating life in a new decade.

Back in Sydney, Autumn has fallen on Surry Hills.

My belovéd Reservoir Street.  When Sushil and I were walking down it on 17 July last year to see the first flat on our list of viewings, I remember telling him 'This is exactly the kind of street I want to live on here.'  And that's the flat we took.

We had a long weekend in Adelaide, the capital of South Australia.  It's known for being a gentle, planned city, having the second-largest Fringe after Edinburgh, and, most importantly, having the best wine regions in Australia in its hinterland.

Napa or McLaren Vale?

Adelaide has fantastic wine bars to go with the fantastic wine - and the perfect weather for a cosy jumper and a glass of red.

Shaun H. Coley ~ Surry Hills ~ Sydney, NSW ~ Australia

Shadows of 9/11

As you most likely know, I was living in New York on 9/11.  I was meant to be on jury duty downtown, but due to being held over on Monday, I got to go in late on Tuesday.  I was about to turn off NY1 and leave my apartment when the news broke, so instead I was safe in my apartment way uptown.  That didn't make it any less awful.

In the years immediately after, I watched all the documentaries and TV specials about it, I even had a 9/11 pictorial.  I think it was a way of trying to work through the enormity, the disbelief of what had happened.  Sometime in my early London years that changed.  I no longer watch or read anything on 9/11.  I don't need to.  And I don't need to feel the way it would make me feel again.

I am not sure exactly when it was, but I do remember what shifted my perspective on 9/11.  I was watching a documentary called 9/11: The Falling Man, where they were trying to identify the person in that wrenching photo.  The show eventually identifies the man, but it explores several false leads and their stories along the way.  One of those was a man whose wife was working in the North Tower.  He was able to rule his wife out from being the falling person from other photos of her jumping from the tower.  When the documentary maker asked him how he could be sure those photos were of her, he responded:

“I know it's her because the clothes and the shape. I would know her from her shadow.”

I would know her from her shadow.

Before that, 9/11 had been about the event for me - the enormous monstrosity of what had happened to my city.  But with that line, for the first time I understood what had really been lost.  The intimacy, the love that was taken away that day.  I felt it in my chest.

So today, on the 25th anniversary, there will doubtlessly be all manner of tributes, documentaries and analyses.  I will avoid all of it.  It's enough for me to remember all the shadows.

I ♥️ NY,

Shaun

Shaun H. Coley ~ Surry Hills ~ Sydney, NSW ~ Australia

Happy Aussieversary!

 Today is our first anniversary of arriving in Sydney.  I can't believe it's been a year already, but in some ways, it feels like we have been here for much longer.  We feel settled, if not yet fully established.  We have a good social circle, a flat (sorry, a unit), routines, (second) jobs.  We agreed that we would have a date night on each anniversary and discuss if we wanted to stay, but we knew months ago that we were both game for another year.  I think there are two primary reasons for that.

The first is our neighbourhood, Surry Hills.  We love it.  I am happy every day when I walk out my door onto Reservoir Street.  It's everything I want a neighbourhood to be: central, walkable, multicultural, charming, characterful, but not sanitised.  There are cocktail bars and restaurants, upscale and downscale galleries, and gays galore.  But there's also social housing, backpackers, dive bars and legal brothels.  I am happy here like I have only ever been in Chelsea and Clerkenwell.  My spirit feels uplifted walking these streets.

The second is that my greatest fear did not materialise.  Shortly before we left London, I shared this quote with my friend Mike to highlight my angst:

A melancholy lesson of advancing years is the realisation that you can’t make old friends.

- Christopher Hitchens

To which, proving he is wise as well as handsome, he responded:

"You can't make old friends" implies that deep, meaningful friendships can only be formed over time and new friends lack depth. Sweetie, I’ll take quality over quantity any day. I’ve lost so many friends over the years for various reasons: death, changing geography, changing paths, disappointments, growing up, bending with the road. Over time people change and grow. But there are new shared experiences with new people, who offer fresh perspectives, new energy. Just look at you & Larry and how you became fast friends over the shared event at the World Trade Center.  Old friends have a special place in our hearts, but the idea that we can’t make old friends overlooks the potential for meaningful connections with new people. Friendships form at any stage in life.

And he was right.  We have met a solid group of friends in our first year here.  There's not the same level of casual understanding that comes with having shared years of life with someone, but we have found some of our people, and we do not feel socially bereft.  We feel like we fit; we feel at home.  At 51, this is a blessing.

So a bonza first year.  Here's to year two!

G'day,

Shaun

Even the Fountain of Youth runs dry eventually...Sushil turned 40 last month!  We celebrated in a properly middle-aged way, renting a villa in Koh Samui, Thailand.  We had a week of good food, friends, cocktails and massages.  But very few hangovers, and even several good naps.

Cheers to the birthday boy man!

We had a few Londoners - Leslie, Craig and Johnny - join us on the island.

A highlight of the week: we had a personal chef come to the villa to make us lunch.  The som tum?  Was delish!

Sushil and Leslie worked off lunch with a vigorous game of water polo.

Contemplating life in a new decade.

Back in Sydney, Autumn has fallen on Surry Hills.

My belovéd Reservoir Street.  When Sushil and I were walking down it on 17 July last year to see the first flat on our list of viewings, I remember telling him 'This is exactly the kind of street I want to live on here.'  And that's the flat we took.

We had a long weekend in Adelaide, the capital of South Australia.  It's known for being a gentle, planned city, having the second-largest Fringe after Edinburgh, and, most importantly, having the best wine regions in Australia in its hinterland.

Napa or McLaren Vale?

Adelaide has fantastic wine bars to go with the fantastic wine - and the perfect weather for a cosy jumper and a glass of red.

Shaun H. Coley ~ Surry Hills ~ Sydney, NSW ~ Australia

Laoicious

We are rounding up our first proper holiday since moving to Australia.  I am writing this from the Cathay Pacific lounge at BKK, enjoying our last long-haul trip that will be covered by Sushil's BA status, which expires in April.  It's been a good run.

We decided to go to Laos as neither of us had been there, and we only had a week+, which we thought would be enough.  It turned out to be too long by several days, but we went into this holiday wanting a period of stasis and calm - we've had a lot of motion in the past half year - and we got that in our first stop, Luang Prabang.  We got a nicer hotel than we normally do (thank you, Qantas deals), and spent considerable time poolside.  LP had a hint of Varanasi to it, with its concentration of temples, displays of piousness, and tumbledown streets leading to a sacred river.  In fact, Laos in general felt like a much, much toned-down version of India, minus the readily-available vegetarian food, but heavily compensated by the ready availability of som tom.  We managed to peg together enough to do away from the pool, but I suffer pretty quickly from temple fatigue, so we were definitely pushing it, even with our ample dedicated relaxation time.

Our last three nights were in the capital, Vientiane, and, to be honest, we could've skipped it with little loss.  The 20th-century history is really fascinating for someone who grew up in the shadow of the Vietnam War (called the American War here), and just the word Mekong conjures up Cold War intrigue and a sense of the verboten.  But again, the temples.  We elected not to take any tours as they were shockingly expensive for this part of the world, and the itineraries were heavily weighted with temples and shrines.  But it was great to see the only calm capital of Southeast Asia while it's still relatively under the radar.  (Starbucks and the influencers have arrived, so that ship is rapidly leaving the dock.)  And the som tom?  Yum!

ໂຊກດີເດີ້,

Shaun 

Our first som tom of the trip.

The alms-giving ceremony is meant to be a highlight of a visit to Luang Prabang, but it's the second-worst tourist experience I've had (the first being the dolphin boat in Zanzibar).  It's meant to be a solemn and sacred ceremony, but it has been commercialised and commodified to the point that it feels more like one of those "native dance" shows you see at buffet dinners.  As we were walking into town, I started to get a sense of dread as we were passed by van after van of group tours en route.  Once we made it, there was nary a Laotian Buddhist to be seen, just group after group of (mostly) Chinese tourists, giving 'alms' of cheap tatty rice crackers and the like (rather than sticky rice and fruit) supplied by their tour guides (we saw one of the monks throw their accumulation away), jostling for the perfect Instagram shot, and talking and shouting when there is supposed to be reverent silence.  I think there is a cultural aspect to the inappropriate volume, but I wonder if it was amplified by a subconscious disregard for Buddhist sensitivities inculcated by decades of Chinese propaganda after the invasion and subjugation of Tibet.  Whatever the reason, it was ugly.

 

What turned out to be the highlight of Luang Prabang - and all of Laos - was the sunset tour on the Mekong.  We were on a small boat, only about 12 people, and it was gorgeous.  Recreating a high-school prom photo was not obligatory, but we elected to anyway.

 

I was initially sceptical of going to the Kuang Si Waterfall, but it turned out to be beautiful, and a great day out.  It's actually a collection of several different levels of falls that you pass on a very-manageable 20-minute or so hike.  However, as you'd expect in this day and age, behind the lens was a sea of selfie sticks and self-styled influencers.

  

The most interesting - it's hard to say best in this context - part of Vientiane was the COPE Visitor Centre.  This is where the victims of unexploded ordnance accidents receive treatment, rehabilitation and psychological support.  I knew that the US covertly bombed Laos during the Vietnam war, but I had absolutely no clue about the scale: the equivalent of a planeload of bombs every 8 minutes, 24 hours a day, for 9 years, making it the most heavily-bombed country per capita in history.  They seemed to have forgotten to mention that in my US history book.

There are signs like this all around Laos, so it's not hard to fathom who's winning the war for influence in this part of the world.  Perhaps America could start upping its game by fully funding the COPE Centre.

The Time Square of Vientiane.

We declined to sample the street alligator meat.

Final Mekong sunset of the trip, with Thailand across the river.

Shaun H. Coley ~ Surry Hills ~ Sydney, NSW ~ Australia

Cheerio guv'nor, g'day mate

Since the Brexit vote, I haven't felt totally settled in London England.  While the level of angst has waxed and waned with the passing of time and Prime Ministers, there's always been an undercurrent of What's next? in my emotional state.  But in recent years, as I have seriously and unseriously considered hypothetical new homes in my travels,  I've come to realise that, despite its faults and the political aneurysm of 2016, the UK is still a pretty good place to be.  And my paradigm within it - as a Londoner - is still top of the global urban heap.

Still, I've had that itch for change, for at least one more big life adventure before I am - seriously this time - too old to take such a big leap.  And I am going to have one: Sushil and I will be moving to Sydney next month.

While we put the plan into motion after our visit two years ago, the bureaucratic wheels turned very, very slowly, and our visas were only granted in April.  We, however, have not been slow.  Within days, we handed in our notices at work, bought our tickets, and started sharing the news.  We will fly out of London on 09 July, have a sojourn in San Diego en route, and arrive in Sydney on 17 July.  I am excited for the adventure, but terrified of pulling up the roots I've grown here; I didn't realise how deep they were until leaving stopped being hypothetical.  But as the date approaches, I am getting more excited than scared.

Our plan is to stay in Sydney for 2-3 years and travel around that part of the world.  So, please accept this as my invitation to visit us Down Under.  Or if you will be travelling somewhere in South/Southeast/East Asia, let us know and we can try to overlap with you.  If we don't love it, we'll be back sooner rather than later, so don't hang about, OK?  We're gonna be really far away from those we love - we're gonna need to see some friendly faces.

Cheerio,

Shaun

Despite the short timeframe to pack up our lives, we had a few trips already on the books.  One was to Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia.  Despite its Caucasian location, it definitely feels European, and most of it is prettier than one might suppose of an ex-Soviet capital.

But much of it is also as unpretty as one might suppose of an ex-Soviet capital.

A Soviet capital wouldn't be a Soviet capital without a grandiose monument or two, now would it?

Lara, Pops and I went to Málaga and Seville for Pops' birthday.  This was the view from our place.  ¡Muy bonita!

Salud from an Irish pub - how very Costa of us.

Seville was stunning.  Beautiful, sophisticated, interesting.  Despite the 40º, I wish we'd had more time there.

As we were in Seville, of course Pops had to go to...the barber. (Ba dum dum)

Pops spiffed up and classed up - ¡olé!

Shaun H. Coley ~ Archway ~ Islington ~ London N19 ~ UK

Stromae

I learned about the Belgian artist Stromae from my Dutch friend, Lottie, when we were in Kolkata, on the way to a rural Indian village for the wedding of the brother of my Indian husband, Sushil, who I lived with in London and who I met on holiday in Mumbai with my Vegas friend, Russ.

It's a preposterous sentence.  But it's true, and the gist of which I said to (my German friend) Jan during one of our YouTube blackholes.  While the provenance of my knowledge of Stromae is an important factoid in TLOS, the reason I recall this particular blackhole conversation is that I remember telling Jan how I wish I could say this sentence to my seventeen-year-old self.  That with all of its compounded layers I could let him know that, as trapped as he felt then, as much angst as he had about the possibilities of the future, it was going to be OK: to tell him 'you are going to have a lot of adventures, and life is gonna be a lot of fucking fun'.

Now, my dissatisfaction with Las Vegas as a hometown is no secret.  But as the city and I both change and grow, it's become more of a trope than anything visceral.  The Vegas of today is not the Vegas of then, and being gay anywhere is different from how it was in post-Reagan America.  Understandably, the time and place are conflated to a degree in my psyche.  But Vegas no longer makes me 'itch' after a few days; now it's just like any other city, with its good, its bad, and its legendarily long traffic signals.  But this anytown is my hometown.

So as I started to approach my 50th birthday and think about how I wanted to mark half a century of life, the only thing that came to my mind was returning to Vegas - 50 just seemed like the time to go back to where I'm from.  So last month, in the middle of the Mojave Desert, groups of my friends and family from different places and times of my life came together for dinners, drinks, a whole lot of tomfoolery, and good vibes and love all around.  It was perfect.  And it was great to show my hometown to so many people for the first time.  You understand someone a bit better, I think, when you've been to where they're from.  And now they know this Vegas boy a little bit better too.

xo from the fifth floor,

Shaun

Hello, world!

Keeping it classy on Fremont Street.

America, fuck yeah! 🇺🇸

A very Vegas lunch - "a touch of Parisian charm" on a man-made lake in a master-planned community in Western suburbia.

Tomfoolery in action.  With a few very notable exceptions, most of the people I love most in life made it.

Lottie, of Stromae fame, taking in the local charm of Boulder City.

Me just after the birthday song at dinner.  Now that wasn't so bad, was it?  Didn't hurt at all.  Perhaps it was the margaritas...

One cannot have a milestone birthday without an elevator selfie.

The last ones standing (somewhat).

Shaun H. Coley ~ Archway ~ Islington ~ London N19 ~ UK ~ shaunism.blogspot.com