No, really. It’s what they call Victoria, you know, if you’re from New South Wales… Mexico… south of the border.

Hey, I never said it was funny (or culturally sensitive). I wonder though, do Queenslanders call New South Welshmen, Mexicans too? For we are south of their border. Please advise. (What can I say, these are the things I think about.)

That was a dreadfully long way of saying I’m back in Melbourne. You know, because I can’t move here soon enough, and I got cheap airfares, and because Katia is here and so, given she came all the way from Paris to Melbourne, the least I could do was trek down from Sydney (as if I needed an excuse) in order that we may meet over dim sum.

So here I am in Mexico Melbourne and being here has a whole different feel now that it is settled in my head and heart that I’m going to come live here. It seems to me that I should feel all sorts of excited, and I do, but the idea also feels overwhelming. You know, that “OMG what on earth am I thinking?”; “is it really a good idea?”; “am I going to regret this/am I really sure?” and is it too late to change my mind? feeling. Of course, it isn’t too late to change my mind. Neither do I want to, but just to make sure, I sift through all my reasons for making such a change and examine them, turning each one over and checking it for any warping or twisting, for anything that undermines this overwhelming desire for change.

I factor in to these thoughts (as a last resort), that if things don’t work out it’s only my pride that will get hurt, that if I hightail it back to Sydney in the next 6 months at least I’ll be able to say I had given it a go. But even in having said that, I’m really not doubting the idea at all, just acutely aware that whatever expectations, large or small I bring to such a change NONE of them will be met exactly as I anticipate them. Some will be exceeded, some may be shattered, but I’ll make the move and hope and plan (as well as I can) for the best.