Momentum

I'm finding the old catch 22 (the situation, not the novel) less funny since my last post. I'm getting tired of explaining it and even more so of keeping the weary tone out of my voice. I think it's important when I'm trying to reassure potential employers that I don't betray the fact that I think it's a big, stupid mess lest that reflects on them and their big, stupid state. Did I just say that out loud? I'm not really that bitter, I've just had the same frustrating conversation too many times. Actually things are looking good for work. Two schools now have me on their relief list - despite my transgressive lack of a working with children check - and are keen to give me regular work. So now I sleep with the phone on and my bag packed. Exciting!
I promised I'd report good news on the house front and I've been tardy. The owners accepted our offer and the lease is ready to be signed. Sort of. The house is being sold. It is due to settle on Tuesday but the real estate wants our moving date pushed back a week in case there's a problem. Of course, reasonably priced short-term accommodation options don't accept bookings (or refund them) 'just in case' so this has complicated things somewhat. We'll be much happier when we can book the removalists and a plane for the Pusscat (who has finally accepted that we are gone forever and is sleeping on B and C's bed instead of hiding under it).

I promise I'm not throwing spanners in the works to create blog material. To compensate for my moaning I would like to finally present a sunset over the ocean. To give this scene some context I should tell you that we watched this flaming ball slip below the horizon at the beach across the park from our current temporary abode (life's tough, huh?). We were on our way home from a pre-dinner drink at the lovely old pub up the road. I had a pint of Bulmers cider that cost $6.50, much cheaper than the $8 or $9 you pay for a pint of anything elsewhere in Freo. Why so cheap here? Well, my friends, this delightful pub has a cider and beer of the month. While it's exciting that the cider of the month is one of my favourites, the real news is that they actually have a cider of the month! Bless them.

So, the sunset. It will take a while for the novelty of the Indian Ocean to wear off.

It's getting complicated. Concentrate, folks.

I finally have my Department ID number so I can teach in public schools in WA. But don't be disappointed if that seems too straightforward, it comes with some brain-twisting complications. In fact, I find myself in a situation that Joseph Heller could write about. (I know it's a polarising novel but I'm firmly in the 'love' camp. I even did a special project on it in high school - nerd alert!)  

So, let me summarise... to be employed by a school you need to clear a Working with Children Check. Seems sensible enough so far, right? However, in order to submit the form to get a WWCC you need a signature from your employer - you know, the person who has employed you. Rightio, so I'll just pop along...to my principal...and get a signature...except...I don't...because I can't until I......aaaargh! The Department told me it was fine to just get the form signed when I begin working, but seems to have also told schools that they shouldn't employ anyone who hasn't passed the check. My extra unique complication is that you also need to show ID with proof of address. I also don't have an address. In fact one of my tasks for tomorrow is to find us a room at a backpackers now that our stay in the Freedom catalogue is nearly over. 

But I'm very pleased that my other task for tomorrow involves visiting two local schools with my résumé and my best competent teacher persona. I rang these schools this afternoon and spoke to two women who were (true to WA form) friendly and helpful. They asked me to drop in tomorrow - keen! My plan is to convince them that I'm so awesome that they must employ me and hence convince someone to sign my WWCC in anticipation of me being in employment. Or something like that.

On the house front we are in price negotiations over a house. The property manager is meeting the owner at 9am and promises to call me after that. I can't give any more details obviously because that would jinx it. There is a clear cause and effect relationship here. If there is good news, you will hear it.

In other promising events I went to the first meeting of my reading group on Tuesday night (half an hour late because I'm an idiot). Nice folks, good conversation and interesting books chosen for two months ahead (The White Tiger and Invisible, if anyone's interested). The night culminated in me joining the group's founders for a glass of sangria at their apartment. *pats self on back for applying friend-making skills*

Finally, in response to popular demand (ha! I kid), as part two in our series on 'Large Buildings That Make Me Swoon', I present this lovely lighthouse. So earnest in its duties. So green! Just lovely.

Dingo Flour

I've decided that if I have any hope of attracting visitors from 'back East' I'll need to start showcasing some of WA's features rather than just observing the idiosyncracies in a patronising tone and whinging about my lack of a life so far (what, did I think it would take just over a week to have everything sorted?) The very short update is I'm still waiting for a teaching number and we're still looking for a house. But in the interests of having an excuse to talk to people I have joined a reading group (trying to train myself out of calling it a book club) and the WA Greens.

So, let's start with the delights of Fremantle. They have a Bon Scott statue on the Esplanade. 'nuff said.  Nearby is this fancy monument to the famous Fremantle Doctor. You've got to love a town that has a famous wind, right? And while we're talking about the Doctor, I'm all for the concept of natural air conditioning, and it really does cool things down, but does it have to be so, you know, windy? The first night we arrived it was so cold we had to wear jackets to go out, and yesterday I took my Monthly magazine (thanks Ma) to the beach to read, and couldn't. It's an A4 page! No wonder they don't read broadsheets... Oops, hang on, I'm whinging again. Back to the delights...

Look, I could post pictures of beautiful sunsets over the water and stunning beaches, I could talk about lifestyle, friendly folk and cycle paths, but to be honest, my favourite part of Freo at the moment is the Dingo Flour warehouse. It's on the train line north of North Fremantle station. The sight of this little fella looking expectantly into the distance, ears alert, always warms my heart. I think I might get a t-shirt printed.

Riding on a bus

We have discovered many wondrous things about WA since my last post. We've been catching a lot of public transport around the place (including one spectacularly long train journey caused by my inability to read the iPhone directions correctly). People are very polite to bus drivers. And bus drivers are very polite in return. The Fella suspects this might be why every single bus we have caught has been at least 5 minutes late. However, Perth has a very well functioning, logical, user-friendly integrated ticketing system. You know, the kind we paid millions of dollars in NSW not to implement...

Despite these very positive aspects of the transport system, bus timetables on weekends are terrible. The weekend without a car has convinced us we want one - especially so we can do some more exploring.So the Fella managed to buy a car on Saturday which we're picking up this afternoon. Unfortunately, go-faster-flames weren't standard so I added them for him. There is also a personalised number plate obsession here. Any suggestions for appropriate plates so we can blend in with the locals??

 On one of our journeys to far flung car dealerships we came across this weird phenomena. It looks like the footpath is rusty, right? It was like this for a few hundred metres along the highway. The best explanation we could come up with was something vague and unscientific about soil and minerals. Can anyone do better?

It seems to be universally compulsory for folks to have tourist guide training. Mention that you've just arrived from 'over East' (I love the frontier mentality of this term) and they'll launch into a review of local attractions. A pharmacist took this responsiblity very seriously while I was waiting for her to fill my prescription. She ran through a number of categories, including beaches and places to eat (using the widely accepted term "Cappuccino Strip" for the main drag of Fremantle, which always makes me shudder). She took the prescription filling side of things less seriously and didn't quite give me what I asked for. Anyway...

It is with great relief that on Saturday we found the delightful 'Old Shanghai' food court. I actually broke into a fit of jumping up and down, chanting "cheap Asian food! cheap Asian food!" The relief! Dear friend, your concerns that we had eaten our last plate of good noodles are unfounded. I had a very good plate of fried kuay teow at the aptly named establishment 'Tasty Taste.' Factor in the 'licensed alfresco area' and I foresee many repeat visits.

A less pleasant development. Turns out the rental market here is very tight, particularly if you don't want to live in the middle of nowhere. We're trying to find a place close to the centre of Fremantle to minimise the separation anxiety from our beloved King Street. At the first open house we went to we were joined by about 30 other people. True to form, I am feeling very nervous. But I have outsourced the task of optimism to the Fella and he is doing a great job.

It begins

Well, we have arrived. We are in a comfortable (read Freedom catalogue) serviced apartment in Fremantle with lots and lots of luggage. The rest of our worldly possessions are in a truck on their way to meet us in approximately 14 days, at which time we will hopefully have a house to move into.

Our most important other item, the Pusscat, is at my brother's house, hiding under their bed. Leaving her there temporarily was a bit traumatic for me (those who saw me at that time would say 'more than a bit'). My fairly pathetic explanation for the tears was that "it felt mean because I couldn't explain to her what was happening." However, she did a great job of traumatising herself even more...

On our last night in Sydney she decided to escape from my brother's house - something she has never done before. This involved jumping out the window onto the back roof and scampering over a few more roofs until she got stuck there in the rain. In the morning when we noticed she was missing - who knows how many hours later - my hero, the Fella, got the ladder into the neighbour's garden and coaxed her over to lift her down. The positive note to all this is that I've decided that even the 5 hour plane trip to meet us here will not be worse than that experience. Is that good parenting, or what?

So, we are gradually ticking off the essential Fremantle experiences - beginning with a visit to Little Creatures straight off the plane last night. But today will be mostly taken up with more mundane activities: grocery shopping, house hunting (an open house this afternoon for a house that looks amazing), car shopping and job hunting. Fingers crossed!