Football

Australia is a very sports and fitness orientated culture. However, when it comes to "the beautiful sport", they don't seem to share the general fever you'd find across Europe and South America. And I miss that. I miss sharing that enjoyment and passion over a beer on the pub, especially watching the English Premiership. As much as I love my Benfica, for the past decades the Portuguese league sunk so low in corruption, that I must admit we became worse than Italians. An achievement.

Fortunately however, I don't miss playing, and that's because I play twice a week, with 2 teams in different tournaments. I joined my first team through a colleague. That team is a blast! With 2 wins in 8 matches, we have qualified for the DIVISION 4 FINALS!!! (That's the trophy for the bottom of the league) so next week we can be crowned CHAMPIONS! Oh yeah, fortune and glory!
Its a group of Chinese guys, for whom the ball is a curious and probably square object, although they're not too sure what to do with it. But they do run! I've never seen such a dedicated bunch! They can hardly understand what they're doing, but they never give up. Compared to them, I'm a detoxed version of Maradona. Talented but lazy as hell! To add to the already peculiar pot of 5 Chinese and a Portuguese, there's also a Greek, who wisely does not have an habit of reminding me of past miseries, and an Iranian: Kam Ran! This dude is 100% Borat without a moustache. He's the lousiest player in history (with the possible exception of the late 90's Benfica defense), but he became the mascot! Its just too amusing to hear him speak, let alone see him try to hit the ball forward. Results are low, but spirits are up!

The other team, I met through the only Portuguese I've met here so far. They're top division champions and seem to be aware of the rules and actual point of the game. Nice for a change. As nice as the definitely sweeter taste of victory. With the "Chinese" team, the ball always seems to be between our keeper and our net. But not with the clockwork orange! Oh no!! We're a killing machine! (for some bizarre reason that escapes me, 3 Brits, 2 Portuguese and 2 Aussies play with a Holland jersey...) Somehow our last opponents got into the "killing machine" mode, and I limped for more than a week.

And when I crave for a bit of the good old footy chat, I can always call Bruno, Chris or Marcos, and rest my spirits. Et Pluribus Unun.

Origins

One of my favourite aspects about London is its multi cultural character. I loved to feel so many different cultures and origins all coming together. So when I came to Sydney I didn't expect to find such diversity. Still, after my first day on the streets, I immediately understood Sydney shared that global gathering appeal.

Australia has 20 million people. That's about 2,5 people per Km2. As a rough guide, Portugal has 10 million, about 115 people per Km2. A density 46 times larger! Australia is a huge country, with a small population, and therefore immigration is encouraged by the government. The greatest source is naturally Asia. Half the people in Sydney come from China, Vietnam, Korea, Malaysia, Philippines, Indonesia, etc. Its a dominant sub culture, and half of the city centre is dedicated to a Chinatown 3 times the size of the London one.

Interacting with asians has been one of my favourite experiences. The food, the karaoke and the numerous useless attempts to identify where they come from. Guys, they all bloody look the same to me! (Jackie Chan...) But they're a great bunch! Last week I went for dinner with my football team, comprised of 5 chinese, 1 greek (oh dear) and 1 portuguese. One of the chinese went for this 4 Kg bowl of noodles. Tradition says if you finish it inside 30 min, its free. My friend made an impressive effort, and with 5 minutes and 2 Kg to go, threw up in the bowl. Game over. Good attempt.

The other fascinating thing about asians here, is how they change their names to "western names". Instead of a Fan Wang Wuok, you get a Tommy Wuok. Iao Ching becomes Ken Ching. Its brilliant! Apparently during high school, they all choose a name they like/identify/feel inspired by and that's it! My favourite is still my workmate David Fok. But in his case, its not the westerner name I find amusing!.... Fok?! What the Fok?? Then I started to think, hang on! Why not do the same? Deng Hua Sousa. Tanaka Miguel Fujimoto. A sea of possibilities!

Besides asians, I can identify many islanders from New Zealand, Tonga, Samoa and other islands in the pacific. I always feel like tackling them. They have RUGBY written all over their massive bodies. There's a few europeans and indians, and serious social tensions with the australian born lebanese, who seem to have a natural tendency for violence and total social disregard. That does not apply to hard working lebanese born people, who arrive in search for a better life.

Last, but by no way in hell least... the brazilian. I've reached a point where I seriously wonder if this applies as invasion. Brazil took it from portuguese and decided to create a colony! Australia! They are totally bloody fucking everywhere!!! I hear portuguese on every bus, on my gym, on my pool, on my office, in the cinema, fucking hell, even in my thoughts! :) Bondi beach speaks more portuguese than english, and going to the beach itself feels like Copacabana all over again. (Apart from the water, that is.) What amuses me about them is how they can never understand what I say. Who can blame them. I'm speking freaky portuguese, how could they understand?! Morons...

Winter

I arrived in Australia in the beginning of August. In theory, winter time here. In those first weeks I experienced both chili mornings with the mercury down at 8º and sunny short sleeve afternoons. Of course, for me it wasn't much of a change from London in the summertime. Only less rain!... It took me 2 weeks to see rain here.

One day, in the Mecca of any weather debate, the office lift, someone mentioned how cold it was, and how this was the worse winter ever. I snapped. COLD?! WINTER?! These people don't have the faintest idea of any of those concepts. I caught a cold once in my Lisbon apartment, in what can only be described as the coldest sitting room in the solar system, while watching a DVD! In London houses are very warm, but try to cross the Millennium Bridge in January wearing light trousers, and you won't grow to have children of your own!

In the beginning of September there was a 31º Saturday, which felt like 40º! Naturally I spent that day on the beach, and even ventured my feet into the shark infested waters!! Bloody hell!!! It was colder than the shores of Greenland! Oh well, we can't have it all, I suppose. Still, to make my point, picture such a day in early March, back in Europe. Not likely...

So I can only conclude that the winter here is nothing but a myth. These guys have only 2 seasons. Hot and not so hot. And I'm absolutely fine with that! Its spring time now (not so hot turning hot season) and I feel great! The days are getting bigger, and the flowers perfume the streets. Its my second spring this year, which feels like tricking time. Take that, you dirty tic tacking bastard!
(Mental note: rob a bank, buy a jet for the wife and kids and live on 6 month contracts. If I live till 80, I reckon 120 springs. I'm off to HSBC.)

In my next life I want to live my life backwards. You start out dead and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old people's home feeling better every day. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go collect your pension, and then when you start work, you get a gold watch and a party on your first day. You work for 40 years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You party, drink alcohol, and are generally promiscuous, then you are ready for high school. You then go to primary school, you become a kid, you play. You have no responsibilities, you become a baby until you are born. And then you spend your last 9 months floating in luxurious spa-like conditions with central heating and room service on tap, larger quarters every day and then Voila! You finish off as an orgasm!
I rest my case.