Sydney as Sibling
Comparative to Brisbane
The comparison between Brisbane and Sydney is too easy to forget once you’re home, and too easy to notice when you’re there.
Travelling, particularly alone, to a city in your own country which is so similar to your own that you’re not even sure why you’re going, is a surprisingly unnerving experience. It’s so much easier to notice that you don’t have a home to return to in that city. Compared to a trip when the people around you are speaking with a different accent or language altogether, it feels like hanging in a kind of travel limbo.
Being in a city that is so similar to Brisbane but not Brisbane was freaking me out. I feel like a massive imposter; unnatural but totally unnoticed. It also makes you realise that every single person in your own city is not in this city. The en masse “home public” had been replaced with the en masse “here public” and while there is really no difference at all, suddenly an indistinct group of people feels unique. Like Coraline’s parents, but people in Sydney don’t have buttons for eyes.
Anybody else get this? I thought Brisbane was cool, but then I went to Sydney.
Oh, and if you want to know the things we actually did in Sydney, click this, so you also can be (fake) cool.