THE AFFAIR IS OVER

My dear Adelaide, the affair is over. I came, stayed, played just shy of 3 months. You had me in your grasp at day two and I loved you every day after.

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But if we’re really going to talk love, I need to know why you’re only ever the bridesmaid and never the bride. Honey, you’re not even the bridesmaid, more like the cute flower girl or distant cousin. An after-thought tacked on to the end of the table because there was space available.

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The flashy business hub of Sydney; the artsy feel, eateries and creative soul of Melbourne; the golden sun, sand and surf of the Gold Coast; the continuing lure of money, mystery and mines of Perth. You’re standing in the shadow of your bigger sisters. Not for me, not anymore.

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My love started, as often love does, with a stunning first impression. An airport that was spacious and clean and easy to get around and get out of. A friendly taxi driver happy to chat late at night to a couple new, and temporary, to the city. The beautiful inner city lights of St Peter’s Cathedral and Adelaide Oval, all blinged-up prettily as we made our way to North Adelaide.

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You started well and got better.

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The next day we woke up together unseasonably hot, in fact the hottest October on record was about to start. Did I need the 8 merino tops, wool poncho and woollen – well anything – that I found when I unzipped my life-packed-in-a-suitcase? No.

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My utter lack of research about you before arriving only added to our amore since you went on to surprise me at every turn, something that tickled my fancy most days.

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Oh I admit for one brief moment I thought you were inland but looks – especially too-brief glances at Google maps – can be deceiving. There you are poised on the coast of that deceptive blip called the Gulf of St Vincent and further afield, the delightfully named Great Australian Bight. I know where you are and I will never lose you again.

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I discovered a fabulous public transport system which is just as well because while you are very, very walkable, my sense of direction is very, very poor. Figuring out the free city connector buses, which run both clockwise and anti-clockwise, was challenging. I was the person drawing circles in the air with my finger as I pondered the bus timetable. I was also the person turning 180deg to figure out clockwise and anti, which apparently is no help.

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That’s ok. Everybody brings weaknesses to a relationship and while yours is lack of confidence and self promotion, mine is sense of direction and anything that requires a degree of logic.

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We went on to play some delightful games of hide and seek, where (and here you proved peculiar to many modern cities) you went and hid all the funky bars and eateries, and then I went and tried to find them.

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Down hidden alleyways and strange laneways that looked like dead ends, I found inconspicuous, some times (designer) graffiti-lined doors which I felt required a secret knock to open.  Even the lovely Palace cinemas in Rundle St East took me around the block once before I found the laneway that led to another laneway that led to the entrance. And then I found the short cut from North Terrace. Proof that: being new in love sometimes makes you blind to the obvious.

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Some of the politest beggars live in your arms. I’ve been thanked, blessed and wished a good day, when I’ve given nothing but a glance. And requests for loose change have been refreshingly specific. A woman with her worldly goods stashed into two plastic bags asked me for $7.50.

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“Why $7.50 exactly?” I asked.

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“That’s how much my sandwich and drink costs for lunch.”

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Well, when you put it like that, here.

I wasn’t discouraged when I heard her work her way down the queue of people at the bus stop. Ask and you just may get.

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Adelaide you gem. You’re lots of things: coastal and metropolitan and old-city all at once. A delightful mix of quaint and hustle bustle. Old world architecture that leaves me feeling like I am walking down the streets of the 1880s, mixed with cool-banana bars, whole foods cafes and a groovy-gritty metro feel that leaves me no doubt that it’s 2015. You have a vibe that rises above the ordinary.

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Problem is, I fall in love too quickly. And then it’s painful leaving. My final day with you was sometimes wistful, slightly manic walk round the central city, doing what I could to burn lasting impressions. I won’t forget you.

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On yonder now, abroad for a few years to the Land of the Free – and of the Easily Offended, and of Legislative Nightmare (read: long queues), and of Sugar, Fat and oh heck y’all a bit more Sugar wont hurt. Oh America, you polarising chick, my love-hate affair with you has begun.