There is an old Jamaican proverb, “To eat an egg, you must break the shell”.
There is an old Australian saying,”To buy cheap fruit and veg, head west.” Okay, so there isn’t a saying like that, but it is good advice. As I ventured to Flemington Markets with the delightful Miss Powell I realised whilst waiting at Newtown station that it was the first time I had ever caught the train heading out of the city.
Living around Newtown is fantastic; we have endless options of bars, seedy pubs, trendy retro cafes and Thai restaurants coming out the wazoo. But safe in my little microcosm, have I become one of those myopic people I mock?
According to management theorist Alasdair A. K. White a comfort zone “is a behavioural state within which a person operates in an anxiety-neutral condition, using a limited set of behaviours to deliver a steady level of performance, usually without a sense of risk.” I imagine with a name like Alasdair, his parents were risk-takers.
Are my surroundings a form of comfort zone? A geographical blankie? Definitely, although it is disconcerting how many women have brown hair and bangs around here which is counter-balanced with the militant style clientle of the Sly Fox. Same same creates a sense of belonging.
But today’s little outing has shown me even after a decade of living here, old Sydney has some untapped adventures yet if I choose to leave my Inner West comfort zone.