To celebrate my first full week in Sydney, I went to bed at 9:00 on a Sunday night with a fever, drippy nose, and what looked like a severe rash or rare skin disease on my cheek. It’s actually a huge, red mosquito bite that I must have had a very bad reaction to, but I didn’t realize that until the second day I had it, when I woke up with a similar bite on my right wrist. The whole thing poofed up and itched like crazy, which was good only because it meant that I didn’t have skin cancer or something equally horrible growing on my face.

Aside from the cold and the big daddy of bug bites, I had a pretty good week. I walked myself silly (and could write another whole paragraph just about my blisters, but I’ll save you from that), enjoyed many of the sights around town, and became an expert at both bus and rail travel.

Of course, with all the sightseeing that had to be done, I didn’t really devote that much time to job or apartment hunting. I mean, I handed out a few resumes, and I did trek out to see a gorgeous apartment in Bondi Beach that was a little out of my price range, but I can’t say that I really gave it all the effort I should have.

See, here’s the problem: I love being unemployed. Love it. Would spend most of my life being unemployed if I could manage it. I love waking up in the morning, taking my time to read the paper and get ready for my day. I love walking out of the house around noon knowing that all I really have to do is maybe go to the library or post office, but that if I don’t, I can always go the next day. I love having the movie theater to myself at matinees. I love going to the museums when nobody else is there to get in my way.

I was “between jobs” for four months last year, and I had a great time. The first company I was with went under, through absolutely no fault of my own, and I walked away with a nice severance check, healthy-sized unemployment checks that arrived at my door every two weeks, and excellent references from the people I worked for who were sorry that they had wasted all our time and taken us down with the ship. It was a great deal, and I wasn’t in any hurry to find a new job as long as I had money coming in and other things to keep me busy.

I feel very much the same way now. To be a good traveler, you have to be a go-getter. You have to be aggressive and perky and willing to dive into a job at a moment’s notice. That’s just so not me. I like to weigh my options, browse around, and turn down a few perfectly good, but boring, job offers before I settle on something that will make me happy.

I did have one interview during the week for a temp agency. The woman I met with was very nice, very happy to have an American on her staff, and said she could get me started working pretty much right away. I thought that sounded great, so I went home and emailed her to say that I found another position and wouldn’t be able to work for her, but thank you for meeting with me all the same. It was a lie, but it sounded better than saying, “I am more than capable of doing this job, but frankly my soul will turn black and die if I have to get up and go out to the suburbs every day to answer phones and file.”

Now I’m back at square one, with no job prospects, but I’m feeling much better about things, knowing I wasn’t trapped into three months of doing something I was going to hate. Note: Please do not use me as an example of what you should do with your life. For many people, doing crap jobs build character. I’m just not those people.

Back to the fun stuff. I spent a beautiful afternoon walking all around the Opera House and into the Royal Botanic Gardens. In the four hours I was there I walked to Mrs. Macquarie’s Point for it’s beautiful view of the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge, then around the various gardens, ponds, buildings, statues, and memorials. Definitely worth a visit since it’s free, and a great place for a picnic, a date, or a photo shoot.

Friday and Saturday nights I got my first taste of Sydney nightlife. It was my friend Lori’s birthday, so several of her friends got together to celebrate. She knows some very cool people and I had a great time talking to them about what they think of America and American culture.

One guy got very excited when I made some comment about Dawson’s Creek (I think about how surprised I was that lame 7th Heaven is on here all the time but the Creek, with all its beautiful people, isn’t), and insisted I fill him in on the last season. Apparently he was in the States for a while and got addicted and hasn’t been able to keep up with it here. When I told him that Mitch died I thought he might start to cry, but he managed to pull it together. Aussie men may have a repuation for being macho and even sexist, but the ones I've met have been very laid-back, and are apparently sensitive to both real people and fictional characters.

And there it is. I’m here. I’m unemployed. If my friend Jorge gets sick of me I could be homeless. At least once a day I ask myself what in the world I’m doing here. But, things have a way of working themselves out, and I know I’ve only scratched the surface of the opportunities that are here for me. In the meantime, I have museums to see and insect repellant to buy.