They call it the isle of apples or the Apple Isle. A heart shaped island surrounded by the choppy seas of the Bass Straight and the cool Arctic ocean. In winter the biting winds whip around the island holding people hostage in the homes. The grey curling smokes puffing from the roofs of every chimney. Only the brave and well rugged up people venture outside. Sure it's not Antarctica but it's close to it.

I've lived on this island state since the age of five and have always appreciated and enjoyed the beautiful scenic landscapes that surrounded me. It seemed to be the perfect piece of paradise. The fresh crisp air fills the nostrils of every person that comes to its shores. But it's not all chill to the bone weather. There are days when the sun beats down so warmly you could swear you were on a tropical island.

Then I moved to the "Mainland. " Sydney, the land of no clouds, where the sun shone brightly everyday and the weather remained consistently humid throughout the day, feeling like roast in a large oven (as opposed to a Popsicle in the freezer). Where the people walked with eyes straight ahead, all staring intently at nothing. Where the traffic buzzed from left to right, north to south, diving and weaving to their destinations. Where colourful scribbles sprawled across concrete walls, trains, fences and anywhere that was accessible to spray cans. This was an alien world and I was a fish straight out of the fresh Tasmanian water, trying to survive in the smog filled air that filled my gills.

I had definitely stepped out of my comfort zone into and unknown world where familiarity had no place. Uncertainty plagued me as I explored my new environment trying to familiarize myself with my new surroundings. Wandering among the skyscraper landscape left me feeling minute and insignificant. I felt like a surfer on the crest of a wave as I was surged forward by the sea of people that filled the footpaths of the city streets.

Catching the train was a novelty and an interesting time to observe the different characters that filtered in and out of its doors. Such flavour and richness of personalities surrounded me as I listened to the many voices that filled the crowded carriages. I listened to chattering school children in restrictive school uniforms make their way onto the train. It was rather ironic how each tried to individualise their uniform, by the way their sleeves were folded, the length of their socks, positioning of their hair and their shoes,

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