Some of it was just about learning how to say 'no' to myself, a concept which I found hard to grasp at first (eg, 'No, you can't go to see Fleetwood Mac in the Hunter Valley' *sadface*). Other elements were more enjoyable, such as really getting to grips with using my slow cooker, making huge vats of stew, soup or beans and then freezing them in individual portions. Gleefully eating yellow spit pea and bacon soup which cost me less than $1 per portion when others were spending $10 on their lunch every day gave me a warm, smug feeling. I also grew my own lettuce and herbs, cycled to work every day, bulk-bought wine and managed to go a whole year only buying one new dress and one pair of boots. (Rediscovering old items of clothing in my wardrobe was way more fun anyway!) It's amazing how ruthless you can be when assessing whether to make an impulsive purchase or save yourself a day's budget on the road. The trip won every time.
I also cooked up ways to earn more income. I took my RSA (Responsible Service of Alcohol: mandatory here if you want to work in a bar), I guest lectured at various colleges, taught a whole semester for an arts management degree and finally got to grips with eBay. It's amazing how I can eke money out of things that have been stuffed under my bed for years or rolled up in a tube in the corner of the room.
Now my departure date is drawing near I'm tracking well towards budget. I've paid off my debt and managed to save $15,000. I still have quite a way to go before I reach my target, so I'm leaving my apartment in a couple of weeks, putting my stuff into storage early and couch-surfing/house-sitting for the last couple of months in Sydney. Last weekend I decided to join the Garage Sale Trail and get rid of lots of my clothes and household items.
This is an annual national event where local councils encourage people to register their garage sales and bargain hunters use the Garage Sale Trail app to plan their route around their local area, one sale at a time. In the past I've enjoyed cycling around Paddington, Bondi and Surry Hills, nabbing my own bargains, and chatting to locals about their wares. It instills a sense of community and a spirit of recycling that I really treasure, so I was looking forward to hosting my own garage sale for the first time.
Preparing for a garage sale is no mean feat. I used almost the entire first week of my 2 weeks' leave getting ready for it: sorting through my belongings and deciding what I didn't need, ironing and tagging clothes, preparing how to present my wares. I even enlisted the help of willing friends, often in an advisory role (okay, what I really mean is that I needed Beth to force me to be ruthless with my clothes!). Seriously, I have frocks which I bought more than 10 years ago which I've never worn. How long am I going to 'wait for the right occasion'? This is the end of an era: I need to cull and clean, even if I need a little nudging to actually let go.
The day dawned, and after a 6am start cycling round the neighbourhood putting up last minute posters, I set up shop at the front of the flat. The wonderful Alex and Beth gave their time on this gloriously sunny Saturday to help me raise more money for my trip. Folks stopped by, said hello, bought my 50c crap, ate Kim's delicious brownies, the Garage Sale Trail had begun. It was so fantastic seeing friends stop by and some of them even helped the cause by buying a thing or two.
A mean-spirited neighbour almost ruined my day. She was insistent that I was breaking the law (I wasn't!), she tried to make me pack up and leave (not after putting all that hard work in!), she made my friends cry and get angry (yikes!) and she generally pulled the martyr card and made me feel wretched. As if it isn't hard enough to part with things you've held onto for over half your life, to have someone being mean and shouting at you in front of the whole street, it almost broke me.
My mind turned to car boot sales I would do with my mum when I was a teenager. My two best friends and I would save up all our worthless rubbish and once a year get up at the crack of dawn, and mum would drive us over to Pontefract racecourse for a 6am start. We'd stand in the freezing cold, drinking tea out of a flask and being completely baffled when someone would walk away without purchasing anything. Towards the end of the day, mum would shove everything into a big pile and shout 'everything 10 pence'! and we'd get a rush on. The three of us would then gleefully split our earnings, usually spending every last penny on an annual pilgrimage to Camden Market (where I'm sure we bought more worthless crap which ended up in the next year's car boot sale pile).
The similarities here were that, unless you're selling knocked-off DVDs, the earnings you make don't really justify the hours you put in. I probably averaged out at $5 an hour and that's not counting the efforts of others, which really isn't a good enough ROI in my mind.
Still, I managed to get rid of a whole load of stuff, raise a few bob and complete the heart-wrenching act of sorting through my belongings. A good step in the right direction. Also, the actions of my neighbour made me feel less forlorn about leaving my lovely little flat and becoming the littlest hobo.
