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The drizzle had cleared by the time I stepped out of the Lucerne on Fernberg Road, and the air had that crisp, post-rain smell of eucalyptus and wet bitumen. I'd woken early, which is becoming a habit here — the light at 6:30 in the morning in Brisbane is soft and gold, and the streets are still quiet except for the occasional magpie. Today was the day I'd been looking forward to since I landed: getting up to Mount Coot-tha for the lookout, and finally seeing the city laid out below me like a map I could actually read.

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I'd planned to drive, but the ute is still at the mechanic's getting the brake fluid topped up, so I walked down to the bus stop on Boundary Road and waited. A woman with a trolley bag and a man in a hi-vis vest were already there, and we all nodded at each other the way you do here. The bus came on time — the 471, heading west. I tapped my contactless card on the reader, and the driver just said, 'G'day,' like he'd known me for years. That 50-cent flat fare is no joke: I paid about half a dollar for a ride that would have cost me six or seven bucks in Sydney. It's permanent now, apparently, and it's the cheapest transit of any Australian capital. You can't argue with that.

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The bus wound its way up through Paddington and Bardon, past rows of Queenslanders with their tin roofs and wooden stumps, and I got a glimpse of the city skyline shrinking behind us. The whole ride took maybe twenty-five minutes, and by the time we pulled into the summit car park, the sun had burned off the last of the morning clouds. The lookout at Mount Coot-tha is a big stone platform with a railing, and on a clear day like this one, you can see all of Brisbane spread out beneath you — the CBD towers, the winding curve of the river, and the grey-blue smear of Moreton Bay on the horizon. There's a café up there too, but I'd brought a thermos of coffee from the flat, so I stood at the railing, sipping it, and just stared for a while.

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I could see the Story Bridge, that big cantilevered thing from the 1930s, and the Wheel of Brisbane turning slowly at South Bank. I could see the green rectangle of the City Botanic Gardens, and further out, the brown smudge of the airport where my plane had landed three days ago. The thought hit me that this is my city now, at least for a while. I'm not just passing through. I've got a lease and a bank account and a SIM card with a local number. That's a strange feeling when you're used to being a tourist — the shift from looking at a place to living in it.

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Before I left, I did a quick check of what's on this week. There's the Ekka, the Royal Queensland Show, which is apparently celebrating its 150th year — it runs from the 8th to the 16th of August, and locals have been talking about it nonstop. They reckon the showbags are half the fun, and the Grand Parade with all the animals is the big draw. I'm told it's worth checking if you're into that sort of thing. There's also Night Feast, which is a free night food-and-art market down at the Brisbane Powerhouse in New Farm, running until the 23rd. I've already been once, but I might go again with a friend I've made at the local café — it's a good way to spend a summer evening, even in winter.

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From the lookout, I took the path down into the Mount Coot-tha Botanic Gardens. It's a long, winding walk through bushland that eventually opens into formal gardens — there's a Japanese garden with a little stream and a bridge, and a big glasshouse with tropical plants. The whole place is free, which is nice, and on a winter morning like this, when the air is cool and the sun is low, it feels almost magical. I walked for about an hour, past ponds with lily pads, and a patch of eucalypts where a flock of lorikeets was making an absolute racket. The path was still damp from the rain, and the ground smelled of mulch and damp earth. I saw a couple of water dragons sunning themselves on a rock — they're everywhere along the river in Brisbane, and they always look like they're posing for a photo.

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By midday, I was hungry, so I decided to treat myself to a proper lunch in the city. I'd read about a place called Longwang on Charlotte Street — a modern Chinese restaurant that I'd seen mentioned online as one of the best in town. It's on the level above a laneway, and when I walked in, it was all dark wood, brass fixtures, and a long bar with a row of hanging ducks. I sat at a corner table and ordered the dumplings and a bowl of noodles. It wasn't cheap — about 30 bucks for a casual meal, which is on the higher end for lunch here — but the food was seriously good. The dumplings came out steaming, with a thin, slightly chewy skin, and the chili oil that came with them was the perfect heat. A local beer, about nine bucks for a pint, washed it all down. Sitting there, watching the lunch crowd fill up the room, I felt like I was starting to get a feel for this city's rhythm.

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After lunch, I walked it off along the river. The CityCat ferry is the best way to see Brisbane, honestly — it's a catamaran that runs up and down the river, and the flat 50-cent fare applies there too. I tapped on at the North Quay terminal and stood at the back of the boat, watching the CBD glide past. The wind was cool, and the light was starting to go that golden-amber color that makes everything look like a postcard. We passed the Story Bridge, the Kangaroo Point cliffs, and the old wharves that are getting turned into apartments. A guy next to me was talking to his mate about the Ekka, and it struck me how much Brisbane wears its heart on its sleeve. It's a big city, but it still feels like a place where people say g'day to strangers on the bus.

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I got off at New Farm and wandered over to the Brisbane Powerhouse, that old power station turned arts venue on the river. It's a classic Brisbane thing — a brick monolith with a chimney, but inside it's all performance spaces and bars. There's a farmer's market there on weekends, and a café that does a decent flat white for about four and a half bucks. I sat at a table outside, looking at the river, and pulled out my phone to start mapping the road north. Cairns is a long way — about 1,700 kilometers, roughly 20 hours of driving if I did it in one go, which I won't. I'm planning on taking a week, maybe more. I want to stop in the beef towns of the Burnett and the sugar towns around Mackay, get off the highway and onto the country roads, and finally end up at the reef, right up at Cairns. I've been reading about the dry-season tropics — how the days are warm and clear, how the cane fires burn at night, and how the reef is at its most accessible this time of year. But first, I need to get the ute back, finish some paperwork, and maybe make it to the Ekka on Saturday.

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I checked the time and realized I'd been out for hours. The sun was getting low over the river, and the air was turning that crisp winter cold that Brisbane gets in August. I walked back to the ferry terminal, my coat zipped up to my chin, and took the CityCat back to South Bank. The sky was a wash of pink and orange over the Story Bridge, and the lights of the Wheel of Brisbane were just starting to come on. I thought about how, three days ago, I'd landed with nothing but a suitcase and a vague plan. Now I've got a rental in Highgate Hill, a bank account, a tax file number, and a ute to pick up tomorrow. I've still got a lot to figure out, but for the first time since I landed, I feel like I'm not just acclimatising to a place — I'm actually making a life here.

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Back at the flat, I made myself a simple dinner — some pasta, a salad, a glass of milk that cost me about two bucks at the supermarket. I sat at the kitchen table with my notebook, writing down the days ahead: paperwork tomorrow morning, then the ute, then the Ekka on Saturday, and then, maybe on Monday, I'll start the drive north. The road from Brisbane to Cairns is a long one, but I've got the time, the wheels, and a growing list of places I want to see. I flicked off the light and listened to the night sounds of Highgate Hill — a dog barking somewhere, a car passing, the faint hum of the city below. Tomorrow's another day, and I've got a lot to do.

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I woke to the sound of a magpie carolling outside the window, which is apparently my new alarm clock. The morning was crisp and clear again, and I could see the sun catching the top of Mount Coot-tha from my kitchen window. I made a coffee, grabbed my notebook, and sat down on the back step to plan the week. The ute should be ready by ten, and I've got an appointment at the mechanic to pick it up. Then I might swing by the Ekka showgrounds to see what the set-up looks like, and grab a dagwood dog while I'm at it — I was told those are a must. The city's been good to me so far. The rent on my flat is around 400 bucks a week, which is steep by Australian standards but about what I'd pay in any big city. A meal out is usually 18 to 30 bucks, a coffee is under five, and transit is cheap enough that I don't even think about it. It's not the cheapest place in the world, but it feels fair for what you get. And what you get is a river city with a laid-back energy that's starting to feel like home.

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I think that's it for today. Thanks for riding along with me on this slow, steady settling-in. If you're thinking of doing something like this — moving overseas, or even just taking a long trip — the thing I'd tell you is to give yourself time. Don't try to cram everything into the first week. Let the place come to you a little. Let the bus driver say g'day, let the lorikeets wake you up, let the river show you around. That's how you find a place, I think. You let it find you. I'll be back in a couple of days with more from Brisbane, and then, not long after, the road north. Until then — take care of yourselves, and I'll see you on the road.