Bula! (Part 1-Mainland Fiji)

In our time here we have discovered many amazing places in Australia; however, one of the best things about our new home is the proximity to a place they call….Fiji. Having spent the majority of my life 10,000 miles away from the South Pacific, I have always considered Fiji as one of the most exotic destinations in the world. There is no doubt that the further away a destination is the more enchanting it seems. For example, Australians think of the Caribbean as much more exotic than Fiji. In America, the opposite is true, and Fiji has always been high on my list of places to see. However, Fiji has always been out of my reach as a flight from the States costs $1,500 or more and takes roughly 24 hours. When I realized that direct flights from Sydney are only four hours and can cost less than $400, I had no choice but to plan a trip.

The perfect opportunity presented itself when my friends Ap and John decided to visit in August. Ap came to Sydney for about a week before the two of us left (on separate flights) to meet John in Fiji. Arriving at the Nadi (pronounced Nandi) airport, I am pleased to discover that customs are as laid back as you might expect in a place like Fiji. From the time I touch down to the moment I step out into the warm Fijian sun is literally ten minutes. That even includes a stop at the ATM, where I happily receive two Fijian dollars for each U.S. one. As instructed by my handy guide book, I haggle briefly with the cabbie, and I’m quickly on my way to the Rendezvous Surf Dive Resort. Keep in mind the word resort is used rather loosely in Fiji (and, at times, in Australia for that matter). Within two minutes of leaving the airport, we are on a small two-lane highway that feels more like a country road. No big city to drive through and no airport traffic. I love Fiji already.

Driving south of Nadi, we pass a colorful Hindu temple and a few local buses apparently shipped via time machine from the 1960s. Excluding the windshield, bus windows in Fiji are completely removed to cool off the locals crammed into the seats. I imagine this to be quite inconvenient when driving down one of Fiji’s many dust-clouded dirt roads, or even worse, on a rainy day; however, the Fijians don’t seem to mind. After 20 minutes in the cab, we turn down a rocky, dirt road and wind our way for miles through sugarcane fields until we make a stop at an unmarked gate, presumably my destination. Either that, or the field where they take unsuspecting tourists to play a game of give me your wallet. Fortunately, after a minute or two, the gate is opened by a worker, whom I’m pretty sure had been sleeping in a truck, and I am happy to find myself in the right place. The Rendezvous is an interesting resort to say the least. For starters, nearly everyone-myself excluded-who stays there falls into one of two categories; surfers from all over the world looking for cheap accommodation near the legendary reef breaks, and Japanese students/families who live there temporarily while learning English. The Rendezvous, which feels more like summer camp than a resort, is centered around an open air, rustic dining room/lounge and deck overlooking the water. The resort is run by a friendly and laid-back Fijian (I’m not sure there is any other kind) named Nico, who is also more than happy to hand out beat downs over at the Ping Pong table. After several games of Ping Pong and as many local brews, we are introduced to an age old Fijian tradition, the Kava circle.

A large rectangular mat made from Pandanus leaves is laid on the deck, and we all gather round to watch the preparation of the Kava. A fine powder ground from the root of the Kava plant is mixed with cold water in a large wooden bowl and strained with a silk cloth. The result is a brownish liquid with mild sedative properties. If by some chance, you have missed the memo to kick back and relax and you still have shoes on, they must be removed while sitting in the Kava Circle. There is; however, no age limit as evidenced by the four Japanese kids across from me. After the preparation is completed, a halved coconut used as a communal cup is dipped into the Kava and the drinking begins. For several individuals-John included-this is not the first time at the Kava circle, and I quickly learn that before each person takes a drink I am to loudly say “Bula” (the Fijian equivalent to Aloha) in unison with the others in the circle, and clap three times in a slow rhythmic fashion. As John finishes his cup of Kava-which is to be done in one large drink-we say Maca and clap twice. This process is repeated for everyone, staff included, at the circle, and as my turn comes, I get my first taste of the Kava. The earthy flavor and at times gritty texture of the Kava is followed by a slight numbing sensation on the lips, and although not exactly tasty is not as bad as it sounds. Of much greater concern, is the fact that all 15 of us are sharing the same cup, and that same cup is being used to stir the remaining Kava. Not exactly sanitary, but if ever there is a time to let your worries (and germophobia) go, it is now. After everyone has a drink of Kava, we relax and talk for awhile, and then at no specific time it is decided to start another round. And then another one. This goes on until the big bowl of Kava is gone leaving behind a feeling of relaxation, which-in all fairness-has as much to do with spending an evening amongst old friends enjoying the hospitality and traditions of the Fijian people as it does with the Kava itself. As I make my way back to the room on a warm evening beneath a thousand stars and beside the seas of the South Pacific, I find myself slipping into that wonderfully peaceful frame of mind…Fiji time.

Things You Didn't Know

In one of my previous blogs, I listed several common perceptions Americans have about Australia. Some of them are fairly accurate, and others are way off. In this post, however, I thought I would focus on things you don’t know about Australia (or at least that I didn’t know before coming here). I may have mentioned some of these things in my previous posts, but rather than go back and read the entire blog, I will take the risk of repeating myself.

1. Australians love to abbreviate words – We had read about this before coming to Australia but had no idea just how prevalent this trend is. If there is any possible way of shortening a word, you can bet the Aussies have figured it out. For example: breakfast = brekky, Woolworths = Woolies, Mackers = McDonalds, footy = football, sunnies = sunglasses, swimmers of bathers = bathing suit, esky = cooler, gents = mens bathroom, and of course barbie = barbecue. For the most part, these abbreviations are fairly logical and you can usually tell what they’re referring to. On the other hand, a few abbreviations require translation such as ‘arvo’ which means afternoon. I’m not sure exactly why the Aussies love to abbreviate so much. Some Aussies claim that its laziness, but I prefer to think of it as a product of the laid back, relaxed culture.

2. One big Vegas – You can literally gamble anywhere and everywhere in Australia. I have yet to find a pub that doesn’t have an entire room filled with ‘pokeys’ (the equivalent of a slot machine) and a wall of TV’s dedicated to horse/dog races. The gambling areas are usually somewhat hidden in the back of the pub, so they won’t jump out at you when you first walk in. But believe me, behind some door and somewhere nearby, there is some gambling going on. In addition to the Pokeys and the races, one can also legally bet on any Aussie sporting event. Rather than waste your time looking for a bookie, just jump on one of the websites that are commonly advertised on TV. That’s right, TV commercials for sports gambling sites. If you need to know the line for the game, don’t worry, it will be displayed on the TV broadcast before the start of the game. Despite the limitless opportunities to gamble, it doesn’t really seem to be a huge problem here, and most of the Aussies I have met don’t gamble at all.

3. Aussie Sports – This one deserves an entire post of its own, and one day I will get around to writing it. Until then, I will give you a brief rundown. Rugby, Cricket, and Aussie Rules Football (AFL) are the major sports in Oz. Cricket has lost popularity in the modern era, and I only feel the need to say one thing about this ridiculous game. The typical version of cricket has matches that last for 5 days. 5 days!!!! As if that’s not bad enough, the two teams can play for all five days and have the game end as no result. I don’t mean a tie, I mean no result. It goes down in the books as if the game were never even played. I challenge you to find anything more absurd than that. Good luck. The two dominant sports here are rugby and AFL. At some point, most of you have probably seen rugby on TV, but I doubt you have ever even heard of the AFL. It originated in Melbourne, and according to most Melbournians, it is THE sport in Australia. Sydney on the other hand prefers the National Rugby League (NRL), which is a slightly different version of traditional rugby. Depending on where you find yourself in Australia, or who you’re talking to for that matter, “footy” refers to either rugby or AFL or even soccer. As an outsider being exposed to numerous different sports all at once, this can be quite confusing. On top of that, there are two versions of rugby played in Australia, each with a different set of rules. I won’t go into further detail for now, but expect a lengthy post on Aussie sports in the near future.

4. Less Censorship – When compared to the United States, there is much less censorship in Australia. For one, news broadcasts show much more graphic images than do those in the States. Nudity is far less taboo, and on the front page of the Sydney Herald a couple months ago was a picture, albeit very small, of two topless women. The article was a protest of some sort, but the fact that the picture made the front page was quite surprising. In addition, there are several nude beaches in the area. Completely unedited reruns of the show Entourage are shown on the Arena channel, the equivalent to the USA channel, and four-letter words on any TV or radio program are much less likely to get beeped out.

5. Minimum Wage – The national minimum wage in Australia is $15.00/hour. Sure this results in having to pay a bit more for things, but there are some very positive side effects. For example, people have more pride in their jobs and are not as bitter as they would be if they were being paid, say…..$7.25/hour. Why does this matter? A good way to put it into perspective is a comparison between two well known establishments: Wendy’s and Chick-Fil-A. I will assume you have been to both. If not, turn off the computer, stand up, and immediately go treat yourself to a Frosty and a chicken biscuit. Mmmm…..chicken biscuits. And get some fries to dip in your Frosty. I know, it sound gross, it's not, it's good. Really good. Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, on one hand you have the Wendy’s in Charleston where the Frosty machine is always “broken” after 9 pm, which is code for we already cleaned it because we want to get the hell out of here. And there was that one time when my request for ketchup was met with the response “We out.” No apology, just a tone that seemed to say “I couldn’t care less if you want ketchup, and how dare you even ask.” Then there is Chick-Fil-A where, despite the long lines, your food is ready before you can get the money out of your wallet, and it is always served with a smile. Chick-Fil-A has created a better work environment by providing higher wages for management roles as compared to Wendy's. All I’m saying is that a little extra pay makes all the difference in the world. Workers are happier, and it gives the customer a much more pleasant experience. Not to mention the fact that it creates a society with a lot less people below the poverty line. On the other hand, at $7.25/hour, a full-time employee working 52 weeks a year would only earn $15,080/year before taxes. No wonder they’re so bitter.

6. Parliamentary System – The Australian form of government is very similar to England’s, and I won’t bore you with all the details on how it works. Not that I actually even know all the details. Anyway, the one item worth mentioning is the fact that specific leaders are not elected, but rather a party is voted into power. During an election, the party leader is certainly marketed like a candidate would be in the states, but your vote is for the party, not the Prime Minister. The big difference is that the Prime Minister can be replaced at any time by their own party. And that’s exactly what happened to the former Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, in June of this year. On the evening news I heard that one of the cabinet members, Julia Gillard, was forcing a leadership ballot to possibly replace Rudd. I figured that like anything in politics it would take months to sort out. I was wrong. At roughly 2:00 pm the next day, Australia had a new Prime Minister. Just like that. Out of nowhere, and literally overnight, we had a new Prime Minister in Australia and the first female one in history. Another unique thing is that there is no specific date for an election, and it is decided on by the party in power. Therefore, when their popularity is strong they can call an election. Makes no sense.

7. Politically Correct? – The Australians are not exactly what you would call politically correct, at least not when compared to the States. For example, on most city buses the symbol for a handicapped person is not the seated stick figure in a wheelchair you are used to seeing, but rather a man whose leg is missing at the knee. To indicate a crossing frequented by the elderly, you might see a sign of a man hunched over with one hand on his back and the other on his cane. These symbols are not meant to be disrespectful in any way, but are rather a product of a more laid back and less sensitive culture. If people took offense to it, I’m sure they would change it, but nobody seems to mind or even notice. Oh yeah, and then there is this....
Blake has also informed me that the word "poo" is often used during official presentations at her lab. It's good to know that the scientific community has decided to go with a third-grade word instead of say...fecal sample. Another example of the Aussies lack of political correctness is an incident involving Harry Connick Jr. last year. Connick was invited to be a guest star at a 10-year reunion of a sketch comedy show called Hey Hey it’s Saturday. I did not see the show, but apparently one of the skits was a parody on the Jackson Five. The characters painted their faces black for the skit, and Connick, who was obviously offended said, “If they showed up looking like that in the United States, it’d be Hey Hey There’s no more show.” Needless to say, the cultural differences were quite apparent.

8. A Young Country – As of the year 1900, Australia was still under British rule. It wasn’t until 1901 that it actually became a nation. Until then, each state basically functioned as autonomous colonies, and in many ways they still do. Some public holidays are different in each state. Only a portion of Australia observes daylight savings time, so depending on which time of year it is Sydney is either 2 or 3 hours ahead of Perth. Oh, and the Central Standard Time is only 30 minutes behind the Eastern Standard Time. Where it really gets strange is when you look at the railroads in Australia. Historically, each state used a different gauge (width) for the railroads, meaning that trains in one state would not function on the rails in another state. Cargo travelling across the country would have to be offloaded from one train and loaded onto another at state lines. Only recently have most of the gauges been standardized; however, it is still an ongoing process. Some rail lines are not functional to this day because of varying track widths.

9. Meat Raffle - The concept of a raffle is certainly nothing new. In the States, you see them quite often. There are generally a wide variety of prizes including electronics, a gift certificate, a bar tab, or free food. The Aussies, however, do it differently. Instead of giving away a free meal at a restaurant, they raffle off the "meat tray," an assortment of raw steaks, sausages, lamb chops, etc... Some of you may have seen this before (I hear they do it in Minnesota) but it was certainly new to me. Who raffles off a big tray of raw meat at the bar? And who wants to carry raw meat around all night? But it could be worse. In some areas of Australia, they have taken it up a notch and raffled off an entire living cow. I don't even know what to say about that.

10. An Over Dependence on Cutlery - Australians seem to eat everything with a knife and fork. Such a prim and proper behavior seems at odds with typical Australian culture, and must without a doubt be a remnant of its British heritage. I mean, where else in the world can you walk shoeless into a coffee shop and draw no attention, but then stand out like a sore thumb for using your hands to eat a muffin. I think the epitome of this phenomenon occurred during our first few weeks in Australia. Seated at the table next to us, and on what appeared to be a first date, was a young couple eating chips and salsa with a knife and fork. Really? How is that even possible? I know one thing though, this guy would feel right at home in Australia.

Our First Visitors (Part II)

The next morning we walked the quiet streets of Young looking for some breakfast while keeping an eye out for possibly the strangest store in the world. We had read about it in Bill Bryson's book "Down Under" written more than 10 years ago (you may have noticed that I keep mentioning this book-I highly recommend that you read it-just don't hold my blog up to that standard). As described by Bryson, this shop was a pet store in the front and an adult shop in the back. Surely, such an odd combination of goods could not have survived for more than a decade. Oh, but it did. And you couldn't miss it. I had assumed that the adult section would be "hush-hush," and only apparent once in the store. We were, after all, on Main St. in a small town. However, Herrett's Book Shop and Aquarium was anything but discreet, and the storefront made every possible effort to draw attention to exactly what was going on inside. Can you imagine if Herrett decided to franchise, and open his second store on Main St. in some place like....Danville? You wouldn't be able to drive down the street for all the protesters. Now I'm not saying the world needs a second store like this (or even a first one for that matter), but I do find it interesting that small town Aussies are apparently laid back enough to allow such a place.

Heading out of Young, we drove for about an hour in the direction of the coast before making a slight detour to visit Canberra (pronounced Can-bruh), the capital of Australia. We had been warned by nearly everyone who had been to Canberra that it wasn't worth the trip. In fact, I think it's the only place in Australia that people will tell you not to visit. Nevertheless, our route was going right by the city, and we figured we might as well give it a shot. It's an inland city located between Sydney and Melbourne, although closer to Sydney. Thanks to a rivalry between the two big cities, neither of which could stomach the thought of the other becoming the capital, Canberra was selected out of compromise in 1908. At the time, Canberra was nothing more than farm land. As a result, the city is entirely planned, and the design came from the winner of an international contest. I would hate to see what the loser came up with. The Parliament building is built into the ground in the center of the city, and everything else radiates like bicycle spokes from there. Entering the city, we drove down a long straight four-lane highway lined with mid-rise commercial buildings and offices. It was a Sunday afternoon, and the place was practically a ghost town. I kept thinking that around the next corner would be a quaint little bustling street filled with restaurants and shops. If such a street was hiding somewhere in Canberra, we never found it. Aside from a few randomly placed restaurants, there was nothing but empty office buildings. I have no idea how Canberrans manage to entertain themselves in this city. I was beginning to realize why several former prime ministers had snubbed Canberra and lived in Sydney instead. A three-hour commute is apparently less daunting than the thought of actually living in Canberra. I will say, however, that the parliamentary building was quite impressive, and I thoroughly enjoyed the halls of the House of Representatives and the Senate. Our time in Canberra was short and in all fairness to the city, I'm sure it has more to offer than what we saw. It has to.

We continued up the road towards the Southern Highlands, an area of small mountains south of Sydney near the east coast. Along the way, we passed tons of sheep, nice small towns, a dried up lake filled with sheep, scenic rocky green fields, several kangaroos, and more sheep. By this time it was getting late, and so began our search for a place to stay. It was a Sunday night; we were surrounded by small towns, and finding a place for the night seemed like an easy task. Our first attempt was an old "hotel" in the town of Bundanoon. The place was a bit run down but it looked like a great spot to belly up to the dimly lit bar and soak up some local culture. The bartender informed us that there were 65 rooms upstairs, none of which were occupied that night. However, they were fully booked the night before and none of the rooms had been cleaned. I though about asking if it was possible to clean two of the rooms, but I got the feeling that was out of the question. With another option down the road we moved along figuring it was for the best. The next place had been rented out for a school trip, and on to the next town we went. We looked for a room in every hotel we passed, but nobody had clean rooms. This unfortunate pattern continued through each of the next two towns, and it had become quite obvious that maids in this part of the country refused to work on Sunday. Like several other experiences in Australia, I got the feeling that I had stepped back in time. Back to an era when things moved at a slower pace and when giving people the day off on Sunday took priority over operating a business. It was a bit frustrating, but at the same time refreshing. In the end, after what must have been close to 15 failures, we finally found a a great hotel on the outskirts of Moss Vale. It featured a cozy restaurant/bar warmed by two fireplaces and heaps of Christmas decorations. Christmas decorations you ask? Yes, July is the coldest month of the year-it feels most like the Christmas season-and Australians often celebrate something they call "Christmas in July." They put up decorations, serve meals with traditional fare, and put Rudolph the Red Nosed Kangaroo on the stereo. It is quite the experience, and despite all our troubles locating a hotel that night, things had definitely worked out for the best.

We spent the next day visiting small villages, waterfalls, and gorges throughout the Southern Highlands before making our way over to Woollongong and up the coastal highway back to Sydney. We stopped at a couple lookouts along the way, and enjoyed the spectacular stretch of road that hovers above the ocean while hugging the sea cliffs. On our three day road trip we had seen so much despite never being more than a five-hour drive away from Sydney. When most people think of Australia, they only picture the coast and the outback. Those two things certainly exist here in large quantities, but there is so much else to see including mountains, canyons, wine country, caves, waterfalls, rural countryside, etc... There are so many different environments on Sydney's doorstep, and it's great to know how easily we can escape the city should we get the urge.

Our First Visitors (Part I)

We have now been in Australia for nearly five months, which is by far the longest we have ever been away from friends and family back home. Needless to say, we were very excited for the arrival of our first visitors, Brad and Mae. They arrived early on a Friday morning, and I met them at the train station to welcome them to Oz. They were excited to be here, but they couldn't hide that look that inevitably comes with a 30-hour trip packed with boredom, sleep deprivation, and bad food. As memories of our first day came flooding back, I was not jealous. We dropped their bags at the apartment and then did what anyone in that situation does...goes for coffee. Aside from lots of caffeinated beverages, the best way to fight the overwhelming urge of falling into a deep coma is to stay on the move. Unfortunately the rain kept us indoors for a big part of the day, but we left for an early happy hour at the Greenwood Hotel in North Sydney. I had accidentally discovered this place a couple weeks earlier, and we were eager to make our first visit. Formerly a school, but more closely resembling a church, the building is constructed with large stone blocks, high vaulted ceilings and ornate windows. Completely out of place, it is situated above an underground mall and surrounded by the skyscrapers of the North Sydney CBD. It was a lively atmosphere for happy hour, and we had a great time before heading back early to allow our guests a long awaited night of sleep. Bedtime came at 8 pm (the same time we crashed on our first night), and before you accuse anyone of being a 90-year old, I challenge you to make the journey and stay up past 8. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible.

We spent their first weekend exploring Sydney, and then they headed up the coast for a few days. Blake and I went to meet them the following Friday night in the Blue Mountains. They had driven straight there, so we were taking the train to Katoomba. After a couple connections, we boarded the Blue Mountain line, and it was refreshingly different than the typical CityRail trains. It felt like it had been designed in the 70s, but at least it was roomier and more luxurious, if you dare to call it that, than the normal trains. On the other hand, it was packed, and Blake and I were forced to sit at opposite ends of the train. We were lucky to find seats at all. But hey, it was only a two hour ride. On top of that, I found myself on the the worst part of the train, the section at the back of the car where the seats face each other. Whoever designed this feature was obviously unaware of the concept of personal space. Aside from rubbing knees, you could literally high five your new neighbor without even leaning forward. The 60 some year old lady seated across from me seemed fairly normal, except for the fact that she had clearly just cleaned out the entire inventory at a store named something like Big and Tacky Jewelery Warehouse and then decided to wear all of it on the train ride home. Without Blake to talk to, and certainly without any chance of socializing with my new neighbor, I found my mind wondering into those realms only brought on by extreme boredom. How do they manage to keep the carpet on this train clean, I remember thinking. It must be that people coming to and from the Blue Mountains don't litter as much as the city folk, I thought. It was at this moment, that my useless train of thought was disrupted by the sound of 47 jangling bracelets. Quickly and swiftly, although not as subtle as she would have liked, the lady across from me took the core of her recently devoured apple and tossed it behind her seat. She then begin to clean her hands by frantically licking her fingers. Not a moment too soon, the train ride took a turn for the better as two seats opened up. I quickly escaped the littering grandma and spent the rest of the ride in peace next to Blake.

As the train doors opened in Katoomba, our destination, it was immediately apparent that it was winter in the mountains. Not that 60 degree kind of winter you find in Sydney, but real, actual winter. Despite the temperature, I was quickly warmed by that feeling you get when you find yourself in a cozy mountain town on a cold day. We had been to Katoomba months earlier when it was warm and beautiful, but I liked it much better on this occasion. There is something about the cold weather that brings out the charm of a place like Katoomba. After settling into our home for the night, we found Brad and Mae and headed back towards the heart of town for the evening. According to the locals, our best bet was the Old City Bank Bar & brasserie next to the historic Carrington Hotel. We were not disappointed. The atmosphere was great, the beer was cold, and the Kangaroo sandwich was delicious. Shortly after dinner, the sounds of an accordion, a stand-up bass, and an acoustic guitar began emanating from the bar downstairs. The band had an odd but upbeat polka/spanish style music, and it was fantastic. The lively crowd was highly entertained, and we were no exception. Leaving the bar, we decided to take a quick walk through the Carrington Hotel. Perched on top of a hill, the hotel towers over the heart of Katoomba, and its grandeur is impressive to say the least. Opened in 1882, it was once considered the premier tourist resort in the Southern Hemisphere. And for good reason. As we stepped inside, we were greeted with a well preserved 19th century elegance you would expect to see at the Biltmore. Guests were spread throughout the maze-like first floor in rooms appropriately labeled the lounge, the billiard room, the ball room, the library, the dining room, etc. Behind every door we opened, I was certain we would find Colonel Mustard with a Candlestick. If the board game Clue was not inspired by a visit to this very hotel, I would be shocked.

The next morning we went for coffee in the quaint nearby village of Leura and visited Echo Point, a lookout for viewing the Three Sisters and the vast wooded canyon below. From there the road trip began. Heading west we made our way through Lithgow and Bathhurst before taking a slight detour to the historic town of Carcoar. Turning down the main road was like stepping into the late 1800s. And not into one of those kitchy "historic" towns that has a bunch of recreated old buildings filled with candy & souvenir shops and other forms of tourist bait. This was the real thing. Or as close to it as I have seen. There was a classic Aussie Hotel, a General Store, a Post Office, and by far my favorite, a Toy Museum that was closed due to, get this, flatulence. I kid you not. I can't make that kind of stuff of. There in the window, clearly posted for all to read - not that anyone was around - was a sign prominently stating the reason for closure. After some long and serious laughter we walked down the road to see if we could find anywhere open for lunch. To our surprise we found a great gourmet restaurant in this quiet little town. After a satisfying meal, we headed up the hill to the train station hovering above the village. The antiquated station was desolate, an old sign revealed the last train had rolled through in 2005, and it now served as a simple reminder of busier times gone by. Surprisingly, there was no graffiti or broken glass or anything else you would expect to find at an abandoned train stop. Instead, the station was well maintained and even appeared to have a fresh coat of paint. It was as if the locals had refused to give up hope that another train might one day roll through Carcoar.

As we continued our journey through the remote countryside that lies west of the Blue Mountains, we passed through endless farmland occasionally interrupted by small villages. At around two in the afternoon we came to the only commercial building for miles, the local "hotel." A faded Foster's Lager mural on the side of the dilapidated building compelled us to make a pit stop. We ordered a cold beer and grabbed a table outside close enough to eavesdrop on a handful of weathered locals having an early drink. After soaking up the culture for awhile, we continued down the road towards Young. Every so often we would pass another "hotel" in the middle of nowhere, and I couldn't help but be awed by the fact that no matter how far you venture away from civilization in this vast country, you will never be far from the local pub.

We reached Young before dark and found a place on Main St. to stay for the night. Young is similar to most small towns in Australia in that it has a wide main street lined with shops, hotels and angled parking. Small towns in Australia have the feel of stepping back into the 60's, or at least what I imagine the 60's to be like. The towns are filled with one family-owned specialty shop after another, and there are not nearly as many national and global chains everywhere. As Bill Bryson said in his book about Australia, Young is the kind of place where you drive into town when you need something instead of out of it. It's a very refreshing trend, and the result is that each small town has it's own character. I can't tell you how nice it is when you don't have to drive to the outskirts of town and spend your day shopping at a big metal warehouse surrounded by a huge parking lot. Even when you do find a national or global chain in a small town (or even Sydney for that matter) it is usually blended in with the local shops. Parking is always underneath or behind the building and the result is that the heart of town maintains its character and remains a walkable community. That being said, Australian towns are in danger of losing what makes them so charming. At the end of Main St. in Young, for example, is a new Big W (the Australian version of Wal-Mart) and a new Woolworths grocery that closely resemble the big-box stores so commonly seen in the States. I hope for Australia's sake, that the country resists the invasion of this type of development which will ruin the character of towns and eliminate Mom-and-Pop stores.

That night, we had some good Thai food for dinner and then headed to one of Young's many pubs for a drink. We ended up at a local hang-out, and it didn't take long to realize that they subscribed to the old way of doing things. The bartender gave us a long winded description of the proper way to pour a beer without wasting a single drop. She explained that once a customer was down to the last mouthful of beer, it was expected that the bartender would automatically bring another one over. If you were done for the night, she explained, you were to turn your glass on it side. She told us about classic Australian bands, such as Cold Chisel and Jimmy Barnes, and even had the locals play a couple of tunes for us on the jukebox. One friendly local came up and began telling us all about Young, and I suddenly realized that this was the Australia I had been looking for. We had found the laid back, friendly, old-school culture we had envisioned Australia to have. We had found the "real Australia."

You thought you knew...

It's no secret that Australia is very far from the United States, and it's no surprise that very little is known about this distant land. Australia seems to slide under the global radar, and unless you're paying attention, you might miss it. Even if you are paying attention, you won’t hear much about it. As a result, the majority of Australian knowledge held by most Americans comes from TV shows, movies, and Men at Work videos . Surprisingly, these sources are not always an accurate representation of life in Australia. Who knew? So I've decided to set the record straight. Below is a list of things we heard about Australia before moving here as well as an explanation of whether or not they are true (Keep in mind, however, that my experiences are largely limited to Sydney and may not be representative of Australia as a whole).

1. “Fosters…Australian for Beer” – It took me nine days in Australia to even see a Fosters logo, and I’ve never seen it on tap or in a store. I’ve only seen one person drinking it in the four months we have been here, and he was probably a tourist. It’s safe to say that Fosters is not Australian for beer. However, Fosters does make Carlton and VB (short for Victoria Bitter), which are two of the most popular beers in Australia.
2. “18 of the world’s 20 most poisonous animals are in Australia.” – This one may be a slight overstatement, but there is no doubt that the majority of the world’s most venomous and deadly animals are in Australia. Several of these are in the ocean, and the box jellyfish is by far the worst. 5,567 deaths have been recorded since 1954 alone. The sting is so painful that many die of heart failure and shock before reaching the shore. Not exactly a relaxing day at the beach. There is also a poisonous Cone Snail that hangs out in shells at the beach, and more than a few poisonous fish. Most of these animals are not much of a threat in Sydney, however, and they certainly don’t keep people out of the ocean.
3.“Australians don't have peanut butter, only a vaguely similar product called Peanut Cheese” – I must say that this comment terrified me before coming to Australia. I could shake off all the talk about poisonous animals, but the thought of no peanut butter was almost too much to bear. Luckily, this rumor could not have been more false. Peanut butter is alive and well in Australia. And Ben is happy.
4. “All stores close early” – For the most part, this one is true. Shopping malls generally close at 5-6pm, although they normally have extended hours one night during the week. Some grocery stores are open until 10-11pm, but you won’t find any 24-hour shopping. On the other hand, bars are allowed to stay open 24 hours a day. Priorities, priorities.
5. “G’day Mate” – Thanks to our good buddy Crocodile Dundee, most Americans think this is the most common expression in Australia. And, well…..they’re right. I thought for sure the word “Mate” would be one of those things you only heard every so often, but I was dead wrong. Everyone says it, all the time, in all situations. In such a global age where unique cultures are constantly watered down by influences from the rest of the world, the word “mate” is a constant and pleasing reminder that you are indeed in Australia.
6. “Things are very expensive in Australia” – Unfortunately, this one is true. Very true. Rent is double, if not more, than what you would expect to pay in Charleston. Gas = $1.33/liter (over $5.00/gallon). Bottle of coke = $3.50-$4.00. Case of domestic beer = $39-$49. Yes, you read that correctly. Even shoes at Payless are expensive. All the above prices are in Australian dollars, and when adjusted for the USD, they are a little lower. But not much. On a positive note, the wages here are generally higher, and the purchasing power in Sydney not far behind what you would expect in the US.
7. “Everyone is laid back and the pace of life is slow” – This is a tough one to call for two reasons. One, Sydney is the biggest city in Australia and has the fastest pace of any city on the continent. Two, I just spent seven years in one of the most laid back cities in the States, and my perception on the pace of life back home may be a bit skewed. Nevertheless, I would consider Sydney a very relaxed place. For example, happy hour often starts at 3:00 on Friday, and having a beer at a work luncheon or even a business meeting is completely normal. In addition, it’s not entirely uncommon to see someone walking down the street or into a store barefoot. Insert Kentucky joke here. And I don’t mean one of those people that are one bad break away from the homeless shelter. These are totally normal looking shoeless people. On the other hand, Sydney does not have a shortage of assholes who think 70 miles an hour is an appropriate speed for crowded city streets. It is, after all, a big city. Overall, I would have to say that for such a large city, Sydney is a very relaxing place to live. I can only imagine how laid back things must be in the more remote areas of Australia.
8. “People ride Kangaroos to work” – I highly doubt this comment was a serious one, but the perception that Kangaroos are everywhere is held by many. Although you won’t ever see a Kangaroo in Sydney, you will almost certainly run into one outside the city. On our three weekend trips away from Sydney, we have seen Kangaroos twice. They are basically like deer in the States, except a little more common.
9. “Throw another Shrimp on the barbie” – The perception that Australians love to BBQ is entirely accurate. It is an integral part of nearly all outdoor social events, and you won’t find a public park or beach without BBQ facilities. There is one major flaw with the above comment, which is that Australians don’t use the word “Shrimp.” Instead, they call them “Prawns”. However, “throw another Prawn on the barbie,” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
10. “The Sun will burn you up” – We have not been here for the summer months yet, but I’m going to have to agree with the above comment. As you have probably heard, there is a hole in the ozone layer above Australia, and there is no doubt that the sun is intense. For example on a sunny day, it will feel 20 degrees hotter if you’re standing in the sun as opposed to the shade. The air temperature can be 70 degrees, but if you are in the sun, it will feel like 90. The sun here is hot. Really hot. And I’m very afraid. If you’ve ever been to the beach with me, you are well aware of my tendency to get a sunburn. When exposed to the sun, my skin goes through the following stages: 1) white, 2) red, 3) peeling, 4) white. There is apparently some deficiency in my DNA that prevents my skin from tanning. Needless to say, you should invest in sunscreen. My usage alone will boost sales by at least 15% this summer.

I’m sure there are several American perceptions of Australia that I have forgotten to mention. If you can think of any, list them in the comments. That is of course assuming, that someone is actually reading this.

P.S. If you become a follower, you will get email notifications when I post a new blog. It's very easy. Just click the link at the top left of this page

USA! USA! USA!

It's that time again. You know, that one month every four years when Americans, well at least a few of them, actually care about soccer. Time to find that mothball scented USA shirt you bought after 9/11 and have not seen since. Time to spend all morning watching games on your computer while pretending to work. Time for the World Cup. Soccer is the most popular global sport, and the World Cup has the power to completely shut down nations and fill their streets with rowdy cheering fans. In countries like England, fans that are bitter rivals during the Premier League will go from hating each other to cheering in unison at the local pub. The sense of nationalism displayed in these countries during the World Cup is unparalleled, and to me, this is what makes it such a special event. The US gets excited for the World Cup, but too a much lesser extent than many other nations. Can you imagine if American football was played around the globe, and had a World Cup of its own? We would go insane. I have always wanted to be in a soccer-crazed country to experience the mania of the World Cup. Now, I wouldn't exactly say that Australia has this kind of love for soccer, but they certainly seem more into the game than Americans.

In 2006, the Australians made it to their first World Cup in 32 years, and apparently the fan support was impressive enough to secure one of the six worldwide FIFA Fanfest Sites upon their 2010 return to the games. Set in Darling Harbor, the Fanfest Site consists of several huge jumbotrons floating in the harbor and showing every single second of World Cup action. In addition, there are international food vendors (even a doughnut stand), tasty beverages, and an incredible view of the Sydney skyline. I'm pretty sure you would have to actually be in South Africa to find a better seat to watch a game. The only drawback is that some of the games are very late at night. If you're not familiar with the time difference between Sydney and the US, and I don't know why you would be, we are 16 hours ahead of the eastern standard time. You guys are so yesterday. In Sydney, the start times for the games are 9:30 pm, midnight, and 4:30 am.

Our first and most anticipated group match for the US was against England on a Saturday night at 4:30 am. Blake and I were out of town on a weekend trip to the South Coast and were spending the night in the small town of Huskisson on the shores of Jervis Bay. The motel room had a small seating area with an L-shaped bench covered by a thin cushion that looked more like it belonged on a boat than in a motel. But it would have to do. I ambitiously set my alarm clock for 4:15 allowing myself enough time to get situated and not miss a minute of action. After hitting the snooze button a couple times, I awoke just after 4:30; turned on the tv, quickly hit the mute button as not to disrupt Blake, and immediately dropped my head in disappointment after seeing that England was already up 1-0 in the 5th minute of action. It looked as though we were picking up right where we left off in the last World Cup. When the US equalized in the 40th minute, I jumped up, mouthing inaudible cheers and pumping my fist, before settling back into my seat for the remainder of the game. It finished in a 1-1 draw, which is quite a respectable result against England.

After watching the first match in silence and solitude, I couldn't wait to head to the Fan Site for our next game, hopeful that I would find other US fans there. The start time of midnight on a Friday was much more reasonable. We arrived at the Fan Site just after the end of the previous game, and were able to find two of the best seats (there are not very many to begin with) in the whole place. There were US flags, US gear, familiar accents, and best of all chants of USA! USA! USA! The place was by no means packed, but a few hundred fans cheering for the US was at least 4 to 5 zillion times better than a small muted tv at the Huskisson Beach Motel. I can only imagine how crazy the Fan Site is for the Australia games, which have drawn over 20,000 fans (thousands more couldn't get in for a lack of room). Chatting it up with several fans, I met several Americans, including a lady from Cincinnati. Go Reds. The game got off to what can only be described as a terrible start, and the 2-0 halftime deficit was enough to make me think our World Cup chances may be coming to an end. And then there was the second half. Our first goal was scored right away and with it came lots of cheering, yelling, and high fiving with strangers. USA! USA! USA! The second goal seemed like it would never come, and it was immediately followed by a third goal that would have surely secured a US victory. After a massive celebration, I realized that the goal and been disallowed. Feeling a bit like Guy Morris covered in Gatorade, I watched as the game ended with a less than favorable outcome, a draw. Luckily, thanks to an under performing England squad who later tied Algeria, we are still in control our own destiny.

Despite the draw, and being robbed of a late goal, I have never appreciated soccer more. Not so much for the game itself, but rather for the opportunity to find myself surrounded by a crowd of fans all pulling for the same team as I am. When you find yourself living on the other side of the globe, this rare occasion is not to be taken for granted. The type of camaraderie generated during sporting events has no parallel, and it for this reason I love sports as much as I do. There is no other event in which complete strangers will suddenly find themselves behaving like childhood friends. Chest bumping, bear hugs, and celebratory leaps into the arms of someone you just met are by no means out of the question during a big sporting event. Just ask Blake about my behavior during Kentucky's win over #1 ranked LSU in football a few years ago. Watching the game amongst so many fellow Americans and cheering on the USA made me feel like I was back at home, and it was a truly special experience.

It's a Good Thing I Left my Crack at Home

A few weeks ago after a meal Downtown, Blake and I decided to have an after-dinner drink, and we ended up at the typical Australian Pub. Oddly, this type of establishment never actually contains the word "pub" in the name, and is almost always called a "hotel". Granted, most of these pubs do offer rooms on the upper floors, but not all of them. If you were searching the yellow pages, or more likely the internet, this could be quite confusing; however, there is no mistaking one of these "hotels" when you pass them on the street. Almost always located on a corner, they are characterized by their victorian-style, second-level porches with ornate iron railing. If there is no porch, you will find outdoor seating on the ground level sheltered by an awning that is distinctly Australian. Accurately described by Bill Bryson, these awnings resemble a hat brim; they are unmistakably Australian, and you will find them on nearly every commercial building in Australia. Collectively, and much to the chagrin of umbrella salesmen across the nation, these awnings provide entire streets with sheltered walkways. Not that it rains that often here, but it certainly makes it more bearable when it does. Take notes Seattle.

So anyway, we were sitting in the typical Australian pub on a Friday night. Going by the sound of the karaoke it must have been 3 am, however, my watch read 9:00. Blake was in the bathroom when about 6 police officers and a drug dog entered the bar. Most of the officers either guarded the exits or stood off to the side in case they were needed. The dog was led by a policewoman, although I'm fairly certain she was actually an evil villain from a James Bond movie disguised as an officer. She seemed more likely to be struck by lighting in a tunnel than to crack a smile. This was a serious woman. She efficiently worked her way around the bar abruptly tapping peoples bags, purses and pockets (including mine) with a long wand. The dog sniffed whatever she tapped, and I can only imagine the drama that unfolds when drugs are found. I'm picturing a scene out of Cops; maybe an intoxicated overweight bearded man yelling up from the floor that he's never seen that bag before, despite its location in his pocket. Unfortunately, we were surrounded by upstanding citizens, and without a word the crew of officers dissapeared as quickly as they had come in. Completely shocked by what had just happened, and having nobody to discuss it with, I jumped up and walked over to the adjacent table and asked two guys, "Do they do that all the time here?" Looking a bit confused, they responded with, "I don't know mate, we're from New Zealand." I later learned that these type of searches are a fairly common police practice in Downtown Sydney, although, we have only seen it once.

Our First Weekend Trip

when it comes to travelling, there are a seemingly infinite number of destinations to choose from. Luckily, the travel budget is quick to narrow the list of options, making the decision process a bit easier. Nevertheless, travel planning can be an overwhleming task. The most important decision to make is what kind of trip to take, and there are basically two options. The first is geared towards the sole purpose of relaxation. All this option requires is a book, a beach, and a frozen drink. Maybe throw in a massage or a round of golf. The other option is centered around adventure, and usually involves exploring new territory and taking in the sights. Now, for most people, a trip to say...Tahiti would fall under the first option. Days would be spent soaking up the sun, having nice meals, figuring out which frozen drink is the best, and sleeping in. A difficult decision might be whether to use SPF 15 or 30.

And then there is Blake and me. You could send us to an all-inclusive 5-star resort in Bora Bora; the kind of place you don't leave until they make you, and we would end up spending our days exploring the rest of the island. I don't mean to imply that this is a good thing, as I've heard kicking back, relaxing, and getting away from it all is quite nice. We would love to do it sometime, but every time we try we get antsy sitting around and end up setting out to see the sights. For us the thought of missing something while on vacation is horrifying. By the end of our usual trips, we are so exhausted that going back to work is a relaxing getaway.

By now, you're probably wondering where I'm headed with all this. The point is, when we first came here we were absolutely dying to see Australia. We were the furthest we had ever been from home and in a place that both of us had always dreamed of going. Were this a vacation, we would have barely landed before shooting out of Sydney like a cannon into the rest of the country. As it turned out, our first six weeks in Australia were spent inside a 10-mile radius tending solely to set-up duties. And then, at last, the time came for our first weekend trip. Like a dog bursting from a cage after a day of confinement, we exited the city, heading north up the magnificent NSW coast.

We left Friday afternoon for a one-night stopover in Port Macquarie, a beach town about 4 hours north of Sydney. Our trip started out with a long rush-hour ride through the suburbs, followed by a welcomed escape into the Kuringai National Park. From there began the entertaining spectacle of passing a neverending supply of ridiculously named towns, such as Mooney Mooney, Woy Woy, Tuggerawong, Kooranbong, Boolaroo, Quorrobolong, and Coolongolook to name a few. We reached Port Macquarie at about 9:30, dropped our stuff in the room, and asked the guy at the front desk
where we could find dinner. After a moment of thought, he informed us at, "tomorrow is Good Friday, most places will be closed early tonight and all day tomorrow. But, Domino's is still open if you're hungry." Worried that we might not find any food until Saturday, we rushed to the grocery store for a few essentials. Determined not to eat cold canned soup on our first night of vacation, we left the groceries in the car and set out to find a restaurant. We failed in that endeavor, but did find a nice Irish Bar that didn't mind us eating Dominos while enjoying one of their outdoor tables and tasty beverages. While not necessarily the ideal dinner, good atmosphere and cheap pizza suited us just fine.

We were not too impressed with Port Macquarie at that point, although this was partly due to the fact that everything was shutdown for Good Friday, a practice common in Australia. Nevertheless, we decided to explore a bit more in the morning before getting back on the road. Venturing into an area we had not seen the night before, we discovered that the heart of Port Macquarie was by the water, and it was in fact a very likeable town. By far, the highlight of Port Macquarie was an amazing bush walk along the coast leading to a picturesque blue and white hilltop lighthouse that looked as though it had been transported from one of the Greek Islands.

After a great morning walk, we were back on the road headed for our next stop in Coffs Harbour, which lies about two hours to the north. About halfway there, in the middle of nowhere, we were derailed by Fredo's Famous Pies, a legendary roadside eatery known for its unimaginable variety of meat and veggie pies. Previously unaware of its existence, a large crowd alerted us to the fact that this place was not to be missed. After much deliberation about whether the Crocodile or Kangaroo pie would be the tastiest, I went with the Marsupial. Finding a coveted outdoor seat, we happily tore into our Fredo's bag. My pie had a giant "R" on it, so it was easy to identify. Like a kid with an ice cream cone I quickly took my first bite, and then like a kid with Brussel Sprouts, I reluctantly took a second bite. With a consistency that rivals even the thickest gravy, the Kangaroo Pie was less than delicious. Nevertheless, Fredo's was an experience, and the next time we pass it we will surely stop again. I will just be sure to order the Cheesy Potato Pie next time.

Upon arrival at Coffs Harbour we wasted no time making our way to the coast and the well known jetties. Several ocean jetties extend out from the beaches and the heads creating a large protected harbour for boats and recreation. These jetties are absolutely massive. They are constructed with thousands upon thousands of concrete blocks the size of cars. It is seriously impressive, and I don't think even a Category 5 hurricane could phase them. The long walk to the end of the jetties was well worth the views of unspoiled beaches and coastland.

After seeing the panoramic views of what nature had so finely crafted, we were off to see one of mankinds greatest accomplishments....The Big Banana. Weighing in at 1,500 pounds this banana shaped building is perched alongside the Pacific Highway and used for tourist bait. Totally worked on us. Although created by an American in 1964, the Australians have embraced this idea and, well, taken it way too far (although I'm very glad they have). Scattered along roads throughout the entire country, one can find hundreds of "Big" objects, including The Big Beer Can, The Big Playable Guitar, The Big Kangaroo, and my favorite The Big Poo. I'm not joking about the last one. I wish I were, but I'm not. So if you ever find yourself driving through the endless nowhere that is most of Australia, you can at least be comforted to know that somewhere around the next corner is a ginormous object waiting for your arrival.

Another thing you can also look forward to while driving through Australia are the "Driver Reviver" stations that give away free coffee and an Arnott's Biscuit (what we call a cookie. Mmmmm....cookies). Who cares if it makes diner coffee seem gourmet; at a price of $0, you won't find me complaining. The driver reviver stands were everywhere on our road trip, and there are apparently up to 220 of them throughout the country. The road signs reading, "Stop. Revive. Survive" are permanent, but unfortunately, as we later learned, the service only operates during holiday weekends. Operating on volunteer labor and donated supplies, Driver Revivers strive to reduce fatigue related crashes during peak travel periods, while offering a great way to take a break on a long drive.

Having made enough stops for one day, we eventually made our way to our final destination, Yamba (pronounced Yam-buh, not Yom-buh as we mistakenly called it on numerous occasions). Don't worry if you've never heard of it, most of Australians haven't either. It's a small coastal town about a nine hour drive north of Sydney. In a country with so many places to see, you might be asking yourself how, or more appropriately why we selected such an obscure place as our first destination outside the big city. I would love to tell you that it was our uncanny ability to find the perfect vacation spot, but in reality, it was a holiday weekend and everywhere else we looked was totally booked. So, as a last resort, we ended up in Yamba at the Pacific Hotel.

Parking in front of our hotel, I couldn't help but feel that we may have been duped by some well-angled photography and clever marketing. The self-proclaimed "best hotel view in Australia" couldn't possibly lie behind the doors of this modest looking building, could it. It was at this moment I remembered my comments to Blake a couple weeks earlier,"This hotel looks great, and look how cheap it is!" Suddenly worried by the old saying that you get what you pay for, I crossed my fingers and walked on in. Opening the door, it was evident that this was an old school beach hotel. There was nobody in the reception room, and I'm fairly sure that there never is. Were I not in Australia, this would have been concerning; however, it is very common here for older hotels to operate in such a manner. The primary focus of these establishments is the restaurant/bar on the first floor with the upper-floor accomodation being merely a bonus. Looking for assistance, we made our way into the bar. At first glance, it seemed very ordinary with its long wooden bar and dark ornate carpet, a staple of Aussie pubs; however, as we turned to the left, we immediately realized that the "best hotel view in Australia" description was, if anything, an understatment. The bar area opened up into a long open room spanning the entire length of the building, and the east wall, consisting of nearly all glass, yielded incredible elevated views of the ocean and coastline. We couldn't have been happier.

Quickly settling into our room, we left to explore the streets of Yamba. Walking down the huge hill from our hotel to the heart of town, we found a low key, charming town with several restaurants and shops. After a quick look around followed by a walk on the beach, it was time to clean up for dinner. Eager to take advantage of our hotel, we had dinner downstairs. The atmosphere was very casual, but the menu and the food were great. As the crowd continued to strengthen in numbers, it didn't take long to realize that this was the place to be in Yamba. We decided that we would head into town for a bit, and then finish the night back at our hotel. We found a great place to hang out in town, and had even more fun after returning to our place. The crowd was a happy, lively bunch, much like you would expect to find in a pub overlooking the sea on a holiday weekend. We met several Aussies, listened to good live music, and I even danced a bit. Voluntarily, I might add. For those of you who know me, that probably comes as shocking news. On my list of things I enjoy, dancing falls about three spots below stubbing my toe. However, had you seen how terrible the average dancer was, you would understand my willingness to jump on in. For the first time ever, I had found a place where a dancing spectator might actually look my way and say, "that guy's got moves."

The next day we set out for the small nearby village of Illuka, and it was during this time that we finally had the most anticipated Australian experience to date. We had almost reached Illuka, when I stomped and the brakes, simultaneously yelling, "Blake. Look!" She quickly glanced around, but saw nothing as we had sped on by. "Kangaroos!!!" I said, while performing the worlds fastest U-turn (illegal in Australia). It was our first Roo sighting in the wild, although I use the term "wild" loosely as they were grazing in someone's yard along the road. As it was our first encounter with an unfamiliar animal, and due to the surprisingly creepy appearance of these animals, we decided it best to take several photos from the car. After realizing that the roos were too busy eating grass, an activity that seemingly accounts for about 90% of their time, Blake got out for a closer look. Much to our excitement, we got to see them in action as the closest animal hopped away to a safer distance. Giddy from the experience, we jumped back in the car and continued on our way.

We spent the next two days in and around Yamba hiking through unspoiled coastline and beaches, and our nights basically followed the same path as the first one. Looking back, I can say that our experience in Yamba was the best of both worlds. On one hand we had the quiet town, beaches and nature walks to enjoy, and on the other, we had a hotel that offered as much activity and nightlife as we could want. If we tired early, as we did the second night, our room was at the far end of the hotel, removed from the loud voices, live music, and middle-aged bald men doing the robot. Our first weekend destination had been decided by chance, and it couldn't have turned out better. After six weeks of the big city life, the town of Yamba was exactly what we needed.

Adjusting to a New Way of Life

When it comes to leaving your native country for the other side of the globe, there can't be an easier place for an American to adjust to than Australia. There is no language barrier, the weather is great, people are friendly, the economy is great, and so on and so on. In addition, American influences and culture are everywhere. Most of the music, movies, and television shows are American, and a McDonald's, KFC, and Starbucks are never far away. I can't say that I'm thrilled to see American culture everywhere, but at times it can certainly be comforting. Like when you discover a Krispy Kreme store, or that McDonald's sells soft serve ice cream cones for $0.50, or that you can actually get drip coffee from Starbucks. To give some context to my previous statment, I must explain coffee in Australia. For the most part, there is no such thing as brewed coffee here, and coffee shops only offer espresso based drinks, most of which we had never heard of. As I approached the counter for the first time, I was about as comfortable as i would be ordering lunch from the soup nazi. Having no idea what to order I randomly selected the flat white. It was either that or a short black, long black, macchiato, or some other kind that was equally unfamiliar. Over the next week, we ordered and shared every possible type of coffee to find the one we liked best. After much experimentaion, I was finally releived to find my drink of choice, the long black.

Aside from figuring out what coffee to order, our adjustment in Australia has been fairly easy, and it has been easy to blend in. For the most part, no one seems to mind or even notice that we're not Australian. So much for being exotic. However, thanks to the subtleties of the Aussie culture, there have been numerous occassions in which my status as an immigrant has been more than apparent. I have selected a couple of my favorite "looking like a complete ass" moments for your reading pleasure.

Arriving in Australia, I wasted no time acting like a foreigner. Our rental car company was located a few blocks from the airport, and they picked us up upon arrival. Oddly, there is no official pick up area at the Sydney Airport, so the driver met us on foot and led us back to the vehicle in the Car Park (Parking Garage). Excited to set out into a new continent, I proudly reached the car first (it's quite an accomplishment to walk faster than Blake). Approaching the car, I decided to sit in the front seat, and I stood in front of the door waiting for the driver to unlock the car. The driver walked right up beside me, and I was quite surprised that he was about to open the door for me. I remember thinking, "wow, these Australians really are nice." However, instead of opening my door, he gave me a funny look and said, "excuse me." During this brief moment of confusion, I happened to look down only to realize I was on the wrong side of the car, trying to get in on the drivers side*. Smooth. While Blake laughed, and the driver deliberated on whether or not to rent a car to someone who can't even find the passenger seat, I slowly made my way to the other side of the car.

* Australians drive on the opposite side of the street, and the location of the steering wheel is reversed.

In addition to my episode at the airport, the automobile has managed to make me look like a half-wit on numerous other occassions. Generally due to the reversal of everything in the car. For example, it took me at least three days to stop turning on my windshield wipers every time I prepared to make a turn. I still consistently walk to the wrong side of the car when driving somewhere. I, of course, try to play it off by opening the door for Blake, but she's not buying it. She knows it's stupidity, not chivalry. On the rare occasion that I'm not driving, I without fail try to put my foot on the non-existent brake pedal as I get in the passenger seat. Can't help it. Old habit. The only thing, and surely the most important, that is not reversed in the Australian car is the gas and brake pedals. The gas is on the right, the brake on the left. If not for this, I would probably not be fit to drive.

After nearly a week of driving, I was comfortable, even confident, with driving in Australia. One afternoon while driving, I became quite irritated at a stop sign. A woman waiting to turn had stopped in the middle to give me a prolongued nasty look. I stared back, and contemplated using a certain hand signal. That was until I noticed I was sitting in the wrong lane, totally blocking her from turning. Upon this discovery, I quickly sped away lucky to have not caused an accident.

As I'm writing this, I'm realizing the majority of my biggest blunders are behind the wheel. However, there have also been several other minor incidents during the adjustment period: handing people the wrong amounts of money, tipping people that don't ever get tipped, accidentally stealing coffee and groceries in the same day (another story all together), nearly stepping in front of traffic, etc... We have certainly had our fair share of comical mishaps since arriving Down Under, but on the whole, we have assimilated quite well and are feeling more and more at home every day.

Exploring Our New City

If there's one thing in Sydney that really lets you know you're here, it's the Opera House. Aside from Crocodile Dundee (which, by the way, Blake watched for the first time on the plane ride over), it's one of the few Australian icons that most Americans can actually identify. Anyone who has ever visited Sydney has, without a doubt, taken a picture in front of the Opera House. Probably several. However, unlike myself; most people probably wait until they land first. If you want any pictures of an airplane window with a white speck in the distance, let me know.

We had our first good look at the Opera House as we drove from the airport to our hotel; however, it wasn't until the following weekend that we headed downtown to see it up close. Our day started with an enjoyable train ride from North Sydney over the Harbour (spelled with a "u" in Australia) Bridge into the City. Emerging from the train station, we found ourselves immersed in the heart of Downtown. We headed down George Street, Sydney's most bustling thoroughfare with more shops, restaurants and bars than one could count. We first stumbled upon the Queen Victorain Building, a late nineteenth century Romanesque building filling an entire city block. Originally designed for a shopping center, it deteriorated in the 1950s, and has since been restored to its original condition. Despite my extreme dislike for shopping, the architecture alone was worth a long slow walk through the entire structure.

From there, we made our way over to Hyde Park, a 40-acre park on the eastern edge of the CBD. Passing the last row of towering skyscrapers, we were awed by what must be one of the finest green spaces I have ever seen in the heart of a city. Peering down one of the wide tree-lined walkways, we were greeted by Archibald Fountain, the park's centerpiece, and the imposing gothic-style St. Mary's Cathedral in the distance. St. Mary's is the largest church in Australia, one of the largest in the world, and it has a design reminiscent of Notre Dame. Completed in 1882, it can hold its own with any of the magnificent cathedrals scattered throughout Europe. Considering Sydney's brief history, we were pleasantly surprised by the city's remarkable historical buildings. After soaking up Hyde Park for a few moments we headed north through a string of parks leading through the Royal Botanic Gardens to the Sydney Harbour and the Opera House. We meandered through the 75 acre-gardens, stopping for coffee, and for the jaw-dropping sight of thousands of Grey-Headed Flying Foxes (we thought they were bats) dangling from the trees above. During peak season, up to 22,000 of these creatures fill the Botanic Gardens.

At last, we reached our final destination of the day, the Opera House. Up close, the Opera House is a collection of massive concrete overhangs covered with relatively small white tiles. In all honesty, I have seen much prettier buildings, although probably none as unique, and certainly none with quite the significance. As we took our pictures from every imaginable angle, the exciting reality of our move across the globe truly set in.

Enjoying Sydney

A few days before we left Charleston, we were having a couple drinks with our friends Brad and Mae (currently scheduled as our first visitors to Australia this July), when Brad brought to our attention to the fact that we would not be settled again for at least 4 or 5 weeks. This consisted of another week and a half in the states spent moving out and visiting family as well as finding a place to live in Sydney. Thanks to some good luck, it only took about 3 1/2 weeks from that night to finally feel settled in Sydney, although it felt like much longer. Needless to say, when the time came to sit back and relax on the couch, we were more than relieved.

It was now time to really start enjoying the city we had worked so hard to get to. And so, on our first free weekend we headed out early Saturday morning for a 9.1k bushwalk from the Spit Bridge to Manly Beach. This nature walk hugs the harbor as it winds its way through countless overlooks granting amazing views of the harbor and Downtown Sydney. The beginning of the walk passes some high-end homes overlooking the water before traversing through more remote areas including beaches, cliff overlooks, a lighthouse, a rainforest, a national park and eventually the Manly Wharf and Manly Beach. The most incredible part of this walk is how much prime real estate is protected green space. Despite being in the heart of the biggest city in Australia, it's easy to feel like you're a hundred miles from the nearest town. That is until you turn the corner and come face to face with arguably the most beautiful harbor in the world framed by Downtown Sydney. And then, a few more steps, and you're back in the rainforest passing giant walls of exposed rock far removed from the civilized world. Eventually you round the corner and see Manly Wharf in the distance. The remainder of the walk takes you by the wharf, before heading through the bustling streets of Manly to a spectacular beach. Relative to the well known Bondi Beach, Manly is more of a locals hangout. This is not to imply that Manly is a quiet little beach community. It isn't. There are countless shops, restaurants, bars and lots and lots of people. It is a city beach. That being said, Manly has not been overdeveloped with high-rise hotels, condos or kitchy surf shops every ten feet. Rather, Manly is a beach community with lots of character and plenty to do. It is a great place to spend the day.

Over the next couple weeks, we began taking a long walk nearly every night after work. We quickly discovered that Sydney has parks and bushwalks everywhere. For example, one mile from our house is Balls Head Reserve, a large forested area that was formerly home to a local aboriginal community. Like the walk to Manly, sections of Balls Head Reserve feel like they are in middle of nowhere, while other sections provide incredible harbor and city views. There are several trails that traverse the ridge of the reserve giving you elevated views. In fact, Sydney is full of these types of parks. Literally, they are everywhere. In the North Sydney area, there are roughly 7 peninsulas jutting down into the harbor. As expected, the best views of the harbor and the city are at the tip of each peninsula. However, instead of developing these areas with homes, 5 of the 7 tips are public spaces. And they are amazing. There are so many parks, that is easy to find yourself all alone at an overlook witnessing one of the best sunsets you have ever seen. This is exactly what happened to us One evening at Balls Head Reserve. The sunset over the harbor was phenomenal (pictured above), and we were able to enjoy all by ourselves. This truly is a great city.

The First Two Weeks

And so begins what is certain to be another long blog post in which an attempt is made to summarize our experiences during our first two weeks Down Under. At some point, we will get caught up to present day, and the length of our posts will decrease significantly. Until then, a comfortable seat is recommended.

Arrival
We arrived in Sydney at roughly 8am on a Thursday. Keep in mind; we left on our journey at 2:25 pm on a Tuesday. So yes, the rumors are true, it is a very long flight to Australia. The total travel time was somewhere around 24 hours, but it honestly did not seem that bad. The flight from LA to Sydney was just over 14 hours. Crossing the date line was interesting as Wednesday February 24th did not exist for us. On the other hand, we will have two of the same day when we return. Our first day was a battle to stay awake and fight the jet lag. We had been awake for nearly 30 hours, and it was 8 in the morning. Sleep deprivation has an odd effect on the mind, and we generally felt uneasy and slightly dizzy. We managed to stay awake all day before falling into a 14 hour coma that night.

House Hunting
The next morning we felt as good as one can after such a long journey, and began a week of relentlessly searching for a place to live. For all you landlords out there, the remainder of this paragraph may cause extreme forms of envy. The rental market in Sydney is not like it is in the States, in fact, it's quite the opposite. Rather than jump at the opportunity to show a potential tenant a property (as I have done countless times), the landlord (or usually their agent) simply schedule a 15 to 20 minute time on a Saturday to view the property. During this narrow window, somewhere between 15 and 20 people show up to view the property, and the landlord generally receives three or four rental applications. I know that sounds hard to believe; I was a complete skeptic myself, but it's true. We showed up to view the first property on our list before the agent arrived, and it looked more like the building was having a fire drill as opposed to a property inspection. There were at least 20 people there to look at a small overpriced 1 bedroom apartment for $450/week. That's right, $450/week. They quote rental prices here by the week not the month. I can't blame them; $450 sounds much better than the monthly rate of $1,950. Anyway, we looked at several places that Saturday, and near the end we found one that we loved. Although it was our favorite place we had seen all day, it was also the cheapest. As there were 15 other people at the inspection, we did not hesitate to grab rental applications and get things rolling. On Monday, we showed up at the property manager's office bright and early to submit our applications. Knowing we would have competition, we did not have high hopes for getting our first choice. Late that afternoon, we heard back from the agent. The place was ours.

Financially Unprepared
Like in the states, we were required to pay our first months rent and deposit before finalizing a lease agreement. We planned to meet on a Wednesday to do this, giving us two days to transfer US dollars into Australian ones. What ensued was a stressful, headache producing process that entailed numerous phone calls to our bank as well as an exchange company. I will spare you the details, but if you ever move to Australia or any country for that matter, exchange money before you go. After delaying our move-in date by a day, we finally got word that the money should be in our account early Thursday morning. The news was reassuring, but I was less than confident we would have Aussie Dollars the following day. We checked out of our short-term housing Thursday morning, and made a nerve-racking walk to our new bank. If the money was there, we were off to the property manager's office to sign the
lease, pay our money, and move into our place. If the money was not there, we were off to find another hotel and spend the day worrying the property manager would lose patience with us and lease the property to someone else. Finding a rental property here is no easy task, and the thought of starting over was not a good one. Luckily when we got to the bank, we were welcomed by an account filled with Australian Dollars. The transfer had arrived, and within hours, we were in our new place.

Starting from Scratch
The next week few days was spent acquiring all the things we would need for our new home. It was not a short list and included furniture, dishware, electronics, small appliances, washing machine, refrigerator(typically not provided by the landlord), etc... As expected, this was at times a stressful process. Especially during the
assembly our IKEA furniture, which generally consisted of me misplacing my tools and exhausting my vocabulary of four-letter words. Overall, we were able to acquire everything we needed in a few days, and after nearly two weeks in Australia we were very close to being settled in.

As you can probably tell, our first couple weeks were high-stress. However, with all that had to be done, things went really well for us. We were very fortunate to end up in such a great apartment, and in such a short period of time. Not to mention how much fun we had exploring our new city during our first few days here.

From the Beginning

I'm going to go ahead and apologize for this ridiculously long post. Anyway, here goes.

In 2001, I took a seven week journey through Europe. From that moment forward, travel has been a necessity. Even when I couldn’t afford it, I found ways to travel as much as possible. If I wasn’t on vacation, I was definitely planning one. Not so much to get away from work, but to see as many parts of the world as possible. After a two week trip to Argentina and Peru in 2006, I became determined to live abroad. I first thought of going to Buenos Aires for six months, maybe a year. However, a struggling economy, and the lack of a savings account (thanks to excessive travel) kept me grounded. It didn’t take much research to realize how difficult it would be moving overseas, and I eventually became convinced that it would not happen.

Not long after Blake and I began dating, we discovered that we shared a love for travel. Within a few months of being together, we went out west and spent a week and a half driving and camping our way from Seattle to Portland. Three months later we were in South Africa. A couple of weeks of travel here and there was great, but it wasn’t enough. We constantly began discussing how exciting it would be to live abroad. At some unknown point, it changed from something we just talked about, to something we actually pursued. I use the word “we” loosely, as our pursuit consisted of Blake applying for jobs and me giving pep talks whenever a setback arose.

The main question we had in our pursuit to live abroad was where to go. Europe was appealing in several ways: the science is good, it isn’t too far from the states, it has amazing cities, and it would be easy to travel through several countries. There is that whole language barrier thing, but we were convinced we could handle it. What really deterred us from looking in Europe was the cold winters. I like the cold almost as much as I love black olives, palmetto bugs, and Montezuma’s Revenge. With Europe out of the picture, we turned our attention to warmer climates, and it wasn’t long before Australia was at the top of the list.

Our first choice in Oz was Brisbane, mainly because of the Florida like weather. Blake applied for a highly competitive fellowship at Queensland University of Technology (QUT) that required a lenghty application. In addition, Blake collborated with a QUT professor to develop a project she would work on. The second choice was a job in Sydney, and it consisted of a relatively short application and a phone interview. Thanks to our inability to convert the time change, Blake’s first impression was her voicemail recording. We were expecting the phone to ring at 9:00 pm; it actually rang at 7:00 pm, and we missed the call. After several minutes of freaking out and frantically researching how to call Australia, it rang again. I don’t know how the interview went (I was confined to the upstairs bedroom); however, Blake thought she bombed it. We chalked it up to a good learning experience, and waited with crossed fingers for an offer from QUT.

December 10th was almost the worst day of vacation ever. I was in Fort Lauderdale for an appraisal class, and Blake had come down to meet me. It was my last day of class, and we were headed for South Beach for a weekend of sun and relaxation. Blake, who at this point was checking her email every seven seconds for an email from Australia, got the news we were waiting on. It had been six weeks since the application to QUT was submitted and over two weeks since the interview. Take my word for it, when you’re waiting on news that will decide which hemisphere you will be living in, a few weeks feels like an eternity. By mere coincidence, Blake got word from both jobs on the same day. It was a good thing, because the first email notified her that she did not get the fellowship in Brisbane. This had been her primary focus for months, and this would have been a Miami-ruining bit of news were it not for the second email. Despite being late to a phone interview, and thinking that she bombed it, Blake got the offer from Sydney. We spent the weekend celebrating the news, as our journey had finally began.

Despite what you might think, planning to move 9,510 miles away can be a difficult task. With so many things to take into consideration, an endless supply of questions crosses your mind: What neighborhood should we live in? How do I obtain health insurance? How long is the flight? Will they have cake doughnuts? Will I have to acquire a taste for Vegemite*, possibly the worst food ever created?

Our to do list was at least three meters (apx. 9.84 feet) long, but without a doubt, the most stressful task was obtaining the visa. It would be a lie to say that the misery that was our visa application was not self-inflicted. Running head first into a wall would have been less painful. In an attempt to prepare ourselves for the task at hand, we spent hours researching information online. I learned that the only motivation for writing in a forum titled “moving to Australia” is an experience that makes one feel like a character in a Friday the 13th movie. Several people had been waiting months for their visa, for others it had been over a year. Some people even sold their homes and were now forced to stay with their parents until the visa came through. People reported having to pay for expensive medical exams as well as provide several of the following certified documents: birth certificate, college transcript, passport, drivers license, criminal records in any state lived in over the past decade, resumes, list of references, marriage certificates, the dreaded Form 80, and the FBI criminal history background check.

When it comes to tasks such as this, I have always thought of myself as one who over prepares. And then I met Blake. I don’t want to use the word slave driver, but we acquired every single document listed above faster than that guy in the micro machines commercials could talk. There was a better chance of winning the lottery than actually needing some of the documents we prepared. Keep in mind that the visa application only asks for a few documents up front, and occasionally they will follow up with a request for additional paperwork. Nevertheless, we were prepared for the Spanish Inquisition.

The visa application was submitted on January 13. Within 24 hours of submitting the vias application, Blake’s average time between checking her email account was down to three seconds. After several days had passed without even an acknowledgement that our application had been received, panic set in. In my head I began drafting what I would post to the online forum. In an attempt to see friends before leaving as well as distract ourselves from the visa process, we headed to Washington D. C. for a great weekend. We woke up on Saturday morning to snowfall, and it didn’t stop until a foot was on the ground. During an indoor break from the cold, Blake was on the computer when I heard her say “oh my god.” From the look of disbelief on her face, I was sure that someone had died. “We got it, we got the visa” she screamed, finally smiling. And there was much rejoicing.

It was January 29th when we got the visa, and it couldn’t have been a more convenient time. To my knowledge there is only one place to physically pick up an Australian Visa in the United States, and it is located 11.1** miles from where we were staying. Waiting on the postal service was completely out of the question, and we drove to the Australian Embassy on Monday morning. We were excited to have interaction with actual Australians, although the first guy we encountered sounded more like he was from Ohio. After a bit of a wait, an Australian girl returned with an accent and our visa. It was final. The remainder of the day consisted of a nine hour drive, and at least as much time spent discussing our plans for leaving.

We returned from D.C on February 1, and we left Charleston on February 16th. Those 15 days were chaos, and I could go on and on about how much we had to do before leaving, but I won’t. We tried to see as many friends as we could before leaving, and Lindsay and Rory helped us out by organizing a get together Downtown. Some couldn’t make it because something happened that night that I had not seen in my nearly eight years in Charleston. Snow. And lots of it. Downtown got three inches and Summerville nearly eight. People were having snowball fights in the streets; one even got arrested, despite the “let him go” chant we started outside the bar. We had a great night, and seeing snow on palm trees was the icing on the cake.

From Charleston we headed to Nashville and Kentucky for several days before leaving. Our time at home was bittersweet. We were able to see so many good friends and family members; however, we had to say goodbye to them all. We plan to be back home at least once a year, and we will probably see several friends and family members as often as we did while living in Charleston. Nevertheless, there is something about moving to the other side of the globe that makes the goodbyes a bit more difficult.

Additional Notes:
*Vegemite: A reddish-brown, almost black yeast extract (by-product of beer manufacturing) with various vegetable and spice additives. And yes, it tastes as bad as it sounds. Vegemite is considered as much a part of Australia’s heritage as kangaroos, and a vegemite sandwich is the Australian equivalent of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

**As its kind of late, and I’m too lazy to actually look up the distance between where we were staying and where we got the visa, 11.1 miles was pulled right out of you know where.