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.

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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.