This morning, Joel and I woke up at 4:45 (what) to catch the sunrise at Bronte Beach. The forecast had been telling us all week that it would rain on Saturday morning, and I’ve kept my fingers crossed for so long that I basically have arthritis now. But, crippled granny hands are worth it, because the sunrise was be-a-u-ti-ful.
There are few things I love more than seeing a sunrise or sunset over the water. Seeing that golden orb sizzle along the horizon fills me with… I’m not sure. It’s a combination of inspiration and awe. Add in the smell of sea salt, the sound of crashing waves, and the cold breeze coming off the water, and it makes me feel so fantastic.
The beaches in Australia are just next level. The water is clear and the most perfect shade of aqua-marine, and the sand is almost white, and most of them have these craggy cliffs that catch and pool water and it’s like walking on another world. And when the rose and gold tones of the sunrise reflect off the water – it’s un real. I like Bronte because there’s a little rock pool to the side that’s very calm, and it’s where whusses like me can get in and splash around and pretend to be cool. Ok ok, insert anecdotes about sharks and dangerous Australian sea creatures here and everything – but you can’t deny just how drop dead gorgeous it all is.
I’m so happy we dragged ourselves out of bed and made the trip happen. It was a beautiful way to wrap up a particularly less than stellar month.
It’s very well known that I didn’t grow up at the beach or near the shore, and I don’t always keep my cool in the beach, but I love being at the beach. It’s very centering, very calming. I think being on the edge of the world makes my other problems feel very small. And being in the presence of such an incredible force helps me put things into perspective… just watching everything wash away with the waves is a good reminder that “this too shall pass.” Maybe it’s the visceral experience – sights, smells, textures, emotions – but the beach is one of the few places where I can go and my mind just clears. I could sit at the beach and do nothing for hours. And it feels good, man.
So who is waiting to wrap a big fat DONE ribbon around April, quietly put it on the shelf and just pretend it didn’t happen? *raises hand*
I can’t remember a month where I’ve felt more – fragile – I guess is the best word. Hence the sporadic appearances here and everywhere else in the social spectrum. It’s been a tough few weeks. I’ve been on the receiving end of more pep talks than I have in years. But I’m happy to say that being more proactive and attentive to what I need has been helping immensely, so I’m just taking it day by day.
BUT – April hasn’t been all bad! For one thing, we watched so many episodes of My 600lb Life that I think I’m *thiiiiiis* close to cutting out all processed foods from my life. Joel has become Head Chef around here and we’ve never eaten better. I’ve been able to skype/Facetime/phone date with many of my nearest and dearest. And my most favourite person had a birthday. We celebrated with a doughnut cake, Game of Thrones, and a night with friends… and a resulting Friday night of pizza and sweatpants recovery.
Hugh the destroyer
Joel, take 1
Joel, take 2 (that heart breaking face – it’s like someone gave him a puppy and then took it away)
Julian “I have all the chairs” Tuna
Annnnd we just had an awesome three day weekend of good food, good movies (ok, and some terrible movies), and relax times (and let’s face it, obsessive cleaning and rearranging #stressed) in honour of ANZAC Day.
the best homemade pizza ever
that’s amore
Grey and Stormy? Yes plz.
cookie Saturday
new blog format! Still in process, so don’t judge too harsh.
Joel got me the cutest cup…
…Ever from the Japanese shop.
analog Illustrator
Joel’s first batch of from scratch pancakes!
Woooooops
take 2 was more successful
Success!
We shelled out for cable… just for GoT. #worthit
#love
So here’s to the last few days of April – fingers crossed that it all starts to shape up.
Biennale! Bee-n-olly. Or, as I can only remember it – Beabolly, Banomamolly, or Bananamaalla. Or, big ass art fair spanning across Sydney that happens every two years.
It’s a huge to-do, with events happening at different venues all over the city. Since I successfully missed Sculpture by the Sea each year that I’ve been here, I was hoping I’d make it to at least one venue for Biennale. And yesterday, we met up with our friends Kat and Matt for a tour of Cockatoo Island (two birds/one stone, it’s also my goal to visit all the “animal” islands around Sydney – there’s also Goat Island and Shark Island, and I will visit them.)
Among other things, Cockatoo Island was a holding area for prisoners in the 1800’s, and then a pretty major shipbuilding and dockyard facility, until 2001 when it was closed down and most of it demolished. But now it’s a heritage site, and most of its buildings have been re-opened as museums of Sydney’s industrial history.
We left the house prepared for rain, as the weather report suggested. However, 10 minutes before we got on the ferry, the rain let out, and the brightest sun came out and stayed out. Needless to say, we are both sunburned now.
Mostly the installations left me kinda meh, and I found myself more interested in the buildings and the machinery that’s been left behind than the actual installations (sometimes I am 100% my father’s daughter). But we had a really good time being out and about, seeing some amazing drawings and mind blowing texture work, some really off the wall pretentious video installations, and listening to self-important people explain art to the people they were with. Here you go, enjoy a smattering of photos!
Signs said “Don’t walk on the runway.” Therefore, the runway was covered in sole marks.
Joel loves posed photos.
creepy old tunnel
Sunset on the ferry home
The spider web continued all the way through a three room convict house. It was incredible.
Messages of hope.
Old shipping dock bits
Old dock
They used house convicts in this building – they were lowered into the building through trap doors, and chained to the walls.
“Excuse me I have reserved this table.”
This was the best one – white beds behind insane layers of string – it was like walking through a Neil Gaiman novel.
Sydney!
Chinese Sci-fi evolution
I want to live in an old warehouse. One with air conditioning, of course.
We’ve been tip-toeing up to summer all through September, but every warm day we had was immediately followed by coats and boots or frozen rainy weather. Friday, though, brought the sunshine, and we’ve had 28-35*C days since. I’ve been reaching for flip flops and shorts, not boots and jeans. It’s still light outside at 7 PM. And at midnight, with the windows closed and the fan off, it still gets so warm that I sweat on my upper lip.
And with that, I’m calling it: summer is officially here. And I’m not dreading it like I did last year!
This optimism is mostly because I’m not having back to back summers this year. Or maybe I’m excited to not freeze every day when I’m at work (where the heater was functioning maybe 5 days out of the entire winter). Regardless of where this summer excitement is coming from, it’s a welcome change. Maybe I’ve just been glued to my couch for too long in grey, rainy weather (see: last post regarding funks), but I stepped outside in the warm sunshine on Friday morning and I just felt glad to be alive – warm weather AND a three day weekend? Heck yes.
Despite First Day of Flip Flops sore feet (why is the first day just terrible), and killing myself trying to walk up a hill (frighteningly out of shape) it was a banner weekend. And I’m 100% sad to go back to work tomorrow.
Three day weekends never seem long enough. But at least we got a kick ass summer kick off.
Here’s to more time outside! Here’s to sweating profusely 24/7! Here’s to towels drying without a weird smell on them! Here’s to the return of Spider Watch! And more importantly, here’s to not having to blow dry my hair until April.
Hello, summer. I’ve been surprisingly excited for you to get here*.
*check back in one month, when I’ll be willing to sell a kidney for air conditioning.
But Mick Fanning did. And it’s on every news channel in Australia. Seriously. At work, my desk is under three flat screen TVs. And at lunch time yesterday, all three were showing footage of Fanning going from the airport to his first press event.
Must be a slow news week.
Also, Australians are badass.
And #allsharklivesmatter
But, can Mick Fanning eat 36 oz of oatmeal and survive?
I had a quick phone chat with my sister, I did the washing, I bought milk, I took a shower, I had a Skype date with my friend Daron, and I started my budget for the next couple months.
STOP. STOP THE EXCITEMENT.
But seriously. It’s really good here. There are few things I love more than a good, quiet Sunday. And today is especially quiet because Joel and I cleaned our apartment within an inch of its life yesterday, so I didn’t really have chores to do. I don’t even have to start dinner soon, because we are still chipping away at the red beans and rice I made on Thursday.
I’m just sitting here watching the sun set and cast light through our kitchen.
and enjoying the company of our new kitchen buddy:
I love these days.
One of my greatest feelings is when I look around and think, “I love my life.” Even when all the looming uncertainty and separation from my friends and family makes it hard. Even when I blow off my to-do list for the second weekend in a row. I love it here. I love the life we are working toward. And I’ve never been happier.
Nope, no real point to this post. I’m just feeling gushy.
There are many reasons why I love Australia. And a 4 day weekend for Easter is just one of them.
I’ve been off since 2 PM on Thursday, and now it’s 11:30 AM on Monday and I’m just hanging out. Joel had 3 days off as well, which was a first, so I had a to-do list about a mile long of stuff for us to get done. But yeah, I accomplished nothing. And that’s basically perfect. We saw friends and I went to the Royal Easter show, but mostly we’ve ordered pizza, blown off chores, watched almost all the Twilight movies (I finally indoctrinated Joel to my most guilty pleasure–he suppressed the urge to vomit through each one), took in too much bad TV, drank all the coffee, and haven’t really gotten out of our sweat pants. Even the weather has cooperated, with grey, cold, rainy days on Friday and Saturday, and warm sunny laundry drying, beers on the patio weather yesterday and today. Oh, and Hot Cross Buns, also known as Hot Cross Yums. I could eat them every day.
But, let’s get back to the Royal Easter Show. The Easter Show happens every year, and it’s essentially a celebration of Australia’s agriculture industry. There are animal competitions, flower, craft and art shows, food displays, carnival rides, concerts, fried foods and almost anything else you could think of. It’s held at Sydney Olympic Park, and it it’s a huge deal. Imagine a State Fair and a 4-H Festival combined and exploded, and you’d have the Royal Easter Show. And at the Easter show, you can get “Show Bags”, which are hellla mega swag bags from every vendor. Too bad they’re not free, though.
Every Australian kid has been dragged through the Easter show at least once in their lives. When we first saw the commercial for the show, Joel shook his head and said No. And I could understand that. I’m not down for State Fairs or Carnivals, myself. because I hate being around crowds in stinky areas when it’s hot. But I am down to pet a cow or a pig, and watch a horse show under most conditions. So when Joel’s aunt offered me a free ticket to go with her and her cousins and their small children, I was all over it.
I had an great time! It was raining and cold, so only half the crowds were there, which was fantastic. It was a little field trip for my inner farm girl, and I’m really happy I got to go.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
But, the best part of the day had to be my souvenir:
I hope everyone has had a fun, beautiful Easter!
I’m off to maybe take a few things off my to-do list… or I might walk down to the store and get more hot cross yums. Mmm.
Six months ago, I walked off a plane with two very over stuffed bags, ready to start the life that Joel and I had been planning.
And it’s already been six months. Half a year. Where did it all go?!
I mean, I know time has passed, because I can throw my hair up in a bun now, and I couldn’t when I first moved here, but it’s still hard to believe.
But it still feels like yesterday that I was racing through the airport with those very overstuffed bags and two very overstuffed suitcases, running toward Joel and our new life. Running toward what my mom calls “our big adventure.”
This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing my family, my friends, and my pets, and that can suck sometimes. Let’s be real, that can really suck sometimes. But every day reaffirms that I made the best decision of my life by moving here. I knew it would be hard, but I also knew it would worth it. And it has been. These last six months have been more rewarding and challenging than I ever thought they could be. For the first time in my life, I’m thinking and acting like an adult instead of a pseudo-bohemian-malcontent-girl-child. Like, we have an actual savings account. With money in it. And we pool our resources and we have solid plans for our future and we talk shit out and we compromise and we support one another. It feels responsible and very Adulty. And it’s pretty awesome.
Before I moved, people told me that I was brave to follow my heart. I didn’t then, and I don’t now think it had anything to do with bravery. First, I moved from one English speaking first world country to another. Second, I moved in with Joel, whom I adore, but who is also one of the most hard working, caring, sincere, hilarious and loving men I’ve ever met. It doesn’t take balls to take a bet on a sure thing. And I’d bet the house on him all over again.
Happy 6 months, Sydney. I’m so very happy I have a chance to call you home.
Now it’s time to get that visa submitted, so I can hopefully call you home for a much longer time.
*I got my first grey hair when I was 14. And now I have a Stacy London patch that gets frighteningly more apparent the longer I go between salon visits. Thanks, Mom!
Before I moved to Sydney, I had pretty hard held beliefs that I wouldn’t change my language style. I remember making fun of Odie while I was visiting him here, when he said “to-ma-to” and “How ya going?” and “transport”, etc. He told me he couldn’t help it, that it just happens to you when you’re immersed in another culture. I thought it was pretty douchey* to adopt speech and colloquialisms from another country and use them as your own. Like when Madonna when she married Guy Ritchie and called herself Madge and put on that weird British accent. Or when Gretchen Weiners tried to make Fetch happen.
Oh, but how all of that has changed. I’m using a whole slew of different words, and eating the words I spoke previously. It does happen.
A – Aluminium (a-loo-min-i-um), not Aluminum (a-loo-min-um).Turns out, Canada and the US are the only countries that use the Aluminum spelling. It’s also called “al-foil” or “tin foil.” I’ll keep calling it Reynolds Wrap because I’m trained on brand recognition.
Unrelated, but starts with A: It’s spelled Aussie, but pronounced Ozzie. I always thought saying Ozzie was wrong. Whoops.
B – Bogan. A Bogan is an Australian Redneck. Rednecks, but with a better accent.
C – Capsicum. It’s not a green or red or yellow pepper, it’s a capsicum. Makes me feel fancy.
D – Doona. When Joel and I were first emailing each other, he at one point said something about how good it is to “wrap up in a feather doona.” After a confused Google search, I found out that doona is a word for comforter, or in his case, a feather comforter.
E – Expiry (ex-pie-ry). It’s not “Expiration date?” it’s “Expiry?” and when you hear it over the phone, it sounds like someone asking you if you’re an ex-pirate. I never know how to answer.
F – Footpath. Otherwise known as a sidewalk. And everyone walks on the left. Same with escalators, where people walk to the left and stand to the right. It’s taken a long time to relax my Washington DC instincts when I’m on the escalator, where you will be mowed down by commuters if you’re standing on the right.
G – Garden. It’s not a yard, it’s a garden. Even when it’s completely trashed and whacked out.
H – Holiday. People don’t go on vacation, they go on holiday. Which makes going away sound so much better. Vacation kinda implies tourists and sun burns and shitty hotels. Holiday sounds indulgent and exciting. From now on, I’m going Holiday. Even if it’s just a holiday to my couch.
I – Ice block. You won’t hear many people say “popsicle”, because it’s an “ice block” here. Australians aren’t trained on brand recognition, apparently. There’s also an ice block called “Splice” that makes me think of a popsicle infected with alien parasites that will eventually take over your body and kill you after you eat it.
J – Jumper. I’ve adopted this one pretty quick. I’ve always known jumpers to be shift dresses for little girls, but in Australia/UK, it’s a sweatshirt or a sweater. I like it.
also, Jam. People here get confused when you say jelly. It’s like they picture a peanut butter and petroleum jelly sandwich. Which is gross.
K – Kilometer.
“What the fuck is a mile?”
“I don’t know, what the fuck is a kilometer?”
“It’s one thousand meters.”
“Shut up.”
The metric system makes way more sense, everyone. But I still can’t measure in it.
L – Lift. I take a lift to the 19th floor. It makes me miss my futuristic elevator.
M – Mince. Ground meat is called “mince.” I grew up hearing “mince pie” in British context, and I always assumed it was something weird and British, like ground intestines with jam. But it’s just ground beef and gravy in a pastry shell. And it’s delicious.
I still call ground beef hamburger every now and then, and it confuses Joel. He’s decided that Americans have two categories for cow meat. For example, I asked him if he wanted to have steak fajitas for supper.
“Steak?”
“Like strip steak.”
“Strips of beef, like stir fry?”
“Yes.”
“Everything that comes off a cow to you Americans is steak. Unless it’s hamburger.”
“Basically.”
Also, you can get a lamb+pork mince that makes bolognese 800% tastier. Sorry, vegetarians. But, on another fun note, the grass fed, humane slaughtered meat here is actually affordable, like only $2-3 more, unlike in the US, where it’s $10-12 more. So that’s cool.
N – “No worries.” I thought this was a phrase Outback Steakhouse made popular, but it’s pretty accurate for Australian people. From what I’ve experienced, they’re much more laid back and living for the moment than Americans. Less striving for status and social climbing, and more enjoying what you already have. It’s been an adjustment for me, but one I really needed.
O – Op Shop – Thrift stores are called Op Shops. Funny enough, they all smell the same as they do in the States. I guess old clothes and failed dreams smell the same no matter where you go.
P – Prawn. Shrimp! I thought a prawn was a giant shrimp, but it’s just a regular shrimp. And they’re everywhere here – the advantage of living so close to the ocean.
R – Rubbish. Trash is no longer trash, it’s rubbish. Whenever I say it in my mind, I say it with a clipped British accent. I can’t help it. /fancy
And sneakers are called “runners.” Which makes more sense, as I can’t sneak around in my sneakers. They squeak.
S – Scroll. It’s a cinnamon scroll, not a cinnamon bun. And they aren’t limited to just cinnamon. There are endless combinations. I walk past a stand that sells Banana – Nutella and Cookies -n- Cream scrolls. The one time I had money and time to stop for one, they were sold out. I will get there one day. And it’ll be life changing.
Oh, and swim suits are called “swimmers.” I like it.
T – Tomato. Tin. Trolley. Thongs. When my friend Odie was living in Sydney, he started saying to-mah-to, and I made so much fun of him for it. Now I say it regularly. I even say “Tin tomato” which is “can of tomatoes.” Resistance is futile.
Also, people push trolleys through the store. And they wear thongs on their feet, and a G-String as underwear. “My thong broke on the beach!” means your flip flop broke. It doesn’t mean your bottom swimmers broke. Even though Speedos for men are unfortunately popular here.
U – Uni. When you go off to university, you head to “uni.” No one really says college. And from what I’ve heard, the “crazy American college experience” doesn’t happen here. No solo cups? Denied!
V – Vegemite. This yeast based spice paste used to make me vomit. The first time I tried it, I spit it out and swore it off for good. Even the smell of it turned me off.
However. Joel made a toasted English muffin with butter and Vegemite, and it was actually the perfect savory breakfast. And it’s a really crucial hangover snack. It’s all in how it’s prepared: 2 parts butter to 1 part vegemite, on any toasted bread. This also supports my principal that butter makes everything better.
W – Washing. Whether it’s dishes or laundry, we call it “washing” here. For example, I do the washing (laundry) on Sundays. And we do the washing after every meal.
Also, a windshield is called a wind screen, which I don’t get. It’s glass, not a screen. Point – America.
X – XXXX beer. The first time I saw an ad for XXXX beer, I thought it was an ad for a porno. Turns out it’s Queensland’s most popular beer.
Y – Yobbo (yah-bo). Like we have rednecks and white trash, Australia has Bogans and yobbos. Like a bogan to a lesser degree. Maybe less meth.
Z – Zed. X, Y, Zed, not X, Y, Z. Apparently, Zed is not dead. He’s been living at the end of the alphabet.
Happy Australia Day, everyone!
*for the record, the only word that makes me feel douchey is “mobile.” As in, my “mo-bile phone”. I can’t say it. It comes of like mo-bille or moe-bal every time. Oneathesedays.
We welcomed in 2015 with a low key party for two. Three if you count the creepy raccoon pillow, Billy Ray. Due to the craziness of Joel’s work schedule and the expense/logistical difficulties of planning a 30 hour getaway, we just opted to stay at home. We had booze and salty snacks, a champagne toast, Indian dinner, fireworks, pointy hats, and even an encounter with the biggest Huntsman I’ve seen to date.
2015 so far has been lazy, hot, full of couch hangs, *knock on wood* Huntsman free. Bodes well for the rest of the year, I’d say.