I was gone for a minute, but now I’m back. From having one of my best friends come visit me after more than two years of not seeing each other to Christmas to New Years, I’ve been a hot mess of activity and shrugged off my blogging responsibilities. Continue reading
Category: Sydney
Thanksgiving Down Under!
I felt so anxious for Thursday to arrive. Not even Thursday – I kept counting down the days for Wednesday to arrive. My brain sailed into vacation mode, but when Wednesday came around, there were no text messages from my friends about our plans for Thanksgiving Eve, quite possibly the biggest party night of the year. I went to work, had a meeting after work, went home and had a glass of homemade Sangria with my roommates. It was a mini, very calm and low key thanksgiving eve for me, but at least it included a glass of delicious alcohol.
Things started to sort of spiral downward as I got ready for bed that night. I’ve been away from home for the past three Thanksgivings, so you would think I could go unfazed by missing it once again.
I blame Facebook. All the stupid notifications of people headed home for the holidays, the excitement saturating their words. I remember what it was like to come home from Uni for Thanksgiving break. It is the first time you’ve seen your friends since leaving a few months earlier. You go home and revel in some of life’s greatest pleasures: family, friends, food and drinks.
Thursday came around, and I felt like I was having a holiday without the holiday. I get it. I live in Oz. I have to go to work. I did the same in Korea. I am not trying to sound like some obnoxious americano demanding that everyone around the world recognise my holidays. But still…it just doesn’t feel right working on Thanksgiving.
In the end, my Thanksgiving this year really reminded me of what being thankful is about. Helen, Dane’s mom, contacted my stepmom to get some advice on how to throw me a surprise Thanksgiving dinner that would remind me of home. Of course Jeanne let her know that I’ll devour all items on the table and that if pies are involved, chances are I will eat only the crust and pastry part, but still – Helen went above and beyond to cook all of the Thanksgiving essentials.
I arrived at Dane’s house on Thursday night a bit uncertain of what was going on, but I walked in the door and was floored. It was more than I could have asked for. The table was decorated with candles and autumn-themed centerpieces to create a real Turkey day atmosphere. There was a turkey in the oven, the aroma of ham wafting in the air, seasoned potatoes and a garden of vegetables to indulge in. There was wine galore and some of the most deliciously mouth-watering pie I could have dreamed of. Dane’s neighbours and family friends joined us for the feast.
I immediately messaged home to tell my Dad and Jeanne, who I thought were sleeping but instead were like two excited kids on Christmas Eve night who couldn’t sleep. They’d been waiting to hear from me all night to see how surprised I was.
I quite possibly might be the luckiest person on the planet to be so far from my family but still feel so incredibly at home right here in Sydney. I couldn’t be more thankful or appreciative of everything and everyone who helped me have such an awesomely amazing holiday. Dane and his family are truly some of the most incredible and caring people I have ever met. I will forever feel so grateful and thankful for all of the effort to ensure I had my holiday, and that I had it the ‘write’ way.
I cleaned my plate and then some, and went to bed feeling food coma-full, which is a proper Turkey Day celebration. The very next morning Dane and I hit the road once again for what is going to be the most incredible trip over the next two weeks.
Meeting the Wild of Oz in your backyard
Australia has loads of what I consider to be wild animals all over the place. There’s always crazy birds trotting their ways through the streets and are as common as pigeons are in NYC. I am pretty certain (actually 100% sure) that there are monkeys in the backyard at Dane’s house. I hear them every single night without fail, and when I first mentioned the monkeys to his family, they laughed it off and told me the noises come from some animal called a Kookaburra. I’ve never heard of such a thing before, and any Brooklynite can tell you those noises in their backyard are monkeys, plain and simple. No bird makes noises like that. I’m not always crazy eager to get up close and personal with some of these creatures, and usually I tend to “admire” them from a distance. It isn’t that I am scared really or that I am grossed out, but my interaction with the wild has been pretty much bar none since growing up. My best friend and I found a bat in Brooklyn once and made the news. That’s how limited my interaction was with wild animals.
But Australia is “chockers (that means packed)” with tons of species running wild through the streets like it aint no thang. It isn’t nearly as bad as the cows wandering and meandering through India, stepping on you as the weave their way through the train platforms to eat garbage from the rubbish bins, but still. They’re everywhere.
So, the other day, I was lying in bed at Dane’s house when his mom came downstairs and told me to hurry up and come see the “akidna” outside in his neighbour’s yard. And so we followed her out so I could see just what an akidna (except I kept called it a kidney) really is.
I’m happy to say I’ve had my first encounter with a wild porcupine right here in Sydney. It was pretty cute, really, though it seemed incredibly frightened and basically rolled up into a ball as a form of protection. I got sort of excited because I thought maybe it would shoot some of its spikes out at us, which is something I’ve only seen in cartoons, but hey. I’ve seen kangaroos boxing, so why wouldn’t this be possible, too?
But it didn’t. It just ate some food, rolled up in a ball and repeated those activities. I guess it didn’t really want to play, but seeing as I am quite sick, playing with a feral animal is probably not the best way to get better.
Maybe next time.
But Australia is “chockers (that means packed)” with tons of species running wild through the streets like it aint no thang. It isn’t nearly as bad as the cows wandering and meandering through India, stepping on you as the weave their way through the train platforms to eat garbage from the rubbish bins, but still. They’re everywhere.
So, the other day, I was lying in bed at Dane’s house when his mom came downstairs and told me to hurry up and come see the “akidna” outside in his neighbour’s yard. And so we followed her out so I could see just what an akidna (except I kept called it a kidney) really is.
I’m happy to say I’ve had my first encounter with a wild porcupine right here in Sydney. It was pretty cute, really, though it seemed incredibly frightened and basically rolled up into a ball as a form of protection. I got sort of excited because I thought maybe it would shoot some of its spikes out at us, which is something I’ve only seen in cartoons, but hey. I’ve seen kangaroos boxing, so why wouldn’t this be possible, too?
But it didn’t. It just ate some food, rolled up in a ball and repeated those activities. I guess it didn’t really want to play, but seeing as I am quite sick, playing with a feral animal is probably not the best way to get better.
Maybe next time.
Summer in Sydney
Recently, the past couple of mornings and nights have been blanketed with that still energy that only summer can bring. There’s like that extra little bounce in the air, the smallest whizzes of excitement as the weather warns up and imaginations wander their ways to white sandy beaches.
Summer is on its way here in sydney, even though the calendar might say its October.
One of the incredible benefits of teaching is being able to hold class’s outside, and one of the incredible benefits of teaching in the city means being able to have class in Sydney’s famous Darling Harbour.
I can’t complain about my classroom this year, that’s for sure.
Sydney and The Australian
It’s been ages and ages and ages since I’ve last written on my blog, which is surprising seeing as I’ve made a pretty big and drastic change in my lifestyle.
I’ve officially landed in Sydney, Australia, and am already head-over-heels in love – something I know worries my family and friends back home who are convinced I will never return to the States.
Where to even begin about Sydney and how I ended up here? Getting a working holiday visa for Australia is simple and easy, and work (which I have yet to act on…) pays well in comparison to the US. Moving down under was something I kind of always threw around as a possibility to avoid going home to the States post-Korea and post-backpacking, but I never thought I would actually act on it.
The more and more I thought about it, though, the more and more the idea appealed to me. Then, one day I found myself in a bar in SE Asia, watching a World Cup rugby game and striking up a conversation with a group of kids at the table next to us. They were a group of Australians, and Molly, Camille (our too-cute-for life French friend traveling solo around the world) and I traveled with them for a bit of time.
To make a long story short, I played slightly dumb in the bar that day, asking questions about rugby I either knew the answer to (sort of) or didn’t really listen to the answer to. It was really just an excuse to get a conversation going with one Australian in particular, and here I am seven months later seeing how the rest of the story plays out.
To say I was nervous before moving here would be an understatement. I remember waiting for my layover in the Kuala Lumpur airport just a week ago, scared out of my mind to make a move that was very unlike Allie Babez. There was no one to see me off to the airport this time, no good bye pasta meal where my cousin Lori would be ready to stab me with her fork if I tried to steal one of her meatballs. This was just me, waiting patiently and all alone, surrounded by people who looked like they could be from the States but opened their mouths and reminded me I was not headed back to the streets of Brooklyn.
But I did it. I decided to continue my story by starting a new chapter in a new city in a new country on a new continent and taking a chance on something I never planned for. If there’s anything I’ve learned from all of this – from traveling and from all the different experiences I’ve had – it’s that you can’t plan out your life because it’s never constant. The only thing constant about life is that it’s always changing.
So I made the change and took the leap down under, and I’m lucky to have a handsome local get me adjusted to the Sydney lifestyle. I’m going to be very un-Australian and call him The Australian, a nickname (and a general word) that contains far too many syllables for Aussies.
I have a lot to learn about making my way in Australia, but I learned two things rather quickly, both of which I kind of knew and had to come to terms with before even boarding the plane.
The first thing: Alexandra. That’s four syllables. I prefer my full name to my nickname, Alex, but I knew it was asking a lot of Australians to call me by my first name. Upon being introduced to the Australian’s parents my first night in Sydney, they put it to me straight: “Well now, Alexandra just won’t work.” Alex, Allie, Al (I won’t let this one happen) – all of those are perfectly fine, but my days of Alexandra are over.
The second thing I learned: I was going to have to be a meat eater in order to survive down here, and I am not just talking chicken. I needed to re-discover my appetite for steak, pork and lamb. The Australian’s parents made me chicken with roasted veggies for my first non-traveling meal. I told them that it isn’t that I don’t like meat, it’s just that I stopped eating it a while ago and kind of just forgot I liked it. I would be more than willing to slowly incorporate meat back into my diet, and I’ve stuck by my promise and am trying it all.
I’d like to think I blend in quite well and don’t stick out like a sore thumb like I did in Asia.; that is until I open my mouth and start “tawking”. One word, and the secret’s out: I’m a FOB – fresh off the boat – and apparently I’m a younger looking FOB here in Aussie.
There’s a lot that’s gone on and a lot more to write about, but I spent my first week exploring the city and its suburbs by doing something my dad warned me about doing since the time I was little. I’ve been cruising around Sydney on a proper motorcycle, which I was ridiculously nervous about but have since come to find any excuse to jump on the back and go for a ride anywhere and everywhere.
We get stopped at least once a day by people all over the streets, all of them giving us a little nod and a “Beautiful bike, Mate!”I take the compliment as if it is my bike
And once again, I’m living a pretty awesome life. More to come about my experiences down under from meat auctions to my learning the slang to trying to figure out why all Aussie guys are giants. (I think it’s the vegemite.)
I’ve officially landed in Sydney, Australia, and am already head-over-heels in love – something I know worries my family and friends back home who are convinced I will never return to the States.
Where to even begin about Sydney and how I ended up here? Getting a working holiday visa for Australia is simple and easy, and work (which I have yet to act on…) pays well in comparison to the US. Moving down under was something I kind of always threw around as a possibility to avoid going home to the States post-Korea and post-backpacking, but I never thought I would actually act on it.
The more and more I thought about it, though, the more and more the idea appealed to me. Then, one day I found myself in a bar in SE Asia, watching a World Cup rugby game and striking up a conversation with a group of kids at the table next to us. They were a group of Australians, and Molly, Camille (our too-cute-for life French friend traveling solo around the world) and I traveled with them for a bit of time.
To make a long story short, I played slightly dumb in the bar that day, asking questions about rugby I either knew the answer to (sort of) or didn’t really listen to the answer to. It was really just an excuse to get a conversation going with one Australian in particular, and here I am seven months later seeing how the rest of the story plays out.
To say I was nervous before moving here would be an understatement. I remember waiting for my layover in the Kuala Lumpur airport just a week ago, scared out of my mind to make a move that was very unlike Allie Babez. There was no one to see me off to the airport this time, no good bye pasta meal where my cousin Lori would be ready to stab me with her fork if I tried to steal one of her meatballs. This was just me, waiting patiently and all alone, surrounded by people who looked like they could be from the States but opened their mouths and reminded me I was not headed back to the streets of Brooklyn.
But I did it. I decided to continue my story by starting a new chapter in a new city in a new country on a new continent and taking a chance on something I never planned for. If there’s anything I’ve learned from all of this – from traveling and from all the different experiences I’ve had – it’s that you can’t plan out your life because it’s never constant. The only thing constant about life is that it’s always changing.
So I made the change and took the leap down under, and I’m lucky to have a handsome local get me adjusted to the Sydney lifestyle. I’m going to be very un-Australian and call him The Australian, a nickname (and a general word) that contains far too many syllables for Aussies.
I have a lot to learn about making my way in Australia, but I learned two things rather quickly, both of which I kind of knew and had to come to terms with before even boarding the plane.
The first thing: Alexandra. That’s four syllables. I prefer my full name to my nickname, Alex, but I knew it was asking a lot of Australians to call me by my first name. Upon being introduced to the Australian’s parents my first night in Sydney, they put it to me straight: “Well now, Alexandra just won’t work.” Alex, Allie, Al (I won’t let this one happen) – all of those are perfectly fine, but my days of Alexandra are over.
The second thing I learned: I was going to have to be a meat eater in order to survive down here, and I am not just talking chicken. I needed to re-discover my appetite for steak, pork and lamb. The Australian’s parents made me chicken with roasted veggies for my first non-traveling meal. I told them that it isn’t that I don’t like meat, it’s just that I stopped eating it a while ago and kind of just forgot I liked it. I would be more than willing to slowly incorporate meat back into my diet, and I’ve stuck by my promise and am trying it all.
I’d like to think I blend in quite well and don’t stick out like a sore thumb like I did in Asia.; that is until I open my mouth and start “tawking”. One word, and the secret’s out: I’m a FOB – fresh off the boat – and apparently I’m a younger looking FOB here in Aussie.
There’s a lot that’s gone on and a lot more to write about, but I spent my first week exploring the city and its suburbs by doing something my dad warned me about doing since the time I was little. I’ve been cruising around Sydney on a proper motorcycle, which I was ridiculously nervous about but have since come to find any excuse to jump on the back and go for a ride anywhere and everywhere.
We get stopped at least once a day by people all over the streets, all of them giving us a little nod and a “Beautiful bike, Mate!”I take the compliment as if it is my bike
And once again, I’m living a pretty awesome life. More to come about my experiences down under from meat auctions to my learning the slang to trying to figure out why all Aussie guys are giants. (I think it’s the vegemite.)
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| Allie and the Australian. Sorry, Dad. It’s no push bike. |