I'm Dreaming of a [Very] Rainy Christmas

Had it been 60 degrees cooler (Farenheit), we might have had some snow. Unfortunately for me, however, the Christmas season occurs right in the middle of Sydney's summer. No Blizzard of '09 for me...Oh well...

Witness to a Crime

Standing atop the Kings Cross Hotel rooftop bar sipping a beer, both my friend Daniel and I suddenly noticed down below us a man in a hat start sprinting down the street. Impressed at first by his speed (no Bolt, but getting there...), five seconds later we were flabbergasted when a young woman followed suit. Clearly the not-quite-Bolt sprinter man had stolen her purse.

Oh dear, I thought. We have a chase on our hands.

Gripping the balcony with enthusiasm, Daniel and I--both 100% enraptured--watched as a somewhat overweight policeman started to run after the two of them as well. Sadly, he only lasted about one block before the other two rounded a corner and sprinted out of sight.

Drama drama drama.

Um, Beach Please

The other day, the American crew (Dane, Daniel, and myself) decided the 40 degree weather--that's Celsius, folks--presented the perfect opportunity for a little beach time. But although over the past few days we've become Bondi Beach's newest resident beach bums, which my drastic change in skin color and my poor companions' lobster-red backs will prove, we decided perhaps it was time to explore some new waters...literally.

Since starting work in Bondi, I've been told by pretty much everyone I've met that the Bondi to Coogee coastal walk is a must-see and must-do. Supposedly the cliff views are stunning, the beaches exquisitely refreshing, and the walk itself just overall quite fulfilling. So today, armed with our beach towels, "swimmers," and copious amounts of sunscreen and aloe vera (for the first degree burns) we set off south towards Coogee Beach.

Ah, and it was breathtaking. Halfway past the amazing rock faces, and in between one turquoise-colored body of water and another even more turquoise-colored body of water, we all lamented the fact that not even one of three of us had thought to bring a camera. Oy vei. To make up for this, however, we instead chose to sample each beach we passed (about five or six total). Consequently, I have collected my thoughts bellow and written reviews for each body of water into which I dipped my toe, as well as corresponding beaches. Please read on for more:

1. Bondi Beach: Beautiful people, beautiful people, beautiful people galore. Beware the perfectly sun-kissed and chiseled bodies. You thought you were hot once? Prepare yourself for somewhat of an ego dump...Bondi-goers are are a good-looking bunch. Makes for some good people-watching (yes, and many women go topless, so beware of gawky teenage boys too). Other than that, waves are gentle and the water is relatively warm and shallow. The perfect dip.

After swimming, don't let yourself forget to walk along Campbell parade to buy yourself some delicious gelato or a perhaps somewhat over-priced meal along that main arcade.


2. Tamarama Beach: Neighborhood beach otherwise known as "Glamarama." We didn't actually stop to swim here--much smaller than expected and very few people. Pretty, though, as most Australian beaches tend to be.


3. Bronte Beach: Known as one of the best surf rescue training beaches in Sydney, let alone New South Wales, Bronte is definitely home to some serious agua. While a fair amount choose to brave the somewhat daunting waves, others go with safer options: either sticking to land/the small and quaint sandy beach area, and/or going for a dip in the saltwater pool adjacent to the water (the pool's water level actually rises and falls with the tide...kinda cool, right?). Besides that, there's really not much else to Bronte, besides it's two public lavatories and beachside surf rescue school. In fact, the beach itself is enclosed by large cliffs on which stand very impressive homes.


4.Clovelly Beach: Oh hey there, kids. Clearly a popular choice among families, the guys and I were almost shocked to see so many children under the age of 10 in one location. From a man in a speedo wrestling his son to the ground in order to apply sunscreen, to little Australian children on mini surfboards, I knew I had reached some sort of Aussie surf life breeding ground. I kid you not.

Besides that, water is essentially a long channel from the ocean. Hence the water lacks the violent waves of Bronte or Tamarama. Definitely one of my top picks.


5. Gordon's Bay: Beautiful water with a vibrant underwater ecosystem is for snorkelers. So is Gordon's Bay. 'Nough said.


6. Coogee Beach: While Bondi Beach may be frequented by the beautiful, we noticed a not-so-subtle change in the demographic of Coogee. One word: mullets. Other than that, pretty much an exact copy of Bondi with slightly bigger waves and slightly less people.

Rain, Rain, [Please Don't] Go Away

It's raining. Ah, and how wonderful it is. For a city that is already suffering from a drought, the rain is a god sent.

So, dear clouds, keep on keep on...because all of us down here are very grateful.

p.s. My rainy day: laundry, Season 2 of Californication, and take-away Thai food.

The American Invasion

As I've very easily gathered over my past two months here, Australians have a love/hate relationship with all things American. While they love our music, they hate our politics. While they absorb our celebrities, Hollywood films, and all things pop culture, they shun many aspects of our government leaders and policies. While I've had a thirteen-year-old girl excitedly ask me if I know Britney Spears (if I know her personally, that is...supposedly we Americans often gallivant around with once-innocent popstars), I've also had a man berate me for my country's idiotic election of a man named Bush.

So what will these Aussies think when six bright-eyed Americans step off the plane this coming week? Yeah, that's right. My two friends Dane and Daniel from Stanford, as well as the four other members of the Strand/Sylvester family are coming to this marvelous not-actually-emerald city of OZ.

So what will Aussies think of this American invasion? My guess is this: first of all, I doubt they'll even notice. Secondly, if they do happen to notice the crew of American tourists strolling their streets--or hear the American accents, they'll smile jovially and say something along the lines of, "Ah, you're American! Whereabouts are you from?" While this love/hate relationship may exist here Down Under, Australian hospitality and amiability far and beyond comes first. All will be fun and dandy.

Ah, people are just so friendly here...

And Presenting...Stan Walker!

The newest (and first) music video of Australian Idol's most recent winner, Stan Walker:



I know, kind of typical pop...but just oh so catchy!

The Kindness of Strangers

I have never been the type to offer up my room to a total and complete stranger, or show someone around my city and offer to take them out for a cup of coffee before I've even met them. Though I have never viewed myself as selfish or unkind, in the past I have tended only to extend my hospitality and friendship to those whose name I know or to faces with whom I'm familiar.

My dad's family centers very much around the idea that when one family member is in need, all other members do their best to help. In other words, what one brother, sister, father, or mother might experience, is experienced by the rest of the family. I myself have seen this unique kindness rendered in various situations--from watching my dad and uncle work to rebuild my grandparent's house after it was destroyed by Katrina, to the open "our home is your home" invitation my aunt and uncle have made available to me ever since I moved to California. Dad once told me that he wouldn't have ever achieved what he has today if it weren't for his family.

Coincidentally, my parents have raised me and my siblings very much the same way. I would do anything for any of them. They're family, and in my opinion, that's what families do.

Which brings me to my point. They're family. These are people I know and love dearly...I would never think twice about giving them a place to stay, or providing them with a home-cooked meal. I feel the same way about my closest friends--and even for the most part with just plain ol' friends. But never before have I ever even thought of extending this idea to encompass those I'm unable to even call mere acquaintances--to people who I flat out just don't know. I'll be honest: in the past, I could have cared less.

Enter Australia.

Over the past few months, I have been at the mercy of complete and total strangers. I wouldn't have survived here in Australia if it weren't for these people who seem to welcome pretty much everyone with very open arms.

When I first got here, I thought it was really odd. Why the hell would someone want random people staying in their spare bedrooms, on their couches, or eating with them every night for dinner. Not only is it an invasion of personal space...I don't know, it's just weird. Naturally, the extremely paranoid hypochondriac in me thought of all the terrifying reasons people might want to open up their homes to two twenty-two-year-old girls. Yeah, I know, there are a lot. But at the same time, again, I don't know what I would have done if Jules and her family, for example, hadn't taken me in at last minute (even Jules had never spoken to me before...that's pure blind faith right there). My time here could have likely been very lonely.

Yesterday I thanked Jane (Jules's mom) for the 2349823423947th time since getting to Sydney. To which she said: "It is our pleasure. Seriously. I can't tell you what Ed and I would have done if it weren't for the kindness of strangers while we were traveling at your age. Or what Jules would have done in Europe, for that matter."

I guess it's kind of a pay-it-forward thing. Once someone has showered such kindness on you, how can you not afford someone the same kind of favor later on in life? Since getting to Australia, I've discovered a whole new kind of community here, based solely on trust and friendship--one in which everyone is everyone's family, and consequently everyone is treated as such. Granted, I'm not going to be running any sort of homeless shelter in my basement when I get home(I'm still no Mother Teresa...not by a long shot). But I can tell you that I do have a much deeper empathy towards the life of a wandering traveler.

Alright, time to go find some friends with whom to sit cross-legged, join hands, and belt out a heartfelt rendition of "Kumbaya."

On the Corner of Elizabeth and Park

After walking Chinatown and Darling Harbour for the majority of my afternoon, I decided my feet needed a break. Hence, I found myself at the corner of Elizabeth St. and Park St., outside the Starbucks with a newly purchased and already half-inhaled raspberry blackcurrant blended tea. Across the street, the palm trees and grassy green beckoned. Hello, Hyde Park.

 

I spent the rest of the afternoon sunbathing, people watching, and reading Tolkien's The Hobbit (I never read it as a kid...I know, I had a deprived childhood). Almost forgot I had left California :).

NOTE: Hyde Park is the very large rectangular green space with trees in the picture to the right...just in case you didn't figure that out already.

Fun Fact: Giant Human Whale

Probably not as captivating or freakish as it sounds, but still worth noting. Approximately two years ago on Bondi Beach, the "Save the Whales!" campaign enlisted thousands of people to trace out the figure of an adult humpback whale...Supposedly the Bondi "whale" is the biggest human whale EVER. I know; it's kind of a big deal.

Anyway, it's interesting to see Bondi occupied by something other than scantily clad men and women.

Aboriginal Activism

Jane, one of the members of the family I'm currently staying with here in Sydney, spent a part of her life growing up in South Africa where her parents worked as anti-Apartheid activists. Eventually, they actually left for England because of the pervasive racism and attitudes towards the black Africans there.

Jane has interestingly followed the activist footsteps of her South African parents and now works as a sort of psychologist among the Aboriginal community--particularly with Aboriginal parents, who are trying to break the patterns of abuse, trauma, and hopelessness as they raise their own Aboriginal children. She actually told me this morning over breakfast that she strongly believes that Australia is experiencing it's very own apartheid...Sad thing is, no one seems to want to recognize, name, or define it as such. Until people do, she said to me, there's not much even she can do to ameliorate the situation and the tension that exists between Aboriginals and white Australians.

Another interesting fact: Jane's son (Julia's brother) Dave is actually up in Darwin. He's been inducted into an Aboriginal tribe there and has been working with their elders for a similar change...

...another activist! I'm surrounded :). I'll be curious to hear more about their work in the upcoming months.

Day at Bondi

Oh hey there, sunshine. Jules and I spent the morning/afternoon lounging in the sun under her newly purchased striped umbrella. The water was clear, the water calm. My 50 cent McDonalds soft serve ice cream cone = yum.

I was initially somewhat concerned that my middle school bathing suit top was a bit too skanky (in 8th grade, puberty hit, but I pretended it hadn't and kept wearing the same clothes...oops). But ha. Um yeah. I felt very clothed in comparison to the Australian/international crowd gathered on Bondi. Who knew that I'm a sunbathing prude?

Also...timed the walk from the Bondi Junction train station to the beach--for commuting purposes once I start work at the hostel: 27 minutes exactly. My goal is to get down to 25 min. Let the power-walking begin.

Chimichangas Galore

Tonight was quite the night. I never thought I would ever see so much beans and cheese within a short three hours. (I feel bloated just thinking about it).

I'll admit; my feet do ache a bit. Yet there was no plate breakage, no drink spillage, no bumbling and/or awkward order taking. I polished cutlery, set tables, bussed tables, took orders, delivered orders, and smiled/giggled when people asked if I was actually an American (I'm just so authentic Tex Mex, what can I say?).

The boys in the kitchen think my name is "Colin," which I suppose makes sense as most Brits/Aussies just drop that very necessary "r" consonant. So Carlyn does somehow evolve into "Colin." Which is why, I suppose, I've been officially nicknamed "Colin Farrell." Oh joy. "Colin Farrell, take these to table 25!" "Colin Farrell, why are you so tall?" "Colin Farrell, that cutlery isn't shiny enough!"

Granted, if that's all I have to endure over the next 3 months, I'll gladly grin and bear it.

But the people are nice, the food is great, and the atmosphere quite pleasant (although the restaurant itself could use some good ol' air-conditioning). Viva la comida mexicana!

My ipod Died

Well, that's old news now I suppose. My iPod went into "Recovery Mode" approximately two weeks ago and deleted all my music. Bugger.

Michael, one of my newest friends here, however, has kindly offered to upload all of his Australian music onto my poor, empty, sorry excuse for an mp3 player. Actually, when he heard I have no music, he pretty much demanded I lend him my iPod..."I have the best taste. Don't worry about it," he claimed.

We'll see. As long as there's enough Michael Bublé (again, he makes my heart soar) and The Presets to go around, I'm 100% set.

Australia Loves Michael Bublé

Seriously...it's kind of a weird obsession. He's everywhere--from Australian Idol, to the Toronto 2010 Winter Olympics commercial that seems to air every 5 seconds here (Australia apparently loves the Toronto 2010 Winter Olympics too).

I mean, I get it. He's cute, he's Canadian, and he has a voice that makes me want to spread my wings and fly up into a heaven filled with cupids and heart-shaped pillows.

Check out two of my favorite Bublé-rrific songs:
"Haven't Met You Yet"
"Home"

Waitress Anxiety

This evening, commencing at approximately 5:30 pm, I will start my job as a waitress at a California/Baja Mexican restaurant. Since "interviewing" for the job (note: "interviewing" consisted of Rob, the owner, asking me if I'd waitressed before--to which I responded, "Yes, Rob, I have"--to which he replied "see you on Sunday"), memories of my experience as a waitress at Armand's Pizzeria back home in D.C. have flooded back to me: My feet hurt; customers were often rude; my ego was severely bruised by more than a few tray-spilling debacles; and by the time I left, I loathed pizza with a very zealous passion.

Blargh.

I have, however, convinced myself that "Carlyn Does Waitressing, Take 2" will be quite different. The reasons are sixfold:

1. I've been walking a lot. My feet have grown accustomed to a monotonous tread.
   
2. After teaching a cappella to elderly divas this summer, I know not only how to embrace the rudeness, but how to be slightly amused by it too.
   
3. I no longer have the gait of an awkward senior in high school...Hence, my balance is a bit better. No more tray spills.
4. Australians may not tip, but they do have a minimum wage of $13/hr.
5. My boss is an American from California. He automatically has to love me amidst all these accented Aussies (right?!).
   
6. I like Mexican food more than I like pizza. 

Wish me luck.

7:44 and Ready to Go

Since Tasmania, I've had this terrible inability to sleep past 6:15 am. This never used to be a problem...

I first and foremost blame the rooster--Colonel Parker woke me up without fail around 4:30 each morning with his cockle-doodle-doo nonsense. How is an already slightly circadian-challenged human ever supposed to recover from that?

Of course, now my poor body has decided that I need to go to bed around 9:30 pm in order to compensate. This means that while many of the friends I've made call me to make plans or invite me out, I'm already out like a nine-year-old allowed to stay up an hour past bedtime because it's not a school night.

But I am determined. Having spent almost a week already with the Suttle family, I can say that, at the very least, I am trying to force some sort of 12-8 sleeping schedule. Last night, almost made it to midnight (11:43 pm, to be exact) until I passed out while watching the love scene in Titanic. Clearly Leonardo DiCaprio just doesn't do it for me anymore because I was out as quick as a pouncing crocodile (and they are frighteningly quick).

This morning I woke up at precisely 7:44 am. While this puts me at the doctor's prescribed "8 hours," I will nevertheless continue to push myself.

I know, you're all sitting on the edge of your seats, wondering if I'll make it (no promises here...). I'll keep you posted.

Fun Fact: The Australian prime minister's name is Kevin Rudd...

...although many people here refer to him as "KRudd." Turns out crummy politicians/nicknames for crummy politicians are a universal phenomenon...

Welcome, Blokes and Sheilas!

G'Day Readers:

I love Sydney. Enough said.

After doing a bunch of help exchanges and Couch Surfing stays over the past two months, I'm ready to settle down here in Sydney for, at the very least, the next three months. Let my newest adventure begin!

But first, some things you should know (or else you might be utterly confused):

1. I'll be working as a receptionist at a hostel right on Bondi Beach, about 20 min by bus outside the CBD.
2. I'll also be working as a waitress at a Mexican restaurant (perhaps the only Mexican restaurant in Sydney) in the Inner-West neighborhood of Glebe. Yeah, that's right--I've got TWO jobs. Hello, dinero.
   
3. Still relying on the kindness of strangers...Currently staying with an Australian named Julia and her wonderful parents Ed and Jane (both misplaced Brits who love British comedy and a delicious lamb roast)...
4. ...But moving into a 4-bedroom terrace house in the Surry Hills/Redfern/Haymarket area at the beginning of January! I'll be subletting the already furnished room of Isabelle, a fashion student (also British...they're everywhere) who will be visiting her family in  Dubai over summer. 
5. I'm in love with this city; I could stay here forever.
6. (Don't worry, Dad. I'll come home...eventually).

Soooooo READ ON. And please, do enjoy :).

Cheers,
Carlyn