Let the Countdown Begin!

One week and a day until Brian and I step on our plan in Bangkok and begin the journey home!
One week and two days before I arrive in LAX!
One week, two days, and two hours (or however long it takes me to get through customs, then back to the house) before I pass out in my bed to sleep for 48+ hours!

Eight Thai Must-Haves:

After making my way to Thailand for the second time around, I now consider myself well-versed in the must-haves and must-dos of this wonderful country. Below I've compiled a list of the top eight necessities...Enjoy!

1) Tiger Balm: An oil/menthol/spice semi-solid concoction that works wonders on itchy mosquito bites and muscle pains (also works on something called "logumba"...not sure what that is, and not sure I really care to find out). Comes in both "Red" and "White." Seriously, it's a miracle worker; as of now, I currently have approximately five bottles stored to take home with me.

2) A Motorbike: No license required! Don't fear the traffic...Become part of it!

3) Fruit Shake and Pancake: The backpacker's everyday necessity. For only 30 baht apiece, you can savor these delicious--and relatively healthy--foods as many times as a day as you please. My favorites: mango shake and a pancake sprinkled with lemon juice and sugar.

4) Sore Muscles: Massages in Thailand = CHEAP AS HELL. Embrace the exchange rate and give your back and shoulders a much needed break.

5) The ability to say "NO!": Like every other country in SE Asia, the street sellers and taxi drivers abound. Either be prepared to politely say no, or be prepared to spend a lot of your baht on some very unnecessary purchases.

6) A love for dogs: They're everywhere. They cuddle you at restaurants, hump your legs when you least expect it, and wag their tails excitedly at every passerby. If you're not a dog lover, then you best be ready to learn how to be one.

7) Swimsuit: I mean, obviously.

8) A Smile: Thailand is known as the "land of smiles"--appropriately so, as every friendly face you pass seems to have a beautiful, toothy smile permanently pasted on. Go on, join the smiley love :).

"My friend went to Malaysia...

...And all she brought back was this lousy juice box." Oh, and a photo album comprised of ten pictures of the Petronas Towers.

I'm sorry, but Malaysia (Meh...laysia) did not impress me. Granted, I was busy studying for/taking the LSAT for the most part, but still--just wasn't a very exciting place.

One thing, however, that I absolutely LOVED about this country: their grape juice. 100% juice, no sugar added...Recipe for delicious success. I can honestly say I consumed at least five juice boxes a day. I even thought about bringing some home with me, but Brian finally convinced me that could potentially be very disastrous (spilled grape juice? no fun).

Breakfast in Nha Trang

While everyone we've met so far in Vietnam has advised against Nha Trang ("too many buildings," "too many tourists"), our brief stop here while in transit from Hoi An to Ho Chi Minh has been quite pleasant. After twelve hours on one of Vietnam's renowned sleeper buses filled with reclining, bunk-bed-like seats, Brian and I were desperate to have our feet on the ground before hopping onto yet another bus.

Nha Trang is oriented primarily around its surrounding beaches and water. Therefore, we deemed it appropriate to clunk ourselves down at the Veranda Cafe right on the city's main beach. For only $2 each, we ordered their set breakfast menu consisting of eggs on toast, tomato, mushrooms, bacon, sausage, and fresh fruit. And now? It's back to the bus. Kill me, please....

Leaving for Singapore in Three Days...

...and while there, I'm clearly doing this: http://www.spi.com.sg/news/tours/index.htm

Granted, I recognize the majority of my time will be spent watching robots compete at RoboCup 2010 (I kid you not: http://www.robocup2010.org/competitions.php), but I'm pretty sure I'll be able to fit in some time for the Singapore Paranormal Investigators (SPI). Super(non)human robots and creepy ghost stories, here I come!

Hoi An

What is it with the long bus rides?!

After 20+ more hours in two separate buses in the past day, I have finally made it to Hoi An, the beachy tailoring town along the central coast of Vietnam. Far from the hustle and bustle (read: overwhelming chaos) of Hanoi, I already feel much more at ease here. No need to worry about being run over by a stray motorcycles or chased down by street sellers! It's kind of a relief.

Tomorrow, I'm off to the beach...Our hotel offers complimentary bicycles, so my plan is to bike the 5k outside of town. Should be nice. Also on the menu is a trip to a tailor to get my measurements taken for the deliciously plush silk robe and pajamas I'm going to have made for under $30 USD. Yes, be jealous.

“Hock,” Spit, Aviators, and Broken Down Buses: The Long Journey from Laos to Vietnam

Over the past three days, Brian and I have been almost constantly in transit, moving from one place to another. After deciding that three days in the lovely Luang Prabang was probably enough (although we could have stayed there for weeks), we made our way to a local travel agent to a) purchase our Vietnamese visas, and b) book transportation over to Hanoi, Vietnam.

A delightful man with relatively good English informed us that he would recommend we take the local bus from Luang Prabang over to Sam Neua, at which point we could hop on another bus to the Laos-Vietnam border, then hop on a third bus directly to Hanoi. Pleased with this plan, we bought tickets for the first leg from Luang Prabang to Sam Neua. Simple enough, we figured…

Below is a detailed recap of Day 12 - Day 14 of the “Brian and Carlyn Do SE Asia” backpacking trip. Keep in mind that while much of this may seem disastrous, it was not altogether unpleasant. In fact, any person with even a small hint of a sense of humor would have found the trip to be quite delightful:

Day 12:

4:30 PM--Despite the gurgling stomach--a reminder of the past few days’ stomach bug--Brian and I make our way to Luang Prabang’s North Bus Station via tuk-tuk. We’ve spent the morning frolicking and swimming in the beautiful Kuang Si waterfalls and are feeling relatively refreshed and gung-ho about our upcoming trip.

5:30 PM--Bus still hasn’t come. I love the whole laid-back culture thing, but must everything be hours late? I insist on asking the guy at the ticket counter when the bus will actually come, but he assures me with a smile that “the bus will come.” Yeah, okay. But when?

6:04 PM-- The bus does come, and unlike the wonderful air-conditioned coach buses we’ve grown accustomed to riding, this one is a decrepit old school bus…And it’s packed to the brim with people. Also, we’re the only foreigners on the bus, and as soon as we board, we attract a steady stream of stares. Luckily, I find a spare seat and a half, on to which Brian and I each squeeze approximately one butt cheek. The Laos woman in front of me vomits into a plastic bag.

6:15 PM--We’ve been on the bus for just over ten minutes, and the bus has already stopped approximately four times to let on more people. I begin to understand why this is the “local bus.” The guy in the seat behind me decides he wants to watch me listen to my iPod, so he positions his head on my right shoulder.

7:07 PM--MORE PEOPLE.

7:35PM--The bus makes a brief stop to--you guessed it--pick up more people. Approximately half of the bus files off to pop a squat next to the road. Brian and I begin to plot a means of escape.

7:37 PM--Starting now, the next fifteen hours will consist of one single replayed Asian pop CD blasted to an unbearably loud degree. All thoughts of escape are temporarily abandoned, as neither Brian nor I can hear ourselves think.

9:30 PM--Time, surprisingly, seems to move forward, albeit still at turtle-like speed. Brian and I somehow manage to make ourselves comfortable for an hour or two, during which we both take short naps.


Day 13:

1:02 AM -- Hallelujah! As we progress slowly through the mountains towards Sam Neua, passengers one-by-one get off at each of the tiny villages we pass. The bus is emptying out…Brian moves across the aisle, so that now I’m able to comfortable squeeze the entirety of my bottom onto one seat.


4:15 AM -- For some reason, the bus driver decides to take a break from Asian pop in order to play a 45-minute CD of 90’s American hits, including Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On.”

9:30 AM--Sam Neua! Sam Neua! Sam Neua!

9:33 AM-- The man behind the Sam Neua bus station ticket counter informs us that the only bus that leaves for the Vietnam border has already come and gone for the day. Great.

10:00 AM -- Brian and I hitch a ride into a somewhat deserted town. Turns out, Sam Neua is part of the least touristy province in all of Laos. Sure feels as though we’re the only two foreigners within 100 kms--at  the very least. Lots of government buildings, lots of Laos men in government/military uniform. Brian and I manage to find a nice little guest house off a back alley for 60,000 kip/night.

10:05 AM -- There is no power throughout all of Sam Neua. Turned off at 5am, then turned back on at 6pm due to “government maintenance.” Without a fan, it’s already looking to be a long day.

1:00 PM -- Must. Find. Food. The two of us venture out in search of sustenance, only to find that the only restaurant in town that’s still operating without power is the local Indian dig. Not sure how my still vulnerable stomach will handle it, I eat some chicken tikka regardless; I’m pretty much starved after the 17-hour bus ride.

2:00 PM -- Yup, Indian food was a terrible idea. I hurry to a bathroom, only to discover that it’s merely a hole in the ground. FML.

Day 14:

5:30 AM-- Rise and shine to the crowing of roosters and the squealing of a soon-to-be-slaughtered pair of hogs. Brian and I make our way over to the ATM booth in order to draw out some money for our upcoming bus ride from Sam Neua over to Vietnam.

5:34 AM -- Odd sight: The entire female population of Sam Neua is out, brooms in hands. They’re sweeping the streets. At 5:30 AM. Do they do this every morning??

5:36 AM -- Why didn’t we get money out last night?! The ATM machine doesn’t run without power…

7:30 AM -- At the bus station, I use random signs and body language to convince the bus driver to allow Brian and me to purchase our tickets with the last few twenty-dollar US bills I have in my wallet. He says yes, and we shake hands. This is the beginning of a very beautiful friendship. Meanwhile, two other foreigners show up: Elizabeth from Switzerland and Kevin from Tallahassee, Florida.

7:45 AM -- The bus breaks down…for the first time.

11:00 AM -- We make it safe and sound to the border, where the Vietnamese guards searching our bags are immediately intrigued by the purple and yellow Nike soccer ball we’ve carried with us (note: Brian bought it for me in Australia; I convinced him we needed to, for some reason, bring it with us to SE Asia). “How much?” one of the guards asks us. As Brian begins to prepare himself for a little haggling, I very generously say “Free. Take it!” Brian initially gives me a “wtf?!” look, but soon appreciates the hearty handshakes and big smiles bestowed upon us.

11:01 AM -- As we drive away from the border in our minibus, we see the two guards in their military uniforms juggling and passing the ball around behind us.


For the most part, the lengthy story ends here, although I must add that the bus broke down at least four more times throughout our trip from the border to Thanh Hoa in Vietnam. Lucky for us, the terribly run-down vehicles here are complemented by excellent drivers and mechanics.

Once in Thanh Hoa, Brian, the two other travelers, and I decided we'd had enough of the bus and would take the train from Thanh Hoa up to Hanoi--only a three to four hour drive. While depressing to learn that the next train didn't leave for another six hours, we were pleasantly surprised to hear that it would only cost us 47,000 dong (about $2.50) compared to the almost $12 we would have paid on the bus.(Note: I do indeed realize that during my time here in SE Asia, I have become disgustingly cheap. Don't hate.)

The next six hours consisted of roaming around and exploring the relatively deadbeat Thanh Hoa. In search for food, we ended up in a Vietnamese family's living room, where the matron of the house served us some delicious pho accompanied by plates of rice with a chicken head and chicken feet on top. I say this nonchalantly now, but imagine my shock when I realized the chicken head still had some hairs. Whether or not I ate it I'll leave up to the imagination...

A few hours later, we boarded the train. Two words: hard benches. Turns out train travel in Vietnam (China, too) includes an extensive amount of choice; you can select to travel by "hard seat", by "soft seat," "hard sleeper," or "soft sleeper." Clearly we had been slammed in hard seat and were now surrounded by Vietnamese men and women who had, prepared, brought straw mats on which to lie on the floor. Damn, I thought to myself. What we had assumed would be a comfortable and easy three hours up to Hanoi turned out to be three of the longest hours of my life.

Bottom sore and eyes heavy, we finally arrived Hanoi at approximately 4:00 AM in the morning. Fortunately, reception was 24 hours. Unfortunately, we would have to wait until 8:30 to check in. Fortunately, the receptionist allowed us to check our email via the free internet stations in the lobby. Unfortunately, I was too tired to even look at a computer screen. Fortunately, he said we could spend the night on the lobby couches and floor, and provided us with pillows and blankets. People are so unbelievably kind here.

And so the story does really end here. Five hours later, the four of us were woken up by the now on-shift receptionist, who informed us our rooms were ready. Bruised and exhausted, we made our way up to the lovely rooms and collapsed on our beds, thanking god for mattresses, showers, and air-conditioning. Welcome to Hanoi.

A Little Stomach Bug

It was that chicken, I think. That delicious, barbequed chicken that little hole-in-the-wall at the night market was selling for only 10,000 kip. That tempting delicious aroma that, in retrospect, I wish I had fought more readily against. Oh man, but it just tasted SO good.

Yeah, well today I’m kicking myself a little bit--a literal kick to the stomach, if you will. Last night I lay in bed with a nauseated stomach, cursing myself for yet again allowing myself be thrown off balance by a chicken. 

At this point, I think I ought to explain. You see, I have a history with farm birds--particularly chickens. When I was in the Dominican Republic summer back after my 9th grade year in high school, I  went to market just like most people do in the Dominican Republic every day. My hosts had said “Find chicken!” and given me some cash.

Of course, I was a naïve freshmen; I assumed that even third-world countries would have frozen chickens ready to be weighed and bought per pound…Chyea, no. Once I finally found the poultry section of market, I found that--oh dear--all the chickens were recently butchered and skinned, ready for my purchase. Bravely, however, I approached the nearest chicken shop and innocently asked: “Puedo tener un pollo?”

The woman behind the counter smiled at me, and before I knew it she was headed out back for a bit, while meanwhile I heard loud “bok boks” and other chicken-created noises coming from her direction. She came back with a live chicken writhing in her hand. “Este?” she asked. “Oh, I mean, that looks like a nice chicken…,” I responded. And before I had time to finish my sentence with “….but I’d prefer an already dead one,“ she laid the chicken down on a block of wood behind the counter, picked up a nearby axe-like instrument, and chopped off the chicken’s head. Dios mio.


SO, as you might have guessed, this little stomach bug I’ve picked up here is oddly disgruntling. And uncomfortable. Plus, to top things off, I’ve also just discovered that my computer has a few bugs of it’s own…No, like, real ants or something. They’ve made themselves at home under my keyboard and come up to say “sabaidee” (“hello” in Laos--I’m assuming they’re Laos ants) and walk along my lit up computer screen whenever it‘s on. How delightful.

It's Evening on the Mekong River...

...And I've lazily situated myself at the lovely Big Tree Cafe overlooking the Mekong River in Luang Prabang, Laos. It's been a hectic day or two of traveling. After a brief day-and-a-half exploring Vientiane, Brian and I took the five-hour bus north to Vang Vieng. Here we discovered that what was once most likely a nice little river escape has been transformed into a heavily touristed mecca, made up of video bars, tourist offices, and guest houses. In other words, Brian and I ended up drinking a few BeerLao while watching the entirety of Friends, Season 5. We really got a feel of the true Laos experience...(please know I'm kidding).

This morning we took the six-hour minivan to Luang Prabang, a drive that took us along the single winding road through Laos' beautiful mountains and limestone cliffs. (Pictures to come). Once we arrived, we did a bit of shopping around for accommodation, until we finally came across a beautiful guesthouse right on the river for only 60,000 kip/night (that's about $3 each between the two of us). Found an internet cafe, bought myself some pineapple juice, and now watching the sun set over the Mekong.

I might never want to leave...

Quick Update

After five (ish...I've kind of last track of the time here already) days of idyllic island-hopping in Thailand, Brian and I made our way across the Thai-Laos border last night. Note: Our border crossing is a story all unto itself, as a minor hurricane decided to roar its way through the check-point, blowing out the electricity on its way and almost taking us out with it too...

But regardless, we're now safe and sound in the Laos capital city of Vientiane. We've checked in to a lovely little hotel/hostel that has--wait for it--HOT water and AIR-CON (also a television that so wonderfully broadcasted the movie Keeping the Faith...whatever happened to Jenna Elfman? I love her...).Today we plan to explore a bit, as well as book our bus tickets to Luang Prabang for tomorrow.

It's hard to believe we've only been here a week...Feels like months! 

THAILAND!!

It's hard for me to imagine that only a few days ago, I found my Gmail inbox flooded with concerned emails from various concerned family members and friends. It's hard to imagine that only a few days ago I, too, was beginning to feel irrationally concerned about my impending trip to Thailand (i.e. I threw out all my red shirts).

But, I've made it safe and sound. So far, so good.

Moreover, as it turns out, Thailand really is indeed the land of smiles. In fact, I don't think I've seen so many smiles throughout the entirety of my twenty-three years of life. How can you be anything but happy here?? I know, I know--spoken like a true tourist...

Why I Travel

This is why I travel: "Why We Travel," New York Times

In fact, some of these places look so amazing I'm tempted to just hop back on a plane once I've landed in L.A....(I'm kidding??). 

p.s. I really want a fish pedicure, although I'm not sure how well my feet will hold up (they normally take on a life of their own when tickled). 

p.p.s. Kudos to Dad for finding this article and sending it to me!

Turmoil in Thailand

One week until departure! Seems as though things in Thailand have simmered down a bit, but I'm still cautious about my impending trip to SE Asia. Although I'll be flying into Phuket initially (and likely making a brief ferry detour over to Ko Phi Phi for a few days), I'll be skipping Bangkok and flying next into Udon Thani, which is right by the Laos/Thailand border, making for an easy crossover if need be.

Either way, let the official countdown begin!

Hostel Musings

It's winter over here in Bondi...Turns out people don't go to the beach when it's cold outside--who'd a thunk??

I'm doing my best to be proactive/keep myself busy at work while I'm inside. Today I counted about $300 worth of dollar coins, re-organized all the listings on our Ads Board (twice!), and I cleaned out the back office area. Time, however, still seems to turtle ahead at tectonic plate-like speed.

Blargh. I'm going to have to think up some new projects for myself here :).

2 Weeks Left...

Yup, that's right, folks. In less than two weeks time, Brian and I will be leaving the somewhat now chilly Australia (turns out they actually experience autumn here...) for the tropical beaches and misty mountains of Southeast Asia. I'll be turning in our 3-bedroom home and lovely housemates in Glebe in favor of strangers and a backpack. Hello, one change of clothes! 

Of course, while I'm undoubtedly excited to embark on the next leg of my worldly adventures, this goodbye is not going to be an easy one. Consequently, I've opted to say goodbye in the way I know best: by writing a somewhat romantic--perhaps overly dramatic--farewell letter. Enjoy:

To my dear Australia:

I feel a bit silly writing you this letter, particularly considering I may never receive any sort of response. But what can I say, mate? You've been good to me. You've spared me from sharks and crocs, from spindly red-back spiders and blue-bottled jellies. You've provided me with a perma-tan that I will cherish always, even when I begin to wrinkle at age 25. 

Without you, Natalie and I would have never met the Markellos family, who taught us that even just a little bit of Tassie beauty and simplicity can cure even this Silicon Valley girl's dependency on the internet. It was through you that I learned that collecting chicken eggs at six in the morning is almost better than a round of Mario Kart, and that sitting in front of a warm fire with a cup of tea while simultaneously snuggling up to two giant dogs is a totally underestimated method of de-frosting oneself. 

Had it not been for you, dear Aussie land, I would have never been to Apollo Bay, would have never been able to say: "I've driven the Great Ocean Road."

You gave us the Hicks family and their wonderful Blue Gables label wine. It was here that Natalie and I cooked our first Thanksgiving EVER--a mighty feat. 

Because of you, I ended up at a somewhat dodgy hostel on Bondi Beach, surrounded by some of the most odd and friendly faces I'm sure I'll ever encounter. You gave me Stenio, the ever sneaky Brazilian boy with the annoyingly beautiful blonde hair. Oh, and Laurence, the British guy who every day, without fail, asked me to put hot girls in his room. You gave me Roberto, who claimed he was thirty, although we all knew he was really forty-six. Australia, you have provided me with all the characters I'll ever need to write my first novel. 

I can't deny that I've grown very attached over these past 9 months. I'm not sure I want to leave Hereford House and my two housemates Lauren and Jen. And what will Winnie (the Pooh) bunny do without me?

I have this wonderful life over here with you. I can't say for certain that letting you go is the right thing. I do know, however, that there are a few things about you that I will not miss (and perhaps you should work to improve these things...):

1.  your sugary mayonnaise is not good
2. jorts went out of style like 15 years ago...you should probably tell your tweeny-bopper male demographic
3. your paper money is too colorful and therefore distracting. back home, we know how to make a person's dinero unappealing and cheap-looking
4. i still do not like your crocodiles. or sharks. 
5. your internet is very slow and your cell phone service terrible. i also don't understand this pay-per-gigabyte thing--it's odd, and i don't like it. 
6. people here are too friendly. i'm from Washington, D.C, so clearly friendly people irk me.
7. no one here says "shrimp on the barbee"...false advertising = one big no-no.

Honestly, though, I could only come up with 7 items to my "Cons" List.  You're pretty much perfect, for which I'm not sure I love or resent you.

Still, it's time for me to move on. Know that I will always remember you, and those memories will forever bring me happiness.

So yeah, I guess this is goodbye, dear Aussie land. May Kevin Rudd be defeated in the election for Prime Minister, and may your deadly creatures forever reign.

Until next time, friend. Ta.

Cheers,
Carlyn

WHAT?! I just met someone from Redwood City. His name is Troy, and not only is he the first person from the Bay Area of I've met here, he's one of maybe five Americans I've had the pleasure of running into while Down Under as well. Crazy (crazy cool!).


In other news, my apologies for the disgusting lack of posts as of late...I'm on it, folks. In the meantime, here's a brief sneak-peek of posts to come:

1. Carlyn and Brian go surfing.
2. Carlyn and Brian go to Cairns.
3. Carlyn and Brian go scuba diving while in Cairns--TWICE.
4. Carlyn turns 23. 
5. Carlyn turns 23...again (US time). 
6. Carlyn and Brian go on a gluten-free diet.
7. Carlyn and Brian go off a gluten-free diet.
8. Carlyn watches two seasons of West Wing.
9. Carlyn and Brian decide to cancel their trip to NZ and instead change their flight to Phuket, Thailand. 
10. Winnie the bunny rabbit sits in a corner and eats a carrot. 

Hostel Musings

Kirsty asked me to come in early today--noon to be precise, which means that by the time10 o'clock rolls around tonight, I'll have worked ten hours (yay, I can do math!). That's a long time. Moreover, that's a long time to sit behind a desk during slow season when there's nothing to do.

Consequently, for the sake of not dying of boredom, I've made myself a to-do list for the day:

1. Upload pictures from Brian's camera onto my Facebook. Come up with witty/clever captions and album title.
2. Read Satanic Verses for one hour...Must. Use. Brain.
3. Somehow create handwritten thank-you note to family friends for received care package from home. Use highlighters and red pen to the best of my creative ability. 
4. Download and play Snood. If bored, resort to Text Twist.
5. Close up shop for a bit to deposit paycheck at the bank. 
6. On the way back from bank, grab chocolate croissant from next-door cafe.
7. Take an LSAT quiz. 
8. Stretch my now very sore post-surfing arms. Take at least 30 minutes to do this, so that by the end able to once again lift arms over head.
9. Research potential activities for New Zealand.
10. Respond to emails. 
11. Email Jake about surf pics from yesterday. 
12. Blog...Check.
13. Sort and alphabetize notices on notice board. Color code by subject if particularly bored.
14.  Start a running tally of the number of times I hear people say "mate."
15. Play more Snood.

Hostel Musings

Supposedly there's another girl in Bondi Beach who looks like me. Supposedly we "could be sisters." Supposedly she works just down the street as a waitress at the delicious tapas restaurant Mojos. Supposedly the only differences between us are two-fold: 1) she's Brasilian, while as I, clearly, am not; 2) her eyebrows are painted on, while as mine are " naturally natural."

Nine people have told me this. Nine. (And yes, I do pride myself on my eyebrows that actually have brows. So I suppose that's cool.)

Thrift Store Treasures

I should have posted this ages ago...While shopping in an Auckland, NZ thrift store ("opp shop"), I came across this little gem:

It's a small world, huh? A 1970's (or very early '80s) Stanford football jersey/sweatshirt.

Note: How do I know it's from the 1970's? I know this because of the "Stanford Cardinals" printed on the front. After the removal of the "Indians" mascot in 1972, Stanford adopted the nickname "Cardinals." The color, not the bird. Odd, I know. It wasn't until 1981 that the plural form was converted to singular--to what we now know as the "Stanford Cardinal."

Oh, USA!

Today has been one of those days. Some might call it "homesick," but I prefer the term "home-nostalgic, " as I'm neither sick, nor do I feel sick. I don't even feel particularly sad, for that matter. Just, well, nostalgic. In other words, I often bemoan the fact that I've put one giant ocean between myself and all the people I love.

So yeah, today has been one of those days--one of those days where everything seems to remind me of home. A few examples:


8:00am -- I receive the most recent email in a chain of emails written to and from the four other members of my family. It concerns a witty conversation that has taken place over the past few days pertaining to the benefits of eggs. (You had to be there...). My family makes me laugh. LOL. No, seriously, I actually laugh out loud. I miss them a little bit more than usual.

8:05am -- Catch up with a few friends via Gchat. People always say you'll never ever forget/lose touch with some of the people you meet in college. I begin to understand why.

8:28am -- I eat a Bartlett pear and a bowl of Frosties for breakfast. I decide that Frosties are not as good as Frosted Flakes. I tell myself that they're exactly the same thing, just with different names. I, however, also then convince myself that it really just isn't the same. I debate whether or not to take a permanent marker, cross out "Frosties" and write "Frosted Flakes" to ameliorate the situation. But as I'm doing this, my housemate Lauren McSporran walks in...I feel a bit sheepish and immediately hide the marker in my sweatshirt pocket.

9:07am -- I turn the television on, only to be greeted by an Australian news story concerning a controversial San Francisco start-up called Unvarnished that supposedly allows people to bash their former employers, employees, etc. without any sort of censor. It peaks my interest, but as an interview with founder Peter Kazanjy commences, a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge appears behind him. A San Francisco montage ensues. I mean, really??

10:32am -- After playing with Winnie for a bit, I decide to watch an episode of West Wing. This I immediately regret as soon as the billowing American flag appears during the opening credits. The patriotic music doesn't help either. With the mention of President Bartlett, I instantly crave another Bartlett pear. Unfortunately, when I go into the kitchen, I see my box of Frosties again sitting on the counter (they're really just not the same...).

12:15pm -- Two episodes later I pry myself off of the couch. I go upstairs to change out of my pj's and into something for work. I feel a bit down as I decide between my one green shirt and one peach-colored shirt. Sure, there's nothing like living out of a backpack, but a girl could use a few options every once in a while.

1:30pm -- Walk to the bus stop. Put my iPod on shuffle. "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay," followed by "Born in the USA." I'm not kidding.


To summarize, I love and miss everyone. See you guys in THREE MONTHS!

Happy Easter!

In honor of this special day, I have finally, per your many requests, uploaded pics of our newest housemate:

Winnie!

in her favorite corner

all harnessed up and ready for her first walk to Jubilee Park

at first brian was all "she doesn't make noise and poops a lot," but i know she's growing on him

Note: I realize that this post makes me look like one of those people. I am not. I will never dress my rabbit up in sweaters or decorate my room with ceramic bunnies.

Hostel Musings

The internet is down. Well, not my internet (thank god, because that would be a travesty), but the internet connecting the four computers everyone else has to use.

Unfortunately, it's Easter Weekend, and for some reason Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday are all public holidays. Weird, I know, but also kind of sad, since it means our computer go-to guy (his name is Dave, in case you were wondering) is unavailable.

Even more unfortunate for me is the fact that none of our guests seem to happily appreciate it when I tell them: "The internet is down for the weekend! BUT this means you get to hang out on the beach and not sit in front of Facebook for the next few days!!"...

...People are so not amused these days.

Hostel Musings

I don't like to complain. Really, I don't. But enough is enough. Australian radio is the bane of my existence. It's--gasp--worse than American radio. The repetition might kill me. The radio at Noah's is always tuned to the same channel by popular demand, and I'm not allowed to a) switch it, or b) turn it off.

At first it was cute. I was all "omg I hear the song 'Tik Tok' allllll the time." Now, however, every time I hear a clock ticking I'm tempted to smash it against the nearest wall. I'm permanently haunted by teeny-bopper artists such as Ke$ha and the pre-pubescent Justin Bieber. I don't even know why people like Justin Bieber anyway. He's, like, 4. And his singing makes me cringe the same way I used to cringe whenever there were camera close-ups of AJ Mclean and Howie during Backstreet Boys music videos.

Admittedly, I have a few favorites. Owl City's "Fireflies" or Passion Pit's "Little Secrets" never fail to make me feel like I'm listening to what I think a rainbow with unicorns and butterflies leaping and fluttering repeatedly over and around it might sound like. They make me happy--so much so, I often encourage my customers to approach me only when either of these two songs is playing. (Note: I also kind of love "I Like That" by Richard Vission & Static Revenger. There's something about the lyrics "I like the Gucci Gucci, I love the dollar bill, I love your pocket rocket, We live to shock it shock it" that really speaks to me...Or it just makes me want to dance all crazy-like. Same thing.)

Other than that, the rest of Australia's "hip" five-song musical repertoire just doesn't quite cut it. While I even kind of liked Jason Derulo for a bit, he was quickly black-listed upon the 123019238th replay of his latest single "In My Head." No, Jason, your song is in my head, for which I don't think I'll ever quite be able to forgive you.

My Housemate is Famous!

Anna would be terribly embarrassed if she were to find out that I'm posting this commercial on my blog. So don't tell her, plz. K thx.



She's famous!

Hostel Musings

Stenio, Stenio, Stenio....

Q: Who is Stenio?
A: Stenio is a Brasilian traveler (although I'm sure he'd prefer the title "surfer dude"), as well as the most recent addition to Noah's "Ban List."
Q: And what is the Noah's "Ban List"?
A: That would be the hostel's long, long list of delinquent hostel-goers, put on the list for things like stealing, rent evasion, belligerent drinking, or merely for being rude to my boss Simon.
Q: So why is Stenio on the list?
A: All of the above. He's what we call a "Class A Ban List-er".

I'll admit; I have a soft spot for Stenio. And since his banning, his attempts to sneak into the hostel have grown more and more comical. How could I not be somewhat amused? At first he pretended not to understand when I told him he was no longer allowed at Noah's:

Carlyn: Sorry, Stenio, for the 15th time, I can't check you in.
Stenio (imagine a Brasilian accent): But why no?
Carlyn: For the 15th time, you've been banned.
Stenio: I isn't understand. I have money. I pay.
(Stenio flicks his beautiful shoulder-length hair over his shoulder...I pretend not to notice).
Carlyn: Sorry.
Stenio: I will call cops. This is injustice!
(Stenio makes rude hand gestures and makes a diva-like exit through our automatic sliding doors)...

...Four minutes later I see a strange-looking man with a towel wrapped around his had and Mary-Kate and Ashley-style sunglasses. I mean, seriously. He's got to be kidding. He hasn't even done a proper job of disguising himself. Not only is he wearing exactly the same board shorts as before, but strands of blonde hair are sticking out from underneath his turban.

Carlyn: Stenio! I can see you.
Stenio: I have hate for this place!
(Stenio makes yet another rude hand gesture and makes yet another diva-like exit through the doors).

This will occur at least three or four times over the course of the next couple days. One time he'll even make it up onto our rooftop deck, at which point I'll catch him on the camera and stomp upstairs to kick him out. He'll give me that innocent look and tell me he "isn't understand" again. False. He understands perfectly well. And for some reason unbeknownst to me, he likes to sneak into Noah's on a daily basis these days.

Ah, there are some very interesting people in this world, and I'd like to think that about half of them have already walked through Noah's hostel doors (and the other half soon will...). This hostel seems to attract some crazies. Lucky for them, I'm easily amused....

What's in Your Wok?

For almost 3 years now I've been entirely Thai-averse--that is, I've refused  to put any sort of Thai curry, noodle, or stir-fry in my mouth. Tragic, I know, but after a certain event (known to those close to me as "That Day Carlyn Got Car Sick"...), I've done my best to stay away from all things coconut and pad thai--and anything that might remind me of these things.

Consequently, it might come as a surprise that I chose to dine at an establishment known as "Thai on Wok" last night. Ha. Yeah, me too. But as I strolled by last night during a quest for food, I was struck by a) the delicious aroma, and b) the large crowds that seemed to be very much enjoying their giant platefuls of food. So I took the risk and went for it.

Omg so yummy. Brian ordered the tangy lemongrass chicken, while I opted for the ginormous portion of pork-fried rice. For only $10 each, the price was well worth it. Not only did I leave with a very sizable doggy bag, but with a take-away menu comprised of over 50 stir-fry and curry combinations...I've been cured, folks! I will most definitely be taking a walk on over to "Wok" sometime in the nearby future. And yes, that pun was obviously intended.

Hostel Musings

Laurence, a long-term guest from the UK, and his friend Johan just asked me: "Carlyn, would you, for the LAST time...pleeeaseee put some hot girls in our room?" Ah, to be a receptionist at a hostel in Bondi. It didn't take me very long to learn the majority of male backpackers frequent hostels with hopes of meeting their dream girl (or at least a one-night Aussie hook-up). My question is, however: Why is it that all the guys ask me to place "hot girls" in their rooms, but none of the girls request "hot guys" and instead flock to all-female dorms?

Boost Mobile SurfSho

 For the first time in over 20 years, Bondi Beach is currently in the midst of hosting a world-class international surf competition. Attended by greats such as Kelly Slater (USA...woot, woot!), the competition started today and will continue on through Sunday.

 (oh hey there, Kelly Slater...)

Granted, I have work, but the competition is free to spectators and luckily my front desk looks right out over the beach. I'll definitely be stopping by tomorrow/Sunday morning: http://www.boostsurfsho.com.au/home

Up in the Air

The sport of paragliding, I've realized, is a true hobby. Particularly in New Zealand, there's a whole motley group of characters who reunite atop the same high hills and mountains each day to float off and enjoy the scenery.

Brian and I were lucky enough to join this group for one day up in Nelson, a cute little town up in the northern part of the South Island. While most people opt for adventureland Queenstown, we opted for Tony and his tandem paragliding "company" up north...Greatest decision ever.

Within hours of our arrival in Nelson, Brian and I found ourselves strapped to two harnesses, which were in turn strapped tight to ropes attached to a rectangular-shaped parachute. Tony (I flew with Tony, Brian flew with Tony's partner) looked over to me and asked me if I was nervous. Of course, I hadn't really thought about it, but as we approached the edge of the mountain, I experienced a bit of anxiety. Um yeah, it was high.

"1,2,3...RUN," Tony screamed.

We both started running (see pictures below...it kind of looks as though we're spooning in an upright position), and eventually the parachute inflated and lifted us right off the ground. Tony yelled to keep running, which I did, though I felt a bit silly, as my feet were no longer touching grass. I felt as though I was riding a unicycle, except for the fact that I had neither a) a unicycle, nor b) ground to ride one on.

Tony and I were up in the air for about 30 minutes, catching what he calls "thermals" and riding the hot air streams higher and higher up into the sky over the Abel Tasman Bay. Beautiful.

Pictures below:

all geared up

Tony harnessing me in

"1,2,3...RUN!"

up, up, up, and away

up in the air (note: brian's taking all these pictures)

a beautiful view

bird's eye view from brian's paraglider (his bball shoes and some forest)

me again

Ice Climbing on Franz Josef Glacier

After a 5.5 hour drive traversing New Zealand's South Island from Christchurch to glacier country in our cheaply rented Sunny Nissan, Brian and I arrived safe and sound in the town of Franz Josef. Really not much to this sleepy little town, but it's located right next to the glacier--hence the name--which makes for some excellent scenery.

Next morning we woke up bright and early and walked three minutes to the Franz Josef Glacier Guides station, where we were geared up for ice climbing with ice picks, crampons, helmets, fleece hats, wool gloves, hiking packs, Gortex coats and pants. I felt pretty much invincible, despite the fact that only the night before I'd experienced a mini wave of anxiety (I mean, I don't have upper body strength...how could anyone expect me to haul ass up a gigantic wall of ice...). It's funny how a little gadget or item of adventure wear can make you feel all the more experienced--like when you go to REI (best store ever) and surround yourself with camping knives and inflatable rafts and all of a sudden you feel like Survivor[wo]man. Granted, my biceps were still non-existent, but with crampons on my feet and ice-picks in hand, I felt as though Franz Josef Glacier had nothing on me. Ha.

Shortly, Brian and I found ourselves on a little bus with approximately seven other ice climbers: a Texan named Lisa, a guy from Sydney, a couple from Wellington, and a group of three somewhat off-the-rocker, dreadlocked Spaniards who none of us could understand. After ten minutes, we arrived at the glacier:

 

the walk from the bus to the foot of the glacier

the view of the glacier from the rainforest. looks much closer than it appears. in reality, the foot of the glacier is about 2 km away. 

  

walking past the waterfall

 

brian getting outfitted/final checked before heading up

 

ice climbing wall

 

brian about to begin his first climb

brian reaches the top!

 

me = taking control of that ice pick

 

carlyn vs. large wall of ice

  

me climbing up one of the harder climbs...yessss

dramatic pic of brian

 

going on a little hike in between climbs

 

cool little blue cave we found

 

in the cave

 

headed back down

 

view from the top

 

back at the bottom, safe and sound :)

The Most Expensive Apple Ever

For Eve, it was the apple. For me, it was the apple. Until yesterday I’d never thought twice about Eve and her delicious, red fruit. In fact, I’d always thought it was quite cool that Eve had been complex enough to be persuaded by some sort of inner temptation. While Adam kind of just frolicked nakedly around Eden, Eve was all “Hey, that fruit looks delicious. I want it because it’s clearly the best.“ Some might call that greedy and naïve, but I prefer “rebellious” and “determined.”

 Now, however, I’ve been forced to rethink the whole Adam and Eve story.  Why, why, why did she need to take the apple?! Since it was Eve who first took a bite of that sinful apple back in the day, subsequently dooming all of mankind (particularly those of the femle sex), I blame her. Yeah, that’s right; if it hadn’t been for Eve, I would never have been caught by New Zealand’s Biosecurity Customs for “apple smuggling” (my term, not theirs).  She cursed all apples. There’s just no other explanation.

I’ll start at the beginning:

I like apples. So do most people. They’re a good fruit--crunchy, sweet, refreshing. So it’s no surprise that I bought a few apples last week to snack on while working reception (instead of biting the head off an annoying customer, I bite into my apple instead….not quite as satisfying, but it does the trick/doesn‘t get me in trouble).

Fast forward a few days. I walked off the plane in Christchurch, NZ, only to see many signs advertising New Zealand’s strict biosecurity measures. No fruit. No produce at all. No dirt. No wood. Nothing fresh that might have fruit flies or any sort of biological threat to New Zealand’s beautiful country. Totally understandable, but I of course thought nothing of it. Who travels abroad with fresh produce anyway?

Well, clearly I do because as my bag was getting scanned, a little red apple popped up on the screen. Oh SHIT, I thought to myself. I left one of those snacking apples in my bag. You would have thought I had a bomb in there or something, as I was quickly pulled aside and escorted to the “Biosecurity Questioning Room.” Granted, there wasn’t much questioning to do, but they did issue me a $200 fine for “attempting to bring in fresh produce, namely one apple” into New Zealand. Blargh.

At first I was outraged--practically on the verge of tears--that is, until I realized that 200 NZD is less than $150 USD. Plus, I began to feel terrible for having potentially put beautiful New Zealand at risk. A bit stupid of me, I’ll admit. In retrospect, I realize the fine was perhaps very much deserved (although they could’ve just taken my apple and called it a day! Ugh!).

Moreover, just as they finally finished processing my fine, another young American woman was brought over. The officer escorting her carried a Red Delicious apple in his hand. I looked at her somberly and asked, “An apple?” She nodded yes. I pointed to a few feet away where my lonely Royal Gala sat atop a Customs desk, looking ever so lonely. “Me too.” We looked at each other sympathetically, and then she somewhat dramatically looked up towards the sky in frustration (a $200 fine can do that to you). In retrospect, I assume she was cursing Eve as well--metaphorically shaking her first, if you will.

The worst thing, though, is that I never had the chance to enjoy my apple. I suppose such is life.

Tsunami Warning!

After an earthquake in Chile earlier today, a tsunami alert has been issued to almost all countries that border the Pacific Ocean, including Australia.

Although all the beaches have been closed and evacuated, officials assure the public that there's no need to panic...alright, cool. (This is me not panicking!!).

http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/02/27/2832153.htm

Sunshine, Rain...and Sunflowers!

   

Blast from the past:

Today Brony--as in Brony from Middleton, Tasmania--sent me pictures of the sunflowers I planted on her farm back in October. Clearly all that torrential rain Tassie experienced this past winter (their winter, our summer/fall) did those sunflower seeds some good! The flowers are BEAUTIFUL.

Hostelling, Hostelling, Hostelling

It's currently 5:15 pm here at Noah's Backpackers. So far today I've checked in ten people and balanced the till twice. Three people have asked me whether I'm American or Canadian, two people have asked me for change for the laundry, and one person has asked me for his mail. I've had to use an online translator for an elderly Czech man named Zdenek (note: "Sorry, sir. Your bank card isn't working. You'll have to see your bank" is supposedly "Ahoj sir. Váš kreditní karty isn pracovních. Jste červnu potřeba mluvit vaší banky" in Czech). I've also attempted to speak Czech to an elderly man named Zdenek, only to have him chuckle fondly at me.

I have another four hours before Dave comes in for his night shift. So many possibilities.

In other news:

1. I'm officially no longer a resident of Surry Hills. Bri and I are staying with our friend Jules until we get back from NZ, at which point we'll move in with two girls named Anna and Lauren, whom I met via Gumtree (Sydney's less sketchy version of CraigsList).
2. A man in one of Sydney's northern beaches was attacked by a shark a week or so ago...I haven't been in the water since.
3. Weather continues to swelter. I don't even know if "swelter" can be technically used as a verb, but I feel that it's appropriate in this context.
4. I've gone through four LSAT books as of today. Logic games are becoming second nature. Is that sad? 
5. My first real moment of homesickness occurred the other day when I realized I'd been wearing the same outfit for three days. According to Jules, homesickness is triggered by silly things. Truth. 
6. I'm going ice climbing on Franz Josef Glacier, paragliding over the Abel Tasman Bay, and more while in NZ! Pictures/reviews to come.
7. I miss everyone so unbelievably much...See you in July!!
8. And now, back to work.

5 Months!

In exactly 5 months, my Havaiana-clad feet will officially touch down on American soil after 9+ months abroad. Prepare yourselves, dear friends and family.

My New(est) Glasses

After accidentally sitting on--and subsequently breaking--my reading glasses for the third time in the past six months, I am now owner of the newest grandma-style readers.

Thanks to SpecSavers, the LensCrafters of Down Under, I was able to get a new pair for only 59 AUD. And I think they suit me just fine.Though some people here (coughcoughBriancoughcough) insist I look like I'm 23 going on 67, the SpecSavers salesman assured me that the style I've chosen to help my somewhat far-sighted eyes for the next five months is "actually quite popular" (among older women...).

Regardless, now I'll be able to pore through my LSAT books and finish my Audrey Niffenegger book without any sort of headache or eye strain...Hooray!

Nothing in Life is Free

Including Sydney's public tennis courts...$14-24/hr. I'm sorry, but what??

I found a cheap racket ($1.25, thank you very much) on eBay. Now, I just want to be able to go play when I'm in a tennis-y mood. That's all I ask. But no, Sydney prefers that you a) reserve your court ahead of time via their city website, and b) pay for your "court hire." Sigh. Sometimes I miss America...

GLEBE!

I will be moving to Glebe! I can barely contain my excitement. Although I love the Redfern/Surry Hills (it has a certain inner-city/dumpy charm to it), I'm finally moving to the neighborhood of my dreams. Think Berkeley, minus the hippies, plus Australian accents and rows and rows of gorgeous terrace houses.

Brian and I will be living with two fantastic girls: Anna and Lauren. We'll also be living right up the street from Jules (much to her chagrin, I'm sure...we'll be there ALL the time).

Yayyy. Our stay in Glebe will last about 3 months. We move in once we get back from NZ on the 8th, and will move out sometime in mid-May, at which point we'll commence our epic trip up the East Coast and into the outback (making sure to be back in Sydney by June 27th so I can take the LSAT lol).

"Hamburgers and Sanwiches (and Coca-Cola)"

It's one of those dumpy little hole-in-the-walls that, from the outside, looks as though it's not nearly worth a visit. Tucked between a Thai restaurant and a City Convenience Store (the Australian version of 7-Eleven) on Ross St. in the lovely neighborhood of Forest Lodge, one could easily walk by and miss it. It's practically invisible to the sharpened eye, to the rumbling stomach.

Oh, but I'm telling you: You gotta keep an eye out for this place. From $4 BLT's, to a $3.50 deli sandwich, to a $5 grilled chicken fillet, to a $1.50 Coke, this place not only serves delicious food, but it's cheap like whoa.

The shop doesn't even have a name because it's just that cool. In fact, I've come to the conclusion that it's some sort of Forest Lodge secret. No one wants their favorite sandwich and hamburger place to suddenly become overrun by obnoxious tourists (I don't count, of course) and other non-Forest Lodgeans. But if you happen to be in the neighborhood and your tummy is saying,  "Carlyn, I'm hungry!" then look out for the dodgy "Hamburgers and Sandwiches (and Coca-Cola)" sign. I guarantee your happiness.

R.I.P. Cafe Otte

After an electrical fire started during the night a few days ago, Cafe Otte of Glebe Point Road is no more.

 May your delicious tomato bruschetta, free wireless, and delicious milkshakes forever live on in our hearts (and stomachs)...

Around the Neighborhood

I've never been one to be trigger happy--that is, when it comes to a camera. For most of my life, I've been pretty confident that not being the one to take pictures is the best way to go. Never having to worry about lost/stolen cameras, or trying to ensure pictures of yourself somehow make it into any given album...that's hard work! Consequently, in the past I've passed on picture-taking, knowing that there will always be tons of other trigger happy fingers with digital cameras wherever I go.

However, much to the dismay of my two parents, I arrived in Australia without my camera (yeah, that's right; I left my camera safely packed up in a box in California). Even when my dad offered to buy me a new camera, I resisted. It's just too much pressure!

But, like me, my parents are very wonderfully stubborn people, and did not let my protestations get in their way of "seeing Carlyn's Australia." Not only did they fly over here for Christmas, but they brought a camera or two with them--one of which somehow managed to get left over here when they departed. Two weeks later, a box filled with candy, books, necessary medicines...and a camera cord and camera software...was sent to me. Tricky people we are, my family.

Either way, I'm turning a new leaf in 2010: I will take some pictures. Clearly there are a few people out there (coughcoughmomanddadcoughcough) who desire a few "Carlyn Down Under" albums, and therefore I'll do my best to grant their request.

Below is my first mini-album, entitled "Around the Neighborhood"....

This is my house. It's a two-story terrace house, like the majority of houses in Sydney...

Brian in front of the house.

Me in front of the house. I do love to pose.

Most doors in Australia have doorknobs smack in the center. I love it. Why would you ever have a doorknob on the left when you could have one in the center??

The somewhat sexist Turkish church around the corner (the picture is a bit blurry--I haven't mastered my photography skills yet--but you'll notice there are two white signs: one that says "men's entry" and points to the left, and another that says "women's entry" and point's to the right). The Turkish population in Sydney is surprisingly large, and it's particularly noticeable in our neighborhood. In fact, Brian and I are currently on a quest for the best kebab. So far, the "Turkish Delight" on Crown St. is our number-one pick.

The beach is at our front step! I mean, wait, just kidding. I honestly have no idea how this picture got in here (that's my mom and brother in Fiji, just fyi)...

The Blockbuster in Surry Hills has an "Australia" section. I find that slightly amusing. Also, this particular location offers $1 weekly rentals on Wednesday. Since it is Wednesday, I just returned from Blockbuster, armed with the Lord of the Rings Trilogy.

The Surry Hills Blockbuster also prefers to showcase old motown hits like "Hold On, I'm Coming" by Sam & Dave. No movie previews or clips for them. It's fantastic. I danced the whole time we were there.

Our supermarket! Again, the sign's a bit blurry, but Coles is my grocery store of choice. Their home brand, Coles Smart Buy, is the best thing to happen to budget backpackers. Fifty-nine cent pasta, five dollar chicken, and two dollar litres of milk. NOT going broke this year!

Brian thought this picture was funny. (Get it? Collect four kids, instead of collect for kids...Yeah, I didn't laugh either).

Check Out My Article on Rollinglobe!

As of about 10pm yesterday, I am officially a published author! Last week, the president of Rollinglobe asked if he could publish my review of the Bondi to Coogee Coastal Walk as a feature article on the new website's front page.

After a bit of editing, and after writing an additional review for the hostel I'm working at (linked to the feature), it's all up there under the title "Surf's Up in Sydney: Bondi to Coogee Coastal Walk"! Check, check, check it out: http://www.rollinglobe.com/RGWeb/articles/show.aspx?city=16&art=48

Australia Day

It's like the American 4th of July. Lots of festivals, lots of singing, boozing, fireworks, more boozing, beaches, bbq's, and yet more boozing. Oh and they do the whole red, white, and blue thing here too--just all of their clothing and flags say "A U S T R A L I A" instead of "USA."

So, you might wonder, what will I do on this wonderful national public holiday? I am going to work...Double pay, baby!

I'm serious; I'll be working for most of the day, most likely scolding drunk hostel-goers stumbling off the beach. Yayyy. However, this morning, as soon as I get myself out of bed, Brian and I will be heading down to The Rocks to watch the ferrython (all the boats and ferries get dressed up all festive-like and race across the Sydney Harbour), as well as eat some hot dogs and listen to the free concerts going on downtown. Pictures to come :).

Geaux Saints!

I know, I know, I'm not exactly what you would call one of those "football fans." In fact, I kind of really don't like watching the sport. Besides the rare and sporadic good run or spectacular touchdown, the game is a bit slow for my soccer-bred tastes. The only sport I perhaps dislike watching more is cricket.

However, that the New Orleans Saints have made it to the one and only Superbowl, transcends any qualms I may have with football as a sport and commodity. Clearly, this is a big deal for the Big Easy--it's a beautiful moment, if you will. I'll assume you all know why (and save you the heartfelt speech).

So there ya go. Wat Dat??? The SAINTS are coming to town (a.k.a. your television on February 7th).

"That's _____ As!"

Ah, the ultimate Aussie phrase. "That's sweet as!" or "That's cool as!" or  "Crikey, Carlyn, you're just awesome as." Or, as I have often found myself saying, "Those crocodiles are creepy as."

While Americans emphasize things such as sweetness, coolness, and awesomeness by using the accented word "so," Australians favor a dangling comparison...(Seriously, though; it's "cool as"? Cool as what??)

Aha! But that's the simple magic of the saying: it's entirely up to your own imagination and/or interpretation. It can be "delicious as"--delicious as in the perfect apple brown sugar crumb pie. Or it might be "weird as"--weird as in the Bermuda Triangle, or weird as in the whole boys-wearing-tight-jorts phenomenon that is so oddly pervasive here. So many adjectives with so many potential things to describe. Take your pick. Try it out. In no time, you'll sound Australian as...