After 2 months I can see the benefit of living in Australia: They love my accent.
Plus, I purchased new sneakers online (you’re welcome future travel mates), had them sent to my address down under, and didn’t have to scroll all the way to “U”. #timesaver
Me on my couch that is actually my bed.
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Don’t worry, my ankles are still attached.
I’ve been nesting here for the past several weeks; setting up a bank account, getting a job, and renting an old studio apartment which harbours odours from generations of geriatric residents all of whom I’m certain are still living/dying/for-sure-coughing in this building
When I walk through the stairwell a smell leaps up, greeting me like a pooch who’s been alone all day. It’s not terrible as I have my own room with a window (although as you can see, the skylight is obstructed by a brick wall translating to minimal actual sunlight and my plants dying every other week). On the ‘bright’ side I enjoy purchasing new shrubbery and am only moderately worried about being reported for herbuse.
100 meters from my flower-killing-quarters
The apartment itself is in a premier location: I can walk to the park, walk to work, walk to the Royal Botanical Gardens, walk to The Opera House, walk to the Harbour, walk to yoga, and walk to bargain sushi (low standards). My rent is Sydney cheap ($210 each week) and I share 4 bathrooms with 21 other people and only 7 times as many cockroaches. Our chateau has no wifi which does’t affect me because I don’t have a computer: The Hilton is my local Internet cafe, they provide free computer usage to people who look like they can afford to stay (t)here.
This is me looking like I can afford to stay at The Hilton
I met these babes (above) at the Byron Bay International Blues Music Festival where I re-learned that I’m (still) not one of the cool kids, bought a feather clip to rectify the situation (it helped), saw Dave Matthews Band, John Butlers Trio (which means nothing to my friends abroad), Morcheeba, and some black guys who were very, very good at strumming the saxophone. Jack Johnson was also there, Devandra Burnhart, India.Arie, John Mayer, Joss Stone, and wayy too many beatniks. The excitement was standing up and so was I; too many people. I won’t be going back next year and not just because I’m a decibel imbecile.
This is me looking like I cannot afford to stay at The Hilton
Alternatively, I attended a wayy less popular and wayy funnier gala last week:
The Sydney Comedy Festival! I was more excited that it was in town than a raw foody who’s just discovered dates. It was all very More-ish. I saw a dozen shows and, I’m happy to report, was surrounded by grownups the entire time (a cleverly named improv show, Bard to the Bone, withstanding). In fairness, I’ll name drop: Jeff Dunham, Kevin Bridges, Jim Jefferies, Dave Hughes, A Retarded Spectacle (that might be its actual name, Cousin Richard, hosted by a guy with Down syndrome and attended by special needs guffaws. I loved it.), 1 woman, 1 magician, 1 American, and 3 people who are not worth mentioning.
The best act was the American Jew, Mike Goldstein, which is a weird segue into my next section: The Sydney Jewish Museum. Since the days of Sweden museum hopping I dontstopwontstop. People in Sydney (Jewish population, 0.2%) are shocked when they find out I went there “What do you mean we have a Jewish Museum?? Where is it?!” I haven’t run into a single person (outside of the actual museum, derp) who knows that this place exists. And I learned some things,
1. At least one Holocaust survivor lives in Sydney. I met her and she has a f*cked up story that’s the opposite of funny. I was sobbing on the baristas shoulder.
2. During WWII Australia accepted the second largest number of Jewish refugees per capita than another country in the world! Yes, the per capita disclaimer means that the actual number they accepted is suss (as in suspect) but still, impressive.
I’ve then gone on to handfuls of other museums, operas (okay one, Madama Butterfly. That’s Madama not Madame.), movies (Noah. The Christians are upset about the rock people which the producers made up but you know what else is made up….?), markets (local oysters), beaches (Bondi, Coogee, Manly), shows (Showbag, inexplicable paraphernalia evoking childlike behaviour from Aussies.), zoos (giraffes, pelicans, and sweet popcorn), plus a few World Heritage Sights. Not to mention I’ve ridden the ferry as a form of public transportation making sure to take in as much of this stunning Citdney as I can.
It’s impossible to live here without mentioning the weather;
20 degrees, sunny, and cloudless. Again.
In my-life-isn’t-perfect news, I’ve enrolled in French class which I hate because I.can’t.speak.French. ¡Ay, caramba!
In my-life-is-perfect news, it’s a wonderful year to be a Brewers fan! Aawww yea.
Australia’s better than I thought it would be, there’s hardly any albinos.
Visit?
‘mi 🙂
Tags: Australia, Dave Matthews Band, John Mayer, Joss Stone, Sydney
Adventuresam 