In an Opal Hearted Country

Australian Open

2012-01-25T22:25:00.000+11:00

This weekend, Partner-in-Crime and I took a quick flight down to Melbourne to fulfill one of the big ticket items on my Day Zero Project list - attending the Australian Open.

Though I'm not much of a tennis player, myself, I have always been around tennis. My parents both played on local leagues while I was growing up, the Grand Slams were always on in my house, and I had a dedicated love for Andre Agassi when I was in high school. P-i-C is quite a player, himself, and he used to fly to New York to see the US Open. We have developed a little tradition of going to a local pub to watch the finals of the big tournaments, since we don't have a TV. Asking him to make this trip was no hardship to his sensibilities.

We got into Melbourne early on Sunday morning, and headed straight to Rod Laver Arena via Melbourne's free Tennis Trams. As we got off, the conductor said, "all you lucky people going to the tennis get off here. Extra tickets may be left with the conductor."

We opted for ground tickets, rather than splurging on any of the fancy matches on the big courts. That was fine by me because we both just like to see good tennis, and frankly, on the smaller courts, you can get much closer to the action.

On Sunday, the arena was packed full, and it was spirit lifting to be in the atmosphere. Despite the crushing heat and relentless sun, people were in great moods. Kids and teens had faces painted with Aussie flags or tennis balls, and many people wore their preferred country's flags like capes. Aussies are vocal spectators (a hard to swallow breach, I must admit, in the tennis etiquette I learned as a kid) and rowdy blokes would break into the familiar chant of "Aussie Aussie Aussie" "Oi Oi Oi," even if no Australian player was on the court. The main tasks of the day were trying to keep some semblance of cool and avoid getting burned to crispiness. I have the utmost admiration for the players, sticking it out in that extreme heat.

One highlight of Sunday was a Legends doubles exhibition match featuring Martina Navratilova. Did any female sports figure loom larger for longer in my childhood? I cannot think of one. I got teary when she appeared on court, and even at her age, she was still the most skilled player amongst her younger colleagues, including the other Martina (Hingis).

Shade was hard to come by, and on top of the sun, P-i-C was battling the flu, so though I loved the idea of staying in the arena that night to watch Federer play the young Australian wunderkind, Bernard Tomic on the big screen in the midst of the energetic crowd, we retired to our hotel, ordered in spaghetti, and watched the match on TV. It was all we could manage, especially with a second full day of tennis ahead.

On Monday, the arena was much quieter, and we were able to park ourselves in beautiful seats in the shade for most of the day. We saw a number of good matches, including a heated women's doubles match where an unusual rule was questioned by the players so heartily that the supervising umpire had to be called to the court for consultation. That was a good soap opera!

On our way out, I noticed about a hundred ball kids gathered in the main oval. They broke out into a "flash mob" dance routine (though I use the term "flash mob" loosely, as the element of surprise is rather lost when the courtyard is full of turquoise-clad adolescents trying to look casual). Still, it was a sweet note to leave on.

Now that I'm home, I have been watching the tennis and checking the scores on my Australian Open app constantly. I feel like I became a small part of a story that I am compelled to finish.

Staying Connected

2012-01-15T20:54:00.000+11:00

I think, sometimes, about the great fortune of being an expat in the modern era. It wasn't so far back that international phone calls were something only a Rockefeller could entertain, and really, not that long ago that correspondences sailed on a slow boat because Al Gore had not yet invented email.

I have two favorite inventions for staying connected to the U.S. The technology of both baffles my mind, and keeps me eternally grateful.

First is the Skype phone. Of course there is computer Skype, which is groovy for video calls, but I found a few limitations with computer-Skype: a lot of people at home are still intimidated by this amorphous Skype-thing and don't use it, the call-quality remains inconsistent at best, and I hate having to stay in front of my computer for long chats. I love the Skype phone because it is a regular handset and I get an American phone number. And, for me, the quality of the calls is immeasurably better. I still think that it is some kind of spell conjuring that my mom in Georgia can just dial me with a 10-digit number, as if I were in the States, and it rings to a handset. (You can get Skype calls forwarded to a smartphone, as well, but I've never made it work on my Android.). While we're on the subject of phone dates, I'll mention my favorite website, which allows you to put in two time zones, and compares times side by side. I find this so much easier than trying to do the math and trying to remember which of us is/is not in daylight savings. It's a sanity saver for me.

The other innovation of witchcraft and wizardry is the Virtual Private Network (VPN). A lot of American media is restricted in Australia, which is a real bummer when all of your friends at home are posting on Facebook about the return of 30 Rock and gushing about season 2 of Downton Abbey. For a small monthly fee, VPN subscribers have access to an American IP address, which means that one could - ehem - theoretically do things like (legally) subscribe to an online streaming movie service and, I don't know, spend the whole day in my one's pajamas watching American TV and movies that are out on DVD in the U.S., but not even released here. I mean, in theory, we could do that with a VPN. I cannot confirm or deny whether I spent the entire day today watching Parks and Recreation and listening to Pandora. If I had, I can tell you, it would have been a dream of a day.

Perhaps in the future, expats will look back to today and feel lucky that they did not live in an era before superspeed transport, allowing them to get back to the U.S. in less than an hour, but until that day, I think that we who are far away from home live in fortunate times.

Suddenly Summer

2012-01-08T23:16:00.000+11:00

Summer is here!

Though summer may have started some time ago, according to the calendar, and I think I've been heralding false starts on this blog for some time now, this weekend was truly the beginning in my mind.

The first harbinger was yesterday's launch of the Sydney Festival. I'm sure I've expounded upon the wonders of the Sydney Festival in these pages before, but in brief, it is a momentous month long arts and culture fest with events all over the city. There's first class stuff everywhere you look. I've said it many times and will again: if there is one thing Sydney excels at, it is spectacle.

The First Night, was actually a whole day and evening of events, so Partner-in-Crime and I went into town in the early afternoon to spend the day nomadically grazing on song and dance. We heard Spanish/French songs in the art gallery, watched a string-art installation go up before our eyes, saw a roving caravan of psychedelic gypsy clowns, and witnessed a band of 80-year old Jamaican dudes rock out to "Rehab" (oh yes, that happened).

We planted ourselves on the picnic blanket in the Domain for a couple of hours to get a spot to watch the Aboriginal welcome to the festival and the singer Gurrumul open the night. We abandoned our coveted spots on the Domain lawn before the big concert started there, but we'll be spending a lot more time there over the next month.

Not us.

We took swing dance lessons in the middle of the street with a few hundred of our closest friends.

Our favorite act of the day was this old-time brass band from New Orleans (they played old time music; they were not old) called Tuba Skinny. They had the Depression-era look and feel down head to toe and heart and soul. One of the funniest things we saw was this little girl of about four who danced on the lawn right in front of them for the entire set. And man, did that kid have some expressive moves. I don't know where she learned it, but it was like she was channeling the 30's, too. The whole experience was completely in the spirit of the Festival.

Today, we took a ferry to Cockatoo Island (which I featured a bit more here) to meet some friends at an outdoor bar. There was a cool breeze, the drinks were cold, there was a DJ playing funky tunes, a steady stream of sailboats floating by, and we got to lounge on astro turf in beach chairs all day in the shadow of graffiti-ed warehouses and the Sydney Harbour. Aside from that awkward moment when I was trying to explain the Jamaican "Rehab" and managed to topple completely backwards in my chair and hit the ground (gracefully, P-i-C assures me), it could not have been hipper.

Tonight, I am relaxing with my slight sunburn and afternoon-booze induced fatigue as a perfect thunderstorm rages outside.

Yes, summer is here. I could not be more content.

Happy New Year

2012-01-01T13:36:00.000+11:00

Happy New Year!

As we did last year, we celebrated the start of 2012 with fabulous friends and a feast of food and bev. Mimi and Joe have a perfect apartment for viewing the fireworks display, and Sydney seriously outdid itself this year. If there is one thing Sydney knows, it is fireworks. New Year's is like the 4th of July, my birthday, and Christmas morning all rolled into one 12 minute display.

If this sounds like too much to believe, watch the video.

Early in the evening, a stunt plane gets crazy over the Harbour.

We checked out the early fireworks (9p.m. display for kids) from the park.
Lots of families enjoying the lawn

Mimi got us sparklers to get into the spirit.

Even the kid's fireworks are awesome.

9p.m. fireworks.

Parade of boats on the Harbour. I read that there were something like 2,500 spectator boats.

The main event!

May all of our 2012s be filled with so much light and wonderment.

Tasmania Part Two: Hobart

2011-12-31T00:51:00.000+11:00

On the drive from Bicheno to Hobart

Part one of the Tasmanian epic is here.
For the last couple of days in Tasmania, we parked ourselves in the port town of Hobart. We left Bicheno early because it was a Saturday, and we wanted to make Hobart in time to catch the Salamanca Markets, which everyone I asked about Tassie said was a must-do. The markets are relatively large, with a section for crafts and tourist items, as well as a farmer's market section. There were plenty of food stands (including, for some reason, the "smallest pancakes" booth) and musical buskers.

Honestly, I'm not entirely sure why they are so heavily hyped. They reminded me of most craft fairs and markets I have attended in any town. They were extremely crowded, and did have a festive feel to them. I was tempted by some of the Tasmanian wood craft, particularly some beautiful cutting boards, but I ended up walking away with just a jar of honey and a Tasmanian devil potholder (best $5 I've ever spent). I was back in Salamanca Place a couple days later, and I can suggest it's a great spot to enjoy a few galleries and get a cup of coffee or lunch.

After the markets, we did a bit of a wander around town and had our first of several fish and chips experiences. The Tasmanian scallops were so unbelievably good; worth their weight in currency. Downtown Hobart was easily walkable, and I killed a few hours on the beautiful pier and a exploring number of pretty parks.

The next day, I scheduled myself into a tour of the Cascade Brewery. A few months ago, I did the tour of the Budweiser brewery in St. Louis, and I thought it would be fun to compare a little brewery to that mammoth operation. Plus, I was hoping for samples. The brewery grounds are stunningly green and lush, with the imposing Victorian building glaring down from the hill.

My favorite story from the tour was that when it first opened in the early 1800s, the brewery had an open bar for the workers. After awhile, this seemed inadvisable, so they decided that they would only open the bar four times a day. A bell, which still stands on property, signaled to workers when the bar was open. This lasted until not so long ago, when health and safety standards came into effect.

We were, in the end, rewarded with samples. It was a day from a postcard, and I sat in the beautiful garden with my several beers until Partner-in-Crime arrived from the maritime museum to ~~peel me off the floor~~ whisk me off to our next destination.

We headed about an hour and a half out of town to Mt Field National Park, where we expected to be dazzled with wonder at Russell Falls the most photographed falls in Tasmania (or something along those lines). On the way, we had another disagreement with the GPS, whose affinity for dirt roads was becoming rather tiring. But, we made it eventually, and were pleased to find that the falls were a mercifully short 10 minute hike (good for me, after all those drinks). The falls really were quite photo worthy.

We carried on to the top of the falls, and beyond, to see what further sights we could see, and were soon rewarded with a view that struck me emotionally more than perhaps any other natural locale I've experienced. Photos do it not justice, naturally, but tucked away in a mossy alcove was Horseshoe Falls. Not even close to the largest or grandest falls I have ever seen, or even saw on this trip, the delight I felt came from the sense I got that I had entered a fairy land. It was cool, quiet, green, with beams of light peeping through the messy forest. There was not another hiker in sight, and P-i-C and I just about melted into the scene.

Dragging ourselves away, we walked on a bit further and found a couple more excellent trails to explore in the park.

Another pademelon on the Tall Trees walk.

Hiding in the enchanted forest.

Ciao, kangaroo.

We devoted our final day in Hobart to the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA), a wild child of a museum just outside of town. MONA is a world class museum featuring the private collection of an eccentric local bazillionaire. The collection spans the old (mummies, ancient artifacts) to the new (installation art, film). There are no plaques on the walls, but rather all guests are given an ipod with a GPS system that provides information about pieces that you are near. You might get just a short paragraph (none of the curatorial material tries to explain the art, but gives a sense of things the collectors thought about and so forth) or you might have the chance to listen to a 15 minute interview with the artist. Each one is different and the level of engagement is up to the viewer. The collection and curation is fascinating and well thought out, and I actually found it to be an exhausting day because there was so much to take in. There seemed to be an overarching theme to the collection that dealt with the human body and mortality, so it is a pretty a dark museum, but not without points of light and a good deal of humor.

This installation was a wall several stories tall with a device that somehow pulled words
frequently used in the media and dropped them out with water. Crazy.

P-i-C and I sitting on a bean bag sofa on the ground watching a video installation on the ceiling.
Like you do.

With just a bit of time to kill before our flight home, we took a quick drive to the sweet, touristy little town of Richmond, where there are a number of Tasmania's oldest buildings, and a disproportionate number of adorable B&Bs.

All the way to the airport, and onto the airplane, I tried to tempt P-i-C into staying in Tasmania for another week. Or, maybe finding employment for a year and taking up residence in a cottage with a handful of livestock and a rented dog.

Strangely he said no, but I know I'll win him over.

Hold our spot, cows. We'll be back one day.

Tasmania

2011-12-29T23:29:00.000+11:00

Though it has been a couple of months, and our trip to Tasmania is now a memory with a soft-focus filter washed over it, I still want to share some of my impressions. It was one of the most relaxing and visually enthralling trips I have taken.

Tasmania is an island in the Southernmost part of Australia, and often the source of jokes by mainlanders about it not really being part of Australia or that things are a bit slooooow there. But, enough people had said to me that it was geographically reminiscent of Montana to make me desperate to go. Those are the magic words.

We had five days, which is hardly enough time to scratch the surface, but we squeezed in as much as we could, mostly on the East coast. To maximize our travel time, we flew into Launceston, rented a car, and made our way steadily south to Hobart, where we departed from.

Our day in Launceston was a bit of a wash, as we started at a local park, which we'd heard was amazing. It was scenic enough, with some nice trails and a gorge, but because we had our hearts set on World Class Amazement, we came away blase. We then went off to try some wineries. It was late in the day, and we only hit about four before the cellar doors were closing up shop. At our final winery, the excellent and quaint Moore's Hill, we chatted up the owner who suggested we drive on to the nearby Narawntapu National Park, where we'd see some nice scenery. We found the beach and got our feet wet, and then did a short hike for some lovely views.

With a little daylight left, we drove on to our hotel further west in the pretty little mountain town of Deloraine, where we'd stay for two nights. It positioned us to be closer to our next stop, Lake St Clair National Park, and the oft-photographed Cradle Mountain.

Navigation around Tasmania proved to be a trick: our GPS developed a fondness for long dirt roads and never-built thoroughfares. We experienced our first confusion on the way to Lake St Clair, and turned around lost on a dead-end dirt road an hour out of our way, and without any cell phone reception. Thankfully, we ran into fellow tourists in a camper van who had just come from there, and they set us aright again. Later in the day than we'd intended, we arrived at Cradle Mountain, where we started on a two-hour hike around the lake. In reality, it took us more like three hours because I kept stopping for photos.

For people who hike on a semi-regular basis, Partner-in-Crime and I have been lucky to have experienced essentially no injuries. In fact, I received the worst injury of my hiking life on this walk. Coming down a hill, I grabbed onto a tree to steady myself, and when I pulled my hand away, I had extreme pain and a huge ant clinging to my ring finger. I later discovered that the ant was a Jack Jumper Ant, native to Tasmania, who stings its victims with one of the most powerful venoms in insectdome. Of course, this being Australia, it could not just be a normal ant, but a life-endangering one. I got into an increasing panic until I was able to somehow coax my wedding ring off my swelling finger, which eventually doubled in size. No lie, two months later my finger is still swollen enough that I can't get my ring back on (and I'm not just saying that so that I can go to singles bars!).

Done with the hike, my husband, my giant finger, and I explored Lake St Clair a bit longer. We took a couple of short hikes, the best of which was the Enchanted walk, a moss filled forest with waterfalls and a stream, which lived up to its name.

We ran into this little guy on the walk, a pademelon, which we learned is a marsupial.

I'd gleaned that Lake St Clair was in wombat-country, and given my little obsession with wombats (I had a wombat figurine in my wedding bouquet, for heavens sake), I was determined not to leave without seeing one in the wild. I am not ashamed to tell you that I spent a good hour stalking all the fields I could find that had - ehem - telltale signs of wombat presence. Dejected, I finally had to abandon my hunt for poor P-i-C's sanity, and probably my own, as well. Cruising out of the park, we saw a couple people on the side of the road, and oh my, they were looking at a wombat! I almost cried. We watched that wombat graze for a long time, until we noticed that there was another wombat across the street. And then, that wombat had a friend. All totaled, we saw five wombats feeding that evening. I was bursting with wombat joy.

As the cherry on top of an already overwhelming day, I added not one but two giant roadside attractions to my "collection..."

Mikey, the Giant Tasmanian Devil

The Giant Coffee Kettle, Deloraine

The next day, back in Deloraine, we woke up to the most incredible foggy mountain scene outside the window of our hotel. By this point, I loved Tasmania, and could not wait to see what more lay ahead.

We were off to another National Park - Freycinet - which is where Wineglass Bay (another one of the famous Tassie landmarks) is.

Freycinet was overrun with wallabies who were highly adjusted to humans, and boldly begged for goodies in the car park. We did not feed them, but we could not resist having just a small play.

The hike to Wineglass Bay was a challenging three-hour round trip. It is the only way to get to the beach. If I'm completely honest, I didn't find the payoff to be worth the difficulty of the walk, but in retrospect, I'm always happy to have accomplished a tough hike, so I'm glad that we went.

We had our picnic lunch on the beach in the company of a handful of other hikers, and some terribly friendly marsupial friends looking to share.

We had plenty of time left, and took a further wander around Freycinet, where we found some particularly stunning scenery in the way of dramatic ocean cliffs and colorful coastline. These were some of our favorite views of the entire trip.

That night, we stayed in a pretty little town called Bicheno. We treated ourselves to an incredible meal at a highly recommended French restaurant, Cyrano. The decor was nothing fancy, but the food was divine. The owner personally cooked all the meals herself in an exposed kitchen. I had easily the best lamb shanks of my life.

We were really rolling in the wonderful in Tasmania.

The next day, we headed out early to spend our last couple of days in Hobart and, as this has turned into quite the missive, I'll finish the adventure tomorrow.

First Pavlova

2011-12-27T13:30:00.000+11:00

I have the week off of work, and there is no point in trying my hand at any freelance projects this week because most of the country is taking it easy until after New Year's. So, I am enjoying a week at home watching movies, finding the gym again, catching up on little projects, and flitting around with friends. I am also going to take this week to catch up on blogging, since we've taken two marvelous trips that I have not yet posted about.

Today, though, I must tell you about my latest culinary accomplishment: I tackled the pavlova.

Pavlova is a meringue-esque cake that is incredibly popular in Australia and New Zealand. It is a good Christmas dish for the Southern hemisphere summer since it is light and cool. Don't get Aussies or Kiwis going on which country invented it; that is an ongoing debate. Makes little difference to me. All I know is that it is a treat, and famously tricky to make well.

I followed this recipe to relatively good success.

Ingredients are: 6 egg whites, 1-1/2 cup caster sugar (don't use regular sugar, it won't dissolve well enough), 2 tsp corn starch (called corn flour in Australia), 1 tsp white vinegar, 1/2 tsp vanilla. For the topping, you'll also need cream for whipping and fruit.

The first part is really fun. Beat the egg whites until they start to form peaks, and then begin adding the sugar one tablespoon at a time.

It takes awhile, but you end up with the most gorgeous, shiny white concoction. Whip in the other ingredients. You then gloop that onto a lined baking tray. I used baking paper with a pencil-lined circle to mark my outline. I smooshed down the middle to make a bit of a crevice for the topping.

This bakes on low heat for about an hour and a half. When done, it should be lightly brown with no dark, syrupy peaks. The corn flour gives it the crunchy outside layer, which is decidedly the best part.

OK, believe it or not, this is where things get tricky. At this point, the cake is very fragile, and exposure to cold air can make the pavlova implode in on itself, leaving it less beautiful than what you see here. The trick, apparently, is to let it cool in the oven with the door ajar so that the temperature change is gradual. This probably works super well ... as long as you don't accidentally slam the oven door shut.

My pav went from gorgeous to sad (but still tasty) in a flash.

Thankfully, generous toppings hide a multitude of sins.

Don't put the mixer away when you're done with the eggs. The middle section gets covered with whipped cream.

Then, choose your fruit. I saw a photo of a stunning pav covered with pomegranate. My friend Mimi's Christmas pav was a beaut with passion fruit and strawberries. I went with ...

... mango, kiwi, banana and passion fruit pulp, with lime garnish.

I feel like passion fruit is not well known in the States. It is wildly popular in Australia (in the U.S., raspberry is the most popular yogurt flavor. Here, I'd bet you that it is passion fruit). It is delicious. You can buy the pulp in cans, but since I was being experimental, already, I thought I'd go all out and see what happened if I bought the actual fruit.

I liked having the green kiwi fruit to contrast the abundance of yellow/orange.

All put together, I think it looked nice. Moreover, it tasted great. Personal preference, I would probably use something instead of bananas next time, as they are a fairly overwhelming taste ... but, I quibble. We ate it with enthusiasm, and I felt the warm, fuzzy sense of satisfaction that only a lovely baking project affords.

A Boxing Day Tradition

2011-12-26T15:25:00.003+11:00

Merry Christmas! Or, if you really want to get into the Aussie spirit - Happy Chrissie! And for those Down Under, a Happy Boxing Day to you.

In the States, of course, we do not celebrate Boxing Day, and I remember people there sometimes saying that it was so named because it was the day the you returned your presents. I always thought that sounded silly, so I latched on when someone told me that it was so-called because it was the day the British servants got the day off to celebrate Christmas, so the aristocracy had to eat boxed dinners. That sounded logical to me, and I have often gotten my smugly on and repeated it. Humble pie for me, though, as I learned yesterday, that it probably actually has something to do with charity boxes, but no one really knows.

In any case, one of the biggest Boxing Day events in Sydney is the launch of the Sydney to Hobart sailing race. We missed it last year because we were out of town gallivanting with Ned Kelly. This year I very much wanted to go, but it was supposed to rain, and I didn't actually want to go that much. When I woke up this morning, it was sunny, so I quickly changed gears, and we dashed off to Middle Head to watch the start of the race.

It was packed there, but we found parking and a little corner to set up our picnic blanket, so that was no problem. Partner-in-Crime is a sailor, so he fielded my steady stream of questions about the race and strategies. He was most amused by the amazing amount of maritime paparazzi present. Many people watch the launch from the water in boats, and there were also loads of helicopters over head. P-i-C races a couple times a month and he said, heavens, there had never been any fanfare like that for his races!

We saw the boats get their positions, and maneuver around the starting mark, which took about 20 minutes in all. They'll be sailing for two or so more days before reaching Hobart, Tasmania. It can be quite a treacherous race, so I wish them all safe travels and speedy delivery.

Wild Oats XI (last year's winner) and the zebra boat Loyal were waaaaay out front at the start.

This helicopter swooped in for a better shot. It was nuts how close it got to the ship.

More of the race, with the paparazzi.

On to Tassie.

Day Zero Update

2011-12-03T23:47:00.001+11:00

Time has been whipping by lately, and I can't believe that it's been four months since I last updated on the Day Zero project. I've ticked a few more items off the list, bringing me up to 36 out of 101. Tomorrow, we head off on a cruise to New Zealand, which will mean at least one more item off the list, but until then, here are the ones that have gotten the big check mark.

Travel Goals

~~Go to Tasmania~~

In October, Partner-in-Crime and I flew to Tasmania for a week. Before moving to Australia, if you had ever told me that Tasmania was somewhere I would travel to in my life, I would have laughed (and probably said, "wait, where is Tasmania?"). Recently, I was talking to someone who hails from Tassie, as they call it here, and told him what an amazing time we had on our trip. He said, "tell everyone. People think Tasmania has a bad reputation." I told him I thought Tassie would be better off if it remained a bit of a secret. Its charm is in its pristine scenery and its laid back attitude.

Professional Goals

~~Teach a class or master class~~

Recently, I was a mentor for a program supporting emerging playwrights and directors. I had such a fantastic time working on that program and, as part of it, I led two workshops on dramaturgy for the participants. I very much hope I'll have more opportunities to teach.

Projects, Food, and Craftiness

- ~~Make a recipe box~~

Instead of making an actual box, I decided to go next-generation and build my "box" as a private blog. This gives me the ability to search for recipes, ingredients or themes (i.e. - "bring to a party" or "breakfast"). Plus, if anyone ever asks for a recipe, it will be easy for me to email the link. I miss the classic nature of the recipe card box, but in reality, this system is so much more practical.

Personal Health and Wellbeing

~~Get a hot stone massage~~

I did this just today, thanks to a Groupon I bought back in September. I have never been so blissed to heaven in my life. What a great goal I set for myself.

~~Join a gym~~

I finally broke down and made the investment in joining the gym. I ended up joining a large chain here, which has been pretty good because it frees me of the excuse of it not being convenient to home or work.

Things to Watch

~~See Kathy Griffin perform~~

My crummy cell phone picture of Kathy Griffin
at the Opera House.

I was elated when Kathy Griffin announced dates in Sydney, and rounded up a few girlfriends for a night out at the Opera House. She was every bit as funny as I'd expected, and some of her best material was stuff she'd tailored for Australia. One of my favorite observations was that Julia Gillard looks just like Tilda Swinton, and that she and Julia are "fellow 'rangas" (a disparaging slang for red-heads, which I am not going to deign to tell you the ridiculous origin of). She also had good fun with Oprah's Australian visit, saying that Oprah told everyone that she'd "discovered a new city. It's called Australiaaaaaaaa." Every bit of the show was a riot.

Things to Buy

~~Invest in the perfect little black dress~~

When I was in the States, I was on my umpteenth trip to Ross, when I saw this gorgeous Calvin Klein cocktail dress. I had no intention of spending any more money, so dragged the dress into the change room with me to talk myself out of it (obviously). It was almost like the dress had been fitted to me. I could not say no. I wore it for the first time to the aforementioned Kathy Griffin show. And, guess what ... I discovered that it even has pockets!

My big investment? $25.
I would make ritual sacrifices to have a Ross here.

That's the wrap up for now. I'll be back with more tales of life and so forth when we get back from ~~visiting the hobbits~~ our cruise.

Photo 30: Self-Portrait

2011-11-30T23:47:00.001+11:00

After taking the first 29 photos on my fancy camera, this one came off my phone. It is not pretty. It is not even a good picture by an standards of "good." But, I love it because it is me on the outside deck of a ferry on a mild night with a light breeze and a touch of cool in the air. It is me coming home from a night out at the glorious Opera House, seeing one of my favorite performers after a couple glasses of bubbly, with three great gals. It's too dark, lacks clarity, and I have no interest in replacing it with a proper photo because to me, it perfectly reflects how I felt tonight.

Photo 29: Black and White

2011-11-29T18:49:00.001+11:00

I had the day off from my part-time job today, and bully for me because it was the last day of my 100 Australian Plays project, and I wanted to make an event of it. I took my final play to my favorite park and set up camp on my picnic blanket. I also had some feathered friends to help me celebrate.

The Australian Ibis, which I wrote about here, is so noir, I thought it would look great in black and white.

Photo 28: Flowers

2011-11-28T22:15:00.001+11:00

Far and away, the most beautiful part of Spring in Sydney is the jacaranda trees. They are everywhere, and they bloom this elegant shade of purple. Set against the Australian blue sky, they are a sight to behold.

Photo 27: From a Distance

2011-11-27T22:30:00.000+11:00

Near our apartment, there is a footbridge over the highway leading into North Sydney. I love the view because it puts the city in perspective. You can see the famous landmarks - the Opera House and the Bridge, but they are in perspective to the parts of the city that are not so recognizable from tourist photographs. This is more of a real view of the Sydney I live in, including a glimpse of the harbour and some of the residential sections of the Lower North Shore area.

Photo 26: Close Up

2011-11-26T23:30:00.000+11:00

Today, we celebrated Thanksgiving. Mimi and Joe were so generous in inviting us, along with a dozen or so other Yanks, and a few other folks to their place for a potluck Turkey Day. It was an amazing day, though celebrating an American holiday in sight of the Sydney Opera House remains surreal. I feel blessed that we have such fun, kind, and interesting friends to share the holiday - and the rest of the year - with.

Photo 25: Something Pink

2011-11-25T23:15:00.001+11:00

I spied a pink explosion while we were sitting in traffic on the way home from Costco today.

These little Nissan Micras are really popular with the twenty-somethings, particularly girls I think, because they are cute and come in adorable colors. As you can see, this one is fully decked out in Hello Kitty, so I'm going to go out on a limb and guess (pray) it's not a middle aged tradie bloke driving it. It was pink overload up against this ~~hideous~~ festive building.

Photo 24: Animal

2011-11-24T21:54:00.001+11:00

This morning, I set out some fruit on the balcony in hopes of luring lorikeets that I might photograph to my doorstep. Apparently, the birds around here are too good for my offerings because, not only did I not get a lorikeet, I didn't even manage a magpie.

Luckily, I ran into this dog on my way to rehearsal in the Darlinghurst neighborhood today. He was happy to let me take his picture.

Photo 23: Sun Flare

2011-11-23T14:13:00.001+11:00

Today's photo prompt, sun flare, is presenting a bit of a problem. As you might expect, in order to have a sun flare, one needs both flare and sun.

All day, I've been looking for the sun. All I've found is this:

and this...

So, I'm going to show you what a sun flare looked like in Sydney on a day much less horrible than this one. This was a day when Partner-in-Crime and I packed a lunch and our picnic blanket and walked across the Bridge and into the Botanical Garden for a picnic at Mrs. Macquarie's Chair. It was a beautiful day. It certainly had more flare than today.

Photo 22: Hands

2011-11-22T21:57:00.001+11:00

My dear friend Mimi called to order a low key, impromptu girls night out tonight. We've been threatening for ages to try this little bar that we frequently pass called Honey Rider. It's hidden away in plain sight on Military Road (main thoroughfare), and is easy to miss because it does not feature any ostentatious adornments. Mimi, another Yank friend who maybe we'll call G, and I met for some cocktails and catching up. Honey Rider was as cute as we possibly could have guessed. The menus were tucked away inside antique playbills (mine was from the Australian Ballet) and all the decor was vintage, but subtly displayed. I love a quiet, friendly, well decorated little bar, so you can be sure that I'll go back.

Mimi and G were kind enough to be hand models for today's photo prompt.

Photo 21: A Faceless Self Portrait

2011-11-21T18:47:00.001+11:00

Ever since I started my project to read 100 Australian plays in 100 days, this is a familiar sight at my house.

I only have eight plays to go! The commitment is beginning to weigh a bit, so I'll be proud but happy when I've finished. And when I'm done, you might still find me in this spot, but I will definitely be holding a good, long novel for awhile.

Summer Begins: Art Everywhere

2011-11-20T23:14:00.001+11:00

I have been gearing up for summer since the first hint of warming weather. Sydney in the summer is a stunner - the city rolls out no end of outdoor festivals and arts & culture events. It's a movable feast.

We kicked off the season with two public art exhibits.

First, a couple of weeks ago, we took a drive out to Bondi Beach for Sculpture by the Sea. We went last year, and could not wait to get out amongst it again. The sculptures span a long stretch between North Bondi and Tamarama beaches, and the curators do an admirable job of using the natural surrounds to compliment the sculptures (or vice versa). There's a good mix of the more literal (giant sink) and the more abstract, which I tend to prefer. We ended up there on a drizzly day, so we didn't have quite the magical experience as last year, but it was still a treat.

This was my favorite piece.

Last week, we caught a ferry out to Cockatoo Island, which I have been wanting to visit for ages. Aside from its enticing name, Cockatoo Island doesn't have too much to recommend it. It's a former industrial area full of old warehouses and machinery. But, there are frequently events on Cockatoo Island, which make use of the existing architectural charm and harbour views. We took the trip over to see the Outpost street art festival. I was initially sold on going by the promise of seeing some Banksy (which we somehow missed ... ummm, derrr), but it was really much more than that. (I should probably mention that I'm really kind of an expert on street art because I have, in fact, seen the documentary Exit Through the Gift Shop.)

I started calling the exhibit "Occupy Cockatoo Island" because much of the work is so subversive, counter-culture, and sometimes cynical. But, street art, by definition is an act of rebellion, so I suppose it should be no surprise when the content matches the form.

One of my favorite parts of the exhibit was a huge section on T-shirt art. I can't say that I've ever thought of t-shirt design as art before, but why not?

I'll leave you with a few of my favorite t-shirt designs.

Best. Ever.

Photo 20: Bokeh

2011-11-20T19:41:00.001+11:00

We are lucky to live in a complex that is full of trees and flowers. Though we are close to a major road, it feels like we are nestled away in a tropical forest. This bed of tall flowers is right outside our front door.

Photo 19: Something Orange

2011-11-19T18:43:00.001+11:00

This spot, with strong orange characteristics, is part of a tunnel into Central Station train terminal. It's usually full of buskers and people asking for change. Today, there was a guy playing guitar, but the last time I was there, there was a woman with an operatic voice repeatedly singing "Home on the Range."

Photo 18: My Shoes

2011-11-18T21:47:00.001+11:00

Summer is here. I am ready.

Photo 17: Technology

2011-11-17T20:05:00.001+11:00

One of the pains of moving to Australia from the U.S. is that the electrical sockets are different, both in shape and in wattage. Australia uses a lower voltage, so forget about bringing things like hair dryers or other high powered devices without a big step-down converter.

I just learned that, ironically, the Australian socket design actually derives from an old American design. According to this website:

The original design of the Australian power plug originated in 1930, as a “gentlemen’s agreement” between Fred Cook of Ring-Grip, Geoffrey Gerard of Gerard Industries and Brian Harper Miller of the SECV. This occurred prior to the formation of any standards body in Australia.
The design originally drew on a power connector in the USA at that time. The US connector was also the basis of the Argentinean and Chilean connectors around the same period. China adopted a variant of this connector some years later.
The key advantages of the Australian connector was its low price to manufacture, utilised a fraction of the material of other power connectors. Oddly, the original US connector which prompted this design has subsequently disappeared into obscurity.

So, there ya go.

Stopped to smell the roses.

Photo 16: Long Exposure

2011-11-16T23:20:00.001+11:00

Personally, I don't care for long exposure photos that come out with blurry streaks of light. I think they look like you don't have a tripod (which I don't) and are a bit crap at taking photos. On the other hand, P-i-C can't get enough of blurry-light night photos. He finds them artistic and whimsical. It's an ongoing debate, particularly every time we ride the ferry at night. When I showed him the long exposure options I took tonight, I knew before I asked which one he'd like.

So, I dedicate this photo, taken from a perch in rainy North Sydney, to P-i-C and his eye for whimsy and artistry. We don't always agree on everything, but that doesn't mean that he's always wrong.

Photo 15: Silhouettes

2011-11-15T21:12:00.001+11:00

I took this picture in Kirribilli, near the Sydney Harbour Bridge stairs. I loved the way that streetlight was making the nearby foliage cast these shadows on the stone wall. The second I saw this, I knew it was today's photo.

Photo 14: Eyes

2011-11-14T19:54:00.001+11:00

I owe you a post on our trip to Tasmania. In the meantime, for the photo prompt "eyes," please meet the newest member of our family - the Tasmanian Devil potholder.

Photo 13: Yourself With 13 Things

2011-11-13T23:09:00.001+11:00

I can't lie. This prompt, yourself with 13 things, did not deeply inspire me. But, far be it for me to judge the photo prompt gods. That can only lead to heartache.

So, I arranged myself with 13 things that were part of my day today.

1. The book on the left is a playscript for my 100 plays project.

2. On the book - hard to see - is my bundle of keys, most of which are for my apartment - security gate, two door locks, and a mailbox key.

3. The red card below the book is my train pass for my foray to the Botanical Garden for my exciting morning at Yoga Aid, a charity event that challenged participants to a 2 hour practice on the Harbour. It was a glorious morning. I met Surfing Friend there, followed by a nice coffee catch up).
4. Also related to Yoga Aid, you can see my yoga mat in the back, which I dragged around with me for half the day...
5. ... my sunscreen (2nd to last right) because you cannot mess around with the sun here ...
6. ... my water bottle (far right) to stay hydrated during the long practice (generally, I try to carry a water bottle with me all the time now that it's getting warmer out)...
7. ... two hair bands for the cute pig tails I willed my hair into this morning ...
8. ... the meditation beads (middle) we got as a "prize" at the end of the practice.
9. Next to the book is my phone, which is a staple of everyday.s It's my clock, my map, my phone-a-friend, my Facebook on demand, and endless else.
10. Next to the phone is my Fly Buys card because I picked up some groceries at Coles. Both of the major grocery stores here have rewards cards (which are also attached to their sister stores - i.e. Fly Buys can also be used at Liquorland, KMart, some gas stations, etc.). Fly Buys earns you points for a catalog of various and sundry reward items, all absurdly "expensive." Woolies's card is better because it earns you Qantas airline miles, but I figure using the Fly Buys card can't hurt, at least. Maybe I'll get something cool in a few years.
11. On top of the yoga mat are my sunglasses (sunnies) because I was out walking around a lot during the day. Again - can't mess with the sun.
12. My ipod because I have a podcast obsession. With all the walking I had to do, I got all caught up on my TBTL.
13. And, finally, I've included nutmeg because I baked a loaf of zucchini bread to take with me to book club tonight. The book club is a group of my favorite expat girls, and I look forward to our gatherings every month. Mostly we drink wine, eat snacks, and chat. We usually talk about the book for 10 minutes or so. I would have photographed the book, but I actually didn't read it this month (had to let that one go because of all the play reading). I also would have photographed the zucchini bread, but it all got eaten.

Photo 12: Sunset

2011-11-12T22:01:00.001+11:00

"Sunset" is my favorite photo prompt so far.

As it was Saturday night, Partner-in-Crime and I took this as a sign that we should have a little date. We walked down the block and got on a ferry headed for the suburb of Balmain. At the ferry wharf in Balmain, there is a small park right on the water, complete with a rose garden. There were a handful of families and couples having dinner, and we sat down our picnic blanket and toasted the sunset with a glasses of wine. It was dark when we rode the ferry back, so Luna Park, the Opera House, the Bridge and all the boats on the water were lit up. A firework display in the Harbour started up just as we got back on land, so we watched that before heading home.

It was a perfect date (and aside from the wine we brought from home, didn't cost us a dime).

Here's a shot taken from the park.

Photo 11: Something Blue

2011-11-11T21:31:00.001+11:00

Today's photo prompt, something blue, was too easy (in Australian parlance). I'll take any excuse to stroll 15 minutes down the block to the bluest spot I know:

Unrelated to the photo, I got a good laugh out of this post I just saw on Twitter:

You Know You're Australian When: You can translate 'Dazza & Shazza played Acca Dacca on the way to Maccas.'

I believe that I've arrived because I can translate!

(If you're not Australian, let me assist: "Darren and Sharon played AC/DC on the way to McDonald's.")

Photo 10: A Childhood Memory

2011-11-10T19:18:00.001+11:00

Until I was 9, and my family moved to the Dirty South, we lived in Arizona. I'm not sure if I can thank this or being born a Cancer for the fact that I am a lifelong water baby. Whatever the reason, I remember spending the bulk of my early childhood in pools. Our pool, friends' pools, and the swim team - I'd say that I spent the better part of March to, say, October each year in the pool.

We've been lucky to have pool in both of our apartments here. Water baby though I am, I'm not a penguin, so I haven't gotten into this pool just yet. But soon it will be warm enough. Very very very soon.

Photo 9: Someone You Love

2011-11-09T19:21:00.000+11:00

Making aspects your life public on the Internet can be tricky territory when it comes to the other people in your life, especially the ones who value their privacy. And because, thus far, I want to stay married, there is a very strict No Photos of Partner-in-Crime policy on this website.

So, I was surprised that he let me post a photo of even this much of him for today's prompt: Someone You Love. It perfectly captures his attitude towards being featured on the interwebs.

Photo 8: A Bad Habit

2011-11-08T22:34:00.001+11:00

Today's prompt is "a bad habit." "Impossible," I thought "don't have any of those."

This evening, I asked Partner-in-Crime what bad habit he thought I'd taken a picture of, and he did manage to come up with a pretty good list before I had to give him a hint. So, maybe I have one or two...

As I actually have documented here before, my New Year's resolution was to be on time for things. To be fair, I have been doing much better and punctuality, but it remains a daily struggle. This big sun dial in the Botanical Gardens is a representation of my perpetual tendency towards lateness.

Photo 7: Fruit

2011-11-07T22:07:00.000+11:00

I was running errands today -read: getting my nails done and buying a few frivolous items - so I took a swing by this great little produce shop in the neighborhood for today's photo. (It is particularly great because it is the same shop where Mimi found American style bacon, huzzah!).

It is not uncommon here to buy your produce in one shop, your meat in another, and your bread in another. You can end up getting better deals and fresher food that way, if you're willing to shop around. I have to admit that, for the most part, we've stuck to our American ways with buying most of our groceries in one larger shop, but little shops like this one are always great for finding items you can't find at the regular grocery, getting higher quality items, and - obviously - inspiring the senses.

Photo 6: From a Low Angle

2011-11-06T19:02:00.001+11:00

On the lower North Shore, there is this throwback Coney Island style amusement park called Luna Park. There so happens to be a very similar Luna Park in the St Kilda neighborhood of Melbourne. You walk through one of those creepy gaping mouth clown gates to a world of fabulosity ... or it least it looks like it might have been fabulous once in the 1940s.

It provided a good setting for today's photo, "from a low angle."

Photo 5: From a High Angle

2011-11-05T17:44:00.002+11:00

Today's photo prompt was "from a high angle." Lucky for me, one of the best high spots around is just a short walk from my apartment.

I took a lot of shots looking down from the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and chose this one because I love the shadow of the bridge in the water, and the sense of motion from the wake of the boat. Today was a perfect day, so after taking this shot, I picked up some fish and chips from my favorite takeaway place and had a picnic right under the bridge. This is the sort of day that makes me feel so grateful to have the chance to live in Sydney.

Photo 4: Something Green

2011-11-04T17:24:00.000+11:00

I went wandering around the neighborhood hunting for something green. Not any green thing, but something interesting and green. I finally settled on this bark from a gum tree up the street. I loved the patterns and contrasts in it. A lot of trees here have this sort of molting/flaking look to the bark, which I always find wonderfully dramatic.

Photo 3: Clouds

2011-11-03T21:44:00.000+11:00

When I saw the prompt for clouds, I thought that one would be ace. Too easy. Have you seen the puffy clouds against the brilliant blue sky here? And yesterday was so picturesque that you may recall, I was wearing my pinkest, most floraly frock.

It rained all night, in sort of a pleasing, lulling manner. It was still raining when I got up. I decked myself in grays and blacks, found a sturdy umbrella and set out against a wall of gray. So, today in Sydney, clouds do not look like my masthead above. Rather, clouds look like this:

From the Botanical Garden.

Photo 2: What I Wore Today

2011-11-02T14:48:00.001+11:00

When I woke up today, it was one of those shining, blue Sydney mornings that you see in sweeping postcard shots of the Harbour. The postcards are no lie. We actually get a lot of those days here, but lately (you know, for the last four months) it has been more dreadful than gorgeous. So, when the sun was shining and the temperature was mild this morning, there was no choice but to put on my prettiest Spring dress and float to work in flowers and crepe.

Here, I've photographed my dress hanging up because I wanted to play with the backlight like bridal photographers and those photos they always take of the wedding dress hanging up in a window.

I actually stumbled into a good trick on on the camera while I was at it, so my plan of learning my camera better during the project is already coming to fruition.

What I Wore Today (before I changed into jeans and a tank top):

NaBloPoMo and a Self Portrait

2011-11-01T16:46:00.000+11:00

The arrival of November entered my consciousness late this afternoon. It being the first of November means that I have to finally come to a decision about participating in (Inter)National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo). I completed NaBloPoMo last year, and it was a stellar experience. I worked on my writing skills and got to connect with some new bloggers.

I was sure I was going to do it again, but then I took on this other multi-day project. I still have 28 days left of play reading. Doing that and writing a substantive blog post everyday is just too ambitious for me.

But, the desire to hop in the sandbox for a play remains strong. So, I'm going to give it a go with a 30 day photo challenge. I liked this challenge because it seems aimed at building a photographic eye. It will give me the chance to mess around with my fancy newish camera, reconnect to the joy of blogging, and hopefully show you all some images of my daily life in Sydney.

I'll still post regular posts throughout the month, as well. I have a lot to catch up on, including a glorious trip to Tasmania.

So, on to the first prompt: self portrait. That truly is a challenge to start out with.

A camera in the mirror shot is too boring, and has nothing to do with the theme of this blog. Good news. Today is Melbourne Cup (again), and the city is full of folks dressed up like they were from Boardwalk Empire. What better excuse to parade around the house in my vintage-inspired wedding veil? That is thematic, but not nearly festive enough: I knew the perfect accessory ... a feather boa (ladies wear gay pride feather boas to horse races, yes?). In the same box, I conveniently found a parasol that was nixed from my wedding pictures due to the rain.

Set the camera on "Pop Art" mode and now we're getting to a self-portrait! I'm only missing the champers (American translation: champagne) for perfectly smashing Melbourne Cup ensem.

If only I'd thought to wear this to work this morning.

Have I Got a Tip For You

2011-10-11T20:10:00.002+11:00

A curious thing about expat life and international travel is that it gets me thinking about the "why" of cultural phenomena that I'd never questioned before.

Like today in the shower, my mind wandered to tipping at restaurants.

In America, we tip. We just do.
In Australia, we just don't.

I've written about tipping before, in terms of how it impacts me, as a customer, but even then I didn't think about why it is culturally different.

Now, I do understand why, in the sense that in the U.S., waiters don't make a living base wage and make up the rest in tips. And that in Australia, waiters make a decent salary, and we customers are paying them through the menu prices.

But, why? We both more or less have origin stories that begin in England, yes? How and when did our way of doing business become so inherently different?

I did some Google research. My question has not been completely resolved, but it is an interesting history, and also amazing what strong feelings the question of tipping culture bring up. I won't get into trying to side with which one is better/worse, but rather just tell you what I learned about the Why (and a little of the When and How).

Most sources seem to agree that a culture of tipping was common in British households as early as the 17th Century. Guests in estate homes would leave a gratuity for the household staff, which was at least partially an acknowledgement of the vast class disparity. Tipping started to become increasingly popular in British pubs, where proprietors would leave out jars that said something like, "To Insure Promptitude." (T.I.P.s, heh? ... Wikipedia says this may or may not be the origin of the word). If you wanted good service, you left a tip.

I could not find anything about the evolution of tipping in Australia, but the short version of tipping in the U.S. goes something like this:

At first, tipping was not the norm in America. It was seen as a symbol of an aristocratic society, and of course, early America wanted nothing to do with that. It wasn't until after the Civil War that:

"wealthy Americans began traveling to Europe in significant numbers, and they brought the tip home with them to demonstrate their worldliness. But the United States, unlike Europe, had no aristocratic tradition, and as tipping spread — like “evil insects and weeds,” The New York Times claimed in 1897 — many thought it was antithetical to American democratic ideals. “Tipping, and the aristocratic idea it exemplifies, is what we left Europe to escape,” William Scott wrote in his 1916 anti-tipping screed, “The Itching Palm.” One periodical of the same era deplored tipping for creating a class of workers who relied on “fawning for favors." (NY Times)

There was plenty of opposition, but nonetheless, the tradition began to seep into the culture more and more. As did the expected size of the tip. In the early 20th Century, tips were about 10% of the bill. Today, of course, closer to 20%.

As tipping culture grew in the U.S., the British were getting fed up with it. "The 1943 Catering Wages Act in Britain established a minimum wage for service employees that helped decrease their reliance on tips." (NY Times, again). I can only assume that Australia, at that time, would have gone along with what England was doing; so this may explain how Australia ended up with no tipping culture. Although, I'm not clear on whether they ever had one like England did, since - like America - it was never a class-based society.

If any of you smart readers know more about the history of tipping in Australia, I hope you might leave a comment. I'd love to learn more.

Everyone else ... tip your waiters.
Or, don't.

If you're interested in the topic, the NY Times article I quoted from is long, but well worth the read.
Other sources, were this one, this one, and of course this one.

Mini-Series: Alive and Well and Living in Australia

2011-10-06T22:34:00.003+11:00

I remember network TV miniseries from my childhood with an unending fondness.

These epic marathons came to your home over the span of many evenings, back in the days when people still watched network TV almost exclusively. They were sprawling, they were beautifully shot, and they contained a depth of story that you rarely even saw on regular drama series.

The most wonderful thing about TV miniseries was that everyone tuned in to watch them. Pre-Tivo, you had to watch when they aired. Besides, everyone was talking about them the next day, so you needed to be up to speed.

The legendary Roots was before my time, but I remember Lonesome Dove, The Thornbirds (not that I understood it at five years old, but I remember it being on), and V. Oh my god, do I remember V.

A kid in my first acting class had about two lines in a miniseries about the South whose name I cannot remember and, whoa brother, did I think he was the biggest thing going.

Anymore, network miniseries have gone the way of the daytime soap, what with the high production costs, I suppose. They're really the domain of HBO, but you know we're all probably going to wait until it comes out on Netflix, anyway. There's no real sense that you need to tune in when it airs (one of the thousand times it airs, that is).

So, it delights me to no end that miniseries still exist here in Australia. There is a lot of buzz about one that's starting tonight called The Slap. It's based on a book, which we actually read a few months ago in my book club. It divided us book club girls, and purportedly, people are quite divided on the series, as well.

I haven't started watching it, yet, but based on what's happening in my Twitter stream right now, I'd say a whole lot of the country is watching. Oh my gosh, I need to catch up! Whether it's brilliant or not, I can't say, but it's exciting to be part of a community event.

Long live the TV miniseries.

A Sign Of Things To Come

2011-09-30T11:25:00.000+10:00

Is there any daily occurrence nicer than a packet of happiness arriving in the mail? Say, for instance, an envelope from the Sydney Opera House...

... full of tickets for Kathy Griffin? .

This envelope is like a harbinger of spring and summer, a season in which Sydney parades out boundless entertainment options. Like, for instance - my wish finally comes true - Ira Glass in Sydney, as part of the Sydney Festival.

(Are you trying to imagine what kind of person is equally excited over over Kathy Griffin and Ira Glass?

I am large, I contain multitudes).

I expect more concerts in the Domain, more fabulous shows to attend, more artsiness everywhere, more picnics in more parks, more beaches and boats, and of course, more fireworks. Like a little sprout peeping my head above ground, I'm sticking one bare toe outdoors to test for warming temperatures, and holding on tight to an envelope that signals the beginning of Sydney's most wonderful time of the year.

A Vampire Returns

2011-09-28T00:12:00.001+10:00

Georgia Peaches. Home sweet home.

In my last post, I promised you further tales of 4a.m. adventures and prodigal-daughterdom. I then went on to neglect this promise, and this blog, rather heartily.

It's not that the 4a.m. wanderings did not continue for some time. It just turns out international travel and reading a play everyday really takes the steam right out of a girl.

I've now been back in Sydney for a few days, and happy to report that jet lag has been much more manageable on this end. Everyone tells you not to sleep until bedtime on the first day, but based on my experiences this time, I disagree. My jet lag has been seriously diminished by sleeping as much as I possibly could on the first day. 8 hour nap in the middle of the day ... buh-bye 4a.m.

The trip itself was a delight. I spent quality time with my family and friends in Georgia. I also took a long weekend to visit friends in St. Louis (and was completely surprised by how awesome it is).

The Tim Tams were a big hit. The Vegemite, not so much (even the dog didn't care for it).

I got busted by friends for judiciously saying "quite," "straightaway," and "keen."

I discovered that I actually missed hamburgers more than Mexican food.

Ice is a wonder of civilization. A wonder, I tell you. I am shocked that the rest of the world does not see the beauty of a cold bevvie full of ice. Ice. I miss you.

Ross Dress for Less completes me. We have nothing that even remotely compares in Australia.

The dog and my stuffed cow.
Both live in Georgia.

My mom said that she was glad that she hadn't forgotten what I looked like, which was reassuring. Her golden retriever seemed to remember me, and promptly integrated me back into his pack. The now-10 month old baby of dear friends who was born after I left was not traumatized to meet me. My friends and I picked up right where we left off, despite huge life changes for all of us.

It all felt like home, in that everything was mostly right where I left it, metaphorically speaking. It also felt like vacation, in that my real life was back where I left it, safely in the Southern hemisphere.

I'm grateful for being adaptable and having adaptable family and friends.

"Home. Let's go home. Home is wherever I'm with you."

More U.S. travels ...

Chestatee Wildlife Preserve, an amazing non-profit in Northeast Georgia.
The donkeys hang out in the same pen as the zebras, and voila ... Zedonk baby!

Zedonk baby's older sibling, Pippi Longstocking.

Martin Luther King Jr. Historic Site.

Ebenezer Baptist Church. Martin Luther King, Jr. Historic Site.

St. Louis Arch.

Coal car, St. Louis. Fun with camera filters.

Budweiser Brewing Company. St. Louis.

Beer with friends. Home in any country.

Vampire Diaries

2011-09-06T21:22:00.001+10:00

It is 6:30a.m., and I have been up since 4. That's cool, though, because I went to bed at 6p.m. last night.

I consider this a marked improvement and, frankly, a victory because yesterday, I woke up for the day at 3a.m., after only 4 hours of sleep in nearly two days.

Partner-in-Crime has renamed me Little Vampire.

This is the wonder that is jet lag.

Otherwise, I am quite thrilled to be home in the States for a couple of weeks. Yesterday, I ate both an American hamburger and a BLT with real bacon. My eating habits will improve, henceforth. I also made my first trip to Wal Mart, where I nearly fainted from reverse sticker shock. It was like everything was practically free, compared to what I've grown accustomed to in Sydney. I could have wept over the 52cent/pound bananas. I wanted to shout at all the oblivious banana-buying customers, "do you KNOW how LUCKY you are?!?" I haven't had a banana in nearly a year! (For the non-Australians ... banana prices skyrocketed last year after the Queensland floods to about $13 a kilo. The last banana I bought cost $2).

Not wanting to sounds like that toolbag we all know who went over to England to take a summer course their junior year, and returned channeling post-Guy Ritchie Madonna, saying that they "ride in the lift," and "talk on their mobile," I have been working diligently to re-alter the handful of words that have shifted in my vocabulary.

-Shopping trolley goes back to shopping cart.
-People are greeted with "how are you doing," not "how are you going?"
-Coriander is cilantro and capsicum are peppers.
-I call people, instead of ringing them.
-I will get to that right away, not straightaway.

At the airport, I stopped for some food, and I very nearly forgot to tip the waitress. Yikes.
And, wow, the Australians are right. Our drink sizes are massive! How are we such a thirsty people, America?

More notes from the 4a.m. front as they unfold over the next weeks. The sun is rising, and I am hopping off to have a banana smoothie and giant cup of coffee with half-and-half for breakfast. Good morning, America.

Kind of a Big Deal

2011-09-02T13:32:00.000+10:00

I'm famous! Of course, by famous, I mean, not-at-all-even-remotely-famous.

But, I am guest blogging for a playscript company here in Australia, so that's kind of fancy.

Check me out ...
http://australianplays.org/100-aussie-plays-in-100-days

A couple weeks ago, I decided that I was going to give myself a project to read one hundred Australian plays in the course of one hundred days. New plays, old plays, any Australian plays that struck my fancy. I just felt like I needed to drastically increase my knowledge about Australian plays, if I want to be part of the field.

So, I started to Tweet about it, and a few people got a kick out of it and some gave me suggestions.

And, because it's sort of up their alley, Australian Plays.org asked me if I could turn my daily tweets into a guest blog on their website. I happen to love Australian Plays.org, so that sounded pretty neat to me.

Now that I'm a guest blogger, I have to be on my game and really read my plays everyday. I'm glad they're keeping me honest!

Jervis Bay - Whale Edition

2011-08-20T01:04:00.000+10:00

The week after we went to Dubbo, we hit the road again for an overnight to Jervis Bay. This was our second trip to Jervis Bay, and it was a treat to find out that we loved the place as much, if not more, than the first time. It had been such a magical place when we first went, I actually felt nervous that when we visited the sites of such vivid memories from last year, that they would not hold up. It had been our first trip out of Sydney, so everything seemed amazing, at the time.

Indeed they did hold up, though, and our experience with our beloved Booderee National Park and the crazy-weird Moona Moona Creek were deepened by seeing them at a different time of year, particularly since it was Winter and mid-week, and thereby very nearly deserted. My favorite part of the trip was sitting on the pristine Murray's Beach during what photographers would call "the golden hour," with Partner-in-Crime, a bottle of wine, and not another soul, except the dolphins who moseyed past from time to time.

I won't say much more about these spots, since I wrote about them the first time, but I'll share a few photos before I get on to the real adventure of the trip.

Booderee National Park

At last, kangaroos on the beach! (Booderee)

If you look closely at the Mama kangaroo, you can see a little joey in her pouch. (Booderee)

One million crazy little blue crabs. Moona Moona Creek.

Moona Moona Creek.

Life in the cracks, Moona Moona Creek

The main purpose of our trip to Jervis Bay was actually to take a whale watching cruise. It was nearing the end of the season when whales migrate south to north, and can be seen off the coast of Australia. I wasn't sure if we'd see much, since it was the tail end of the season, but good news for us was that it was an amazingly clear, blue sky day, so visibility was top notch.

From the boat, heading out of Jervis Bay.

We also lucked out big time because, taking the trip mid-week and outside of school holidays, there was hardly anyone on the boat. On a huge ship with room for 150 or more, there were maybe 20 of us. Prime viewing for everyone.

My fears about not seeing much were for nothing. We ended up seeing nine whales and two fur seals on the three hour tour (very Gilligan's Island, no?). Basically, once we were out to sea, one of the lookout crew would spot a whale in the distance, and the boat would head in that direction. For awhile, we were chasing some whales that were near a pair of moored Navy ships, and we had to retreat, lest we be seen as threatening the security of Her Majesty.

We did see one whale breach a ways away. And, the absolute highlight of the day came, at the very end of the trip. We'd been following a trio of whales at a bit of a distance right before we needed to turn back for the day, and the captain suggested we could stay where we were for just a couple more minutes to see where they came up. And, holy mother, they came up for air right next to us ... practically touching distance. I was snapping away on my camera, but too excited to pay attention where I was looking, so instead of some amazing shots of whales mere feet from me, I got a bunch of pictures of the mast at various angles. Not that I could photograph the best parts, anyway ... the sound, the feel, and my deligthed surprise.

Ah well, sometimes these memories must only live in your mind.

Whale breath.

About the only shot I got of the whales near the boat. Could be whales. Could be old tires. Who can say?

Dubbo

2011-08-17T01:29:00.000+10:00

A few weeks ago, we were feeling some wanderlust, invoked in no small part by the weeks of drenching rain that Sydney was experiencing. So, we decided to get out of Dodge on a couple of brief road trips designed to placate our need for feats of daring and adventure, or at least get out of our wet wellies for a day or two.

First up, we drove out of town a few hours west to the regional town of Dubbo, which not only has the cutest town name ever, but is also home to the Western Plains Zoo.

It was a solid day's drive to Dubbo from Sydney, on a day that just so happened to be my birthday. I was full of sass and crank about the way my day was unfolding, even though Partner-in-Crime let me be the DJ all day and encouraged my purchase of Tim Tams, salt and vinegar chips, and giant cans of Solo lemonade. Even the "This American Life" where Starlee Kine gets Phil Collins's advice on writing a breakup song could not cheer me out of my birthday funk.

This sunset, as we drove through regional New South Wales, helped lift my mood tremendously, though ...

When we reached Dubbo, my ever-loving husband asked the hotel check in clerk for a restaurant recommendation. He suggested a steakhouse, which based on the above average prices, seemed to me like a good enough bet. I'm not in the habit of naming establishments that I don't enjoy, but I will simply suggest the hard-earned logic that if you are in Dubbo, you may find far superior dining options than a chain steakhouse. It was the sort of place that would have charged $16.99 for a T-bone, baked potato, salad, and veg at home, and my sauce-drenched fillet did nothing to further elevate me out of my self-inflicted malaise.

Thankfully, birthdays only last one day, and I was in far better spirits the next day. We raided a local bakery for croissant breakfasts and afternoon snacks to carry into the zoo with us. It was a beautiful morning, and we decided to see the zoo by renting ("hiring," as they say here) bikes. It was a great choice because the zoo is a bit of an expanse, which is well designed for bike traffic (you can also drive, rent motorized carts, or walk). Because it was a weekday, there were very few other guests, so we usually had the road to ourselves.

It was such a lovely zoo experience. Most of the animals have a good swath on which to roam, but we also got the feeling that we could get quite close to them. It was easy to navigate and manageable in the four hours we spent there. We checked in on the public feedings of the elephant, tortoises, and lemurs, which were narrated by enthusiastic handlers. We were also blessed with a gloriously beautiful day on which to roam.

A few of our favorite friends ...

It had started raining when we left the zoo, so we were hard-pressed to find something to do with the rest of the afternoon. Anything outdoors was out, so we headed over to a local winery - Red Earth Estate. P-i-C talked world affairs with the highly intelligent and wordly winemaker, while we spent a good hour with him tasting everything on offer. We've been to a lot of wineries, and this one was decidedly among the best I've been to. It was hard to decide what to buy, and we could easily have walked away with a lot more than the two bottles we did.

The rain had let up when we finally bid adieu to our new friend Mr. Winemaker, so we took a sunset walk at a local park, which had the prettiest pedestrian promenade along the river.

We finished the day with a perfectly acceptable Thai dinner and a lot of Master Chef.

We drove home, in no hurry, the next day; but not before stopping for breakfast at Short Street Cafe, which our winemaker compatriot had recommended. It was the sweetest restaurant in a sprawling house, with tables and funky local art in every room. I can still taste the amazing eggs benedict with lime-infused hollandaise. If you're ever in Dubbo, eat there. What a great way to spend the morning. It reminded me of a lot of converted house restaurants I've eaten at in the South, and I wish we had a place like this in Sydney.

We meandered rather aimlessly on our way home, just wanting to see some more of the countryside. Our "destination," if you will, was the Ophir Gold Mine, which was the first working gold mine in Australia. Purportedly, it is still in operation, but we'd arrived on a weekend, and after driving down dirt road after increasingly bumpy dirt road to get there, it hardly seemed like a bastion of commerce. Nor did we see anyone working, unless you count the industrious pack of wild kangaroos we frightened. We went through a bunch of gold mining towns, including one with the fortuitous name Lucknow. I got a bit snap-happy, so I'll leave you with a few photos of New South Wales' gold country ...

One Year Expativersary

2011-08-12T20:45:00.001+10:00

Today is my first expativersary. One year ago, I got off the plane to start life in Australia with my Partner-in-Crime, who'd arrived a few months ahead of me.

To me, the date is significant enough in terms of marking the passage of time, that I put it on my calendar. In terms of life changes, I mark it as memorable as my wedding anniversary.

When I look back, I’ve done a lot in a year.

-Set up a home from almost nothing.

-Got married.

-Made a community of new friends.

-Paid off my credit cards.

-Traveled pretty extensively.

-Became my own boss and set up a significant project from scratch.

It all sounds grand, and much of it has been, no lie. But, it’s been many other things, too.

My first three months in Australia (the tourist visa months, pre-settling for good), I remember as being the hardest. We did a lot of exploring, I started to scope out the theatre industry, and I learned my way around Sydney. But, not being able to work, find much volunteering in my industry, or even drive, I fell into a period of deep loneliness and aimlessness. I also remember an intense feeling that I just did not belong here, and even had bouts of sensing that people were looking at me like I was a Martian (of course, they weren’t, but I couldn’t help feeling that way). I wasn’t homesick so much as I was out of place, uncomfortable in my own skin, and sometimes even angry about what I’d left behind and how much I had to learn.

Things felt different when I came back in August. It helped that I had a visitor almost right away, so we explored together for the first two weeks. Then, I started to meet more people. And, already knowing how the public transport worked, where a lot of things were, and some of the more technical day to day stuff, I stopped feeling like a space alien.

My biggest frustration was not being able to find work. The rejections from my own field, followed by rejections from rather menial jobs, coupled with the hours and days I devoted to combing sites and applying for work really took a toll on my self confidence. I also carried with me a strong feeling that Sydney just wasn’t my city – that I might reside here, but in terms of it being home, it was like an ill-fitting pair of shoes.

Finally landing a job, even if it was one I wasn’t all that keen on, at last gave me a place to go everyday, some income of my own, and a feeling of purpose. Even though I only stayed at the job for four months, it was a turning point for me in my sense that this is where I live.

About the same time, it was summer, and the whole city came alive with festivals, outdoor events, concerts, and so forth. I started seeing Sydney in a new light, and finding real joy in so many community events helped me settle into my metaphorical loafers in a way that I never thought I would. More and more, I saw where I fit into the life of the city.

Leaving my job and working on my own has been an important part of my journey. For some time, I was so mad that I couldn’t make any strides in the theatre community that I refused to even go see any theatre (that’s huge for me) because I felt so disenfranchised. But, I’ve found my focus and have started to make strides – even if they do sometimes seem to happen through a lot of baby steps. I think I had to find some sort of niche in my industry to truly feel like this is the place where I have made my home.

More and more, I do feel that: that this is home. I just feel normal. There are still plenty of funny or particular cultural things that confuse/annoy/confound me, but I’m surprised less frequently. And, I am losing the need to constantly compare prices/products/expressions/ways of doing things. It’s not gone, but it’s floating away.

Now a year gone, the hardest part for me is how distant I am beginning to feel from my family and friends at home. In fact, I have never felt the distance so acutely as I do recently. I feel that I am being lost or forgotten, and maybe I’m losing track of people, too. Not in the sense that I don’t think of them and definitely not that I don’t miss them, but that they’re not in my life every day, or even every week, and I’m not in theirs. The longer I am away, the more I miss my people. I am itchy for visitors or a trip home.

Holidays also remain hard, and maybe always will (ask me again next year). Christmas in the middle of summer, Halloween, Thanksgiving, 4th of July, and even my birthday were particularly melancholy days.

On the positive side, I am still constantly awed by what a beautiful city this is, and enjoy some of the big quality of life differences. I can actually afford to go to the doctor thanks to having Medicare (yes, this is a biggie in the life of a perpetual arts worker). I cook more and with better ingredients. I walk more. Traveling to places I never dreamed I’d see is a reality. I have a meaningful spiritual community and some amazing new friendships. My husband and I have been through most of the stressful things a marriage can weather, all in our first year, and I know that we are a real team - partners in crime. I feel more willing to try all manner of new things.

One year down, it’s still very much a journey, though one that has settled into a comfortable trek, rather than an uphill slog. Tomorrow, another year begins.

I’ll leave you with a some of the most meaningful photos from my year.

First break of morning, from the plane, one year ago.

Bronte. A beautiful day spent with College Friend last August.

College Friend and I, somewhere between Bondi and Bronte.

Picnic on our roof in our Elizabeth Bay apartment.

Finally got a decent night shot of the Bridge. From the Opera House.

Wedding.

Snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef.

Picnic with our friends. One of many lawn sitting days.

Top of Mt. Kosciuszko, Boxing Day.

Surfing on new Year's Eve.

NYE at our dear friends' apartment.

Australia Day (my new beloved holiday).

12 Apostles, Great Ocean Road trip.

Vivid Festival.

Fiji.

Jervis Bay, our favorite spot.

Wombats. (maybe the best thing Australia has to offer).

Day Zero Project: 30 Down

2011-08-06T00:18:00.000+10:00

I was ticking off some items on my Day Zero list, making change with myself in my "dollar for charity for every item completed" box, and noticed that I'm almost 1/3 of the way through the allotted 1001 days. The good news is that I have completed 30 out of the 101 items, so that means that I am also almost 1/3 of the way through the list.

Right on track, so how about a quick update on what I've completed since my last update in May.

Literary Ambitions

~~Read a biography of Joe Papp~~

If you don't work in the theatre, you may not know who Joe Papp was, but you probably know about Shakespeare in the Park. Or, I'll bet you've heard the names of many of the actors whose careers he launched, like James Earl Jones, Charles Durning, Colleen Dewhurst, and, oh yeah, Meryl Streep. Also, you've certainly heard of Hair and A Chorus Line, which he shepherded into existence. Papp was the founder of the Public Theatre, and really the founder of the American new play movement, as we know it today. When I studied Dramaturgy in New York, everyone from a previous generation spoke of Joe Papp as if he were a man from mythology, so I've had it in my mind that, while he was never someone who necessarily came up in my Theatre History text, I needed to pay my respects by learning about him. The book I read, by Kenneth Turran, was quite a large volume of oral history, comprised of interviews with most of the major players. It was an amazing story of an extraordinary and complicated man, to whom everyone in new plays in America owes a great debt to.

Travel Goals

~~Go to Fiji or Bali~~

Perhaps we'll still go to Bali, but I think when I made this goal, I was just thinking exotic island locales. We got that in spades on our cruise, including our three stops in Fiji. Bula!

~~See whales migrating~~

This trip deserves its own post, which I'll deliver soon. We took a whale watching cruise in Jervis Bay, and had such an incredible time, including the moment when, just as the boat was about to head home, three wales came to the surface literally a foot or two from the ship. Priceless.

Things to Buy

~~Buy 3 board games~~

We love board games, but none of our games made the move with us to Australia. So, we had to restock. One thing we learned in the process ... you're not allowed buy Scrabble in the U.S. and have it shipped to Australia due to copyright restrictions. So, we bought Scrabble here. Cranium and Balderdash, however, no problem on the international market, apparently.

Personal Relationships Goals

~~Host a game night in Australia~~

We play board games with our friends pretty frequently, but once we were the proud owner of new games, my objective was to be the host of game night, for a change. So, we gathered our two favorite couples together at our place for dinner and a rousing, hysterical round of Cranium.

Sydney To-Do

~~Go to the Powerhouse Museum~~

Out of all the museums I went to when I was here on my tourist visa, I never made it to the Powerhouse, which is dedicated to technology and science. I had a few hours to kill in town one day, so I treated myself to lunch in nearby Chinatown, and then an afternoon in the museum. I'll suggest that it was worth the $10 admission. My favorite was the design awards (amazing how innovative design is used in everything from surf boards to heart monitors), the section on Australian innovations (spork, anyone?), and the interactive section, which included an "invent your own firework" module. I think the Powerhouse would be particularly groovy for kids, but my grown up self did have a good time, as well. I thought I probably wouldn't go back, but I heard that they have a Harry Potter exhibit coming up, so I may be lured back in like a good Muggle.

Misc.

~~Eat lobster~~

When I put "eat lobster" on the list, I was imaging Partner-in-Crime and I all dressed up at a fancy restaurant, having a real splurge. I never would have guessed that my first lobster experience would be standing in my bathing suit using a mallet to pound open lobsters that Ni-Vanuatu had just pulled from the ocean. And, frankly, I would not trade that experience for the nicest restaurant in Australia.

So, with 30 goals done, I still have 71 to go. No resting on my laurels - so much more to do!

Summoning Up My Brooklyn: Homemade Bagels

2011-07-31T13:47:00.001+10:00

A couple weeks ago, before discovering the wonder that is Costco bagels, I was really feeling my Brooklyn, and wanting some real-deal bagels (you can sometimes get bagels here, but I haven't found any that stand up to NYC standards, even at the Kosher deli we found in Rose Bay).

Some of the Americans on Yanks Down Under had gotten into a bagel discussion, and a few mentioned having made their own, and how surprisingly easy they were. I was seriously skeptical, but after psyching myself up about it for an age, I thought that I'd give it a good Brooklyn try.

Not being a food blogger, I won't give you the detailed blow by blow, but here's the recipe. Turns out that it was pretty easy, as long as you have a hunk of time to devote to the project.

Ingredients are very basic (I did the suggested honey substitution for the barley malt syrup. I mean, really, who has barley malt syrup around the house?)

Action shot!

You mush up all the ingredients and knead.

Then, you make the prettiest dough balls, and let it sit while you ~~do something fun~~ cook dinner.

Molding the bagel shapes was the part I was most nervous about because a few people said they ended up with strangely shaped bagels. But, my bagels came out quite respectably, I do believe. The dough rings sat covered in the fridge all night, while I dreamed about breakfast.

In the morning, I got right to boiling - the most fun part.

Steamy. I forgot to take a photo before they started baking.

After boiling, you add whatever toppings you like. I tried to mix up an "everything bagel" topping with ingredients I had in the house. I used sesame seeds, sea salt, pepper, onion salt, and minced garlic. I didn't have any poppy seeds, but this concoction was still very good. I did another one with just sesame seeds and one with this spice mix from Trader Joes, which was excellent. I tried the cinnamon sugar after baking, as recommended by the recipe, but was not happy with the results, as they were quite sticky and gooey. Next time I actually think I'll try baking it on like the other ingredients. Topped bagels go into the oven for about 15 minutes.

Finally, out came my amazing bagels. They tasted like Brooklyn, and Partner-in-Crime and I devoured them in two breakfasts. Not easy enough to be a regular baking project, but definitely do-able, and something fun to whip up on occasion, whenever the New York Blues strike, and nothing but a real warm, doughy bagel will do.

Becoming the Boss: A New Project

2011-07-29T17:10:00.000+10:00

I have documented in this blog before how difficult it has been for me to break into my field since moving to Australia. (General summary in this post).

Well, since up and leaving my job-job, I've made working for myself (albeit, as a volunteer) my full time job. Turns out, I am a tough boss. I have been networking like a madwoman, and have had exactly one zillion coffee dates. I've taken to Twitter with a dizzying furor. I even did a short internship (which I found so funny because a big part of my job at home was managing up to 5 full time interns at a time). I'm making tiny little inroads all over the place, and I am having a ball doing it.

But, the thing that I am most proud of is a project that I completely conceived of and executed on my own. I had the idea some time ago, but did not get up the gumption to follow through until becoming my own "boss." After two months of work, last weekend I launched The Australian Theatre Writers Project.

With this site, I am publishing my interviews with Australian playwrights. It has been an amazing way to meet some fascinating writers and a good excuse to read a lot of new Australian plays.

Most of all, the more I've done, the more I have begun to approach the project as an expat learning experience.

From an expat perspective, the two most fascinating interviews for me were with Australian writers who spent considerable time in the U.S. and could speak with some authority about cultural differences.

Hilary Bell spent 9 years in the States, attended Julliard, and married an American. For her, a deciding factor of moving to the States was the fact that her parents are well known actors, and she wanted to see how she'd fare in a place where she was a bit more anonymous.

An interesting comparison she made about the U.S. and Australia, which I think is relevant in terms of larger society, as well as the arts ...

There is the star hierarchy in the States. My husband, who is a jazz musician, made an interesting observation, which I think is also true in theatre, too. In the States, you will have a ‘star,’ accompanied by sidemen. In Australia, it is a lot more about an ensemble. You have groups with no front-man. They will all write the music and work together. You can see that across the board in the arts. Similarly, plays don’t necessarily feature one character orbited by others. They are often about a family or group. I think that is a fundamental difference between the two cultures, as well. One is not better or worse, they are just different approaches.

I don't know if I would have noticed this in the same way on my own, but I think there is something to the idea that the U.S. is more individual-centric, while Australia is more community based. This sort of thing manifests in a lot of subtle ways that add up to big cultural differences.

The other fascinating expat interview I did is with Christine Evans, who has been in the U.S. for 11 years, since moving over to study playwriting at Brown (she now teaches at Harvard). She had amazingly insightful things to say about the differences in the theatre communities, and I'd direct you to the interview, where you can read all of them. What I do want to share is the non-theatre observation that has really stuck with me.

A bizarre thing that happens as an Australian, which I don’t think can happen the other way around, is that when I came here, my whole country disappeared off the map. As an American, you can’t go somewhere and not see your country in the news. As an Australian, I came here and everything I was reading about everyday politics and so forth was just gone. It was incredibly disorienting to feel that my entire political/social world had disappeared. Suddenly, my country was just a cliché about poisonous animals or earthquakes and fires, occasionally.

I complain about not getting to celebrate my holidays or not being able to buy Graham Crackers, but when put in perspective of what the reverse move is like, I begin to feel downright whiny and spoiled. It's true that, as an American, I've never "lost" my country. It's always ever-present, and anyone I meet knows our politicians, our geography, our TV shows. I know some Australians who know American history better than I do. I imagine I'd be completely lost (more so than I feel sometimes now) if I went somewhere that my country all but "disappeared." I have very much started to value more how privileged I am to not have had to make more cultural sacrifices than I have.

I knew that talking to Australian writers would be a great way to meet people and get a better sense of "how things are done around these parts," but I did not anticipate how much I would learn about this culture, as well as my own.

This project also represents a big step for me in my expat journey. This is the first time in my new country that I have taken a big plunge, put myself forward, and did not wait for someone to hand me something to do. In effect, I have taken responsibility for making this experience what I want it to be. I am proud of this thing I've created on my terms, and thrilled to have something of growing value to contribute to the Australian theatre community.

Costco

2011-07-26T18:28:00.001+10:00

You know that scene in The Hangover where the guys wake up and there's insane stuff all over the room, the chair is on fire, and there's a tiger in the bathroom ...?

I felt a little like that this morning when I woke up and there was a restaurant sized tub of Greek yogurt and 1kg bucket of hummus in the fridge, a flat of Cherry Coke (what? I hardly even drink soda), and a giant pyramid of toilet paper on top of my washing machine.

And then I remembered our giddy first trip to Costco yesterday.

We have long been jealous of Melbourne because they have a Costco, so the opening of a new store in Sydney was a major event in the American expat community. Not only does it bring back the mega store shopping feelings of home (good or bad, it feels the same), but Costco also carries a number of American items that have currently been un or under-available here.

The store opened last Thursday, and Florida Girl in Sydney has written a great post about opening day.

We'd been planning on going for opening, but we ended up taking a little road trip, instead, so didn't end up gracing Costco with our presence until Monday. I was so glad, because even 5 days after opening, the place was a zoo. It was a feat of daring to find a parking space, and as we entered, a corp of staff sternly directed traffic (which Partner-in-Crime noted with amusement was gearing towards the right side of the "road").

The line for membership sign up (there was another equally as long line for card collection)

We'd purchased our membership online some time ago, and bully for us because we were given the option to forego the long line and pick up our cards later by just flashing the receipt on P-i-C's iphone.

Inside, things were busy, but orderly. And I took to filling up the cart post-haste.

We stopped first in the wine/liquor section, which had a pretty interesting selection, though much less "bargain basement" than you'd imagine. Still, we were happy with giant bottle of Yellow Tail for $12, which is comparable to American prices. Funnily enough, P-i-C and I both drank Yellow Tail in the States, but never buy it here because it is just as expensive as any other Australian wine.

Onward into the madness, we took our time (we had no choice but to be patient with the crowds) and toured up and down each aisle.

I was happy to see name brand Q-tips, which are a rarity here, though I think it will be years before I make it through the three boxes I had to buy. Contact solution was a steal. I skipped the other health and beauty products, but there was lots and lots of soap and shampoo that seemed to be a pretty good deal.

Of course, I was really in it for the food, and I already had a good idea of what I wanted. ...

There was a woman handing out samples of American cheese, which made my heart skip about 10 beats. Apparently, people were going crazy for it, and she said she could hardly keep up with people wanting to try it (any sort of orange colored cheese hardly exists here - very rare to find). I tasted a piece, and them remembered that American cheese is actually pretty disgusting. Every once in awhile, I really want it for a grilled cheese sandwich, but was I really going to eat 5 pounds of it? (Literally, 5 pounds). I collected my senses, and went in for an even better option ...

(Orange cheese, orange cheese, orange cheese!!!)

As we went through the store, we loaded up on staples like orange juice, the aforementioned yogurt, which was an amazing price, toilet paper, etc., etc., etc.

I've gotten rather picky about what kinds of household cleaners I keep around, but I did get sentimental when I saw Febreeze -

We decided that the meat was generally not much of a deal, but the bread was exceptionally well priced. And there was a good veggie section, where we picked up a bunch of produce (but had to be careful not to get more than we'd actually eat, so it doesn't go bad).

Oh, my very favorite find ...

... two dozen mix (pick any two varieties) for $10. I had one of the multigrain bagels for breakfast this morning, and it was delicious.

Of course, the joke I heard over and over from Americans was ... "Australian Costco?" Are they going to have giant tubs of Vegemite?" To answer that question -

Yes.

On the way out, we stopped at the food stand and bought a pizza for dinner. It was so very familiar!

Only difference was the meat pies!

Next time we go, we'll reign ourselves in to save the morning-after achey feeling, but as a special event, losing our minds at the Costco almost-opening was like an expat holiday. A holiday that demands every inch of closet space in my house.

Side of the Road

2011-07-24T22:16:00.001+10:00

It's been a busy time around the ol' homefront as of late, and one thing I think you'll particularly want to know is that, since last we spoke, I have visited not one, but two of Australia's giant roadside attractions, continuing the tradition begun in January when the Garcias took me on a fated detour through Goulburn to visit the Big Merino.

After that, I tried to visit the Giant Wine Bottle in McLaren Vale, but it was "out for repairs." I lucked out later that day with a visit to Australia's original "big thing," The Giant Scotsman in Adelaide.

So, now doubling the Giant Things count ...

I was panhandled by the Giant Gold Panner in a motel parking driveway in Bathurst, NSW (first place gold was discovered in the country).

Then, I saw the light! Blue Mountains coal mining town, Lithgow, is home to the Big Miner's Lamp. We didn't even plan this one, but I have Partner-in-Crime's excellent eye to thank (don't ask me how I missed noticing a building-sized miner's lamp on the side of the road, but somehow I did).

I, for one, am pretty impressed with the Giant Things Junket. As you can see, I'm kind of a ~~big~~ tiny deal.

An Open Letter to My Old Friend, Netflix

2011-07-13T10:37:00.002+10:00

Dear Netflix,

I knew something was awry when I got up this morning, and my Facebook stream was full of ...

...

and ...

...

and ...

Oh, Netflix. We're old friends from way back, so I feel that I can be honest and tell you - you've really stepped in it. You can't mess with Americans, what with their cheap-as-dirt-everything and competitive market. They. Will. Not. Stand. For. It. It is clear that you could really use a friend right now. And, you may recall from elementary school...

(I Googled that picture just for you, Netflix)

I am writing this letter, Netflix-friend, because I want you to know that I am here for you. I'm here for you like Carole King - "When you're down and troubled/and you need a helping hand/ and nothing. Whoa, Netflix. Nothing is going right ... " If it comes to pass, as MSNBC is reporting, that "thousands" of your so-called friends are going to forsake you - just call my name out loud.

I have a solution that is going to brighten up even your darkest night.

In your time of need, Netflix, can you help me help you? All you have to do, to re-ignite our eternal flame of friendship, is open up shop here in Australia. Please, pal, let's go back to the good old days. Remember how much fun we used to have when I could stream unlimited numbers of your Cerebral Comedies and find in my mailbox Critically Acclaimed Romantic Dramas Based on Literature? You just don't know how good you have it until it's over. Sigh.

But, if you can meet me here, never more loyal a friend will you find. And, because everything is so much more expensive Down Under, I know you're going to charge me more than in the U.S. I don't even mind. I'm used to it. You're charging the U.S. $16 now? Ungrateful wretches ... I'll give you, say, $22. $22 high-flying Aussie dollars, at that. How does that sound? Pretty sweet, eh?

Winter, spring, summer, or fall, Netflix.

All you've got to do is call.

You've got a friend.

(I Googled these Friend Flowers for you, too, Netflix. Big hugs, buddy!)

Balanced Diet

2011-07-11T17:47:00.000+10:00

Today, I had a doctor's appointment - just a regular check up. All was well, except that the doctor said my iron level was low.

No big deal, she suggested, but she wanted me to boost it.

So, in an only-in-Australia diagnosis, she told me that I could take iron supplements or, if I'd rather, eat more kangaroo.

I took the supplements.

Carriageworks

2011-07-03T13:11:00.001+10:00

For the last two weeks, I was doing some work for an organization that is located in the stunning Carriageworks building.

Carriageworks, located in the Eveleigh neighborhood of Sydney, is one of the best examples I have ever seen of what can be done with "found space" (and, say, $50 million). The building is the former Eveleigh Rail Yards, and has been transformed into a gorgeous, evocative arts space. It has several performance spaces and exhibition halls. The weekly Eveleigh Markets take place there, and a few weeks ago, we attended a fantastic craft fair there, as well. It's one of those places where something interesting is always going on.

On my last day, I got inspired to bring my camera to capture some of the great views I'd been seeing. The architecture is designed to have that rugged, gritty exposed feeling to it - an homage to its former incarnation, as well, I think, as providing a vast, open space for artists to think big.

If you're in Sydney and have never been to Carriageworks, I can't recommend it highly enough. Even if you don't go to see a show, it's worth it to just have a cup of coffee in the cafe and check out the building. It is one of Sydney's great tucked away gems.

Cruisin' Part Three: Bula! Fiji!

2011-07-01T22:27:00.002+10:00

Bula, Blogland!

I suppose it's about time I finished up my cruise recap with a round-up about our three stops in Fabulous Fiji.

After wild Vanuatu, Fiji looked downright normal, though of course stunningly gorgeous and populated with the warmest and most welcoming people on any of our stops.

Far and away my favorite stop in Fiji was the little island of Dravuni. With a population of about 150, it had the wonderful unspoiled feeling of Mystery Island, while still giving the sense of a tight-knit community. We were greeted with an effusive Bula (a bit like "aloha" in Fiji) ceremony of dance and singing by the islanders.

We had a quick look at the little village, including the sweet primary school where the children chorused, "Bula!" at all of us interlopers staring in the window, and then stared at us curiously as they trotted off uniformed and bare-footed for lunch break.

Primary School schedule. The theme of the week is "being helpful" and there are 11 students enrolled.

We spent an hour or so on a gorgeous, if strenuous, hike up a hill in the middle of the island, which afforded us a pretty spectacular 360 degree of the island. Picture postcard Fiji.

Thanks to P-i-C for this photo.

We spend the rest of the day on Dravuni snorkeling, beach bumming, and avoiding the kava, which was flowing freely. It was a simple and perfect day.

Second stop in Fiji was Port Denarau, a tourist gateway to fancy resorts and island hopping tours. We were too lackadaisical to book a tour, so we ended up settling for the $7 "Bula Bus," which ferries tourists around to the island's different resorts.

We hopped off at the Sheraton, where I straightaway staked out the secluded adult pool with hammocks. I was more than happy there with a book for the afternoon. Partner-in-Crime, feeling antsy and understimulated by the easy-breezy American resort lifestyle, got back on the Bula Bus to check out the rest of the resorts, and picked me up right where he left me some time later, reporting that the purportedly super-fancy Hilton and the rest of the resorts were nothing much to see. He's a tough crowd, my P-i-C.

As unmemorable as our Denarau day was, we were rewarded that evening with the unrivaled best sunset of the trip.

Our final day in Fiji was a stop in Suva, the capital city. I was a reluctant traveler in Suva, as I'd heard some pretty ugly tales about the aggression of the local merchants, as well as the high rate of crime. I'm glad that I swallowed my fears, though, because while there were a fair share of pugnacious peddlers, it was mostly a highly friendly, if bustling and chaotic, city.

We were greeted coming off the ship by the police band, who serenaded us with American rock songs. How could you not like a town whose police officers wear outfits like these?!

On the exit ramp of the port, we faced a cacophony of hucksters tempting us with their tours, taxis, and so forth. We finally agreed to take a free shuttle into town, after feeling convinced that it was really-truly-no-strings-attached free. The driver took us on a complicated 15 minute ride which let us off at one of the department stores (hence why the ride was free), which turned out was actually about a 2 minute walk from the port. We pranced off to the tourist information office, passing up many offers for rides and "information" from "helpful" locals. We got advice on what to see, as well as the many scams to avoid, from an exceedingly friendly tourist bureau worker.

Off we walked to the Fijian museum, a nice if a bit ramshackle collection of old and modern arts, crafts, and cultural items. If you recall the "no wata" incident from the Vanuatu parliament, I can report that this was repeated at the Fiji Museum, and the sink featured a bottle of Fiji water (which, yes, really does come from Fiji) for washing ones hands.

We recruited an (also exceedingly friendly) Indo-Fijian taxi driver to take us up the road to a park that our tourist bureau friend recommended. In my head, I was picturing a manicured lawn park, but it turned out that it was actually a quite rugged rainforest experience, complete with potholed, muddy, unpaved roads that I was sure were going to pop the tires of our game driver's little car. Somehow he made it, and took a short, dirty hike to a waterfall swimming hole. I was so sad to not have brought my suit, as the water was lusciously clear and inviting.

Our chatty driver took us all over Suva, slowing down the car for photos as he pointed out highlights like ...

The Mormon Church:

A local chief's house:

Our cruise ship:

We had him drop us off in the center of town, and we found the local artisan market, where we picked up a few handcrafted wares from a Fijian artist/ Brigham Young graduate who sold us woodcrafts and suggested that we join the Latter Day Saints.

We had a bit more of a wander around town, concluded by our now-traditional look at the local fruit market. I had been doing quite well with the lack of respect for personal space up to this point, but it all became a bit overwhelming for me here. I was happy to have seen it, as it was about 5 times the size of the other markets we'd been in, and certainly more alive, but I was ready for fresh air when we emerged back in the sunlit streets.

We finished our Suva day on a shopping frenzy, as the prices were far too favorable to pass up. We spent an embarrassingly long time in a fantastic chain store called Jacks, which clearly catered to both locals and tourists. I settled on a beautiful, flowy island dress, while P-i-C picked out some festive print shirts. We picked out a marble turtle-shaped soap holder, new placemats, and heaven can even remember what else we loaded up in our basket. The (exceedingly friendly) salesman was pleased enough with us that he hailed a company van to drive us back to the cruise ship.

And so, we bid farewell to Fiji ... Bula-ed and blissed out on island charm.

Cruisin' Part Two: Vanuatu

2011-06-23T11:51:00.001+10:00

Vanuatu was an experience unto itself in our South Pacific adventure.

Partner-in-Crime, having developed a bit of an obsession with Vanuatu ever since we learned about the island of Tanna and its Cargo Cult and active volcano from seeing Mike Daisey's The Last Cargo Cult, could not wait to get his feet on the soil of this otherworldly country. Much to P-i-C's dismay, we did not get to go to Tanna, and the ship actually passed it late at night, well past when we could even catch a glimpse. Still, we got plenty of wild, weird, and beautiful from our two stops in Vanuatu.

In case you don't know as much about Vanuatu as I do, given my marriage to one of the foremost experts on the island nation, here are a few fun facts:

-Vanuatu (formerly New Hebrides) is a chain of 83 islands. (We saw just two of them).
-There are 110 languages spoken throughout Vanuatu. The three official languages are English, French, and Bislama, a sort of Pidgin English.
-From 1906 - 1980, Vanuatu was ruled jointly by the British and the French. (Go ahead and take a minute to work through how insane that must have been. They don't even drive on the same side of the road!).
-The last recorded act of cannibalism in Vanuatu took place in 1969.

Our first Vanuatu stop was Mystery Island, a deserted island that purportedly remains uninhabited because the Ni-Vanuatu (locals) believe it is haunted. Residents from nearby islands come over to sell everything from sarongs to massages on the days when the cruise ships arrive.

Our day on Mystery Island was a dream. We snorkeled, had massages ($15 for 30 minutes), ate freshly caught and steamed lobster, and generally pretended to be castaways a la Gilligan's Island (if there had been about 2,000 other people from the boat on the same island).

Lobster hut. We got two of these babies.

Beautiful coral made for great snorkeling on Mystery Island.

Mangroves.

Ni-Vanuatu child.

Massage parlor.

At the little market.

Vila, from a lookout point.

The next day, we docked in Port Vila, the largest city in Vanuatu. As we got off the ship, long lines of taxi drivers were aggressively drumming up business. From the top of the hill, they screamed at us, "Hey, lady in the red shirt, you need a taxi?" and approached insistently as we entered the little market stalls. We finally settled on a driver to take us into town and, lo and behold, he was from Tanna (we found that a lot of the locals here and in Fiji take flights from their islands over to wherever the cruise ship lands). P-i-C had a great time quizzing our driver on his life in Tanna and the John Frum Society cargo cult (very much alive and well, apparently). The most interesting thing I learned from him was that there are both French and English speaking schools, and locals may choose where to send their children. He had sent some of his children to English schools and some to French schools so that they could teach each other the language they didn't get in school.

After loading up on our allowance of duty free, we set off exploring. First, we hit the local vegetable market, as we did in every city we went to. That was our favorite place to see bustling local culture. In addition to the usual coconuts, sugar cane, and so forth, the Vila market also featured rows of women selling the local cuisine, laplap -some variation of banana, yam/potato, meat, soaked in coconut milk, and served on a banana leaf. (Laplap became even more interesting when P-i-C discovered that, during the cannibal days, in a ceremony, the meat part might have been some unfortunate folks).

After the market, we wandered up the hill to the Vanuatu National Museum. Upon paying our entry, we stepped inside and felt quite certain we'd been duped when we saw how small the museum was. But, like everything in Vanuatu, the real value came from the people. We asked for a tour, and were personally guided for the next hour or so by the most delightful host, a Pentecost (one of the other islands) man named Edgar. First, Edgar showed us the local tradition of sand drawing, which was traditionally used to communicate between people who did not share the same language. Whether or not it the whole thing was a bit sentimentalized for tourists, I can't say, because I was simply hypnotized by his drawing, storytelling, and accompanying songs.

He then took us around the displays and explained everything from the Asiatic origins of the language to the (rather grotesque) burial traditions to the "bungee jumping" ritual unique to his island of Pentecost. P-i-C, understandably, asked a lot of questions about cannibalism (everyone in Vanuatu seemed perfectly happy to talk about that part of their history), and when Edgar expounded on the number of Western missionaries who had become dinner, P-i-C joked that they must have been pretty tasty.

"Salty," Edgar replied.

Once we were suitably immersed in Vanuatu history and customs, we went across the street to try to get a look at the Parliament. We wandered right in and around the building before we finally found a handful of staffers hanging out on the patio. They told us that the actual Parliament hall was closed, but that we could see the library and pointed us down a hallway. The tiny library was locked, so we went back down the hall, and asked the first person we saw, a man who turned out to be an MP. He said he'd be happy to show us into the library, and did we come from the cruise ship, and were we enjoying Vanuatu? We got derailed when a gaggle of other men appeared and our host said, "come! Meet the other MPs!" And, so, we were introduced around to the other MPs, including the head of one of the parties, a gigantic and striking man who small talked us with a practiced Bill Clinton-esque charm. We did get into the library, and were once again left to wander the Parliament building on our own. I declared that I had to use the facilities before we left. Well, I had to pass up the first toilet we saw ...

... because, as you can clearly see, it had no water. I found another option and did, you know, my business. only to find that it also "no gat wota." I rushed us out of the Parliament in a haste before anyone working there could discover how I had thanked their hospitality.

Having paid our respects, we went back into town to meet up with a local tour guide we'd commissioned to drive us around for the rest of the day. His name was Mark (I presume in much the same way as the guy in India who helped me fix my computer was named "Steve.") and he was also from Pentecost. He sat in the backseat of the van and tour-guided us, while we were driven by a silent chauffeur and his inexplicably present friend in the passenger seat, who I can only assume was just along for the ride.

Mark could not have been sweeter or more tolerant of our constant barrage of questions. We were enthralled with the cultural differences in Vanuatu and were determined to milk as much info out of this poor guy as we could.

He took us through a village on the outskirts of town. Land is given to the people by the government, so they never have to worry about having a home or enough food. The village was a collection of primarily tin or concrete huts where people grew their food on their land and pigs and chickens wandered freely. He explained to us the importance of pigs in the culture. In order to prove manhood, one must kill a certain number of pigs (and they have to be pigs with curled tusks). Later, when we asked him if he was married, he said that he had children with a woman he lived with on Pentecost, but that his parents had not gotten enough pigs for his marriage price yet (here the husband's family pays the dowry, not the wife), so they hadn't had the marriage ceremony.

We then went up to the cultural village where we joined in on a tour that some other cruise ship folks were taking. The tour guide was a lovely local woman from Vila, and the cruise ship people were a maddeningly embarrassing lot of rednecks who rudely refused to drink the pineapple cordial offered, ("excuse me, where does your water come from." "Ugh, I'm not drinking that." I wanted to kick them and suggest that if they saw Vanuatu water bottled in the grocery store at home, they'd probably pay a lot of money for it). The tour itself was fine, and I did take up the offer to hold both a snake and an iguana, but we were more than pleased to be rid of the bogans when they got back on their cushy bus and we returned to our clunky van with Mark and our mystery drivers.

He took us to the memorial for Father Walter Lini, the forefather of Vanuatua independence and first Prime Minister after the Condiminium (French/English) government was expelled. P-i-C and I were reverent at the site, and asked if it was alright to take a photo or two, not wanting to be culturally insensitive. (Apparently we had nothing to worry about because, as we got back in the van, P-i-C asked Mark what he could do with his empty soda can, and Mark took it and tossed it on the memorial, casually saying, "Somebody will be around to clean this later!").

The recurring theme of the conversation that day was kava, Mark's very favorite subject. Kava is a drink derived from a local plant, said to have mildly sedative and calming qualities, and is a huge part of both Vanuatu and Fijian cultures. At one point, Mark even stopped the van, sure that we would want to take a photo of the kava tree in someone's yard. On a rampage about how much better Vanuatu kava is from Fiji kava ("Fiji kava is like water! How could you even feel anything from Fiji kava?!?"), Mark suddenly asked if we'd yet tried kava. When we said we had not, he got the brightest look in his eyes and asked if we wanted to.

Go with three guys in an old van to drink a possibly poisonous drink, hereby declared to be at least exponentially more potent than what we'd find in Fiji?

"Yes!" I declared, without a moment of hesitation.

Mark pointed Silent Driver to a location that they both seemed to know well - a hut next door to the tribal counsel (where, Mark explained, a chief decides all of the local disputes). Apparently, they were preparing the next batch when we arrived because Mark told us to wait. He said that everyone who was anyone drank kava here - the President, the MPs, he pointed out the Governor General's car ("he's my uncle"). After meeting the MPs at Parliament, I had no doubt that this was probably where a lot of the real government work was done, over a few servings of kava.

Mark then invited us over to the side of the hut so that we could see the kava being prepared.

I still drank it.

Finally, the kava was served up, and Mark brought us small bowls for us and himself. It was thick, green - basically mud water. P-i-C, wisely thinking that maybe one of us should stay clear-headed on an island in the middle of the Pacific ruled by tribal customs, demurred. I, on the other had, took Mark's instructions to, basically, chug it.

It was, predictably, the most disgusting thing I have ever let pass my lips. As you might expect, if it looks like mud water and smells like mud water, it probably tastes like mud water. My lips and tongue immediately went numb, which I was expecting. We got back in the van to return to the cruise ship, and within 5 minutes, I felt exactly as if I'd had about 2 glasses of wine. "Fun!" I thought. "Kava!"

In the 10 minutes it took to get back to the ship, my Vanuatu kava had fully sunk in. I went from feeling 2 glasses of wine to about 2 bottles. Head fuzzy, room spinning, and full-on nausea. I feigned soberness as we hugged Mark goodbye, and stumbled myself up the ramp back onto the ship. The rest of the night was a loss, as I went through about 24-hours worth of drunkenness and hangover experience in 4 hours. That little bowl of kava was like the worst keg party my 20s ever saw me inflict upon myself.

Vanuatu kava, indeed.

I nicknamed Vanuatu the Wild West of the South Pacific, and in a haze of kava, cults, and cannibalism that we would never forget, we left Vanuatu behind.

Even the coconuts are a little different in Vanuatu.

Vanuatu village.

That's what she said!

Edgar, showing some Western influenced instruments.

Making friends all over the South Pacific.

Cruisin' Part One: Bonjour New Caledonia!

2011-06-17T23:32:00.001+10:00

We're home!

My flat looks much the same as it did when last we met ... half-packed suitcases, to-do lists and laundry everywhere. (Apparently one end of a 15-day cruise looks much like the other).

When Partner-in-Crime suggested that we consider taking some of our new found free time to grab a great last-minute South Pacific cruise deal, we both loved the idea, but also had some hesitation (first-world problems, I realize). P-i-C was concerned that two weeks was going to be too long. Myself, a cruise virgin, had no idea what to expect, and was a bit nervous that I might become a "cruise person ...". You know, someone who eats buffet food, watches third-rate musical theatre "entertainment," takes cliche pictures like this,

and wears outfits like this ...

Above all, I promised P-i-C that I would NOT take this photo ...

As it turned out, 15 days was perfectly comfortable for us, even if we did have to find the humor in our occasional forays into "cruise people" cliches (see above, for merely one example).

Washcloth animals and Theme Nights aside, what we were really in it for was the ports of call. All total, we had a glorious 7 stops in 3 countries - New Caledonia, Vanuatu, and Fiji. I must hand it to the cruise organizers that they did a brilliant job of putting together a collection of ports which offered a vast array of experiences - from busy cities to a (literally) deserted island, we came away with a richly varied South Pacific experience.

We began and ended our journey with New Caledonia. Or, rather, Nouvelle-Calèdonie, as it is a French territory.

Residents speak French and trade in either Euros or

the very flash looking South Pacific Franc.

Our first port was Noumea, the capital of New Caledonia. After two sickeningly rocky days at sea, we were suffering from mal-de-mer, and were quite happy to have our feet on terra firma.

In hindsight, Noumea ended up being the least remarkable of our ports, but we did manage a nice wander around, if not terribly memorable day.

After a quick stroll through the downtown fruit market (our favorite activity in every city), city park, and frighteningly imposing Catholic church on the hill, we decided to brave the city bus.

P-i-C, who (among many other features that recommend him) is pretty fluent in French, so he was exceedingly useful in Noumea as we made sense of bus schedules, ticket buying, and so forth. Words of high school French drift through my fingers like sand, so I could do little more than offer an occasional "Bonjour" or "Merci."

We got off the bus at the beach, which was pretty, but in truth we really wanted to be at the cultural museum, which our map suggested was a long haul from our current location. To make more sense of where we were vs. where we hoped to be, we befriended a local gentleman (when I say "we" befriended him, make no mistake that I mean that P-i-C befriended him - I am not a stranger-approacher or conversation-striker-upper). Beach Gent turned out to be incredibly friendly and, despite any warnings we may have learned about Stranger Danger, we decided to trust our best instincts and take him up on a ride to the museum. I am happy to report that he did not murder us or do anything other than offer lovely conversation in faltering English and drop us off at the front gate with instructions on how to get home.

The museum was unexceptional, but the long bus ride back into town was fun, as we got a good picture of local culture, as well as some free site seeing. Our last stop was the grocery store. Armed with a few remaining francs, we decided that we should certainly partake in a baguette, and I may have ordered a chocolate beignet from the pastry counter, as well (mercifully, "chocolat" is one word that remained embedded in my brain). Completing the meal with a block of glorious and deliciously cheap cheese, as only the French know how, we finished the day sitting in the port in Noumea with quite the feast.

On the last port of our cruise, we retournez-vous-ed to New Caledonia with a day on the much-hyped Isle of Pines, a small island with less than 2000 residents, and no legal private property sales (land may only be inherited).

I was very much looking forward to spending the day snorkeling Isle of Pines, as I'd read that it was the best spot on the cruise. Also, the best snorkeling location was around a sacred rock (how often do you get to snorkel around a sacred rock?). It was a dreary day, so the water was pretty murky, but I did manage a bit of good snorkeling in the cold ocean - I was rewarded with certainly the most interesting fish I saw on the trip. Unfortunately, I did not have an underwater camera, but I am happy to report that I have a very good memory, so I have created an artist's rendering which should give you a good idea of what the snorkeling was like ...

Around snorkeling, P-i-C and I spent the day rather aimlessly wandering around. We took a muddy hike on what we believed to be the path to a very promising sounding "natural aquarium," where natives used to dump fish into a little pool, resulting in amazing snorkeling, but our path unceremoniously dead-ended after we'd invested a dirty and slippery 2 kilometers.

C'est la vie!

The best part of Isle of Pines was the locals. As we got off the ship, we were greeted with handmade crowns of palm leaves and bougainvillea, which I wore like a queen all day. We were offered a local treat, which I can only describe as banana-coconut-fritters. When P-i-C told the local peddler, in French, that we had not brought any money with us, she thrust the warm treats in our hands and told him that "it's not like France here."

We also got a great kick out of the local kids, a few of who polished off bottles of Coca Cola and then performed a giggling and joyous native dance.

I also loved this kid, who I think was trying to hide from the hordes of cruise ship tourists who suddenly overtook his island.

A couple more Isle of Pines shots. Despite the terrible weather, it is hard not to see the unprecedented beauty of this spot.

... up next, the very, very wild world of Vanuatu.

Reading Material

2011-05-31T09:59:00.000+10:00

At the moment, our living room is full of half-packed suitcases, the air smells like the laundry I have been doing all day, and I have packing lists splayed across the apartment. All this hoopla is due to our upcoming two-week South Pacific Glamorama Cruisefest (I'm hoping the cruise line will ask if they can buy that name from me).

While Partner-in-Crime and I are sailing the high seas on the looooove boat (exciting and new!), you can fairly well expect that I will be abandoning you, Blogland. I love you, but I plan to love Fiji even more. So, it is only fair that I leave you with some reading material in my absence.

When I was preparing to come to Oz, reading blogs by other expats in Sydney became ~~a hobby~~ an obsession. It was as if, in other expats' experiences, I could begin to channel what my new life might be like. And, honestly, my blog reading was quite the helpful spark in the dark. I still read all my favorite blogs like they were my afternoon stories.

If you're an expat-to-be, a current Aussie expat, or just a blog-lover, may I recommend ...

My good friend Mimi blogs over at Gone On a Lucky Country. Mimi and I became blog buddies before we became real-life buddies, and we met we shared that we both had a feeling we'd hit it off because we shared a similar sense of humor and style. Thanks to blog-meeting, we've shared lots of interesting Australian adventures together.
Another great real-life friend can be e-found at One Day At a Time. In addition to her interesting observations, I think you will adore her fantastic photography, in which she documents not just exciting travel adventures, but the loveliness of everyday life, as well.
Now, I don't know Florida Girl in Sydney "IRL," but I seriously love her blog. She is so funny, and she often has great recommendations about restaurants and events around town. I think there must just be something particularly rad about Florida girls who blog in Sydney.
Little D Down Under has turned into a fantastic e-comrade. She reached out and helped me a lot with my job hunt, and her blog reflects her kind and so-friendly personality. She has a bit of a history of living in Oz, and I have to admit that I learned a lot about expat life by reading through a lot of her older entries, in addition to the newer posts.
Newer on the block, but clearly having a good time in Sydney are the blogging duo of Adam and Sharon at The View Down Under. They've also compiled a nice page about moving to Sydney that I think would be helpful to any American making the move.
Not an expat blog, but of interest to anyone who wants to get a sense of Sydney, I really like Sydney: City and Suburbs. The author posts a new original picture of a spot in or around Sydney daily, and also provides a bit of history or context. It's quite expansive and gives a great sense of the aesthetic of the city.

This list just hardly scratches the surface of the expat blogs that I frequent. You can see some of the other links at left and, oh, there are more. I can see that I will have to plan another extended holiday, so that I can leave you with a Part Two.

Back in a couple of weeks with tales of excitement, mystery, and adventure at sea. Until then, happy reading!

Youuuuu Light Up My Life: The Vivid Festival

2011-05-28T20:50:00.001+10:00

In a rare display of spontaneity, Partner-in-Crime and I forewent our previously scheduled Friday Night Scrabble Game and rode the ferry into town for the first night of the Vivid Festival's light displays at Circular Quay.

If you're not familiar, Circular Quay is a wharf bounded on one side by the Opera House, the other by a cruise ship terminal, with the public transport ferry wharfs in the middle. On land, it is a hub of restaurants, museums, tourist shops, and small parks. For the festival, the whole area was host to a multitude of light installations, many of them interactive. And many of them super-duper cool.

If there are two things that Sydney excels at, they are:

1. Fabulous family friendly outdoor festivals

2. Lights! Bright! Shiny! Lights!

Put the two together, and you have Sydney at its best. If you are a Sydneysider, I highly recommend dedicating an evening to wandering around all of the different displays. We had an illustrious good time.

A few of the highlights:

(Bizarre. But cool.)

(Kids riding bicycles to light up the tubes around the trees.)

(When not busy blogging, I am an art installation, based on my time in a neo-futurist Russian prison)

(Museum of Contemporary Art. May I explain that it is usually a normal color).

(I think this artist played a lot of Lite Brite when he/she was a kid.)

(Customs House illuminated. I am enamored with these light displays on buildings that are all the rage here).

(More Customs House. I'll spare you the 50 or so more photos I took).

(Except for this one because, seriously, look how wild this is - cracked building. The building "crumbled" a second later).

In the "best for last" category ... the lighting of the sails at the Opera House. There must have been at least a dozen or more motifs rotated (some more photogenic than others). It's hard to capture the experience because part of the fun is the way that the lights move and evolve, but here is at least a taste.

On the ferry on way home, I was happy to see that even the wharf got in on the luminescent action. More! Lights!

Friendship, Friendship, Just the Perfect Blendship

2011-05-25T13:02:00.003+10:00

Group Hug, American Style

I have a bad-expat confession:
After a year in Australia, I have few Australian friends.

Oh, I have friends, lovely, funny, warm, charming, be-there-in-a-pinch friends. I count myself fortunate to have made such a collection of quality comrades in a short time. But, nearly all of them are fellow expats.

It is not that Australians are not friendly. In fact, they are world-famous for their friendliness and extroversion. It is more that most of the locals that I meet are kind of "good to go" in the friend department. Sydney, in particular, is a city where it seems that people make their friends early in life and stick with them loyally. Some cities are like that. A good friend in the States who moved to a large city in the Midwest last year has, despite his vivacious and social personality, had a world of trouble breaking into any pre-established social circles.

I can understand this. In retrospect, I know there have been times in my life where, even if I did not realize it, I have not made myself available to new friendships. Sometimes your dance card is full and, while you may be kind, you don't exactly welcome new folks into your life with the fervor you do when you can really use a few new recruits into your backup band.

Unlike the locals, expats - particularly new ones - want new friends. I have made friends through American expat blogging circles and forums. Even Surfing Friend, who I made the acquaintance of in surf class, is a British expat.

In addition to the fact that other expats are psychologically more open to new friends, there is also a shortcut that I have found I share with other Americans. While I don't mean that I find Australians or people from other countries hard to understand, there is simply a pre-existing cultural identification between people from the same country.

I have an Australian acquaintance who lives in New York who told me that most of her friends are Australian, so I know it goes both ways.

I suppose whenever you make new friends, you are looking for any common-ground shortcut - be it working in the same industry, a similar hobby, political or religious beliefs, etc. My shortcut with American expats is sometimes as silly as missing orange cheese or sympathizing with how challenging it can be to remember to put the day in front of the month. At home, this might not be enough for us to build that initial bond, but thousands miles distant, those are just the things that start the nodding with understanding, laughter, and eventual deeper kinship.

101 Goals: An Update

2011-05-20T11:57:00.001+10:00

Last November, I wrote about my 101 goals list on the Day Zero project.

Some of my goals are highly ambitious and some are quite simple, but I have found that it's a good way to keep track of a lot of those thoughts that pop into my head about things I shoulda-coulda-oughta do.

It's become a bit of a joke in my household about how I must get through every item on the list, despite how inconvenient or expensive it might be. Partner-in-Crime's favorite saying is, "weeeellllll, if it's on THE LIST ...".

I have talked about a number of the items I have completed in my regular updates, but thought I'd take a moment to give a bit of a status report.

New Items
On my original list, I had a couple of items that were directly related to sprucing up our old apartment. Since we moved into a nice new place, those items are no longer relevant, so I made the executive decision to take them off the list and replace them with a couple new goals.

P-i-C gave me some grief about messing with the sanctity of the list, but I also have a favorite phrase ... "My list. My rules."

So, new items to be completed:

1. Take a First Aid class
2. Fill out a map of the world with at least 150 countries
This one may sound a little strange, but sometimes my knowledge about geography is a bit... what's the word? ... embarrassing. When I was in high school, I had a teacher who made us do this exact project. I might not be in high school any longer, but I am not above learning geography (again).

Completed Items

Literary

-~~Read 5 books by Australian authors~~

I am in an awesome little book club with some other lovely and lively Americans. For the first few months, we set out to read Australian books, so I was able to complete this one with ease. We read quite a variety of books, but the only one I can make a sweeping recommendation on with any good conscience is The Book Thief by by Sydneysider Markus Zusak.

And, I am happy to highly recommend this beautiful book, if you haven't read it, yet.

-Re-Read To Kill a Mockingbird
I've decided that this should be a once-every-five years literary goal for me. Is there any book more aspirational about human potential for goodness? We should all be a little more like Atticus Finch.

Travel Goals

-~~See the little penguins~~
As I mentioned, we did this on our trip to Kangaroo Island. My pictures didn't work out, but if they had, they would have looked like this. Cute, right? You can see why it's goal-worthy.

Personal Relationship Goals

-~~Make a birthday list of friends and family and put it in Google calendar for reminders~~
This is one of those "too simple" ones. It literally took me one hour to do this, and now I am equipped to remember birthdays without relying on Facebook.

Projects, Food, and Craftiness

~~-Send Wedding Announcements~~

Names changed to protect the guilty.

I know that wedding announcements are super old-fashioned, but since we married in Australia, our families were not present, so it was important to me to send a token. Besides, even if they're old fashioned, wedding announcements are super classy.

~~-Participate in NaBloPoMo~~
One month of blogging everyday in November. Done. And. Dusted.

~~-Print travel pictures and frame for wall~~
This one is a bit of a cheat. I printed and framed all these great travel photos from trips that P-i-C and I have taken. However, hanging things on the walls in our rental apartment is a bit of a sticky wicket, since landlords here actually take stock of how many holes are in the walls and you have to ask permission to put even one nail in. So, I've actually given them artistic homes in other places (bookshelf, window ledge, etc.). They are featured decorations, so I am counting this as completed.

Personal Health and Wellbeing

-~~Pay off credit cards~~
Like almost any good American with a practically useless Master's degree in the arts, I had a weighty burden of credit card debt that had been my personal albatross for years. Making the final payments on those bad boys was one of the best moments of my life.

Things to Buy

~~-Better camera~~

Once the credit cards were paid off, I was ready to reward myself with a present. After a lot of research, I settled on the Olympus Pen EPL-1. You've now seen some of its efforts on these pages. My only complaint is that it has a rather slow response time. Other than that, it is the grooviest little camera for someone with minimal photography know-how. Also, it has the cutest retro-design and is programmed to make that old fashioned clicky noise. I love it.

Sydney To-Do

-~~Go to Sydney Mardi Gras Parade~~
It was a bright and shiny half-naked hoot and holler, and I wrote all about it here.

-~~Watch the New Year's Eve fireworks over the Sydney Harbour Bridge~~
Ditto above (minus the half-naked part). And here.

Misc.

~~-Go a week without logging on to Facebook or Twitter~~
Sadly, I'd really thought this was going to be one of the hardest ones to achieve. ("Hike to Machu Pichu ... too easy, but no Facebook?!?"), but we had such trouble getting the Internet set up in our new apartment that I took that opportunity to complete this goal. I fought off the urge to cheat on my phone, and wonder of wonders, I lived to tell the tale.

As I look at the list, I can see that I have a good number more that I will be checking off over the next couple of months. I mean ... if it's on THE LIST ...