It's been a good weekend. First we went to Carols of the King on Friday, that was a big Carol sing-a-long event, about 1,000 people came, it was amazing! The missionaries did an awesome job 'hosting it', and it was a nice thing to be out and have a picnic, and sing carols into the night, holding our little candles ... which were flameless fake ones. I was introduced to some new people last night, and one woman named Teia and I had been talking when some of her children came over after playing in the grass. They had Christmas lights braided into the hair that were twinkling, she leaned forward towards them and said, "Girls! This is Molly ... and she's a YANK!" Haha!
As we sat and sang, and held our fake little candles, I looked up into the sky and finally saw the Southern Cross for the first time since I've been here. I live too close to too much light to be able to see it from where I live, so it was wonderful to be able to see it again. I had a bit of a heart twinge though, it reminded me of the first time that I had seen the Southern Cross, back in St. Croix. I'm missing that home a little tonight.
But the whole even was really neat, because singing Christmas carols this way is a sure Aussie thing. I guess it'd have to be, where else is it warm enough for people to go sit in a big grassy area, enjoy a picnic, and let your kids run wild barefoot, and sticky with Christmas lollies (candy). It's such an Aussie thing that as I'm writing this we have the Woolies Christmas Carol Special on TV, which is being held in Sydney. Essentially it's the same thing that we did, only way more than 1,000 people, and it looks as if the audience gets actual candles (and hey! look! there's Russell Crowe sitting in the grass with his family -- yes, definitely in Australia!)
Then, this morning, we went and cleaned at the church (everyone had different assignments). I had several errands to run this morning, so I wasn't sure if I would be able to go. Both the bank and post office, and both places I needed to go to, are closed by the time I get back from work, and only open early on Saturdays, and even then I had to find the special ones that were open (meaning take a couple buses to get there). But Liz said that we only had to clean toilets, so I was fine with that. I, however, forgot that "toilets" here mean the bathrooms. As in all the bathrooms in the building, including cleaning walls, the doors, the vents, etc., so even with the two us working full steam ... haha, well ... let's just say it took a while.
But afterwards, I was still able to get everything sorted, I still don't have access to money from my bank just yet. The banks here close at 4pm, so it's been a hassel working things out, so I'm going to have to wait for my debit card to come in the mail. Waiting, haha, I think I'm getting a bit used to that.
After all of those things were sorted, we went to Freo (Fremantle) and we had Fish and Chips. It was amazing!!! Today was the second to last day in the International Sailing Championships here in Freo (we saw some of the kitesurfers), and we sat on the dock under an umbrella table, and ate our fish and chips with salt and malt vinegar. The fish and chips are served in packing paper, so you unfold the packing paper to get to your food and dig in!
We then made our way to the E-Shed markets, and one of the fruit vendors, an older man who was sitting lazily back in his chair, offered us some orange slices. We grabbed two, and thanked him, and he said, "Go ahead and try 'em, they're sweeter than a boyfriend's kiss, they are!"
It's been a really good Saturday.
And now I'm ending my post the same way I ended my day ... with a little Australian country music
boys from the BUSH
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
basket of fried pickels
so ... I find myself in quite the pickle ... and not just any pickle ... I'm currently in a great big basket of fried pickles!
Back when I lived in St. Croix, we liked to go to this place called the Brew Pub, anyone who came to visit me, I took to the Brew Pub. Well I had gone with some friends, and I wanted to try something I hadn't had before. I saw on the menu that they had friend pickles. I didn't have enough money to buy the appetizer and an entree, so I just bought the fried pickles, having heard that they were amazing.
I got the basket, and I bit into a fried pickle, and it was like the earth moved. I loved it! They were amazing, and I didn't even like pickles then (I do now, but my stance on pickles tends to change frequently and violently ... so who knows how I'll feel next week). Anyways, I really loved it. Everyone at my table had one, and then I had another ... but they were fried pickles, and while tasty ... there was a limit to how much I could handle, so after my second fried pickle, I was done.
But I still had a basket of fried pickles in front of me, and I had spent precious money on them. What had started as something amazing and good, ended up being a big basket of 'oh no'. I sat down and munched away at those fried pickles, my roommates laughing and making fun of me, while I kept saying, "I don't want to, but I can't just leave 'em! I got myself into this, and now I've got to eat my way out."
I was SICK by the time I was done, and now ... I will never again eat a fried pickle ... ever ever ever again. (fried pickles even became an inside joke for my roommates and myself)
Right about now you might be thinking, why in the world is Molly talking about friend pickles?
Well. It's because I am back in my basket of friend pickles. I arrived in Perth 15 November (that's how they write the date here) and I have been looking for jobs, well, let me put it this way, the first time I applied to a job in Perth was July of this year. And I had a whole lot of nothing. nothing. nothing. nothing.
Finally, 2 December King Edward Memorial Hospital offered me a position, but later told me that my start date wouldn't be until 19 December, and that odds were even that I wouldn't start even that early, and that was only if everything passed through ... meaning that I was left being told that I might not actually have a job after all.
At this point, I felt like I was going to be unemployed for the rest of my life.
So, the search continued, as did the the building stress. Until, 7 December (my birthday) I got a call from Conor with Kelly Services. His dad had apparently lived in Arizona for a bit, and so after a quick chat with me said that I could have the job, if I wanted it, I went down to the city, filled out some paperwork, and the very next day I was the newest and only Temp at Morton Seed and Grain in Bibra Lake.
Morton Seed and Grain buys grain for people and animals from farmers in Western Australia, and then they sell it to all sorts of places, including, exporting it to both India and China. I was feeling ON TOP of the world my first day, I was helping a great deal, and they kept thanking me for being there (they had to downsize a few years ago because of a drought, but now they have more grain than they've had in several years, and simply don't have nearly enough people to handle it all, I'm there to help and make sure no one quits before Christmas). I finally was ACTUALLY working (it felt SOO good), and it was a short temp position that would last through Christmas, things were fitting together perfectly. I had this job to last me until King Edward finally pulled through. Like I said, I was ON TOP of the world.
I came home from my first day temping, to two phone messages. The first, from Josh with King Edward Memorial, and the second from the Department of Child Protection. I assumed that Josh had called with bad news. For one, he had called instead of emailed (which is how we usually communicate), but I was happy that DCP had called, and tried to leave a message, but it was after business hours and I just kept getting transferred to the main phone tree, but thought it was no big deal. I had spoken with DCP earlier and they had said that they might not be doing anything until February anyways. So I thought it was interesting but didn't think much of it.
I came home Friday after another work day (woo!), first to an email from Josh. 'you've been cleared, and you can start on 12 December' Monday... this Monday (I'm writing this late, so technically today), a full week before the tentative start date that he didn't even think I would be lucky enough to get, and I could start on Monday (and now I have a temping job too).
I also had two emails from the Department of Child Protection and a second phone message from them. The emails both said that they were trying to get a hold of me, and the voice message said: "If you want a job, call us back"
Basket of fried pickles. Almost overnight I had gone from having NO job, to having THREE.
And of course, this all happened on Friday, meaning that there would be NOTHING I could do for two days until Monday. Of course, the job with DCP is the job I want ... it's the 'beginning of my career job', so THAT job is my priority. But they were only calling to schedule an interview there are no guarantees with them, and even then, I still don't think I would even begin training until February 2012. So, I am in a basket of pickles. I emailed Josh, and was very honest about my situation, and ultimately said that I would be happy to work after Christmas but that I would need to leave for DCP, given that opportunity, so I also said that I completely understood if that didn't work for them (obviously ... I figure it won't, but I thought it was best to let them tell me that, than simply assume it for them). Ugh.
Now I have to figure out what to do from January to February ... and that's if I get the job with DCP.
basket of fried pickles.
Back when I lived in St. Croix, we liked to go to this place called the Brew Pub, anyone who came to visit me, I took to the Brew Pub. Well I had gone with some friends, and I wanted to try something I hadn't had before. I saw on the menu that they had friend pickles. I didn't have enough money to buy the appetizer and an entree, so I just bought the fried pickles, having heard that they were amazing.
I got the basket, and I bit into a fried pickle, and it was like the earth moved. I loved it! They were amazing, and I didn't even like pickles then (I do now, but my stance on pickles tends to change frequently and violently ... so who knows how I'll feel next week). Anyways, I really loved it. Everyone at my table had one, and then I had another ... but they were fried pickles, and while tasty ... there was a limit to how much I could handle, so after my second fried pickle, I was done.
But I still had a basket of fried pickles in front of me, and I had spent precious money on them. What had started as something amazing and good, ended up being a big basket of 'oh no'. I sat down and munched away at those fried pickles, my roommates laughing and making fun of me, while I kept saying, "I don't want to, but I can't just leave 'em! I got myself into this, and now I've got to eat my way out."
I was SICK by the time I was done, and now ... I will never again eat a fried pickle ... ever ever ever again. (fried pickles even became an inside joke for my roommates and myself)
Right about now you might be thinking, why in the world is Molly talking about friend pickles?
Well. It's because I am back in my basket of friend pickles. I arrived in Perth 15 November (that's how they write the date here) and I have been looking for jobs, well, let me put it this way, the first time I applied to a job in Perth was July of this year. And I had a whole lot of nothing. nothing. nothing. nothing.
Finally, 2 December King Edward Memorial Hospital offered me a position, but later told me that my start date wouldn't be until 19 December, and that odds were even that I wouldn't start even that early, and that was only if everything passed through ... meaning that I was left being told that I might not actually have a job after all.
At this point, I felt like I was going to be unemployed for the rest of my life.
So, the search continued, as did the the building stress. Until, 7 December (my birthday) I got a call from Conor with Kelly Services. His dad had apparently lived in Arizona for a bit, and so after a quick chat with me said that I could have the job, if I wanted it, I went down to the city, filled out some paperwork, and the very next day I was the newest and only Temp at Morton Seed and Grain in Bibra Lake.
Morton Seed and Grain buys grain for people and animals from farmers in Western Australia, and then they sell it to all sorts of places, including, exporting it to both India and China. I was feeling ON TOP of the world my first day, I was helping a great deal, and they kept thanking me for being there (they had to downsize a few years ago because of a drought, but now they have more grain than they've had in several years, and simply don't have nearly enough people to handle it all, I'm there to help and make sure no one quits before Christmas). I finally was ACTUALLY working (it felt SOO good), and it was a short temp position that would last through Christmas, things were fitting together perfectly. I had this job to last me until King Edward finally pulled through. Like I said, I was ON TOP of the world.
I came home from my first day temping, to two phone messages. The first, from Josh with King Edward Memorial, and the second from the Department of Child Protection. I assumed that Josh had called with bad news. For one, he had called instead of emailed (which is how we usually communicate), but I was happy that DCP had called, and tried to leave a message, but it was after business hours and I just kept getting transferred to the main phone tree, but thought it was no big deal. I had spoken with DCP earlier and they had said that they might not be doing anything until February anyways. So I thought it was interesting but didn't think much of it.
I came home Friday after another work day (woo!), first to an email from Josh. 'you've been cleared, and you can start on 12 December' Monday... this Monday (I'm writing this late, so technically today), a full week before the tentative start date that he didn't even think I would be lucky enough to get, and I could start on Monday (and now I have a temping job too).
I also had two emails from the Department of Child Protection and a second phone message from them. The emails both said that they were trying to get a hold of me, and the voice message said: "If you want a job, call us back"
Basket of fried pickles. Almost overnight I had gone from having NO job, to having THREE.
And of course, this all happened on Friday, meaning that there would be NOTHING I could do for two days until Monday. Of course, the job with DCP is the job I want ... it's the 'beginning of my career job', so THAT job is my priority. But they were only calling to schedule an interview there are no guarantees with them, and even then, I still don't think I would even begin training until February 2012. So, I am in a basket of pickles. I emailed Josh, and was very honest about my situation, and ultimately said that I would be happy to work after Christmas but that I would need to leave for DCP, given that opportunity, so I also said that I completely understood if that didn't work for them (obviously ... I figure it won't, but I thought it was best to let them tell me that, than simply assume it for them). Ugh.
Now I have to figure out what to do from January to February ... and that's if I get the job with DCP.
basket of fried pickles.
Symphony in the City
what do you like to do on a Saturday night?
well I like to hang out with 20,000 of my closest Aussie friends, and listen to the beautiful free concert put on by WASO (West Australian Symphony Orchestra) in the Perth CBD (central business district/city center).
Liz packed a bunch of great stuff, cheese, beet dip (really good!), we bought some rolls, and I bought half of a passion fruit cheesecake from the store across the street. Now ... I have a word or two to say about Australian cheesecake. It's really, really good, but I feel like it shouldn't be called cheesecake, because in Australia when you buy cheesecake, it's all 'no bake cheesecake' ... which, as we all know, certainly can't compare to it's much lovelier older sister, baked New York style cheesecake. mmm. But, it was passion fruit flavored, and just as in St. Croix where I gobbled up passion fruit whenever I could, I am the same way here. If something has passion fruit anything, I am all over it.
We took the 881 bus into the city, and then walked towards the Bell Tower to the park where it was going to be. Things kicked off at 7:10pm, but Liz and I got there just before 4, and Blaire had gotten there at 3 pm. He's been reading the Hunger Games, and so he was chosen to go and save a space for us and get some reading in, before Liz and I came, and before his wife would come later on.
While we waited for Naomi (Blaire's wife) and things to kick off, we talked, and laughed, and played several games of Sequence, which is a really fun board game.
Right before things began we had the happy privilege of running into Yuri and Juan and their son Vicente. They are one of the cutest young families I've ever seen. Yuri doesn't speak very much english (they're in Australia from Chile because Juan is studying for an advanced degree here), and they've only been here a couple months with their sweet two year old son. I ADORE Yuri, and was grateful we she was there to joke around with! :) With so many people there, it was quite a miracle that we ran into them, but it was SO much fun, I am grateful that we did.
The music was beautiful! At one point they were playing Handel's Messiah and the choir was singing Hallelujah, and a woman sitting on the ground behind us said, "Oh! Is this a sing-a-long? Cause I'm gonna join in" and she sang the entire song with the choir ... at the top of her lungs ... every time she screeched out a Hallelujah, Yuri and I would laugh with one another.
Then, an Italian violinist played something so beautiful, it made me cry. Vicente fell fast asleep listening, and Yuri put some ear plugs in his ears while he was sleeping .... BECAUSE, when they played the 1812 ouverture, they used REAL cannons, and the bells from the Bell Tower in Perth ... it was REALLY cool!!!!
It was a great night, and if you would like to check it out, here's a link http://freezone.iinet.net.au/channels/freezone/music/waso if for whatever reason the link doesn't work, you can search Symphony in the City - really, if you have the time, it is an awesome thing. Also-because we were right in front, we made it on TV a lot, so that's cool, so you might catch a glimpse of us.
well I like to hang out with 20,000 of my closest Aussie friends, and listen to the beautiful free concert put on by WASO (West Australian Symphony Orchestra) in the Perth CBD (central business district/city center).
Liz packed a bunch of great stuff, cheese, beet dip (really good!), we bought some rolls, and I bought half of a passion fruit cheesecake from the store across the street. Now ... I have a word or two to say about Australian cheesecake. It's really, really good, but I feel like it shouldn't be called cheesecake, because in Australia when you buy cheesecake, it's all 'no bake cheesecake' ... which, as we all know, certainly can't compare to it's much lovelier older sister, baked New York style cheesecake. mmm. But, it was passion fruit flavored, and just as in St. Croix where I gobbled up passion fruit whenever I could, I am the same way here. If something has passion fruit anything, I am all over it.
We took the 881 bus into the city, and then walked towards the Bell Tower to the park where it was going to be. Things kicked off at 7:10pm, but Liz and I got there just before 4, and Blaire had gotten there at 3 pm. He's been reading the Hunger Games, and so he was chosen to go and save a space for us and get some reading in, before Liz and I came, and before his wife would come later on.
While we waited for Naomi (Blaire's wife) and things to kick off, we talked, and laughed, and played several games of Sequence, which is a really fun board game.
Right before things began we had the happy privilege of running into Yuri and Juan and their son Vicente. They are one of the cutest young families I've ever seen. Yuri doesn't speak very much english (they're in Australia from Chile because Juan is studying for an advanced degree here), and they've only been here a couple months with their sweet two year old son. I ADORE Yuri, and was grateful we she was there to joke around with! :) With so many people there, it was quite a miracle that we ran into them, but it was SO much fun, I am grateful that we did.
The music was beautiful! At one point they were playing Handel's Messiah and the choir was singing Hallelujah, and a woman sitting on the ground behind us said, "Oh! Is this a sing-a-long? Cause I'm gonna join in" and she sang the entire song with the choir ... at the top of her lungs ... every time she screeched out a Hallelujah, Yuri and I would laugh with one another.
Then, an Italian violinist played something so beautiful, it made me cry. Vicente fell fast asleep listening, and Yuri put some ear plugs in his ears while he was sleeping .... BECAUSE, when they played the 1812 ouverture, they used REAL cannons, and the bells from the Bell Tower in Perth ... it was REALLY cool!!!!
It was a great night, and if you would like to check it out, here's a link http://freezone.iinet.net.au/channels/freezone/music/waso if for whatever reason the link doesn't work, you can search Symphony in the City - really, if you have the time, it is an awesome thing. Also-because we were right in front, we made it on TV a lot, so that's cool, so you might catch a glimpse of us.
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| nothing more awesome than a chubby storm trooper |
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| the feast! |
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| 20,000 people were there |
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| the symphony!! |
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| Vicente!!!!! (I just want to eat him UP!) |
Sunday, December 4, 2011
christmas dinner came three weeks early! :)
Tonight we had a Christmas dinner with Liz, Erin, and Michelle (another YSA), Erin is off to Vancouver, Seattle, Utah, and a good chunk in Calgary, and will be gone over Christmas, so we had a little early celebration!
For starters Liz made a shrimp cocktail (she really pulled out all the stops!) Then, we had pork with crackle (it's the pig skin all brown and lovely from the oven ... yum!), potatoes, pumpkin, and parsnips, green beans with almonds, and peas.
Then for dessert we had shortbread cookies mailed form Melbourne by Liz's mom, trifle, and fruit mince pies ... there's Christmas pudding with custard and ice cream as well ... but we were well stuffed with everything else that we'll have to eat that tomorrow before Erin leaves on Tuesday ... and there's still pie left in the fridge! :)
errr ... the Holidays don't exactly help me in healthful plans, but, boy howdy, it sure is fun! :)
Here are some pics ... enjoy!
For starters Liz made a shrimp cocktail (she really pulled out all the stops!) Then, we had pork with crackle (it's the pig skin all brown and lovely from the oven ... yum!), potatoes, pumpkin, and parsnips, green beans with almonds, and peas.
Then for dessert we had shortbread cookies mailed form Melbourne by Liz's mom, trifle, and fruit mince pies ... there's Christmas pudding with custard and ice cream as well ... but we were well stuffed with everything else that we'll have to eat that tomorrow before Erin leaves on Tuesday ... and there's still pie left in the fridge! :)
errr ... the Holidays don't exactly help me in healthful plans, but, boy howdy, it sure is fun! :)
Here are some pics ... enjoy!
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| Erin, and you can see the trifle, fruit mince pies, and shortbread |
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| I think that this is too cute ... both Erin and Liz working on quilts, cuter still is that they're actually working on each other's quilt. Erin's is actually the blue one, for a good girlfriend's birthday and the Christmas one is a gift from Liz to her son and his family in Canada, to be used as a tablecloth |
Saturday, December 3, 2011
the taste of summer
Well, summer has arrived here in Australia!
And boy howdy am I grateful! I've been bundled up in my fleece pajamas and hoodie every night because it felt so cold to me. The Aussies made fun of me for being so cold in 23 degree weather (that's like 73 degrees Fahrenheit). I was getting annoyed. I have perfectly good cold weather clothes that I didn't even have to look at during the Arizona fall, and I was shaking life a leaf, having left every stitch of it at home except for one hoodie and a pair of Christmas fleece pajamas, thinking I wouldn't need them in this supposedly 'hot' country's late spring ... I kept thinking, "false advertising" in my head. But tonight I am down to my singlet (tank top) and shorts as I write on my bed, and summer has finally arrived.
There is something that makes me laugh though. This house has AC, but my room is the only room in the house that doesn't get it ... sound familiar? Let's see ... no AC in my room in Gilbert, and no AC in the entire house in St. Croix, and no AC in my room here. There's an irony here that brings a completeness to my journey, like, "Welcome to Australia, you don't get any AC, and THAT is how you know that you've ended up in the right place!" But NOT having AC for so long has its advantages ... while everyone else is fanning themselves, I feel quite content. :) The only thing I don't like is that all this hot weather has made me the world's biggest cold weather wimp. The second it dips below 80 degrees, if it isn't humid enough, I get goosebumps and start looking for a sweater and some socks.
I am getting more and more situated here in Spearwood, getting a better feel for the lay of the land, and spending tons of time on public transport, heaven bless buses and trains. Of everywhere I've been and every place I've seen ... I've got to say that Freo (Fremantle) is my favorite. There's always an awesome breeze, and I have yet to see a cloudy day, in Freo at least. I have pictures of Freo posted on Facebook from a while ago, but I'll be writing a post dedicated to just that city later after I've seen more of the sailing races and events here (INXS were here today, and I saw them prepping the stage before their concert tonight in Freo to kick off all the sailing events).
It feels a tad surreal, Aussies are a bit stuck in yesteryear, in every good way. It's funny to hear Liz (my roommate talk about it), apparently a new law was just recently released that allows grocers and other shops to stay open late, i.e. past 5 or 6 until about 8,9 or 10. Liz is absolutely scandalized! A grocery store open after 7? Why would anyone need to go to a grocery store then? The chemist (pharmacy) down the street is open until 10 pm, but I think they've always been allowed to stay open later. And I've been to the grocery store here around 7 pm, all the other shops around it were closed ... and there are very few people in the grocery store. Liz said that businesses had lobbied for extended hours, hoping to get Sundays, but instead got extended hours during the rest of the week. Stores are only allowed to be open on a Sunday only a handful of times each year. (although my pondering over why the government is so involved in when people's businesses choose to be open I guess highlights my yankee roots).
When Liz and Erin need bread, not always, but usually we go to the baker. There are several bakeries in town, they're very popular. And if you need some good sausages you go to your neighborhood butcher. I couldn't believe that stores that COULD NOT exist in the States (at least outside of wealthier areas that could support them, and trust me, I do not live in a wealthy area here in Australia) are thriving. Brumby's a bakery we frequent is even a chain store of bakeries. Aussies don't do much "one stop shopping" in my experience, and I have to say, I like it.
Hand in hand with this life philosophy is the popularity of fresh fruit and veg (Aussies say veg instead of vegetables) from weekly markets.
In Freo, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (they're allowed to be open I guess because Freo is a part of a tourist distract, where the rules are a little different). And people will go every week and buy their fruit and veg, from, gasp ... the very same people who grow it! But even in this little enclave from the world ... things are changing.
There's currently a supermarket war, at least in Perth, but I dare say elsewhere in the country as well, between Coles, IGA, and Woolsworths (lovingly referred to as Woolies here), and it's driving prices WAY down (still more expensive than I'm used to seeing, but I'm getting more used to it). It great for the consumer, but it is ravaging the bakeries, buchers, and even the fruit and veg folk. While it's nice to be able experience life in a place where people still buy things from different people and places ... I can see and feel the end of it coming ... 24 hour Super Walmarts ... I guess here we come.
I spoke to a fruit vendor at the Kalamunda markets today, he was in the middle of slicing a great big summer ripe watermelon as we began to talk about the current state and economy of fruit and veg these days. He seemed to like our banter, and as we continued to talk, he decided to take a break and sliced three quick half rounds of fresh, sweet watermelon and handed some to Liz and myself while he munched on his own slice under the hot afternoon sun. He was a big guy, in his early fifties, a bit swollen around the middle, with red sun worshiped skin, wearing a pair of overalls, and missing more than a few teeth while his son, who looked to only be about 12, weighed produce and managed the till.
"You can't beat the quality of fresh produce, the super markets don't really know how to handle the stuff. As long as it looks pretty, if it's tasteless, and awful then that's just what they're looking for! Too many people are okay with that these days I reckon."
I nodded my head in solemn understanding ... my mouth filled with watermelon and seeds I'd been saving up, being unsure if it was okay to spit watermelon seeds in the dirt in Australia.
"I can't say I blame them though, I understand it. It's the way things are going these days. Tons of people buy their produce from grocery stores." He smiled a wide smile, showing just how many teeth he had missing, and rested his hand on the side of dirty overalls. "It's just funny because to hear people tell it, they never buy produce from the grocery stores, but someone's gotta be doing it." He laughed a hoarse laugh that made me think he must be a smoker as he and Liz moved onto happier conversation, discussing the cost of a tray of peaches ($12 for the tray), and we ended up walking away with sugar snap peas, mangoes, avocados, nectarines, apples, and a tray of peaches.
They do little pieces on TV here where bakers talk about the superior quality of their bread ($3) over the $1 loaf bread at the grocery store, the love and craftsmanship that goes into every loaf ... but I'm an American ... I can already tell you what's ahead. The consumer loves a good bargain, and it doesn't matter how lovingly you've treated that bread ... in the long run, the majority of consumers are going to choose the $1 bread they can buy while on a diaper run at 9:30 pm. ugh. :(
But, for while it lasts, it's lovely. I genuinely hope that I'm wrong ... that there's something in Australian genetics that will always have people swinging by the bakery so they can buy fresh rolls so they can make a roll for lunch (a sandwich) at home. My fingers are crossed.
And boy howdy am I grateful! I've been bundled up in my fleece pajamas and hoodie every night because it felt so cold to me. The Aussies made fun of me for being so cold in 23 degree weather (that's like 73 degrees Fahrenheit). I was getting annoyed. I have perfectly good cold weather clothes that I didn't even have to look at during the Arizona fall, and I was shaking life a leaf, having left every stitch of it at home except for one hoodie and a pair of Christmas fleece pajamas, thinking I wouldn't need them in this supposedly 'hot' country's late spring ... I kept thinking, "false advertising" in my head. But tonight I am down to my singlet (tank top) and shorts as I write on my bed, and summer has finally arrived.
There is something that makes me laugh though. This house has AC, but my room is the only room in the house that doesn't get it ... sound familiar? Let's see ... no AC in my room in Gilbert, and no AC in the entire house in St. Croix, and no AC in my room here. There's an irony here that brings a completeness to my journey, like, "Welcome to Australia, you don't get any AC, and THAT is how you know that you've ended up in the right place!" But NOT having AC for so long has its advantages ... while everyone else is fanning themselves, I feel quite content. :) The only thing I don't like is that all this hot weather has made me the world's biggest cold weather wimp. The second it dips below 80 degrees, if it isn't humid enough, I get goosebumps and start looking for a sweater and some socks.
I am getting more and more situated here in Spearwood, getting a better feel for the lay of the land, and spending tons of time on public transport, heaven bless buses and trains. Of everywhere I've been and every place I've seen ... I've got to say that Freo (Fremantle) is my favorite. There's always an awesome breeze, and I have yet to see a cloudy day, in Freo at least. I have pictures of Freo posted on Facebook from a while ago, but I'll be writing a post dedicated to just that city later after I've seen more of the sailing races and events here (INXS were here today, and I saw them prepping the stage before their concert tonight in Freo to kick off all the sailing events).
It feels a tad surreal, Aussies are a bit stuck in yesteryear, in every good way. It's funny to hear Liz (my roommate talk about it), apparently a new law was just recently released that allows grocers and other shops to stay open late, i.e. past 5 or 6 until about 8,9 or 10. Liz is absolutely scandalized! A grocery store open after 7? Why would anyone need to go to a grocery store then? The chemist (pharmacy) down the street is open until 10 pm, but I think they've always been allowed to stay open later. And I've been to the grocery store here around 7 pm, all the other shops around it were closed ... and there are very few people in the grocery store. Liz said that businesses had lobbied for extended hours, hoping to get Sundays, but instead got extended hours during the rest of the week. Stores are only allowed to be open on a Sunday only a handful of times each year. (although my pondering over why the government is so involved in when people's businesses choose to be open I guess highlights my yankee roots).
When Liz and Erin need bread, not always, but usually we go to the baker. There are several bakeries in town, they're very popular. And if you need some good sausages you go to your neighborhood butcher. I couldn't believe that stores that COULD NOT exist in the States (at least outside of wealthier areas that could support them, and trust me, I do not live in a wealthy area here in Australia) are thriving. Brumby's a bakery we frequent is even a chain store of bakeries. Aussies don't do much "one stop shopping" in my experience, and I have to say, I like it.
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| Fremantle Bazaar held at the Fremantle Arts Centre, this fair sells mostly crafts, this is where I spent my Friday night, I love markets and fairs here. |
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| Another picture from the Fremantle Bazaar |
Hand in hand with this life philosophy is the popularity of fresh fruit and veg (Aussies say veg instead of vegetables) from weekly markets.
In Freo, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (they're allowed to be open I guess because Freo is a part of a tourist distract, where the rules are a little different). And people will go every week and buy their fruit and veg, from, gasp ... the very same people who grow it! But even in this little enclave from the world ... things are changing.
There's currently a supermarket war, at least in Perth, but I dare say elsewhere in the country as well, between Coles, IGA, and Woolsworths (lovingly referred to as Woolies here), and it's driving prices WAY down (still more expensive than I'm used to seeing, but I'm getting more used to it). It great for the consumer, but it is ravaging the bakeries, buchers, and even the fruit and veg folk. While it's nice to be able experience life in a place where people still buy things from different people and places ... I can see and feel the end of it coming ... 24 hour Super Walmarts ... I guess here we come.
I spoke to a fruit vendor at the Kalamunda markets today, he was in the middle of slicing a great big summer ripe watermelon as we began to talk about the current state and economy of fruit and veg these days. He seemed to like our banter, and as we continued to talk, he decided to take a break and sliced three quick half rounds of fresh, sweet watermelon and handed some to Liz and myself while he munched on his own slice under the hot afternoon sun. He was a big guy, in his early fifties, a bit swollen around the middle, with red sun worshiped skin, wearing a pair of overalls, and missing more than a few teeth while his son, who looked to only be about 12, weighed produce and managed the till.
"You can't beat the quality of fresh produce, the super markets don't really know how to handle the stuff. As long as it looks pretty, if it's tasteless, and awful then that's just what they're looking for! Too many people are okay with that these days I reckon."
I nodded my head in solemn understanding ... my mouth filled with watermelon and seeds I'd been saving up, being unsure if it was okay to spit watermelon seeds in the dirt in Australia.
"I can't say I blame them though, I understand it. It's the way things are going these days. Tons of people buy their produce from grocery stores." He smiled a wide smile, showing just how many teeth he had missing, and rested his hand on the side of dirty overalls. "It's just funny because to hear people tell it, they never buy produce from the grocery stores, but someone's gotta be doing it." He laughed a hoarse laugh that made me think he must be a smoker as he and Liz moved onto happier conversation, discussing the cost of a tray of peaches ($12 for the tray), and we ended up walking away with sugar snap peas, mangoes, avocados, nectarines, apples, and a tray of peaches.
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| Kalamunda Market |
They do little pieces on TV here where bakers talk about the superior quality of their bread ($3) over the $1 loaf bread at the grocery store, the love and craftsmanship that goes into every loaf ... but I'm an American ... I can already tell you what's ahead. The consumer loves a good bargain, and it doesn't matter how lovingly you've treated that bread ... in the long run, the majority of consumers are going to choose the $1 bread they can buy while on a diaper run at 9:30 pm. ugh. :(
But, for while it lasts, it's lovely. I genuinely hope that I'm wrong ... that there's something in Australian genetics that will always have people swinging by the bakery so they can buy fresh rolls so they can make a roll for lunch (a sandwich) at home. My fingers are crossed.
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| Brumby's one of the chain bakeries around here in Perth |
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
hey Eddie, what's up?
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| King Edward Memorial Hospital |
It's where I work now! Josh had written me an email on Thanksgiving, telling me that he might have a direct appointment for me, but that I should call him on Monday so that we could chat about it. We chatted and he said that he wanted to meet me before offering me the position.
So ... I left this morning, traveled an hour to get to the hospital, taking a bus to Fremantle, and then a train to Subiaco, crossing the Swan River, with the beautiful views of the Indian Ocean to my left. When I got to the hospital, I went to the general enquiries desk, and told the woman sitting there that I was looking for Josh White. I gave her my name, but she heard, Mally instead of Molly. I kept saying my name, and she'd repeat Mally, finally, a guy named Rob walked up, winked at me and said that it was my accent, then he turned to the woman and said, "her name is Molly." So finally, she was able to call Josh, and Rob ended up walking me to Josh's office, instead of having me try to find it on my own, how nice! When I thanked him, he said that it was no problem, and that he was taking a break anyways for his morning tea.
Josh and I met for only a few minutes, he showed me what I'd be doing, and asked if I was able to lift boxes and etc., because there would be some of that involved in the job. He offered me the job, I said I'd take it, and then he gave me a stack of paper to fill out. I guess there's still some paperwork to be filled out on their end, so I don't know when my start date is ... and I'm getting a little tired of the bureaucracy of public sector jobs. It seems like absolutely everything takes forever, and everything has to be approved by a supervisor, which has to be approved by another supervisor, and another, and another.
BUT who cares, cause I've got a job working for the government in Western Australia!! :) It's a three month contract, and gives me the time I need to organize getting a Youth Worker job (which is what I really want, which will mean that I will finally be beginning my career :) yay.
nothing says Thanksgiving like ... carrot pie?
One roommate is house sitting, the other had a quilting meeting ... and so, I was on my own until around 9 pm on Thanksgiving. I'll give everyone a moment to feel really really bad for me.
Haha, I'm just kidding, I get summer weather and sea breezes, it's all good. :)
The day before I had gotten everything that I needed. But when I had gone to purchase the pumpkin, it was CRAZY expensive (it's summer here, so they aren't exactly 'in season') and they had flesh that looked more yellow than orange, and the skin was a gray speckled color. I decided that I couldn't afford to buy the amount of fresh pumpkin I would need (they were sold in pre cut slices) to make the amount of purreed pumpkin that I would need to make my pie(s).
Across from the pumpkin, however, was a display of carrots being sold for a dollar a kilo. Now, this was more my price range. So, I bought two kilos of carrots because I had found a recipe online that said that carrot pie or 'faux pumpkin pie' tastes JUST like pumpkin pie. I dediced to give it a try, and that day I went home and told my roommate that I would be sharing some American culture with her on Thanksgiving.
"Have you ever had a carrot pie Liz?"
That night I made my crust (a French pastry crust recipe) it was nice because usually when I translate French recipes I have translate not only the words, but also the measurements, and while I still had to do a little of that (changing it from metric to english measurements) just so I knew what was going on, I didn't have to do it all. The recipe called for 500 grams of butter (I'm not going to tell you how much butter that is ...) so I went to the store, and bought 500 grams butter, it was already sorted on the package how much 500 grams was. And I added 65 ml of water too, because Liz's cooking things are mostly in metric, but thanks to their Canadian daughter-in-law, it isn't all, so I was still able to put in 'cups' of flour.
But the real fun began the next day, Thanksgiving, when it was finally time to put everything together. The crust was ready to go, and I had already boiled the carrots, but now the task of pureing them was before me. Now, I didn't know where anything was ... but after a bit of a search I had found a food processor. I tried, it didn't work, or at least, I couldn't figure out how to turn it on ... so I had to scratch that ... in my searching for the food processor, I had come across a mortar and pestel. Seeing as how I was unemployed, and had an entire day to make one pie, I thought, meh? Why not. It could be another nod to the Pilgrims.
So I turned on the TV, pulled out a little tray, and began mashing the carrots with the mortar and pestel. I would like to say, that after about an hour, I had done a farely deccent job, however, it started to become apparent that while the carrots were getting decently mashed ... they certainly weren't getting that necessary pureed look. So further searching (a bit of it) yeilding in the golden treasure find of Thanksgiving, a hand mixer!
Then FINALLY, from about a kilo and half of carrots (around three pounds), I had about three and half cups of carrot puree.
The rest was the easy bit. Combining all the ingredients I needed, forming the pie in the pie plate, and pouring in the carrot pie mixture. The oven is small, and a little older, but it did a good job of baking the pie (I worried a bit that it might not), it came out, cooled down enough to be put in the fridge, and was chilled and ready by the time Liz came home (I like it chilly). To join in the festivities, Liz bought ginger beer (they like here TOO! yay!) and double cream for the pie which is soooo thick that you can spoon it out of the container (Aussies, I have noticed, are a healthy bunch of people ... but they like their meat and their dairy products, and have no issue indulging in double cream that has almost 60% milk fat content ... haha, but it was good!).
It was a splendid day, and a great way to enjoy the holiday, and reflect on all the things that I am grateful for.
I didn't take pictures of the first pie (it was gobbled up too fast ;) ) BUT I did take pictures of the second one I made with the leftovers from the recipe on November 28 ... haha ... I wasn't as ... erm ... observant of this pie as I was the other ... and ended up burning the crust (I had covered the crust in tinfoil for the first pie) ... haha, oh well.
Haha, I'm just kidding, I get summer weather and sea breezes, it's all good. :)
The day before I had gotten everything that I needed. But when I had gone to purchase the pumpkin, it was CRAZY expensive (it's summer here, so they aren't exactly 'in season') and they had flesh that looked more yellow than orange, and the skin was a gray speckled color. I decided that I couldn't afford to buy the amount of fresh pumpkin I would need (they were sold in pre cut slices) to make the amount of purreed pumpkin that I would need to make my pie(s).
Across from the pumpkin, however, was a display of carrots being sold for a dollar a kilo. Now, this was more my price range. So, I bought two kilos of carrots because I had found a recipe online that said that carrot pie or 'faux pumpkin pie' tastes JUST like pumpkin pie. I dediced to give it a try, and that day I went home and told my roommate that I would be sharing some American culture with her on Thanksgiving.
"Have you ever had a carrot pie Liz?"
That night I made my crust (a French pastry crust recipe) it was nice because usually when I translate French recipes I have translate not only the words, but also the measurements, and while I still had to do a little of that (changing it from metric to english measurements) just so I knew what was going on, I didn't have to do it all. The recipe called for 500 grams of butter (I'm not going to tell you how much butter that is ...) so I went to the store, and bought 500 grams butter, it was already sorted on the package how much 500 grams was. And I added 65 ml of water too, because Liz's cooking things are mostly in metric, but thanks to their Canadian daughter-in-law, it isn't all, so I was still able to put in 'cups' of flour.
But the real fun began the next day, Thanksgiving, when it was finally time to put everything together. The crust was ready to go, and I had already boiled the carrots, but now the task of pureing them was before me. Now, I didn't know where anything was ... but after a bit of a search I had found a food processor. I tried, it didn't work, or at least, I couldn't figure out how to turn it on ... so I had to scratch that ... in my searching for the food processor, I had come across a mortar and pestel. Seeing as how I was unemployed, and had an entire day to make one pie, I thought, meh? Why not. It could be another nod to the Pilgrims.
So I turned on the TV, pulled out a little tray, and began mashing the carrots with the mortar and pestel. I would like to say, that after about an hour, I had done a farely deccent job, however, it started to become apparent that while the carrots were getting decently mashed ... they certainly weren't getting that necessary pureed look. So further searching (a bit of it) yeilding in the golden treasure find of Thanksgiving, a hand mixer!
Then FINALLY, from about a kilo and half of carrots (around three pounds), I had about three and half cups of carrot puree.
The rest was the easy bit. Combining all the ingredients I needed, forming the pie in the pie plate, and pouring in the carrot pie mixture. The oven is small, and a little older, but it did a good job of baking the pie (I worried a bit that it might not), it came out, cooled down enough to be put in the fridge, and was chilled and ready by the time Liz came home (I like it chilly). To join in the festivities, Liz bought ginger beer (they like here TOO! yay!) and double cream for the pie which is soooo thick that you can spoon it out of the container (Aussies, I have noticed, are a healthy bunch of people ... but they like their meat and their dairy products, and have no issue indulging in double cream that has almost 60% milk fat content ... haha, but it was good!).
It was a splendid day, and a great way to enjoy the holiday, and reflect on all the things that I am grateful for.
I didn't take pictures of the first pie (it was gobbled up too fast ;) ) BUT I did take pictures of the second one I made with the leftovers from the recipe on November 28 ... haha ... I wasn't as ... erm ... observant of this pie as I was the other ... and ended up burning the crust (I had covered the crust in tinfoil for the first pie) ... haha, oh well.
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| Raw Carrot Pie |
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| There's about 10 carrots like the one in the photo in that pie |
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| This is what happens when you get a tad distracted while making pie ... haha this is pie number 2 (made after Thanksgiving) |
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| tasty, tasty, tasty carrot pie with a french pastry crust! YUM! |
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
a very long blog about a very fun, but long train trip :)
Frankly, I didn’t take near enough photos. With all that time on my hands, what was I thinking NOT taking photos? So I’ve only got a few to show from the Indian Pacific.
Saturday morning I checked out of my hostel, gathered all my things and walked over to Sydney Central Station, but I had some time to kill before I boarded the train. So I had lunch at the Asian School Café (there are a TON of Asian school kids around, so it made sense) and I enjoyed a bit of Chinese food for lunch, as I people watched.
I was perusing over the official ticket I had gotten the day before, and noticed that something didn’t quite add up. For my seat assignment, it said, berth 1. That didn’t make much sense to me, why would they call it a berth, when it was a seat. The longer I looked at it the more it didn’t make any sense at all. Finally, I looked near the top of my ticket and it said “In Gold Service”, which means that I had been given a ticket, where I would have had my very own berth (compartment) in the train on the second highest class level. I had in my hand a ticket, worth hundreds and hundreds of dollars more than what I had already paid for my Red Service Day/Nighter seat.
Forget Gold Service, the ticket itself felt like gold in my hands, after sleeping with tons of strangers the previous four nights the idea that I might be able to have an entire compartment to myself for three days was almost intoxicating. My food would be free, I’d eat in a dining car with silver utensils and linen tablecloths, and I would have attendants who would cater to my needs the entire trip. Sigh. I held the ticket in my hand, took a picture of it. And decided to do the right thing, and own up to the fact that little old me was about 40 years too young to be able afford a ticket like that.
I showed the ticket to the ticket agent and explained that while Gold Service is, I am sure a wonderful service, it is not what I had paid for. She said that she had never seen anything like that happen before, and that it was very unusual. So she reprinted my ticket, and said, “Unfortunately, here is your ticket, in the Red Service Day/Nighter seats.”
However, unfortunate, my eye, I had tons more fun in Red Service, than I am sure I would have had in Gold.
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| See! Here's my proof! :) |
However, unfortunate, my eye, I had tons more fun in Red Service, than I am sure I would have had in Gold.
The trip seemed to be broken into two parts, Sydney to Adelaide, and Adelaide to Perth, there were a small handful of people who were going the whole distance with me, including a girl from Perth (who I didn’t meet until the end of our trip), and an English family of five who had three girls between the ages of 7 and 15. Other than that each leg was utilized by two very different groups, and even had two very different groups of staff.
That first day in Sydney, there were two seated passenger cars, and one sleeper car for red service (I don’t know what was happening in Gold service however, because us lowly ‘red-service’ guests are not allowed to associate with Gold Service members … if they only knew ;) ). There weren’t very many people so we allowed ourselves to spread out, and it was great because I didn’t have to sit next anyone (score!). Watching the country side was beautiful in New South Wales (the state that Sydney is in, and where the train journey began). Beautiful and charming farms with cows and sheep dotted the landscape, with an odd llama or two hanging out with a group of sheep (this I don’t quite understand, but it was fun to see them). The guy sitting behind me was from Adelaide and he was journeying back, and he kept telling me how much he preferred train travel to flying. As we continued to talk, he told me that I had missed an entire group of wild kangaroos that apparently were on the other side of the train I was looking from. He felt bad for me, so we spent the rest of the time trying to find me some wild kangaroos to see.
After a while he exclaimed, “Why are you hiding? There’s an American here!”
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| New South Wales |
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| New South Wales |
That I night I got ready for bed having not seen a thing. I gathered my toothbrush and soap and shampoo and headed for the showers closest to my seat in the car. It’s an awfully futuristic looking thing. You have to press a button to get it to open its large door, and press another button on the inside to get it to close; it feels very Star Trek-y. Everyone had to make sure to press the lock button, because they had said that a major problem from the past had been people forgetting to press the lock button on the inside of the door, so then someone walks by and opens the bathroom … giving everyone quite the start and surprise (especially the poor soul taking a shower or going to the bathroom).
But no matter how cool and futuristic the door was, the inside consisted only of a combined toilet and shower, with just a plastic sheet to separate the two, no shower lip or anything, so the shower water would fall on the toilet itself. I felt like was pretty gross, but I needed to wash my hair and shave my legs, so I powered through. Yes, that’s right, you read that correctly, I shaved my legs on a moving train!
The water pressure was horrible, and water was getting absolutely everywhere, and I was cursing the design of this stupid bathroom, wondering why they couldn’t just separate the toilet from the shower, instead of having them be right on top of one another. And I tried to leave the bathroom looking okay, but I left it in my jammies leaving the bathroom looking rather drowned in water. The little English girls behind me complained about how wet the bathroom was, and ended up changing into their jammies underneath their sweatshirts in the main carriage – sorry girls! (It was the next day I realized that the shower at the other end of the carriage was a separate bathroom and shower – doh! Haha)
The first night on the train was … interesting … the seats go back a luxuriously long way, but the only problem is that there isn’t anywhere to put your feet, so while your back is all comfortable your feet still hang down as if you were sitting. I learned pretty quickly to use the one piece of luggage that I didn’t check as a place to put my feet on, but that first night I hadn’t designed its placement very well, and slept terribly. I was grateful when I started to see soft pink in the sky, and knew that Broken Hill, our first stop, was getting close.
Broken Hill is a small little town on the edge of New South Wales, near the South Australia border (and is considered the Outback). And I had a chance to walk around the little town and get a feel for it. I was even able to get some breakfast from the fast food chain, Hungry Jacks for much less than if I had gotten it on the train. For those who don’t know (I didn’t until recently) Hungry Jacks= Australia’s Burger King.
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| Sunrise in eastern New South Wales, outside of Broken Hill |
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| Indian Pacific Rail Track Plaque |
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| It seemed like a sweet and homey town, seems like these two enjoyed an Outback wedding :) |
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| Please notice how breakfast is lovingly referred to as "Brekky" - ah, gotta love the Aussies! :) |
There we picked up a TON of people, and both seated carriages were filled to capacity. I groaned. Sleeping had been hard enough and I couldn’t imagine how I’d be able to do it with a funny sort of man who kept talking trying to maintain a very boring and dry conversation. It was a little like trying to have a conversation with the teacher from Ferris Buhler’s Day Off. Buhler. Buhler.
Luckily I had purchased a ticket to the lounge car, and after meeting Howard (who no matter how boring he was to listen drone on and on, was also very kind), I quickly found a nice little seat in there.
The background was changing considerably, our environment that had begun so green and verdant with creeks and pasture land, became home to red earth and sparse patches of green shrubs. And it was here, crossing over into the state of South Australia, I saw my very first wild Kangaroo watching the train, as I watched her back, with her little joey seemingly jumping at her skirt. This land had no cows to watch, but they were replaced by tons of wild emus running in flocks of 6 or so.
We stopped in Adelaide in the afternoon, dropping off most passengers, and every staff member. I had planned to walk around Adelaide during the time we had, but unfortunately the Adelaide train station was quite a distance from Adelaide itself, so I got to see a lot of the suburbs around it, and the train station. Here I made a friend in Adam. He was from Sydney, and he was looking for mining work in Kalgoorlie, but he was showing up without having anything in place (sound familiar, haha). We sat and chatted about things, he was young, and I thought he might be 19, when he asked how old I was, he said, “Woah, I didn’t know that you were that old!” Haha, whatever. Also when he asked for my name he said, "Woah, that's a really American name!" I've met two Australians named Molly since I've been here ... Adam was sweet, but a bit of an odd duck, but then again we both do crazy things like move to places we've never even seen, just to see how things work out. We had a good long chat though about immigration policy in Arizona because he's dating someone, believe it or not, from Phoenix! Small world!
I woke up the second morning to this:
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| Just in case you don't know, THIS is NOT what my feet usually look like, I barely even fit my shoes! Note to self: Sleeping several nights in a chair results in feet I shouldn't see until pregnancy! :) |
That next morning when I awoke, we were solidly in the Nullabalor and some poor animal’s bleached white ribcage was a testament to that fact. 1 mile or 100, the red earth passed unchanged.
My last night on the train we stopped in Kalgoolrie (pronounced Kal-GOO-lee) and I had made some more friends, and all of us went out ‘on the town’ in Kalgoorlie. We were all about the same age, but it felt a bit like a UN committee meeting. One girl was from Australia, another girl was from Canada, I am (obviously) from the States, and the guys were from Scotland, Ireland, and Germany. We were quite the mash up.
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| A particuarly verdant bit of the Nullabor |
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| This is in the town of Cook, which I believe is in South Australia just before we get to Western Australia |
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| Cook, today, has a population of 4 people and 1 dog |
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| Even with that small population, they have enough to support a gift shop, where this bit of Cook history is show cased |
Walking around Kalgoorlie is like walking around an old Western ghost town. Many of the buildings were built in the late 1800’s, and each looks like their facades were constructed specifically for an old Spaghetti Western.
So, naturally our first stop was The Wild West Pub in Kalgoorlie. It felt like I had stepped a bit back into the ‘yokel’ bits of the States, the music was Australian country (which included a lot songs about lonely truckers) the entire place was filled with almost exclusively men, many of whom were sporting mullets.
The Irishman apparently is really good at playing pool, and local after local lined up to play against him while we were there, and he told me that by the end of the night there was an entire little group watching him play. The Ozzie, Scotsman, and German didn’t end up sticking around to see this because one of the beautiful female bartenders started walking around from the bar passing around a clear glass jar that was quickly filling with bills. I hadn’t noticed when I ordered my orange juice, but she was only wearing lingerie. We asked what the jar was for (I’m naïve enough, that I thought that it was for charity – ha!) But we learned that once the jar was filled, the bar tenders, called ‘skimpies’ start taking even more of their clothes off.
With this knowledge we left The Wild West Pub to the Irishman and the Canadian girl, and continued on our way. The night was still warm and we wondered the streets together laughing and making silly jokes. At one point in the night three of us took turns pronouncing things, the Australian, the Scotsman, and myself. And we’d laugh about how different our accents were. The German guy was just a little socially awkward and would laugh at odd times, but he laughed at all of MY jokes, so he was alright in my book.
Another night on the train, my ankles were the size of elephant feet at that point … and by morning I was only a few hours away from Perth. I was worried that I’d be disappointed with Perth after having seen so much, and having anticipated so much. But as the train rolled past the ever greening scenery and the beautiful suburban homes east of the city, I knew that I had made the right choice.
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| The Indian Pacific, my home for three days |
The train inched to a stop in the East Perth Train Terminal, I grabbed my purse and my bag, and stepped off the train and onto the platform in Perth.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Juicy, Juicy, Red ... sun burnt lips ...
Sydney! Okay, TODAY I saw the Sydney I had figured in my mind. Bondi, Sydney Harbour, Darling Harbour, the Opera House, the 'coat hanger' bridge, it's been amazing!!
My first night in the hostel was interesting. I had been fighting to stay up, but by 9:30 I was absolutely passed out. Later on in the night, my bunk mate came back, and she was making some noise, not too much, just enough to wake me up. I was so dead tired and when I woke up, I was confused, and I had NO IDEA where I was. I started yelling, "Where am I?" and "I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it!" Like a crazy person. My poor drunk bunkmate was trying to reassure me, "It's okay I'm just trying to get to my bunk. It's okay."
I quickly returned to my past out state, and then I heard a crash and a groan. My bunkmate had fallen off her bed. She was on the floor a little bit, so I got out to make sure she was okay. She then quickly got up, and I offered to help her back up, but she was able to get back up on her own. It was a funny scene for both of us, I had wanted us to be able to laugh about it later, but by the time I got back at the end of the day, I already had a new bunkmate, I don't even know the other girl's name. Such is hostel life.
I was awake before the other girls in my room, and I went out and had the free breakfast that they serve here. I had muesli and toast with breakfast marmelade ... if I had forgotten where I was again, that breakfast would have helped me to remember.
After breakfast, I was back to central station, where I wanted to get my ticket printed for the train, as well as getting some extra cash for the trip. As I walked around, I realized that I had only seen a small slice of central station. I was now in the opposite side of central station, where the inter-state trains depart from, and it's grand and beautiful. And much more reminiscent of central stations elsewhere. I knew that there was a Westpac ATM somewhere near, I just wasn't sure exxactly where. A friendly Aussie showed me the way to go, and soon I was getting cash from a shady ATM that was next to three homeless men, one of which, after I gave him some change, told me that he and I could make beautiful American babies. great.
On the way back, another Aussie stopped me asking for money for the bus. Now I am not an idiot. I know she was panhandling, but I have enough of my mother in me that when I see people in need, especially women, I have to help at least a little. So I gave her the rest of my coin change. She seemed grateful, and asked if I was American. When I answered that I was she told me that she wanted to go to America to become a singer, so I also gave her three of the quarters I still had on me.
Later, I realized that in Australia they have dollar and I think two dollar coins .... so what I thought was just change ... oops. Well, I hope I made their day.
Then, off I went to get onto my double decker sight seeing bus. I went on a double decker sight seeing bus with Aunt Silvia when we were in Paris, and I liked it. So I knew that that is what I wanted to do Sydney. So I got on the first best thinking it was the Sydney tour, but was pleasantly surprised when I learned that it was going to Bondi instead.
Bondi is the most famous beach in Sydney, and it's beautiful ... I kept having visions of Bay Watch as I looked out ... and then I remembered something ... was Bay Watch filmed on Bondi? Hmmm ... I'll have to look that up.
BONDI!
After Bondi, I got on the Sydney tour bus. I decided first to do the entire tour, and then decide from there what I wanted to see and what I didn't. One day in Sydney is hardly enough time to really see it, but I was able to catch the major things and grab a better feel for the city. I'll post pictures below. At the end of my day after buying some snacks for my train ride, two pears, a mango the size of my face, some crumpets, and a cucumber! :)
I was walking back from the grocery store and ran into a missionary. Sweet thing is a month out, and had gotten a tad separated from his companion. He was walking in the opposite direction and I had just passed one casino and two strip clubs, and it was getting to be Friday night craziness. He told me that they didn't have much luck on Friday and Saturday nights in the area (they live in the city), haha, and I can certainly see why. You have a bunch of 20'somethings partying ... they're not in the mood to talk to the missionaries at that point.
A very attractrive Irish guy stopped and asked me for directions on my way back, and I was able to give them, and then later on a roommate was asking how to get to three monkeys ... both times I was able to tell how to get there ... One day in Sydney, and I'm practically a local ;)
All in all it was all awesome. There are still moments when I wish I wasn't on my own, but I had a long, busy and fun day ... so I rarely noticed. I was out the door at 8:15, and I didn't get back to the hostel until that night at 8:30 pm
So off I go in a few hours to catch the train to Perth, so I probably won't be able to contact anyone for a few days, but who knows, maybe I'll hit a wifi area :)
Sydney
My first night in the hostel was interesting. I had been fighting to stay up, but by 9:30 I was absolutely passed out. Later on in the night, my bunk mate came back, and she was making some noise, not too much, just enough to wake me up. I was so dead tired and when I woke up, I was confused, and I had NO IDEA where I was. I started yelling, "Where am I?" and "I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it!" Like a crazy person. My poor drunk bunkmate was trying to reassure me, "It's okay I'm just trying to get to my bunk. It's okay."
I quickly returned to my past out state, and then I heard a crash and a groan. My bunkmate had fallen off her bed. She was on the floor a little bit, so I got out to make sure she was okay. She then quickly got up, and I offered to help her back up, but she was able to get back up on her own. It was a funny scene for both of us, I had wanted us to be able to laugh about it later, but by the time I got back at the end of the day, I already had a new bunkmate, I don't even know the other girl's name. Such is hostel life.
I was awake before the other girls in my room, and I went out and had the free breakfast that they serve here. I had muesli and toast with breakfast marmelade ... if I had forgotten where I was again, that breakfast would have helped me to remember.
After breakfast, I was back to central station, where I wanted to get my ticket printed for the train, as well as getting some extra cash for the trip. As I walked around, I realized that I had only seen a small slice of central station. I was now in the opposite side of central station, where the inter-state trains depart from, and it's grand and beautiful. And much more reminiscent of central stations elsewhere. I knew that there was a Westpac ATM somewhere near, I just wasn't sure exxactly where. A friendly Aussie showed me the way to go, and soon I was getting cash from a shady ATM that was next to three homeless men, one of which, after I gave him some change, told me that he and I could make beautiful American babies. great.
On the way back, another Aussie stopped me asking for money for the bus. Now I am not an idiot. I know she was panhandling, but I have enough of my mother in me that when I see people in need, especially women, I have to help at least a little. So I gave her the rest of my coin change. She seemed grateful, and asked if I was American. When I answered that I was she told me that she wanted to go to America to become a singer, so I also gave her three of the quarters I still had on me.
Later, I realized that in Australia they have dollar and I think two dollar coins .... so what I thought was just change ... oops. Well, I hope I made their day.
Then, off I went to get onto my double decker sight seeing bus. I went on a double decker sight seeing bus with Aunt Silvia when we were in Paris, and I liked it. So I knew that that is what I wanted to do Sydney. So I got on the first best thinking it was the Sydney tour, but was pleasantly surprised when I learned that it was going to Bondi instead.
Bondi is the most famous beach in Sydney, and it's beautiful ... I kept having visions of Bay Watch as I looked out ... and then I remembered something ... was Bay Watch filmed on Bondi? Hmmm ... I'll have to look that up.
BONDI!
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| Anyone else thinking what I'm thinking? |
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| There were TONS of surfers when I was there ... so, okay, okay, the stereotype is true :) |
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| The waves looked crazy, but the surfers liked it |
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| Abby's now been in Sydney! |
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| Brooke's and Alex's didn't turn out so well, so I'll have to redo them some place else :) |
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| Someone drove past in this car playing Beach Boys music ... it definitely made my day |
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| Alex has been to Sydney too!!! :) |
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| Cool wall art |
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| Most of my pictures aren't very good at showing how BIG Bondi is, this does a better job of showing that |
I was walking back from the grocery store and ran into a missionary. Sweet thing is a month out, and had gotten a tad separated from his companion. He was walking in the opposite direction and I had just passed one casino and two strip clubs, and it was getting to be Friday night craziness. He told me that they didn't have much luck on Friday and Saturday nights in the area (they live in the city), haha, and I can certainly see why. You have a bunch of 20'somethings partying ... they're not in the mood to talk to the missionaries at that point.
A very attractrive Irish guy stopped and asked me for directions on my way back, and I was able to give them, and then later on a roommate was asking how to get to three monkeys ... both times I was able to tell how to get there ... One day in Sydney, and I'm practically a local ;)
All in all it was all awesome. There are still moments when I wish I wasn't on my own, but I had a long, busy and fun day ... so I rarely noticed. I was out the door at 8:15, and I didn't get back to the hostel until that night at 8:30 pm
So off I go in a few hours to catch the train to Perth, so I probably won't be able to contact anyone for a few days, but who knows, maybe I'll hit a wifi area :)
Sydney
other photos will have to uploaded later ... technical difficulties ...
Thursday, November 10, 2011
So, How was 9 November?
As with so many things … actually going through with something … that a part of you never really believed you’d be gutsy (or stupid) enough to do … is an incredibly surreal experience.
My parents dropped me off at LAX, and the first thing to greet me was an outrageously long Air Pacific check-in line that ran almost outside the terminal. As I stood in line, laboriously carrying my luggage towards what I knew were to be astronomical luggage fees, I started to notice something.
“Ya, I reckon this is gonna be a full flight.” … “We’ve been on holiday in Vegas, but we’re excited to be getting back.” … “Mum, how much longer do we have to wait?”
I had just barely entered the airport, but a little part of me felt as if I had already left the United States, and made my first step into a very new and very different world. I stood in silence as I listened for the different accents surrounding me, until I finally reached my own ticket agent.
Here, I learned two things, one good, and one bad. The first was good. I was underweight for baggage, my two bags total weighed less than 23 kg (50 lbs), and I wasn’t going to have to pay anything extra. Woo Hoo!! But on the coattails of this excitement, I realized something, I had been struggling for about an hour with luggage that I knew had to be weighing in excess of a few tons, only to learn that together they didn’t even weigh 50 lbs. Kind sirs and gentle ladies, it is official, I am a wimp!
In the plane, I was seated next to a kind grandmother separated from her daughter’s family, which included her one and only 12 month old granddaughter, and spent a good part of the journey showing me pictures grandbaby, whose had long locks of hair since infancy, I know, she showed me ( ;) ). Opposite the kiwi grandmother, there was a precocious, sweet, and surprisingly talkative little 10 year old Aussie. The little boy taught both me and the grandmother how to use all the little gadgets in the plane, and telling us both about his love of the band AC/DC as he played air drums with his eyes closed.
Air Pacific planes are a wonder to behold, if for nothing else, the fact that there are capable of flying.
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| This is the plane that took me from LA to Fiji, I took this in Fiji when we landed, it's so dark because it's 5:30 am, and I guess it's still dark at that point in Fiji |
Before we took off the plane stated to fill with a mechanical smell, the grandmother next to me started giving me furtive looks, but the crew seemed unperturbed from what they had been doing, and off we left, the plane shaking and rattling, people grabbing their armrests as the plane took off from the runway.
Finally making it to Sydney, I got a chop in my passport, but decided to declare the jamacillo for my roommates that we got on Olvera Street in LA. This, of course, put me in a slightly longer line, but I can sleep easier tomorrow knowing that I did not smuggle anything into Australia that will cause a crop plague. I think I’d feel pretty badly about that.
The hostel that I’m staying in is trendy and hip. Haha, and I am most definitely not. Grandma Mimi’s Cottage is more my speed, but “The Bounce Hotel” is more my price range. After dropping off my stuff and buying a $5 dollar lock for my cupboard (they advertise the cubbie, but I don’t seem to remember them telling people to bring their own lock …). I decided to go for a walk around Central station and around my hostel.
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| View from the roof, to the left, that's Central Station in Sydney |
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| This is the south side of the CBD (central business district) |
Sydney, I have to admit, is nothing like what I had imagined it to be.
To see what I saw in my mind when I thought of Sydney, first bring back memories of Finding Nemo’s Sydney, and combine it with Southern California, and that is what I thought Sydney would like.
But it’s not! It’s a proper metropolitan city, it’s edgy, it’s grimy, it’s even a little dirty and old! I haven’t seen a single surfer walking barefoot down the road, instead men wearing overly stylish European business shoes, and sharp looking outfits and ties. The streets have alleys and feel older to me than I think Sydney should feel. Little cafes with posh titles like, “Le Monde”, “Taste”, and “L’Veaux” are every few feet. People sipping cappuccinos with fashion forward hairdos sit on the street of the cafes. Again, a place called “Sloppy Jacks” would be more my speed, but the closest I came was a little supermarket.
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| Winding alleys don't feel very "Sydney" to me |
Sydney is certainly more European than I had thought it would be. But I like it.
Later on, after the supermarket dinner (which consisted of some English style “lemonade”, a sandwich, and some chocolate) which cost me $15 (everything is SOOO expensive here!) I finally met some of the people that I would be staying with.
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| When the English (and Aussies apparently) ... talk about lemonade, this is what they're talking about. Think a more lemony 7up |
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| When I got my money exchanged I asked for small bills because it's easier to use, but also, its just so gosh darn pretty! I had no idea how pretty the money is here in Australia |
I have met six girls, five of them have been English, and one of them is Scottish, very nice to one another, only cordial to me. The first one I met feels a little like the queen bee. These girls have been here for ages. And they are all English! (And by ages, I mean some of them have been here for months).
Staying here feels like I have signed up for a cruise I never intended to. There’s sausage and bread tonight (which I’m assuming is like the Brit version of hot dogs?), as well as a cheese and goon party … goon apparently meaning wine. I feel like I need to be social and participate and not be a bum … but I also don’t want to, and I have no interest in mingling with the ‘hostel elite’ … haha, perhaps this is why they’re only cordial to me, so an early (lame) night for me, and then sightseeing ALL DAY TOMORROW (woot!).
So I’m off to buy some internet time, take a shower, watch a TV show, and then goodnight for me! Haha, like the lame American that I am!
p.s. had the sausage and bread … the bread is regular sandwich bread, but the sausage is like a really really tasty hot dog, it was amazing. (I decided to go for the sausage and bread, after getting so slammed with lunch … I wasn’t going to say no to a free meal). Anywho, I ate a free meal, and then continued on as scheduled and am now truly off to bed … hard to force myself to stay up, but worth it, now I won’t have jet lag. J
p.p.s. Ketchup is called tomato sauce here
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