The Real World Sydney- International Edition

Today is my 4th day in my new pad, and I still have not met all of my roommates. I was waiting to tell you about them all once I had actually seen all of their faces, but the anticipation is killing me. I just cannot wait any longer. I feel like I am on the MTV show, Real World, which (for those of you who aren't familiar) puts a group of strangers in a house and records their lives. It's suppose to reflect the "real world," and never does. But where in the world do a bunch of strangers shack up together anyway? Oh yes, in Australia. And my Real World is the international edition. My roommates are from all over the world, a fact that I love. The ones I have met are great-- super friendly, cool and respectful (very important). They are just one big, happy, foreign family. Now one that I am a part of. On to the introductions...

In my room there are 4 people, including myself. Occupying my lower bunk is Ginny. She is from Korea and is in Sydney studying and working. On the other side of the room are Nacho (not actually his name, but no one can  pronounce his real name so we call him by this cheesy, greasy, delectable appetizer) from Turkey and Etienne (I also have trouble pronouncing this one) from Barcelona, Spain. Both are great. Nacho works in construction 6 days a week. He leaves by 5 am each morning- yikes! I won't be signing up for that gig. Etienne just got a job at a retail store. More importantly, he is from my other homeland Spain where I studied abroad my junior year of college. We made a pact: I will speak to him in Spanish and he will speak to me in English so we can both improve our second languages. Score.  One of my hesitations moving into this house was that I would never have any privacy, but all 3 of my roomies are gone by the time I wake up in the morning around 8:00 am, leaving me to enjoy our luxurious room all to myself. It’s pretty great. Only problem, and i'm not going to point any fingers, is that one of these three is a snorer. I mean a SNORER. So bad I had to sleep with ear plugs in. Yea...hopefully it was a one night thing, cause I need quality sleep.

In the remainder of the house there are 4 other rooms, where my 8 other flat mates reside. I’ve met five. Luca and Guido are from Rome. They are great. (Everyone is great. Everyone will continue to be great. There is no other adjective. I apologize for my overuse of it). These two erase any preconceived notions I had about Italians (the ones that still live in Italy, not those Italians living in the U.S. such as my family), which is that they are sappy poets who throw out one cheesy compliment or pick-up line after another trying to captivate you and have you fall madly in love with them. At least that was my experience when I was in Italy. Flashback: Italian to me, “I can see the stars glistening in your eyes.” Me (in my head), “Really? Are you sure its not just tears of laughter I am trying to suppress?” Anyway, these guys are not like that at all. You will find no awful pick-up lines in this house. Thank goodness! Romeo works at a bar and restaurants in the evening. He and I are usually the only ones in the house in the morning, or afternoon I should say. He wakes up at 2:00pm, strolls downstairs and says, “Good morning.” To which I reply, “Good afternoon.” And he laughs, “But it’s my morning.” Luca is a chef, lucky for me. He is always cooking loads of pasta and pizza, and is more than happy to share. My own personal Italian chef? Couldn’t get much better. Luca and Romeo are always jabbering back and forth in Italian which makes conversing a tad complicated, but hey, maybe I’ll pick up some Italian while I’m here.

Then there is Ben from France. He is a quieter lad, but still a great one. He works Mon-Fri, 9:00-5:00 doing some type of government work I think. His visa is almost up, so I believe he’ll be heading out pretty soon. He rooms with Nancy who is from Los Angeles. We’ve only had a brief hello-goodbye encounter as she rushed out the door. But she seems great (of course). Lastly there is Norman, the Irish man. I love his accent. He’s like a life size version of Lucky the Leprechaun. Talking to him it’s like I’ve opened a bag of Lucky Charms (my favorite) and let out all the marshmallow goodness.  He’s just so jolly and Irish. And great. Norman also works a 9:00-5:00 job at some travel company or something.

And there you have it. You have officially met all my house mates that I have. You may have picked up that the majority of the house is male. And considering that, the house is immaculately clean! I mean back in the old days when I was just a young student at Syracuse University, guys’ apartments were absolute pig sties. Purely disgusting. I was afraid to even sit on their couches because I though I might contract a disease. So in comparison, my place is quite clean. And stink free! Which I also find quite amazing. But none of this is as surprising as how darn quiet it is. Twelve people in the house and most of the time I feel like I am the only soul. It’s great. 

The Crib

Here it is folks, my apartment: 

The 1st Floor

The Dining Room: First thing you see when you enter the building. Pretty standard. 

The Kitchen: One of the larger, cleanlier ones I have seen apartment searching. Each person has a designated cupboard to store their non-perishables, as well as a spot in the fridge.

The Living Room: Comes equip with a big couch and lots of sun light.

The Outdoor Patio: My own little secret garden, perfect for barbies (aka BBQ) on a warm aussie day.

The 2nd Floor

The Bathroom: Well one of the three. It's the one attached to my room so it's where I'll be rub-a-dub-dubbing. It also happens to be the nicer one- holla. 

My Bedroom: I'm the top bunk baby! Doesn't it look so warm and cozy? Haha. I'm just pretending that I'm at sleep away camp in Australia for 3 months. It's all good. 

My Closet: Wow. I know I packed light, but looking at this it looks like I brought almost nothing. Time to get shopping! 

Home-more & Hired

I am home-more! As in I am no longer homeless. (Bad joke, I apologize). "Hip hip hooray!" I finally found myself an apartment. Actually, I found myself 2 apartments. Doesn't it always happen like that? The problem was that I couldn't decide between the two, stuck in a stalemate.

The first was a share house located in Darlinhurst (in central Sydney) directly south of the Royal Botanical Gardens and in walking distance of the harbors. This apartment had about 10 people living in it from around the world, had an awesome kitchen and decent everything else, and included internet. It was in walking distance of where I was hoping to work (The Summit Restaurant) and close to buses to get to the beach. The only negative was that my bed would be a bunk bed in a room with 4 people. Eeek, not exactly private or comfy.

The second place was located a few blocks away from Bondi Beach. It was a decent apartment, not as modern as the first but also not stinky and quite livable. In this apt I would have a normal twin bed in a room with one other girl. A plus. Also, I looked at this apartment with my London girl friends. Another plus. The major downside was that it cost almost triple the amount of the first place. The security alone would cost me $500 AU while the first one was only $160. I also wasn't sure that I wanted to commute into the city for work every day and then back to Bondi afterwards, especially if I was working late.

And there you have it. I had to decide between a twin bed close to the beach with the London ladies that would cost me an arm and a leg OR a bunk bed in an apartment close to work and downtown Sydney that was much more affordable. So which do you think I chose? Drumroll please...the first one. I know many of you are probably thinking: "Are you stupid?! It's worth paying more to be close to the beach and have your own bed gosh darnit." And trust me, I thought the same thing. But the whole point of this working holiday is that I have money to actually go on trips exploring the continent of Australia. If all my money is going into an apartment, then it makes traveling a tad bit more difficult. Oh, and did I mention that the second place didn't include internet? That would mean I couldn't talk to you (gasp) which, in my opinion, would be a real travesty. I also decided that I would much rather commute to the beach, which from my new place will be about a 20 min bus ride, then have to commute to work each evening. I do feel bad about ditching the London ladies, and I'm surprised they didn't de-friend me because I took them on a yes-no-maybe decision rollercoaster this afternoon, but they were beyond understanding which just confirms that they are keepers.

Onto the trial night at The Summit Restaurant. I will save you the suspense and start by saying- I got the job! Another "hip hip hooray!" I will follow by saying that this place takes being a hostess to a completely new level. As many of you know, I was a hostess at Prime 16 in New Haven, CT for the last year and a half. I would say that the difficulty of this position is on par with an easy Sudoku; the position required some brain power to do but it was more or less easy. I stood at the entrance, from where I could see the entire restaurant and easily sit patrons. Ok, now onto being a hostess at The Summit. In Sudoku terms, it is extra hard Sudoku-you know, the kind you just stare out without a clue of what to do. Here's why.This place is designed like a donut. The restaurant and bar circle around the elevators and hostess stand which are smack-dab in the center of the establishment. Because the restaurant is MOVING, no table is ever in the same place which makes seating people quite challenging. My manager asks me to seat someone in the bar, and I'm just looking at this rotating restaurant trying to figure out where on earth the bar even is. Haha. At first I was convinced that this position required you to be a NASA rocket scientist, but by the end of the night I was slowly getting the hang of it. I'll figure out this hard Sudoku eventually...I hope.

But the good news is I got the gig, the view is incredible, the staff is great, I didn't get nauseous, I didn't fall, it pays decent and I can take time off 2 weeks in advance. Oh, and I may meet a celeb or two. It has a private VIP room that apparently lots of famous people tend to reserve. Lexi, the remarkable hostess who actually gets what she is doing, said that Kelly Rowland was in the other day and that the owner is best friends with a bunch of famous chefs who regularly stop in. How cool.

Cat Lady & Egg Yolk Cocktails

Yesterday after my RSA class I met up with Paris and Jess to check out an apartment over near Bondi Beach. The apartment was dirty and stinky, again. I'm beginning to wonder if I may end up having to just suck it up and deal with the stink for a few months, because I need a place and that is what seems to be out there. Hoping today will be the day!

On our bus ride to Bondi, we encountered Cat Lady. I have met numerous women in my short lifetime who I would classify as crazy cat ladies, but this woman tops them all. She got on the bus holding a bunch of shopping bags (normal) and also holding her cat (not normal) who was wearing a hot pink sweater and was on a leash (really not normal). Now lets all stop and get a good mental picture of this. First, when in your life have you ever seen someone get on a bus, or any form of public transportation for that matter, holding their beloved cat? And then ask yourself when in your life have you ever seen a cat on a leash? The answer for me was never and never. The cat, by the way, looked a little something like this:

Ok, so picture this cat smooshed in a pink sweater with a leash around its fat neck heaved over its owners shoulder on a bus. Cat Lady and cat were sitting directly across from us. The old Australian man sitting next to me burst out laughing, and I was fighting to hold it in. Then she said how her cat was tired from a long day of shopping and was upset because she likes to have her own seat on the bus. YES, she actually ran her errands with her cat on a leash! Can you imagine grocery shopping and passing a cat on a leash in the produce aisle? I was dying.

After viewing the apartment, we had to rush back to the city because Jess had her first night of training at an Italian restaurant in Darling Harbor. So of course there was a water burst in some tunnel that resulted in traffic that moved at the pace of a snail. But eventually we made it. While Jess trained for 2 hours, Paris and I went and grabbed some cocktails at Cohibar. Since no one else was there we befriended Shane, the Kiwi bartender. Kiwi is the name of a person from New Zealand. I mean, how can you not like someone named after a juicy tropical fruit? Anyway, he entertained us making some outrageous cocktails. One of Paris's came in a Tiki glass that he lit on fire. My first was a yummy strawberry lemonade type of martini. But my second one, oh lord, my second one was unlike anything I've ever had before.

Shane recommended this cocktail. He said it was one of their most popular drinks, so I trusted his judgement. BIG mistake. Mid-way through making the drink Shane stops and asks, "Are you allergic to egg?". I respond, "No, why?" To which his response was to grab a container and squirt a thick, clear gel into my drink. I gulped. Me: "Ahhhh, what was that??" Shane: "Egg white. You'll see why I need it later." I look at Paris horrified and she bursts out laughing.  Where I come from, egg whites make a delicious omelet and are a key ingredient to some scrumptious baked goodies (often prepared by my sister, Laura), but there is absolutely no instance when I would add them to my beverage to help me unwind in the evening. Is anyone else repulsed by this?! Shane shook up my drink, poured it, and proudly pointed out that the egg white produced a thick white foam on the top of my cocktail. It looked like a beer. But I ordered a cocktail. Oh yes, and then he stuck a cinnamon stick in it. I didn't come to this country to shy away from trying new things, so I quit my gagging, grabbed the straw and downed that sucker as quickly as possible. Needless to say, I will not be ordering that one again. And I may make it a point from now on to specify that my cocktail be egg-free when ordering at Aussie bars.

A Big Thank You

Thank you all for actually reading my blog! Haha. I smile reading all of your comments, and even though I am far away it makes me feel close to you all.

Just sat through a 6 hour RSA course. I won't divulge anymore than that because it was a BORE. I would like those hours back.

Coastal Walk & Coogee Talk

Today I went on the Bondi to Coogee coastal walk. But before I get to that, a few funny observations and things I learned about Aussie life today.

1. Hotel = Bar. If a building says "____ Hotel" then thats the name of the bar, not a hotel. You can buy drinks there, but not a bed to sleep on.
2. Aussies use tissues as napkins. You will find a box of tissues on a table to wipe your food-covered-self up with. Odd.
3. When walking down the street, Aussies veer to the left to pass you. Makes sense since they drive on the left side of the road. But us Americans drive on the right side of the road, which means I veer to the right when passing people on the road. As a result I have had more than a few road run-ins.
4. Look RIGHT first when crossing the street. Almost lost a few toes learning that one.

Now back to the coastal walk. The Bondi to Coogee Coastal walk is a 6km (3.7 mile) walk along the coast that starts at Bondi beach and ends at Coogee beach. I don't think I need to say that it is beautiful, but I will anyway- it is beautiful! I went with Sean, a really cool guy from Montreal who I met at the Aussie Rules Football game. He mentioned he wanted to go, and its on my very long to-do list, and so we went. He is also doing a working holiday and has been in Sydney for 7 months, so I had ample time on the walk to pick his brain about his experience. If there is one thing I took away from our stroll, it is that I NEED to find a place close to the beach! Tomorrow I have to take my RSA course (a certificate to serve alcohol) all day, but Tuesday I plan on checking out a bunch of places and finding the one!

Who Ever Heard of Aussie Rules Football?

The Australians, that's who! Tonight I went to my first ever Aussie Rules Football game with IEP (the program I am here with) and other people who are also on a working holiday. I assumed, as you perhaps did too, that Aussie Rules Football was rugby. Wrong. Soccer? Nope. American Football? Wrong again. It's Aussie Rules Football, stupid! Australians are obsessed with this sport. It makes their worlds go round. From my observation, if American Football and Rugby mated, Australian Rules Football would be their baby. I won't go into all the long details about the game because a) I don't know them and b) if you're that curious you can look them up yourself, but basically it's played on a huge round field with a yellow football-shaped ball. The objective is to score more points than the opposing team (ya think?), and you do that by getting the ball through the two middle goal posts (6 points) or two outside goal posts (1 point). You have to pass the ball by either punching or kicking it. It is four quarters long. And let me tell you, it was a longggg game to watch. Especially, believe it or not, in the cold. Yes, Australia is cold at night when the wind is blowing ferociously. I was shivering by the end.

Aussie Rules Football Field

The Goal Posts

Those Aussie Rules Football players were certainly some good looking fellows. I wasn't a huge fan of the short shorts, but they had nice bums so it was fine by me. The most enjoyable part of the game was listening to the die-hard fans shouting insults at the opposing team's players. The guy sitting directly behind me was the best. Here are a few of my favorites:

"C'mon boys, man up! Jekyll and Hyde boys!"

"Hey (insert player's name)! Why don't you pull down your pants and show us your plucked chicken!" (interpreted that to mean his arse) 

And my favorite favorite:

 Guy 1: "What was that?"

 Guy 2: "That was a shaved gorilla!"

Game Action

We were also given these fan thingys to use as a replacement for clapping, which was awesome because this meant I could alternate sitting on one hand while using the other to cheer with the fan. The Aussies like it because it leaves them one hand for beer. You just turn it sideways and slap your knee. Pretty fun actually. I'm keeping mine to bring to Cuse basketball games, haha.

The fan noise maker 

Last but not least, I met a bunch of cool people participating in IEP which was my hope. I spent the evening mainly with Jess and Paris, two gals from London. They were super friendly and hilarious, and took me under  their wing when they found out I was here by myself. We got along very well and are going to try and find housing together near the Bondi Beach, along with another girl they met from Sweden. I really hope this works out, obviously because I don't want to spend my 4 months here a lonely soul, but also because as many of you know I want to go to the London 2012 Olympics badly. They are from London. Catch my drift? Sweden is also at the top of my travel list! So keep those fingers crossed that I get that job, and now cross your toes that this housing situation works out too!

Paris, Jess and Me (and some random dude who jumped in)

Oh yes, and I got a free Sydney Swans (they name of the Sydney Aussie Rules Football Team) hat from IEP for going to the game. I love free things.

The Glebe Club

I joined the Glebe club! And by that I mean that I move to a new hostel over in Glebe, one of the many neighborhoods of Sydney, sort of like a Greenwich or Soho of NYC- it's very artsy and cultural. Actually, most of Sydney is made up of neighborhoods and sections that are very similar to the NYC. If you named an area in NYC, I could name the equivalent in Sydney (or at least by the end of my trip I'll be able to). I moved to this hostel because it was practically half the price as the other one I was staying in. It's not as clean, but it is still a comfortably livable space. Plus it has a computer with internet (which means I have access to talk to u!), a TV, and a fridge all in the room!  Def worth the price if you ask me.

I checked out my first apartment yesterday over near darling harbor. Four kids from Japan, Mexico and Italy were living there and are looking for 4 girls to occupy the other room. The plus: it was in an awesome location. The minus: the place was dirty and stanky! I really don't want to have to plug my nose for the 4 months I'm living here, so I'm gonna keep on searching.

One last thing: coffee over here is wack. I just want a plain old coffee and it doesn't exist. They have some weird coffee lingo/ordering system. It reminds me of the first time I stepped into Starbucks, except this time I don't have anyone beside me to hold my hand and explain what a Grande Skinny Mocha Late is, or in this case a Tall Black or Short White (huh?). For example, I walked into a cafe this morning and on the menu it said: "Coffee, Small or Medium." I asked for a small coffee. I got a cappuccino. Apparently in Australia, cappuccinos, espressos and lattes are all called coffee. And then the by  specifying tall or short, or black or white you are somehow suppose to end up with what you want. I just want a coffee with skim milk! Preferably french vanilla. And iced coffee? Forget about it. When I asked for one, the guy mixed ice cream into it. Don't get me wrong, it was delicious but its not quite the same. Moral of the story: don't take that coffee you're sipping on for granted. They are hard to come by in other parts of the world!