[12.7.2009] A day in the life...

Since my last post, life hasn't changed: Still working at the hotel, still living in the same apartment. I'm afraid the epic On-the-Road-esque manuscripts will have to wait until I start traveling again...

However, life is still very interesting! While standing at the front of Amora Hotel absentmindedly opening doors for guests, (and in between brainstorming the book I've decided to write and pondering the way my dress shoe heels have worn down) I decided the best way to convey this sentiment, and provide a snapshot of my current life would be through a breakdown of one of my typical days, narrated in the first person so as to annoy you and make everything seem really interesting:

WEDNESDAY

Today I start work at 10:30 am. I get up in time to make breakfast (homemade McGriddle), write down the nights dreams (A conversation in a car about District 9 that hinged on why Alien power sources are now integral in the real worlds power grid...huh?) and take a 20 minute shower during which I light a candle instead of using our terrible fluorescent lights.

My walk to work is still beautiful. I listen to music, don sunglasses and ponder. The view of the Sydney skyline almost always makes me think about how incredible it is that I'm here.

My walk to work, taken at night. Courtesy of Conni Inc.

Showing up to work involves greeting every Porter and Concierge with a solid handshake. I like this tradition. Wednesday's aren't too crazy, but seeing as check out time is 11, the lobby is pretty busy. I take a post at the door but within seconds am given keys to bring up a car from the parking garage. I drive past Pedro the Chilean parking attendant who hands me his latest caricature making fun of the front office staff. Today he chose the balding guy. When I pull up to the front door, the Australian getting into the car says "Good on you mate" four times as I load his luggage, give him his keys and wish him safe travels. He doesn't tip because he drives a Holden; the stereotypical Australian car. I hate Australian Holden drivers.

Waiting by the door again, Paul Seamen, the Assistant Managing Director, comes up to me and greets me. He asks how my day was. He asks if I own a razor. I wind up in the employee bathroom 5 minutes later with a shitty hotel shaving kit and 6 cuts on my neck.

At 12:30 I take lunch break and get ORIGINAL Japanese ramen noodles. It reminds me of Vietnamese pho but may be even better. The Sydney Morning Herald tells me about a guy planning on swimming from Japan to Santa Monica and that his plotted course is through an immense island of garbage that has formed in the middle of the Pacific. This blows my mind: 1) This guys nuts and 2) I have no idea how I have never heard about this man made monstrosity before.

After lunch I take welcome notes up to recently prepped rooms. I start from the highest floors. the first couple rooms I sit on the windowsill and look out over the city at this:

I waste just enough time not to get caught. The rest of the afternoon is spent bringing luggage up to people's rooms and parking cars. Unfortunately I didn't get to park this one:

(This bad boy pulled into our driveway the other day. Too bad you can't really see the

seat on the other side. This thing single handedly inspired me

into a "I'm-going-to-motorbike-across-Australia-in-one-of-these" phase until

I found out the cost over ten grand. Damn. "Motorcycle Diaries" would have

had nothing on me)

By 5 o'clock I've made $18 in tips. My daily goal is $20. I'm off at 7. Work is slow at this time and I chat with the other porters. Sebastian likes doing Tarzan whoops when he thinks no one can hear him and Masa enjoys throwing peanuts into the driveway in what I believe is a sign of contempt towards his employer.

At six thirty a woman comes down looking lost. The concierge is nowhere to be found. I ask her if I can help her. She's German and wants a restaurant recommendation. I've studied up on this so I give one to her. She gives me $10. I go home at 7 pm with $28 in tips; the life of a hustler.

Dinner is shrimp, which I bought from the fish market across the street from my apartment, mixed with pasta. (Shrimp are called prawns here and every time I hear the word I think of Vickus Vandermever from District 9 and get slightly grossed out). Post dinner I go out with my flatmates, drink Australian beer (not Fosters, they don't even have that here: "Fosters, Australian for ridiculously false US marketing campaigns") cheer when Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA" comes on and dance to some solid electronica. We indulge in kebabs for $5 on our walk home, watch Andy Samberg music videos in our living room and eat ice cream from a 6 liter tub. I wrap up the night by drifting off to the sweet sound of Vince on the floor mattress muttering odd cliches in his sleep.

THE END

.....................................................................................................................................................................

So that's one day in the life! Here are some other things I could have added:

I've recently purchased an awesome orange knife and a folding spoon/fork set to support myself once I begin my travels. I am very fond of these two items. Arj Barker from "Flight of the Concords" tipped me the other day. He's the one always wearing the bandanna. See below:

I'm going to see Muse in January... and hopefully Avatar in 3D very soon. We've discovered a great park by the water with free barbecues and great views. Checkitout:

You can just make out the Harbor Bridge in the background...

For thanksgiving Vince and I invited over about 12 people and cooked for all. Quite the feat considering neither of us has ever cooked more than two dishes at one time. We pulled out all the stops...plus we played our first BEER PONG games in the Southern Hemisphere:

I was once again invited to attend a function hosted by one of the tour companies we do business with. (These things are turning into a real job perk!) Free everything, plus a cool choice of bar:

And that really is it. Holiday love to all!

[11.9.2009] Underground (literally) Advertising

Back to back posts here, mostly because I felt this one should be its own post. This one was a long time coming...

Since I arrived in Australia I have been intrigued by Australian advertising. It shares many themes with US advertising of late; it is often laden with absurd references, informal, or simple. Cleveress is a given. So is sex. I haven't quite placed how it differs from US advertising but there is a general joviality and/or lightheartedness in Australian advertising, particularly TV adds, that seems unfamiliar.

Sitting in the subway waiting for a train one day and staring at an enormous print ad plastered on the wall on the other side of the tracks, I was struck by inspiration. Since that day I have photographed every similar ad in every train station I have been to, minus some purely information adds. To give you an idea of the setup down there:

Somebody is spending ad dollars wisely. Captive audience? I think so.

So, myself being the most captivated audience member in the crowd, I present to you a collection of all ads containing some sort of creative spark from the Martin Place, Town Hall, Central and Kings Cross Train Stations. There are a few major ad campaigns represented, so I'll keep those together. Some are very clever if you look closely. Its a pity the small writing on the bottles of the Vitamin Water ads isn't legible because it is ridiculous.

You can view the ads/photos on my Flickr account here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/44456612@N03/sets/

Click on a picture to see the rest included in its category or campaign. Enjoy! My personal favorite is the Waldo one...

[11.8.2009] The Game Change

Ladies and gentlemen, since my last post the game has changed!

I now:

1) Work in a hotel as a valet/porter

2) Have a nice apartment in a beautiful part of the city

Thats it. Not a long list, but anyone who has washed dishes during lunchtime at a restaraunt or lived in hostels for longer than a week will be able to appreciate how much better my life is because of these two simple changes.

Not to say that hostels don't have their value, or that dishwashing isn't...actually dishwashing is simply the worst and I cannot validate it at all. But hostel life was fun. I met tons of people, drank enough goon (remember: boxed wine) to justify starting my own vineyard and had "the backpacker experience". And of course, once I start to travel starting around March, back to the hostels it will be. However, for the time being I am happy to sleep in the privacy of my own 1/2 of a room, lounge in the comfort of reasonably plush couches and cook with the utility of my own kitchen. Rent is cheap, there is a swimming pool, hot tub, gym and bbq all within the complex. We can all overlook the fact that sometimes I have to jump the back fence and pick the back lock to get in because we don't have keys for all of us (five guys) because technically there are only supposed to be 3 of us. Minor details.

Eloir is Brazilian and delivers cafe food from 1am to 9 am so he's kind of a mystical figure in our apartment. He also brings home what doesn't get delivered. Life is good. Dougie is Scottish and just bought the shortest surfboard any of use have ever seen. He himself is fairly tall and makes "toasties" for anyone who enters the apartment. Chris is English, enjoys all things "sport" and laughs alot. Vince found consistent work with a company that sets up conventions. We all work very strange schedules and it is rare that we are all in the apartment at the same time.

I am quite content as a valet/porter for now. The hotel is called Amora and its in downtown. Five star, part of a hotel group spanning Australia, New Zealand and Thailand. Most hotels like that have separate positions for porters, doorman and valets: I think they're skimping at Amora so they lumped all those positions into one: mine. I spend my days parking and retrieving cars, running envelopes, bags, gifts, cards and newspapers up to and down from rooms. I tag, store, lift, pull, lose, find, damage and cart more luggage than I care to think about. When not doing any of these things, I open the front doors for guests and say one of the following phrases to the them:

1) Welcome

2) Welcome to Amora

3) Good Morning (Usually shortened to "Morning")

4) Good Afternoon (" " " "Afternoon")

5) Good Night (" " " "Night")

6) G'day

7) Welcome back

8) How was your day?

9) Hello

10) Take care

Sometimes I throw curveballs. You'll have to imagine the contexts:

1) Too much skipping eh?

2) How did the child abuse lecture go?

3) Don't worry, this is what I get paid for

4) I need to learn how to do a real porter whistle.

5) Humiganishsmhhhh

# 5 is when I stutter like I occasionally do and whatever comes out isn't really English. I'm also thinking about adding "Cheers" to my repertoire. I courteously nod my head every 7.8 seconds.

In short, as I have hoped to convey humourously, the job is simple yet expansive and active. These two things combine for low stress and quick, lively days. I talk to people alot. I've driven some awesome cars. Tally up the tips and decent wage and toss in a gorgeous 20 minute walking commute each way and you can see how I am a happy camper. If I save at the rate I have been I'll have enough money for amazing adventures in my last few months here. Below is a pic I took from a bridge over Darling Harbour, which is my route to work.

The Amora Hotel:

The Uniform:

The Apartment:

[10.17.2009] Forget PLACES...PEOPLE are far more interesting

Now tired of my "Places of Note" section (a touristy endeavor anyways) I have decided to create a one time list of "People of Note". The following are all real people, real sightings and humorous but hardly hyperbolic descriptions. Some may be uniquely australian, some may not. They are all awesome. Shall we?

1) Gandalf from Lord of the Rings: He had the eyebrows, the long white hair and beard and generally Ian McClellan features. I saw this man sitting in a Mcdonalds at 4 am, sporting semi Wizardly attire with a decidedly hobo-esque tinge actually stealing fries from the tray of a very irate 20 something. Accio fry.

2) Sudoku Bum: This homeless guy was making some serious headway on a Sudoku at 10pm on a Friday night. Impressive.

3) Rugby Bankers: I was walking downtown last week around 5 pm and passed a group of about 10 tall investment banker types in suites, ages from maybe 29-55. Typical scene. Except they were throwing punting and chasing a rugby ball like 9 year olds. Did Obama ever consider that rugby may have been the source of the financial crisis?

4) Liev Schrieber from "Taking Woodstock": This guy/gal was wearing the same pink dress, had the same long blondish hair and the same 265 pound frame. His/her calves belonged on Brock Lesnar, not tapering into high heels. If you don't get the references a quick google search should tell you more than you need to know.

5) Brandon Murry: I swear to god he's here. I saw him, I know it.

6) Disco Drunk Irishmen: Holding a box, yes box, of wine above one's head with one hand while adopting this pose...

...and dancing is the best way to drink anything, period.

As you can see, the neighborhood I have been staying in the last week (Kings Cross) has some very interesting characters. Don't worry, I know how to handle myself; I lived in Compton for four years.

Newsflash for the last week: I've spent too much money and earned a surprising amount of money. I discussed the global appeal of American pop culture while drinking wine with a Dane and a Frenchman. I got my first French lesson from a Belgian. I "rendered" (plastered) a house with one "builder" (construction foreman), cut gyprock (dry wall) with another, interviewed at the Amora Hotel in downtown for porter position (hey, I currently wash dishes. No position is too menial) and discovered that Australian contemporary art can be just as silly as its American equivalent. I've walked more this week than any other week in my life, including the week I walked the Revlon Run/Walk with Orly, unearthed a dormant childhood passion for trains and managed to irrevocably stain all but one of my white items of clothing. This is Vince's fault because he dropped a glass of red wine inside my suitcase. I suppose this is better than the girl next door who woke up at 6 am to find her Norwegian roomate (a guy) peeing in hers. Suitcase, that is. A song comes to mind here...

"I love you more

than I did the week before

I discovered alcohol

Would you please ignore

that you found me on the floor

Trying on your camisole?

O alcohol, would you please forgive me?

For while I cannot love myself

I'll use something else"

Have I mentioned that beer here is almost twice as expensive here, purchasing power parity taken into account? In a reaction to this sad sad fact, Vince and I have taken to buying only boxed wine and "Coles" brand "$mart buy" food products to conserve money. They are dirt cheap. I think Coles cut most of their costs by creating the simplest product packaging theme known to man..

...vibrant stuff right?

I have also discovered that frattiness exists worldwide. Here is the proof...

And finally, a whole bunch of pictures:

[10.11.2009] English Second Language Text Messaging aka "ESL SMS", Paintings and Adapt or Die

Inspired by conversation with Vince I would like to dedicate the beginning of this blog post to the string of ridiculoustext messages I have been getting from newly acquired foreign friends. So, here are a few of them, original formatting and spelling intact (ranked in order of ascending "ridiculousity"):

8) "But hey that was cool. I guess I just act like the bum I am and sleep on a bench in the park"

-Matt Pierre, Swede

7) "Hey you what are you up to today , something cool ?"

-Matt Pierre, Swede

6) "Ey man! Tomorrow its gonna be a awsome party at your hostel! Becouse a little bird told me that is your birthday! :-) see ya! / Jocke"

-Joakim, Swede

5) "Hey no worries Scott ;-)! We will come,but later than 8!Maybe around 9:30.Is it o

k?How long do you will stay at the hostel before going out tonight?"

-Kristin, German

4) Where do you gonna go tonight? Gaff, our a other club? I think we come to you now butt we dont know where your hostel is answear quickly!"

-Joakim, Swede

3) "When do you need me?"

-Matt Pierre, Swede

2) Ey gays, whats happen? I think we gonna go to "the gaff tonight! And I hope you gays come n join ous there! Before 10 pm have they 2 free drinks, free entryes and alot of swedish girls. "i think" ;-)see you about one houer! Ok!"

-Joakim, Swede

1) "of course i will take your jacket. What does it look like i love you. From yes and j"

-Joakim, Swede

Some seriously funny stuff. For example, in 2) I'm pretty sure my friend meant to write "guys" both times, which only makes it funnier. As far as I know all my friends here are straight; for starters, my swedish friends jump at opportunity to discuss their beautiful swedish wo

men. Still, if you reference 1), the aformentioned misspelling in 2) could be construed as wishful thinking...

When not being showered with Swedish bro love, I have made an effort to check out Sydney a little more. Yesterday I walked around part of the harbor, ran into an Australian Naval base, pondered waterside, and stumbled across the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Here I saw some beautiful Australian landscape paintings dating from the mid to late 19th century. My

personal favorite was "The Flood of

Darling 1890" by WC Piguenit (on right). The attention to detail requisite in this kind of painting is almost unfathomable.

Today Vince and I checked out the Sydney Museum and throughly enjoyed the "Adapt or Die" exhibit examining some of the absurd extinct creatures that once inhabited this place. Some of these things you just look at and go "Are you f****ing kidding me? That actually existed?!!".

Seriously. Some of the old mammals from this

continent put the Wooly Mammoth lineage to shame. My personal favorite was a gigantic steroidal wombat called

a Dyprotodon, classified as one of Austrlalia's Mega Fauna but which actually originated on the planet Hoth. (Gray thing to the right). Apparrently they weighed over 4000 pounds and carried their young in a sack under they're stomach. There was a cat like thing with bulging linebacker forearms and an D-line stance. (Orange thing below) And don't even get me started on the Demon Duck of Doom (actual name, on the brochures and everything, see bottom).

And of course, today is my

22nd birthday! Hello adulthood, my name is Scott. Whoa.

[10.5.2009] Cafe Job, Karaoke and the Haunted House

I have a newfound appreciation for everyone and anyone working in restaurants, café’s and bars.

Those places can be INSANE!!!! (Sorry for the weird pic formatting; I haven't quite figured out how to undo adding a picture without restarting my whole post). Lordy lordy. I'm the kitchenairre: sious chef, dishwasher and roaming free safety all in one...yup, I have to make tackles from time to time.

Two days into the café job and it looks like I’m going to keep it at 2 days a week. I’ll either pick up odd jobs as they come door lock down another job for the remaining three days a week. Scraping it together down here.

The weekend was spent in pubs and pe

rforming karaoke. Remix to Ignition and I Want it that Way by the Backstreet Boys were the duos between Vince and I and the performances vaulted us into Balmain Backpackers lore. Speaking of housing, Vince and I are

moving into a hostel in downtown Sidney this Wednesday for a week. We are exploring more permanent housing opportunities on our own but also in conjunction with a splendid group if British girls. Cheerio! The five of us actually went to see a house out on the outskirts of the city last night: Stephen King could not have created a more sinister place. Taxidermy abounded, the air was musty and the dark wood sucked the light out of even the most open rooms. I expected the Texas Chainsaw massacre guy to be hiding behind the shower curtains. Gremlins to pop our of the toilets…the exorcist chick to crawl out of the basement…ok ok, you all get the picture. We couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Other days have involved helping a pharmacy move in next door, checking out the Sydney operah house and making incredibly intelligent moves with my NFL Fantasy Football team. LMK when I go undefeated the rest of the season….with both teams…other nights included brew skis with a contingent of swede’s. Ridiculous fools, in the best sense of the phrase.

I started having some homesickness about two days ago, which is rare for me. Its been raining, and I’ve had some ugly little hangovers, both of which have probably contributed. Moving on to another hostel will likely reignite the sense of adventure that I started with on my way here.

Love to All.

Places of Note:

The Strand: The building where my cafe is located. Beautiful Victorian architecture and a huge valuted glass ceiling over primarily retail shops.

The Red Lion: Balmain Backpackers local pub. Keroake from time to time. Pool sweetness (where I lost to a British backpacker and decided to never lose at anything involving a British opponent again. Bloody hell.

Sydney Opera House: love feeling like a tourist?

[10.1.09] Hitchhiker's Guide to the Outback

I received the following passage in an email from a family friend, Bob Wallace. No personal updates on this post but the following piece is phenomenal. I can only aspire to write like this guy:

Australia

by Douglas Adams of "Hitchhiker's Guide to the
Galaxy"

Australia is a very confusing place, taking up a large amount of the bottom
half of the planet. It is recognizable from orbit because of many unusual
features, including what at first looks like an enormous bite taken out of
its southern edge; a wall of sheer cliffs which plunge deep into the
girting sea. Geologists assure us that this is simply an accident of
geomorphology and plate tectonics, but they still call it the "Great
Australian Bight" proving that not only are they covering up a more
frightening theory but they can't spell either!

The first of the confusing things about Australia is the status of the
place. Where other landmasses and sovereign lands are classified as either
continent, island, or country, Australia is considered all three.
Typically, it is unique in this.

The second confusing thing about Australia are the animals. They can be
divided into three categories: Poisonous, Odd, and Sheep. It is true that
of the 10 most poisonous arachnids on the planet, Australia has 9 of them.
Actually, it would be more accurate to say that of the 9 most poisonous
arachnids, Australia has all of them. However there are curiously few
snakes, possible because the spiders have killed them all.

But even the spiders won't go near the sea. Any visitors should be careful
to check inside boots (before putting them on), under toilet seats (before
sitting down) and generally everywhere else. A stick is very useful for
this task.

At this point, we would like to mention the Platypus - estranged relative
of the mammal, which has a duck-bill, otter's tail, webbed feet, lays eggs,
detects its aquatic prey in the same way as the electric eel and has
venomous barbs attached to its hind legs, thus combining all 'typical'
Australian attributes into a single improbable creature.

The last confusing thing about Australia is the inhabitants.

First, a short history:

Sometime around 40,000 years ago, some people arrived in boats from the
north. They ate all the available food, and a lot of them died. The ones
who survived learned respect for the balance of nature, man's proper place
in the scheme of things and spiders. They settled in and spent a lot of the
intervening time making up strange stories.

Then, around 200 years ago, Europeans arrived in boats from the north. More
accurately, European convicts were sent, with a few deranged and stupid
people in charge. They tried to plant their crops in Autumn (failing to
take account of the reversal of the seasons when moving from the top half
of the planet to the bottom), ate all their food, and a lot of them died.

About then the sheep arrived, and have been treasured ever since. It is
interesting to note here that the Europeans always consider themselves
vastly superior to any other race they encounter, since they can lie,
cheat, steal, and litigate (marks of a civilised culture they say) -
whereas all the Aboriginals can do is happily survive being left in the
middle of a vast red-hot desert, equipped with a stick.

Eventually, the new lot of people stopped being Europeans on Extended
Holiday and became Australians. The changes are subtle, but deep, caused by
the mind-stretching expanses of nothingness and eerie quiet, where a person
can sit perfectly still and look deep inside themselves to the core of
their essence, their reasons for being, and the necessity of checking
inside your boots every morning for fatal surprises. They also picked up
the most finely tuned sense of irony in the world, and the Aboriginal gift
for making up stories. Be warned.

There is also the matter of the beaches. Australian beaches are simply the
nicest and best in the entire world. Although anyone actually venturing
into the sea will have to contend with sharks, stinging jellyfish,
stonefish (a fish which sits on the bottom of the sea, pretends to be a
rock and has venomous barbs sticking out of its back that will kill just
from the pain) and surfboarders.

However, watching a beach sunset is worth the risk. As a result of all this
hardship, dirt, thirst and wombats, you would expect Australians to be a
dour lot. Instead, they are genial, jolly, cheerful and always willing to
share a kind word with a stranger.

Faced with insurmountable odds and impossible problems, they smile
disarmingly and look for a stick. Major engineering feats have been
performed with sheets of corrugated iron, string, and mud.

Alone of all the races on earth, they seem to be free from the 'Grass is
Greener on the other side of the fence' syndrome, and roundly proclaim that
Australia is, in fact, the other side of that fence. They call the land
"Oz", "Godzone" (a verbal contraction of "God's Own Country") and "Best
bloody place on earth, bar none, strewth."
The irritating thing about this is they may be right.

There are some traps for the unsuspecting traveler, though. Do not, under
any circumstances, suggest that the beer is imperfect, unless you are
comparing it to another kind of Australian beer. Do not wear a Hawaiian
shirt.

Religion and Politics are fairly safe topics of conversation, (Australians
don't care too much about either) but Sport is a minefield.

The only correct answer to "So, howdya' like our country, eh?" is "Best
(insert your own regional swear word here) country in the world!". It is
very likely that, on arriving, some cheerful Australians will 'adopt' you
on your first night, and take you to a pub where Australian Beer is served.

Despite the obvious danger, do not refuse. It is a form of initiation rite.
You will wake up late the next day with an astonishing hangover, a foul
taste in your mouth, and wearing strange clothes.

Your hosts will usually make sure you get home, and waive off any legal
difficulties with "It's his first time in Australia, so we took him to the
pub", to which the policeman will sagely nod and close his notebook. Be
sure to tell the story of these events to every other Australian you
encounter, adding new embellishments at every stage and noting how strong
the beer was.

Thus you will be accepted into this unique culture.

Most Australians are now urban dwellers, having discovered the primary use
of electricity, which is air-conditioning and refrigerators.

Typical Australian sayings:-

* "G'Day!"
* "She'll be right mate."


Tips to Surviving Australia:

* Don't ever put your hand down a hole for any reason WHATSOEVER.
* The beer is stronger than you think, regardless of how strong you think
it is.
* Always carry a stick.
* Air-conditioning is imperative.
* Do not attempt to use Australian slang, unless you are a trained linguist
and extremely good in a fist fight.
* Wear thick socks.
* Take good maps. Stopping to ask directions only works when there are
people nearby.
* If you leave the urban areas, carry several litres of water with you at
all times, or you will die.
* Even in the most embellished stories told by Australians, there is always
a core of truth that it is unwise to ignore.

[9.30.09] Observations, Places of Note and Three nights @ Balmain Backpackers

After having spent three nights in our hostel, Balmain Packbackers, I would like to observe a few things that I think are probably pretty universal about hostels. (That said, keep in mind this hostel may be one of the most inexpensive in the Sydney area and is the only hostel I have stayed in, ever):

1. There is no better possible way to meet people.
2. If you are liberal with your alcohol, people will love you. Same goes for food.
3. Don’t believe everything people tell you.

If Balmain Backpackers is one of the cheapest hostels in Sydney than the backpacking life suits me well. Not that I’m backpacking per se, but still…Our room is fine and despite the mess and the presence of five sets of bunkbeds, we have had no trouble falling asleep. I went to bed at 10 last night and was undisturbed. Sunday we watched movies all day with a pack of Brits. To whit; the UK office is inferior to ours, Ben Stiller’s appeal is universal and Charlie Sheen might as well be God. According to one of the British guys who started calling me Bob, and who, in turn, is now known as Forest (Gump), they pay Sheen $1,000,000 per episode of Two and a Half Men. (Please see #3 above).

FUNNY INCIDENT: Standing at a bar talking to a girl. A guy come up to me and introduces himself. I don't catch his name. He repeats it: Herman. We chat and I walk to the bar eventually glancing over a few minutes later to see him and the girl holding hands. Her man. Not Herman. Damn accents.

Yesterday, Tuesday, I did a days worth of construction on a loft with a private contractor. I WILL NOT HOLD A DESK JOB FOR THE DURATION OF MY TIME IN AUSTRALIA. I felt like I was in the final scene of office space when dude is working construction and scooping up the ashes of his old desk job life. Also working that day was Matt Pierre, the swede who, when asked which How I Met Your Mother character was his favorite responded “Barney Stinson because I am like him!” Now that’s awesome.

I now have a JOB at a little café in downtown. I have a sinking feeling I will be washing dishes. Money is money. Money is money. Money is money. (I’ll be repeating that mantra tomorrow during my first day on the job). I landed this thing by walking around downtown with a stack of resume’s and handing them to any café, bookstore, and hotel in sight. Slight feelings of guilt when considering how overqualified I am for these jobs were quelled by a sense of adventure and how inspired I feel at the prospect of working in downtown Sydney.

Places of Note (will be a running list)

Kings Cross Hotel: No cover, multi-floored bar. The guy/girl ratio was so incredibly skewed to the latter that Vince and I were prompted to begin asking if it was Bachelorette Party night. It wasn’t, although there was one. They were cold bitches though.

Queen Victoria Bulding: De facto bus hub for downtown Sydney. Also a huge, open mall like building with gorgeous Victorian stone architecture. I want to work here.

ScuBar: The 9-0. Nuff said. Except I should add that the bough Australian guy dancing on a platform with his “mates” (5 guys, no girls) and pointing at everyone in the crowd was not something I have never seen at the 9-0

[9.27.09] Flight, Arrival and Hostel

The Flight

Virgin Australia tries so hard to be new age. The results are funny:

1. Lady Gaga blasting from speakers at the airport check-in line is awesome
2. Pseudo informal/hipster writing on items ranging from their boarding passes to their airsick bags is a little awkward at times. Example: "We don't like to think of this as an "airsickness bag" but rather, an "AWESOMENESS bag". (Honest to god that is what was written on the thing. Barney Stinson would be proud). A+ for too much effort.
3. The media consol for every seat is INCREDIBLE. Access to hundreds of albums, scores of new release movies, video games galore and my personal favorite. Five episodes of “How I Met Your Mother”. I read an article a few years ago that said this kind of consol was the future of in-flight entertainment. It is. The thing even had a text chat service that was both communal and seat specific. 14 hour flight? Didn’t feel like it.
4. All their stewardesses are gorgeous. The accents don’t hurt either. A+ for pulling that one off.

The Arrival

Arriving and customs isn’t worth talking about. Although, on the bus ride to my friends apartment we stopped to unload some passengers and I got out to stretch. While outside a BMW SUV pulled up to me on the street and the women inside started asking for directions. I started laughing. I actually wound up asking her for a ride because my bus couldn’t take me direct to where I wanted ago. Though she was going to the same neighborhood, she declined, citing kids in the back and a lack of space, both of which weren’t very convincing. As she drove away, a new acquaintance of mine explained her negative reaction by musing that the BMW driver thought I was propositioning her…what!?

My first day was spent at Bondi Beach, pronounced Bondaaaaaaaaay Beach, and was great. Hot sun/ pizza/women, soft sand, blue ocean and a gradual realization of the insanity and awesomeness of this trip constituted the outing. I also became conscious of the most disconcerting thing about this new country: Here I was, half a planet away from home, yet everything seemed so eerily similar and familiar. Multicolored money and extremely valuable change exempted.

The night was spent at a bar watching the Rugby Union League semifinals, eating Thaina Box (Justin Timberlake would be proud) and drinking cheap wine (Vince and I have decided to completely forsake beer this trip owing to the fact that it is about four times as expensive here than in the states). I woke up the next morning to crows that sounded like feral children and an overcast sky, promptly wrote down my predictably exotic dreams ( I dream out of control when traveling) and got breakfast at a local café after buying some fruit.

The Hostel

Fast forward to our arrival at our hostel, Balmain Backpackers on Darling St. in Balmain. Vince’s face fell as we walked into a dingy garage. No elegant lobby or front desk, and we were treated to a sign in and tour by the very manly, popped collar bearing, rugby looking Donna. Our room may be fratty’er than my fraternity. As I sit here writing I have a birdseye view of four sets of bunk beds, plus my own, and about 2 tons of miscellaneous scattered items ranging from hair products to an abandoned lamp, girls shoes (my room is coed), and at least 7 wet towels. Also, a book explaining the meaning of life. The rest of the place is great. The people are even better. Tomas, Seamus, Dan, Rich, Brandon (girl), Evan, Tom, Dan, Steven, Dale, Syd, Kunu, Haliey Rachael, Trip, Rick, Sven, Dennis, Thomas, Rachel, Hailey and a contingent of large English girls are our hostel mates. (That list was more for my memory than anything else, forgive me.) There are many more that I haven’t met.

Wireless was achieved at Macker’s (McDonalds) after a goddamn hike during which Vince and I bandied around job ideas. Crane operator, deck swab, road worker, tour guide were some of the new ones. These were added to our growing list, including; helicopter sheep herder, barista, server, lawnscaper (I know), demolition men, and farm labourer.

After two rapid bus trips through it, downtown Sydney reminds me of a mix of Chicago city planning and architecture with a San Francisco atmosphere and some backward-ass traffic signs. People converse without much prompting and bus drivers don’t really care whether you swipe your pass or not. Slightly hectic but very welcoming is the verdict so far for the city.

[9.22.09] 3 Days before I'm GONE!

Its funny to me how quickly I make life changing choices. Five days ago I was going to stay in Boise, Idaho until Christmas. Three weeks before that I was going to be in LA for at least a year. I had the job locked in and the downtown apartment on the horizon.

And now my plane leaves for Australia in three days. Excuse me?

Damn.

In the rushed research that ensued my decision to go down under, I realized something: It would be great to have a blog dedicated to how a 21 year old recent college grad with no backpacking experience and an appetite for new experiences goes about living the life a brand new country. Honestly if I could find one somewhere out there about the same thing, I would read it. Not that I'm scared of going into the unknown. That I'm looking forward to. I just want to make sure I make the most of it.

So this blog is a chronicle, a critique, and hopefully someday, a tool. My thanks to Vince, who proposed this trip and who I will be meeting up with upon arrival. LMK.

Chance me trip.

SS