I've decided to take a break from my grueling and rigorous studies to write about something that really interests me - food and fashion. And probably take some tangents along the way. Talking about uni just doesn't seem to be nearly as interesting, though I WILL say for the first time in my academic career I'm more enthralled by the endlessly long readings than by the lectures, which take place in cramped "halls" fit with bad lighting and linoleum tiles. While the buildings of NYU might have looked unappealingly modern and industrial, at least they were constructed with upholstered seating. The deceptive old-world sandstone castle architecture of Sydney's buildings might make your eyes glitter with the hope of being magically transported to some sort of wizardry class, when in reality you are stuffed into a remade middle school desk complete with obscene cartoon graffiti listening to an old man drone on about frequency tables. At least this has been my experience thus far. The plus side is that I only had class two days this week - this won't be the case when my tutorials start next week - but the self-directed, we-are-most-definitely-not-holding-your-hand-or-assisting-you-at-all-with-anythingg approach of Sydney's postgrad program is giving me a lot of time to upload my Facebook photos.
On one of my several days off this week, I took a daytrip to Newtown, a trendy area next-door to uni where I rewarded my 10 some odd hours of hard work with a shopping spree. I have been trying to decipher Australian fashion and it's been more difficult than I thought. When I came here in 2010, some guys I befriended asked me what I thought of the style and I jokingly (sort of) said it was a couple years behind America's, and surprisingly they whole heartedly agreed. This is still kind of true, such as when I see the stretched out sweater-shirt, or the leggings with the jean miniskirt being rocked around campus, but Sydney definitely has a brand all its own when it comes to fashion. Here are a few of the more major things I've noticed:
Granny Chic:
Remade, vintage, thrift, and old school trends are definitely in style here. Tons of girls walking around in long polka dot dresses, acid wash jeans, or flouncy blouses that came from some bygone era. It transcends hipsterdom as well, though here "hipster" seems to be more of a mainstream style... which arguably it has in the States too.
The Black Boot:
This is something I definitely don't get. Girls of all shapes, sizes and style choice are walking around with this indistinguishable clunky ankle boot! I can only assume the original trendy brand was Doc Marten because that is what they all look like, though I'm sure some of the better scenesters have found their own designers. When I first got here, I couldn't stand the look of them, especially on girls who were not dressed to be wearing them in the first place, but just as did the jegging and the giant flower headband, they began to grow on me possibly because they are EVERYWHERE. It's not just the punky girl with the leather skinny jeans, it's the girl with the khaki shorts and polo shirt. I don't have a pair yet, but I fear I might not be able to resist.
The No Shoe Look
On the other hand, you have those citizens who choose not to wear shoes at all. I'm not just talking about the homeless, who actually usually are wearing sandals. I know we are sort of kind of near the beach most of the time, but these are people fully dressed in urban center of the city who seemingly have no intention of going to the beach that are walking down the street with no shoes on. Girls and guys of all style persuasions who for whatever reason just couldn't be bothered to utilize footwear. You would guess maybe they didn't have time to tie the knots or do up the complicated buckles, but interestingly, the one characteristic most of them seem to share is that they don't seem to be in a huge rush to get anywhere.
The Overly Expensive Uni Bag
In my quest to find a good bag to carry my books from A to B (from the North shore to the bus stop to the train station through Red Fern to my school ....!) I realized that many girls spend up to $900 on the bag that they are schlepping (how many Aussies know THAT word??) their books in everyday. Popular bags include some designer called Mimco ($400-$500), Country Road (a bit less i think, but still upwards $100), and Longchamp ($700+). I don't know where these ladies are getting their bag funds... perhaps not having to pay for university has shifted their priorities. As for me, I opted for a TopShop bag for about $70.
Of course, style isn't just about what you wear, but how you do things. Eating for example. I have learned that it is a common rule that many Australians think Americans are sloppy eaters because they don't tend to use knives as ubiquitously. This was true for me, at least - I never used knives back home. Here I do because I don't want to be the sloppy looking American, although my ineptness at knife using probably sets me apart as that anyway. Australians have a very quick and precise way of eating where they hold the fork backwards and chop everything up and then slide it onto the back of the fork. I have no idea if this is supposed to be proper, but I can't seem to get a grasp on it. What I think would make someone a sloppy eater is not having a napkin, and so far it seems only restaurants offer those and even then I don't see many people using them. What I do like about Australian dining is that every place, even tiny cafes, give you huge bottles of tap water so you don't have to continually ask for refills.
Walking - seems primal and simple enough, doesn't it? Well, it's not. Apparently, in a country where you drive on the wrong side of the road, you also walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk. This has generated lots of problems for me as I tend to veer to the right when someone is walking at me, and they look at me as though I am deliberately trying to cause trouble. GO LEFT! everyone tells me, but this feels so unnatural. Crossing the street is also a problem if I happen to look the way I am used to looking. Of course, a driver here would rather make you roadkill then slow down to let you cross through massive traffic with two shopping bags in the middle of a lightning storm. Drivers will stop so short so as to create a three car pileup at an allocated pedestrian crossing, but if you happen to have the light at an intersection but someone needs to turn, you better watch your back. That Mercedes wouldn't stop for the Queen.
Speaking of people getting in my way - figuring out a time to run here has been an interesting quandary. Between the hours of 8-10 and 3-5, going for a run around Northbridge has proved impossible because of all the school children. In America, if you are running, it is expected that people will move out of your way and make it easy for you to pass. It is also expected that you will remove your children from the oncoming traffic of my body so that I don't either slam into them or have to stop my pace. That's definitely not the case here. School kids wearing ridiculously large hats and riding scooters that they are too small to properly wield are like land mines that I have to constantly dodge. Their mothers will walk them the length of of the sidewalk and refuse to move them when they see me coming, staring me down as though it were a game of chicken, testing me to see will I really run over such precious cargo? The answer is yes, and eventually I am met with an exasperated eye roll but nothing else as, out of self preservation, the children move themselves. I am not sure if there is some unwritten rule that between these morning and afternoon hours no one else should be doing anything that requires sidewalk space, but being in such an upscale neighborhood I would expect mothers to be teaching their children some manners about moving out of other people's way. The other day one child dropped a water bottle that was rolling down hill right in my path, and her mother just stood there with crossed arms not saying anything, possibly waiting to see if it would end my reign of running terror once and for all.
There are definitely positive sides to all these new adjustments... such as the snakeskin heels I was able to purchase for $10! All of this shopping and eating though have put a dent in my bank - even with loan funds! - so I'm currently seeking a job. I'm considering, though not heavily at this point, getting my RSA which is Responsible Service (something) allowing me to work in a bar. Even though Australians don't tip, it's still well-paid work... but of course I'd rather find something academic if possible.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Time Management
It’s been tough churning these blogs out! Lots has been going on, and I wish I had more time to write about it even if just for myself to have a nice chronology of the things I’ve been doing.
Of course one of the things I’ve been doing a lot of is going to the beach. When I went to my first orientation session for international students – a “welcome/arrival” talk that was given, the speaker asked how many of us had been to the Sydney beaches yet, and surprisingly only a very fair few raised their hands. Of course it’s handy to know some Australians who will take you around to the spots, but even if I didn’t I would think I would really try to make it out there especially in the really hot, humid weather we’ve been having recently. Despite the very small number of beach goers, there was still a talk given on beach and sun safety by a lifeguard which I thought was pretty interesting for a university to do. They are very big on swimming “between the flags” or only in designated safe spots along the currents.
I’d really like to see some beaches outside of Sydney, but for now I’m content with the huge amount there are just in a really short distance. I’ve been to Dee Why, Narrabeen, Manly, Curl Curl, Freshwater, and Balmoral (and Bondi, if you count my trip from two years ago). Manly is probably my favorite in terms of actual beach towns because there’s a lot of shopping and restaurants whereas the other ones are a little more residential. But Freshwater is probably my favorite in general. It’s the most scenic with the best surf, and it’s home to one of my favorite little cafés so far – Pilu, which is actually a really fancy restaurant, but they have an outdoor kiosk where you can buy paninis, espressos, and really amazing pastries while sitting and overlooking the cliffs and waves. Really stunning.
One of the best days of sightseeing I’ve had so far was my trip to Darling Harbor and Cockle Bay Wharf. I hadn’t gotten a chance to go there last time, and it was really beautiful. I think it’s pretty touristy with expensive and sometimes chintzy restaurants (Hard Rock Café), but the harbor itself is beautiful and the bridge walk underneath the monorail line is really nice. It’s also home to the Chinese Gardens and the Aquarium. It’s where I had my first Thai meal since arriving in Sydney, which I couldn’t believe since Thai food is everywhere! Afterwards, I saw the observatory, a beautiful old building home to some really cool space and nautical exhibitions located near the harbor bridge in the Rocks area… sort of. At least we started in the Rocks, and then walked up. It feels like no matter where you walk in Sydney, you’re going up hill, even on the way back from wherever you came from.
Of course it hasn’t all been beaches and thai iced teas and space museums. Every Saturday, Tom and I have had to wake up early and organize apartment inspections which is one of the most frustrating activities I’ve ever encountered. For some reason, all the inspections occur on Saturday from 10-2 and last for 15 minutes each, so we are rushing from Suburb to Suburb across the entire length of Sydney to make the next one on our list. Sometimes, agencies list the wrong address. Other times the buildings are just impossible to find, or the agents have listed wrong, somewhat integral information like there happens to be no kitchen, or they only want one tenant. Sometimes they don’t even tell us the information until after we have filled out the three page application, photocopied dozens of IDs, bank statements, payslips, etc. and submitted it, only to never hear a response and have to hassle the real estate company until we are finally met with “Oh, sorry – one tenant only.” Gdidsghgfojgiehgiovdrejg! Most places don’t include utilities, wardrobes, a fridge, and one place we went to was about $1300 a month and the floor was covered with roach carcasses. Finally, we caught on to the trick of organizing separate inspection times for places that were not open for public viewings, and this past week caught a lucky break. We saw a newish apartment in a nice building – clean, spacious, balcony… not furnished, but not overly expensive, and we were accepted the same day we applied for it. Thankfully it’s the best place we’ve seen and it’s in the same suburb as university, so it’s a good deal on all counts.
I’ve also had a lot of errands with university itself since classes start on Monday. From trying to work out my timetable (schedule), to hassling the international office about my loans, to attending “required” sessions on how to use a computer it’s been a busy week. I’m intrigued by the idea that they are trying to cram everything into this one final week before school, and that they feel so much has to be done. There are arrival sessions for internationals, for postgrads, welcomes for internationals, for postgrads, faculty inaugurations for your schools, different events, and so on and so on. You basically have to live at uni to be able to attend all these things and since there is really no uni housing, I don’t see how all these things are populated. I’ve been to a few arrival sessions for postgrads and internationals, but it’s mostly all the same information, and it seems mostly geared towards students who don’t speak English as a first language. Maybe it’s just the unfamiliarity of a new place, but it seems a lot more disorganized than NYU ever did! It’s a lot different not living on campus though and having access to things constantly. One thing that bothers me about university here is that you are basically expected to pay for everything. Thankfully, for some reason, Public Health students are the only students that get free printing otherwise that itself would cost hundreds of dollars whereas at NYU it was always free. In order to join clubs and events, you also have to buy something called an access card for $100 which gives you “discounts” on things, but seems like the kind of thing where because you have a discount card you want to buy more in order to get the benefit of it. Unlike domestic students, we also don’t get concessions on public transportation, and we have to pay to park on campus. I feel like I’m being cynical, and I understand that domestic students have a different outlook on education since they are not paying for it up front so paying for these amenities doesn’t seem like an issue… but for someone that has always paid for education and expected to receive those amenities it’s difficult to cough up the money. Especially since I’m paying up front for this too.
I’ve also become really interested in the food culture here (could you guess?) One thing I love about Sydney is the coffee culture. It’s everywhere (and by “coffee” I mean espresso): boutiques, parks, school, car washes… you can go anywhere and expect to have a coffee. And it’s a nice coffee too, with a design drawn into the foam. It’s more expensive than in America; even by espresso standards, but it’s worth it to have all these little cafes around everywhere.
Bar and bistro food seems really popular; meats and really expensive specialty salads as well. You can find a panini anywhere, but it’s usually not made properly at ALL (except at Pilu!). I don’t think Italian food is popular in general – I’ve heard you can’t find penne ala vodka, which is my favorite, although I’ve seen lots of nice looking Italian restaurants so I don’t know what the deal is. Maybe like the panini they are not done correctly. Mexican is also out of course, sadly. The other thing I can’t find is vegan food. There a few really small “green grocers” as they call them that have a variety of organic breads and cereals and wheat pastas and weird things in bottles, but don’t have nondairy butters or vegan cheese or any of the things I’m used to eating at home… even veggie dogs or burgers I can’t really find! I’ve been to some organic cafes; one called Scrambled in Enmore is one of my favorites, but although it serves wheat breads and fresh juices, it also serves tons of meats and cheeses which takes it off the vegan list.
What you CAN find is tons and tons and tons of Asian food. Indian, Nepalese, Malaysian, Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai… anything in that regional area is par for the course. I’ve been to a million sushi trains, and had Indian a few times, and for Tom’s birthday we’ve booked a Vietnamese place. For our anniversary we went to a nice Thai place and had some awesome noodle and giant kind prawns in banana blossom and sweet coconut milk. I guess if I can’t find a burrito, I can deal with that.
I’m also surprised how little fish I see on menus. There’s flatfish, whitefish, and prawns (shrimps) a lot, but in terms of other shellfish there’s nothing. I rarely ever see crab or lobster – apparently really expensive – and the scallops at the market were EXTREMELY pricey. I was shocked seeing as Sydney is basically located IN the ocean, but meat seems a lot more popular, and a lot cheaper. I did drag Tom to the Sydney Fish Markets, which he hated. As expected it was crowded to the brim with Asian tourists, and we ordered a huge seafood platter, which was mostly fried and not really what any Australian would ever typically eat. I was pretty surprised to hear that no one knows how to properly eat crab, or goes crabbing, or orders lobsters. I did have to dehead and devein a couple dozen prawns for a barbecue which I had never done before and was quite the experience… but I am really starting to miss east coast seafood! Someone send me some chowder!
Well I will soon have some new contact info for everyone since we’ll be moving in to our new place on March 10th. I DO have a new mobile number as of… ages ago in case anyone is interested in that though I don’t really expect any international calls! It’s 0438891140… for all you Americans out there, you must dial 011-61 first.
Missing everyone back home! xo
Of course one of the things I’ve been doing a lot of is going to the beach. When I went to my first orientation session for international students – a “welcome/arrival” talk that was given, the speaker asked how many of us had been to the Sydney beaches yet, and surprisingly only a very fair few raised their hands. Of course it’s handy to know some Australians who will take you around to the spots, but even if I didn’t I would think I would really try to make it out there especially in the really hot, humid weather we’ve been having recently. Despite the very small number of beach goers, there was still a talk given on beach and sun safety by a lifeguard which I thought was pretty interesting for a university to do. They are very big on swimming “between the flags” or only in designated safe spots along the currents.
I’d really like to see some beaches outside of Sydney, but for now I’m content with the huge amount there are just in a really short distance. I’ve been to Dee Why, Narrabeen, Manly, Curl Curl, Freshwater, and Balmoral (and Bondi, if you count my trip from two years ago). Manly is probably my favorite in terms of actual beach towns because there’s a lot of shopping and restaurants whereas the other ones are a little more residential. But Freshwater is probably my favorite in general. It’s the most scenic with the best surf, and it’s home to one of my favorite little cafés so far – Pilu, which is actually a really fancy restaurant, but they have an outdoor kiosk where you can buy paninis, espressos, and really amazing pastries while sitting and overlooking the cliffs and waves. Really stunning.
One of the best days of sightseeing I’ve had so far was my trip to Darling Harbor and Cockle Bay Wharf. I hadn’t gotten a chance to go there last time, and it was really beautiful. I think it’s pretty touristy with expensive and sometimes chintzy restaurants (Hard Rock Café), but the harbor itself is beautiful and the bridge walk underneath the monorail line is really nice. It’s also home to the Chinese Gardens and the Aquarium. It’s where I had my first Thai meal since arriving in Sydney, which I couldn’t believe since Thai food is everywhere! Afterwards, I saw the observatory, a beautiful old building home to some really cool space and nautical exhibitions located near the harbor bridge in the Rocks area… sort of. At least we started in the Rocks, and then walked up. It feels like no matter where you walk in Sydney, you’re going up hill, even on the way back from wherever you came from.
Of course it hasn’t all been beaches and thai iced teas and space museums. Every Saturday, Tom and I have had to wake up early and organize apartment inspections which is one of the most frustrating activities I’ve ever encountered. For some reason, all the inspections occur on Saturday from 10-2 and last for 15 minutes each, so we are rushing from Suburb to Suburb across the entire length of Sydney to make the next one on our list. Sometimes, agencies list the wrong address. Other times the buildings are just impossible to find, or the agents have listed wrong, somewhat integral information like there happens to be no kitchen, or they only want one tenant. Sometimes they don’t even tell us the information until after we have filled out the three page application, photocopied dozens of IDs, bank statements, payslips, etc. and submitted it, only to never hear a response and have to hassle the real estate company until we are finally met with “Oh, sorry – one tenant only.” Gdidsghgfojgiehgiovdrejg! Most places don’t include utilities, wardrobes, a fridge, and one place we went to was about $1300 a month and the floor was covered with roach carcasses. Finally, we caught on to the trick of organizing separate inspection times for places that were not open for public viewings, and this past week caught a lucky break. We saw a newish apartment in a nice building – clean, spacious, balcony… not furnished, but not overly expensive, and we were accepted the same day we applied for it. Thankfully it’s the best place we’ve seen and it’s in the same suburb as university, so it’s a good deal on all counts.
I’ve also had a lot of errands with university itself since classes start on Monday. From trying to work out my timetable (schedule), to hassling the international office about my loans, to attending “required” sessions on how to use a computer it’s been a busy week. I’m intrigued by the idea that they are trying to cram everything into this one final week before school, and that they feel so much has to be done. There are arrival sessions for internationals, for postgrads, welcomes for internationals, for postgrads, faculty inaugurations for your schools, different events, and so on and so on. You basically have to live at uni to be able to attend all these things and since there is really no uni housing, I don’t see how all these things are populated. I’ve been to a few arrival sessions for postgrads and internationals, but it’s mostly all the same information, and it seems mostly geared towards students who don’t speak English as a first language. Maybe it’s just the unfamiliarity of a new place, but it seems a lot more disorganized than NYU ever did! It’s a lot different not living on campus though and having access to things constantly. One thing that bothers me about university here is that you are basically expected to pay for everything. Thankfully, for some reason, Public Health students are the only students that get free printing otherwise that itself would cost hundreds of dollars whereas at NYU it was always free. In order to join clubs and events, you also have to buy something called an access card for $100 which gives you “discounts” on things, but seems like the kind of thing where because you have a discount card you want to buy more in order to get the benefit of it. Unlike domestic students, we also don’t get concessions on public transportation, and we have to pay to park on campus. I feel like I’m being cynical, and I understand that domestic students have a different outlook on education since they are not paying for it up front so paying for these amenities doesn’t seem like an issue… but for someone that has always paid for education and expected to receive those amenities it’s difficult to cough up the money. Especially since I’m paying up front for this too.
I’ve also become really interested in the food culture here (could you guess?) One thing I love about Sydney is the coffee culture. It’s everywhere (and by “coffee” I mean espresso): boutiques, parks, school, car washes… you can go anywhere and expect to have a coffee. And it’s a nice coffee too, with a design drawn into the foam. It’s more expensive than in America; even by espresso standards, but it’s worth it to have all these little cafes around everywhere.
Bar and bistro food seems really popular; meats and really expensive specialty salads as well. You can find a panini anywhere, but it’s usually not made properly at ALL (except at Pilu!). I don’t think Italian food is popular in general – I’ve heard you can’t find penne ala vodka, which is my favorite, although I’ve seen lots of nice looking Italian restaurants so I don’t know what the deal is. Maybe like the panini they are not done correctly. Mexican is also out of course, sadly. The other thing I can’t find is vegan food. There a few really small “green grocers” as they call them that have a variety of organic breads and cereals and wheat pastas and weird things in bottles, but don’t have nondairy butters or vegan cheese or any of the things I’m used to eating at home… even veggie dogs or burgers I can’t really find! I’ve been to some organic cafes; one called Scrambled in Enmore is one of my favorites, but although it serves wheat breads and fresh juices, it also serves tons of meats and cheeses which takes it off the vegan list.
What you CAN find is tons and tons and tons of Asian food. Indian, Nepalese, Malaysian, Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai… anything in that regional area is par for the course. I’ve been to a million sushi trains, and had Indian a few times, and for Tom’s birthday we’ve booked a Vietnamese place. For our anniversary we went to a nice Thai place and had some awesome noodle and giant kind prawns in banana blossom and sweet coconut milk. I guess if I can’t find a burrito, I can deal with that.
I’m also surprised how little fish I see on menus. There’s flatfish, whitefish, and prawns (shrimps) a lot, but in terms of other shellfish there’s nothing. I rarely ever see crab or lobster – apparently really expensive – and the scallops at the market were EXTREMELY pricey. I was shocked seeing as Sydney is basically located IN the ocean, but meat seems a lot more popular, and a lot cheaper. I did drag Tom to the Sydney Fish Markets, which he hated. As expected it was crowded to the brim with Asian tourists, and we ordered a huge seafood platter, which was mostly fried and not really what any Australian would ever typically eat. I was pretty surprised to hear that no one knows how to properly eat crab, or goes crabbing, or orders lobsters. I did have to dehead and devein a couple dozen prawns for a barbecue which I had never done before and was quite the experience… but I am really starting to miss east coast seafood! Someone send me some chowder!
Well I will soon have some new contact info for everyone since we’ll be moving in to our new place on March 10th. I DO have a new mobile number as of… ages ago in case anyone is interested in that though I don’t really expect any international calls! It’s 0438891140… for all you Americans out there, you must dial 011-61 first.
Missing everyone back home! xo
Sunday, February 12, 2012
All the Places We'll Go
Unlike in Micronesia where I had wide, vast expanses of time with which to do nothing, being in Australia has been a whirlwind even before school has started so I haven’t had much of a chance to write blogs. It’s partly a shame, because I like to write things as they happen and look back later and be able to tell chronologically exactly when events occurred and when things took place, but it feels as though since I’ve arrived I’ve just been gun rushed with sensations and experiences and newness. Writing also helped me cope with the strangeness of Micronesia, but Australia isn’t so strange, and even though I do get a little homesick from time to time, the staying busy part really helps.
Since I’ve last written, Tom took me on a cursory but efficient tour of the city of Sydney. Describing Sydney to someone from New York is really difficult, because as a New Yorker (from the city I mean), you would never really say that someone from an outside suburb – except someone from Brooklyn or Queens – was from New York City. But it seems here that no matter how far outside the “city” city we drive, whether it’s a few miles out across the harbor bridge to Tom’s suburb of Northbridge, or a half hour away to a beach town like Dee Why, we’re still somehow “in” Sydney. I guess in some senses in might be akin to the boroughs of New York, or the outward neighborhoods of Boston, but when I think of Sydney I really only picture the urban areas I guess because I am trying so hard to match it and map it out with what I know of New York.
Anyway, the bus we take goes to a stop called Wynard, which I remember from last time, and is directly across from a Starbucks! The drinks are not really the same as back home, though. The sizes are similar, but they’re still trying to push that strange little guy, flat white, and everything seemed really sweet. It was way more crowded than I expected it to be though, for something that is apparently not very popular here.
I really wanted to return to the Rocks, an area that I really liked last time, but we only walked through a small part before coming to an upscale shopping area called St. James, and then retreating into a David Jones (these department stores are everywhere) down to something called the Pete Street Market (I think?) It reminded me a little of the Fish Market from last time I was here; vendors selling things like a marketplace, but also cafes, bakeries, sushi train, etc. We were there a little too early for anything to be open, but we did find a baguette place for lunch.
We traveled to the Sydney barracks, and then to the Art Gallery of New South Wales. It’s a free museum with the exception of special exhibits, including one happening now featuring Picasso. There’s a lot of Byzantine and Victorian art, and a bunch of contemporary Australian artists. There was only a very, very small amount of Aboriginal art. Not surprisingly, more indigenous art was featured on postcards for purchase.
We also took a trip to the botanical gardens, which is pretty sizeable and situated right in the center of the city. Afterwards we walked the circumference of the opera house and ended up right where we had started. I’m still trying to work out how large Sydney is, at least the central urban piece. It’s difficult because it’s not laid out very logically. Hopefully I will be able to orient myself sooner or later.
Yesterday we went to another beach a little north of Dee Why called Narrabeen. There were less shops and cafes than at Dee Why, but as a result it looked a little more natural and there were less people even though the day was very bright and warm (unusual since its been so rainy). There were lots of people surfing and some fishing, and the water was a bit rougher than the last time we were at the beach. The waves break really far from shore, and come very quickly, so unless you are prepared to swim out far from land, you basically have to stand right where they’re breaking and dive into the crash. It was a little unnerving at first since my last few years at the beach have been so calm – the waveless beach vacations at Rehoboth and living in lagoon waters. I definitely have to get into it though. I love the ocean and it seems like everyone here is fearless of the waves.
One thing people are afraid of here is the sun. Tanning salons, or “solariums,” have been banned here… at least in New South Wales – though I did see one in a neighborhood called Leichhardt the other day. There are lots of campaigns against tanning and how there’s nothing healthy about wanting to be tan. Public schools here are issued uniforms, and hats seem to frequently be part of them. Skin cancer is evidently a very big issue here, probably because Australia has some sort of ozone issue, and is also a big beach culture. Still, there are young people, both girls and boys, with very deep and defined tans, just like there are a surprising amount of young people here who smoke, despite the insanely high price and general inaccessibility of cigarettes, and the very in-your-face anti smoking campaigns. Regardless, I don’t see much difference in the amount of people who tan or smoke versus the US. If anything, I think I see more young people here smoking, and not having anti smoking rules enforced (such as on the beach which really grosses me out for some reason).
We are still looking for apartments. It’s been the most frustrating part of my stay so far because it’s so much different and so much more of a process than finding one back home. I feel like real estate agents are conspiring against us not to let us rent. In the mean time, I’m fortunate to have a place to stay, but would really love to be settled before school.
Since I’ve last written, Tom took me on a cursory but efficient tour of the city of Sydney. Describing Sydney to someone from New York is really difficult, because as a New Yorker (from the city I mean), you would never really say that someone from an outside suburb – except someone from Brooklyn or Queens – was from New York City. But it seems here that no matter how far outside the “city” city we drive, whether it’s a few miles out across the harbor bridge to Tom’s suburb of Northbridge, or a half hour away to a beach town like Dee Why, we’re still somehow “in” Sydney. I guess in some senses in might be akin to the boroughs of New York, or the outward neighborhoods of Boston, but when I think of Sydney I really only picture the urban areas I guess because I am trying so hard to match it and map it out with what I know of New York.
Anyway, the bus we take goes to a stop called Wynard, which I remember from last time, and is directly across from a Starbucks! The drinks are not really the same as back home, though. The sizes are similar, but they’re still trying to push that strange little guy, flat white, and everything seemed really sweet. It was way more crowded than I expected it to be though, for something that is apparently not very popular here.
I really wanted to return to the Rocks, an area that I really liked last time, but we only walked through a small part before coming to an upscale shopping area called St. James, and then retreating into a David Jones (these department stores are everywhere) down to something called the Pete Street Market (I think?) It reminded me a little of the Fish Market from last time I was here; vendors selling things like a marketplace, but also cafes, bakeries, sushi train, etc. We were there a little too early for anything to be open, but we did find a baguette place for lunch.
We traveled to the Sydney barracks, and then to the Art Gallery of New South Wales. It’s a free museum with the exception of special exhibits, including one happening now featuring Picasso. There’s a lot of Byzantine and Victorian art, and a bunch of contemporary Australian artists. There was only a very, very small amount of Aboriginal art. Not surprisingly, more indigenous art was featured on postcards for purchase.
We also took a trip to the botanical gardens, which is pretty sizeable and situated right in the center of the city. Afterwards we walked the circumference of the opera house and ended up right where we had started. I’m still trying to work out how large Sydney is, at least the central urban piece. It’s difficult because it’s not laid out very logically. Hopefully I will be able to orient myself sooner or later.
Yesterday we went to another beach a little north of Dee Why called Narrabeen. There were less shops and cafes than at Dee Why, but as a result it looked a little more natural and there were less people even though the day was very bright and warm (unusual since its been so rainy). There were lots of people surfing and some fishing, and the water was a bit rougher than the last time we were at the beach. The waves break really far from shore, and come very quickly, so unless you are prepared to swim out far from land, you basically have to stand right where they’re breaking and dive into the crash. It was a little unnerving at first since my last few years at the beach have been so calm – the waveless beach vacations at Rehoboth and living in lagoon waters. I definitely have to get into it though. I love the ocean and it seems like everyone here is fearless of the waves.
One thing people are afraid of here is the sun. Tanning salons, or “solariums,” have been banned here… at least in New South Wales – though I did see one in a neighborhood called Leichhardt the other day. There are lots of campaigns against tanning and how there’s nothing healthy about wanting to be tan. Public schools here are issued uniforms, and hats seem to frequently be part of them. Skin cancer is evidently a very big issue here, probably because Australia has some sort of ozone issue, and is also a big beach culture. Still, there are young people, both girls and boys, with very deep and defined tans, just like there are a surprising amount of young people here who smoke, despite the insanely high price and general inaccessibility of cigarettes, and the very in-your-face anti smoking campaigns. Regardless, I don’t see much difference in the amount of people who tan or smoke versus the US. If anything, I think I see more young people here smoking, and not having anti smoking rules enforced (such as on the beach which really grosses me out for some reason).
We are still looking for apartments. It’s been the most frustrating part of my stay so far because it’s so much different and so much more of a process than finding one back home. I feel like real estate agents are conspiring against us not to let us rent. In the mean time, I’m fortunate to have a place to stay, but would really love to be settled before school.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Upon Arrival
It’s been just a little under a week since I’ve arrived in Sydney and it feels like I’ve already been here forever. Though I guess if one has been somewhere forever, they would know how to get around on their own. The good part about having contacts here is that I can rely on people for help. The bad part is that I don’t really have to force myself to figure out how to do things or get places for myself, so if I were really eventually to find myself on my own, I could really be in a pickle.
The past 6 days have been full of ups and downs. I’ll try to recap simply:
THINGS I HAVE ENJOYED:
1.Sightseeing.
I did plenty of this last time I was here, but I’m trying to branch out a little and see things that are a little more obscure. I’ve been back to Circular Quay, but only at night after visiting a place called Argyle, an upscale-ish bar located in an area of the city called the Rocks which I went to during the day last time to visit a street market. Tom also took me on a short hike through his neighborhood of Northbridge, and also to Lavender Bay/Blue Point, which is near a creepy looking amusement park called Luna Park and directly across the harbor from the Opera House. We were able to visit this very quiet and rather secretish site called Wendy Whiteley’s Garden. Wendy Whiteley is an artist, and the wife of a deceased artist and mother to a deceased actress, who built up this garden and surrounding neighborhood, and apparently the ashes of her family are located somewhere within it. It was a really beautiful and strangely hidden place.
I’ve also gone back to see the university – not really to sightsee, but because I had to set some things straight at the international office with my loans. Still, it was nice to walk around; the campus doesn’t seem super daunting, possibly because its mostly enclosed and I’m used to having to navigate through downtown NYC to find my classrooms. I have some welcome and orientation events to attend in the coming weeks so hopefully I’ll have all my bearings by then.
2. Eating.
Who doesn’t love this? Last time, I was finagled into eating something called a “meat pie” at a rugby game, which is arguably the most Australian scenario you could rustle up. I never got to eat kangaroo, which is probably for the best because the fact that it is the world’s only edible national emblem is not really the selling point I somehow feel its meant to be. I’ve eaten Indian food twice and something called sushi train…and I do NOT understand why this phenomenon doesn’t exist in New York. In a city where you can eat raw fish off a naked person, one would assume you could just as easily sit in front of a conveyor belt offering a neverending selection of raw fish and tempura-ed delights and not have anyone tell you that you can’t stack up any more plates. As Australian dining goes, its also one of the cheaper options. I actually intend to go back tonight.
I’ve also had barbecue, and this passion fruit yogurt, which I had last time and can’t really describe except to say that I really don’t like American yogurt but have been craving this stuff since I left. I’ve also continued my daily coffee ritual, only here there are no Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts, only smaller espresso cafes that serve expensive and delicately designed foamed cappuccinos in glass cups. You can’t order brewed coffee in any of these places – apparently no one would buy it – and I haven’t seen decaf listed anywhere either. “Coffee” really means espresso, and is basically listed as cappuccino, latte, mocha, and something called a flat white. The Australians think a cappuccino has something to do with whether or not chocolate is shaved on the foam, and a flat white either has more or less milk than a latte (I can never really remember which). It all tastes the same really. As far as I can tell, the only reason you’d need a course to become a barista is to make those fancy little designs in the foam.
3. The Beach
On Saturday, Tom took me to Dee Why, a beach about 30 minutes away from his house in Northbridge. It was different than any American beach I had been to – there were lots of small shops and nice cafes nearby, but nothing cheesy or chintzy. No surf shops and no boardwalk. There were no bars really or casino type places. Everything seemed really small-town. It was pretty crowded because it had been the first hot, sunny day in a while, but no more crowded than a typical day at any other beach town I’ve visited. The water was near the same bright blue I remember from the Pacific, but a LOT colder than I thought it would be! The waves were breaking a lot further from shore, and there was a pretty strong current, so I didn’t swim out that far. Mostly tried to get some color but ended up getting a splotchy burn.
I asked about the name – Tom said it might correspond to map coordinates, but no one is really sure.
THINGS I HAVE NOT ENJOYED AS MUCH:
1. The Weather.
It’s been downright weird since I arrived. Mostly overcast and rainy with only two days of uninterrupted sunshine. It can’t decide whether or not to be hot or cold, so it’s settled on just plain muggy which makes me sweat and my hair frizz out. It’s making me a little cranky for sure especially when we have outdoor things planned, and when I anticipated a sunny beach environment. I’m expecting March to be beautiful – after I’ve started my course.
2. The Traffic.
I think getting around Sydney is more a pain in the ass than New York despite the size difference. Disregarding the fact that the road rules are different, what with driving on opposite sides and such, people drive very aggressively and rushed and the traffic during certain “peak” hours is horrible. Peak hours, by the way, are not just typical rush hours like 9 am and 5pm, but 9 am, whenever kids might be going to school, whenever kids might have a lunch hour, whenever kids are getting out of school, 5pm, and whenever it’s raining. In addition, while cars are good about yielding to cross walks, pedestrians basically never have the right of way at any other point in time. Makes both driving and walking a harried experience. Better to catch the bus.
3. Renting an Apartment.
Possibly the most difficult experience yet. Prospective tenants have to search for open places (there aren’t many) online and make themselves available for the 15 minute span of time the apartments will be open for and inspection. Many inspections take place on Saturday afternoons. Last weekend, Tom and I shuttled all over the city trying to make it to six different inspections – we only succeeded in making three. The apartments in our price range our tiny and many of them have shared bathrooms, shared kitchens, half-kitchens, no laundry, etc. Renting doesn’t seem as popular here as it does back home especially for students, and when we went to drop off an application for a place, we were reamed out for not bringing enough proof that we could pay for it (i.e. my bank statements from the US listing my savings balance). It seems a very invasive process, but I’ve never rented before, so it’s hard to tell what’s typical. One would think my loan documentation would be sufficient, particularly since I can’t imagine many international students looking to rent off campus have employment 5 days after landing… but what do I know about real estate?
All in all, my days have mostly been filled with errands interspersed with the occasional fun runs about town. I haven’t yet seen a koala OR a kangaroo, or been to a museum or the Sydney aquarium. I think I’ve been to a good portion of the local cafes, and all the shopping centers this side of the harbor bridge...but not for any retail therapy (Sydney is unbelievably expensive), for stuff like a hair dryer with a proper plug and a sim card for my phone. Here’s hoping that in a few weeks we’ll have an apartment and be settled before school… but one thing I’ve noticed is despite the city living, attitudes are a lot more laid back here than in New York. Inexplicable since everyone is always drinking full-on espressos.
The past 6 days have been full of ups and downs. I’ll try to recap simply:
THINGS I HAVE ENJOYED:
1.Sightseeing.
I did plenty of this last time I was here, but I’m trying to branch out a little and see things that are a little more obscure. I’ve been back to Circular Quay, but only at night after visiting a place called Argyle, an upscale-ish bar located in an area of the city called the Rocks which I went to during the day last time to visit a street market. Tom also took me on a short hike through his neighborhood of Northbridge, and also to Lavender Bay/Blue Point, which is near a creepy looking amusement park called Luna Park and directly across the harbor from the Opera House. We were able to visit this very quiet and rather secretish site called Wendy Whiteley’s Garden. Wendy Whiteley is an artist, and the wife of a deceased artist and mother to a deceased actress, who built up this garden and surrounding neighborhood, and apparently the ashes of her family are located somewhere within it. It was a really beautiful and strangely hidden place.
I’ve also gone back to see the university – not really to sightsee, but because I had to set some things straight at the international office with my loans. Still, it was nice to walk around; the campus doesn’t seem super daunting, possibly because its mostly enclosed and I’m used to having to navigate through downtown NYC to find my classrooms. I have some welcome and orientation events to attend in the coming weeks so hopefully I’ll have all my bearings by then.
2. Eating.
Who doesn’t love this? Last time, I was finagled into eating something called a “meat pie” at a rugby game, which is arguably the most Australian scenario you could rustle up. I never got to eat kangaroo, which is probably for the best because the fact that it is the world’s only edible national emblem is not really the selling point I somehow feel its meant to be. I’ve eaten Indian food twice and something called sushi train…and I do NOT understand why this phenomenon doesn’t exist in New York. In a city where you can eat raw fish off a naked person, one would assume you could just as easily sit in front of a conveyor belt offering a neverending selection of raw fish and tempura-ed delights and not have anyone tell you that you can’t stack up any more plates. As Australian dining goes, its also one of the cheaper options. I actually intend to go back tonight.
I’ve also had barbecue, and this passion fruit yogurt, which I had last time and can’t really describe except to say that I really don’t like American yogurt but have been craving this stuff since I left. I’ve also continued my daily coffee ritual, only here there are no Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts, only smaller espresso cafes that serve expensive and delicately designed foamed cappuccinos in glass cups. You can’t order brewed coffee in any of these places – apparently no one would buy it – and I haven’t seen decaf listed anywhere either. “Coffee” really means espresso, and is basically listed as cappuccino, latte, mocha, and something called a flat white. The Australians think a cappuccino has something to do with whether or not chocolate is shaved on the foam, and a flat white either has more or less milk than a latte (I can never really remember which). It all tastes the same really. As far as I can tell, the only reason you’d need a course to become a barista is to make those fancy little designs in the foam.
3. The Beach
On Saturday, Tom took me to Dee Why, a beach about 30 minutes away from his house in Northbridge. It was different than any American beach I had been to – there were lots of small shops and nice cafes nearby, but nothing cheesy or chintzy. No surf shops and no boardwalk. There were no bars really or casino type places. Everything seemed really small-town. It was pretty crowded because it had been the first hot, sunny day in a while, but no more crowded than a typical day at any other beach town I’ve visited. The water was near the same bright blue I remember from the Pacific, but a LOT colder than I thought it would be! The waves were breaking a lot further from shore, and there was a pretty strong current, so I didn’t swim out that far. Mostly tried to get some color but ended up getting a splotchy burn.
I asked about the name – Tom said it might correspond to map coordinates, but no one is really sure.
THINGS I HAVE NOT ENJOYED AS MUCH:
1. The Weather.
It’s been downright weird since I arrived. Mostly overcast and rainy with only two days of uninterrupted sunshine. It can’t decide whether or not to be hot or cold, so it’s settled on just plain muggy which makes me sweat and my hair frizz out. It’s making me a little cranky for sure especially when we have outdoor things planned, and when I anticipated a sunny beach environment. I’m expecting March to be beautiful – after I’ve started my course.
2. The Traffic.
I think getting around Sydney is more a pain in the ass than New York despite the size difference. Disregarding the fact that the road rules are different, what with driving on opposite sides and such, people drive very aggressively and rushed and the traffic during certain “peak” hours is horrible. Peak hours, by the way, are not just typical rush hours like 9 am and 5pm, but 9 am, whenever kids might be going to school, whenever kids might have a lunch hour, whenever kids are getting out of school, 5pm, and whenever it’s raining. In addition, while cars are good about yielding to cross walks, pedestrians basically never have the right of way at any other point in time. Makes both driving and walking a harried experience. Better to catch the bus.
3. Renting an Apartment.
Possibly the most difficult experience yet. Prospective tenants have to search for open places (there aren’t many) online and make themselves available for the 15 minute span of time the apartments will be open for and inspection. Many inspections take place on Saturday afternoons. Last weekend, Tom and I shuttled all over the city trying to make it to six different inspections – we only succeeded in making three. The apartments in our price range our tiny and many of them have shared bathrooms, shared kitchens, half-kitchens, no laundry, etc. Renting doesn’t seem as popular here as it does back home especially for students, and when we went to drop off an application for a place, we were reamed out for not bringing enough proof that we could pay for it (i.e. my bank statements from the US listing my savings balance). It seems a very invasive process, but I’ve never rented before, so it’s hard to tell what’s typical. One would think my loan documentation would be sufficient, particularly since I can’t imagine many international students looking to rent off campus have employment 5 days after landing… but what do I know about real estate?
All in all, my days have mostly been filled with errands interspersed with the occasional fun runs about town. I haven’t yet seen a koala OR a kangaroo, or been to a museum or the Sydney aquarium. I think I’ve been to a good portion of the local cafes, and all the shopping centers this side of the harbor bridge...but not for any retail therapy (Sydney is unbelievably expensive), for stuff like a hair dryer with a proper plug and a sim card for my phone. Here’s hoping that in a few weeks we’ll have an apartment and be settled before school… but one thing I’ve noticed is despite the city living, attitudes are a lot more laid back here than in New York. Inexplicable since everyone is always drinking full-on espressos.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Beginnings
It has been a little over a year since I’ve written here, and a lot has changed! As you can see from my blog title and picture, I am no longer in Micronesia, but I AM continuing my travels in the Pacific. I’m not there yet, but if all goes according to plan, I will be leaving for Sydney, Australia on January 31.
It was hard to me to look back on this blog for a while. Pretty much directly after returning home last December, I received news that the dog I had written about as my parting post had been stolen – exactly the very thing I had feared. It was difficult to see pictures of him and to read my hopes that he would be looked after and cared for (anyone that’s an animal lover or even has just owned a dog will hopefully understand these sentiments). It still upsets me to think back on it now since I’m the last person who would ever abandon an animal – but I had to do it twice to ones I fostered in Micronesia – and I just have to accept it as a reality of the place I was inhabiting at the time.
Partially in response to the guilt I felt over this, I began volunteering for the Dutchess ASPCA while I was unemployed last winter. I only worked with the cats because I have always been more of a cat person and because even the “small dogs” at the shelter were terrifying and vicious (not that I blame them). I love dogs, but don’t have much experience caring for them, and cats have always seemed more therapeutic. This turned out to be sometimes true, and sometimes not so true as some of the cats were not that friendly either. After a few weeks of volunteerism, I was asked if I would like to be a foster parent for some baby animals. Pretty much nothing in the world would have pleased me more, and I agreed without asking anyone else in my house if it would be ok. About three days later, they called me stating they had four kittens up for fostering and asked if I would do it.
It definitely took a house full of people to care for them, but since I had the time on my hands, fostering four baby kittens was a lot of fun. We ended up keeping two of them (I wanted to keep all four, but that didn’t go over very well).
I had to stop volunteering, and basically all other activities, after getting a job last summer in Saugerties. For about six months I worked at the Boys and Girls Club as the Program Director which was an even more difficult job than teaching at Xavier, something I never thought would be possible. I had been promised that working in Chuuk would be the most trying thing I ever did, but someone was lying. Non profit work is harder. The specifics are unimportant, but I definitely feel like a stronger individual for sticking with that position as long as I did. I have to admire the people that make that a career. I do miss the kids I was working with, just like I miss the kids at Xavier. It’s always hard to create impact and then leave as quickly as you came.
In late fall I was admitted to Sydney University’s Medical School to undertake a Masters in International Public Health, which was part of the reason I left BGCA. I made the decision to go back to school pretty fast, and wanted to spend the last few months I had at home with my family and preparing to leave. And there are lots of preparations! Loan applications, visas, medical exams for visas, trying to get people to give you money to pay for your visas… the list is endless. Whicchhh pretty much brings this blog up to date in the quickest way possible! I’m leaving at the end of the month, and will (likely) return next December, hopefully with a Masters!
The uni system works differently in Australia. I’m doing a Masters by Coursework and it’s a year-long program, which surprises everyone because it seems so short. I’m unsure if I’ll pursue doctoral work or just try to get a job or travel or whatever afterwards… I have to see where this degree takes me. I’m really interested in the classes it offers (besides epidemiology and biostats). It focuses on public health in developing countries, which is sort of what I did working for Chuuk Women’s Council. I’m a little nervous about the work, but excited about living in a new place. I’m lucky that I have a support system there already, which wasn’t really the case when I first arrived in Chuuk.
Anyway, this is just a catch-up post – for now, I am still home in New York finishing up some last minute things and tackling the impossible task of figuring out which clothes to pack. I am unsure what my new address and phone number will be, but I’ll be sure to send them out to friends and family when I know them.
Thanks for reading!
Peace,
Lydia
It was hard to me to look back on this blog for a while. Pretty much directly after returning home last December, I received news that the dog I had written about as my parting post had been stolen – exactly the very thing I had feared. It was difficult to see pictures of him and to read my hopes that he would be looked after and cared for (anyone that’s an animal lover or even has just owned a dog will hopefully understand these sentiments). It still upsets me to think back on it now since I’m the last person who would ever abandon an animal – but I had to do it twice to ones I fostered in Micronesia – and I just have to accept it as a reality of the place I was inhabiting at the time.
Partially in response to the guilt I felt over this, I began volunteering for the Dutchess ASPCA while I was unemployed last winter. I only worked with the cats because I have always been more of a cat person and because even the “small dogs” at the shelter were terrifying and vicious (not that I blame them). I love dogs, but don’t have much experience caring for them, and cats have always seemed more therapeutic. This turned out to be sometimes true, and sometimes not so true as some of the cats were not that friendly either. After a few weeks of volunteerism, I was asked if I would like to be a foster parent for some baby animals. Pretty much nothing in the world would have pleased me more, and I agreed without asking anyone else in my house if it would be ok. About three days later, they called me stating they had four kittens up for fostering and asked if I would do it.
It definitely took a house full of people to care for them, but since I had the time on my hands, fostering four baby kittens was a lot of fun. We ended up keeping two of them (I wanted to keep all four, but that didn’t go over very well).
I had to stop volunteering, and basically all other activities, after getting a job last summer in Saugerties. For about six months I worked at the Boys and Girls Club as the Program Director which was an even more difficult job than teaching at Xavier, something I never thought would be possible. I had been promised that working in Chuuk would be the most trying thing I ever did, but someone was lying. Non profit work is harder. The specifics are unimportant, but I definitely feel like a stronger individual for sticking with that position as long as I did. I have to admire the people that make that a career. I do miss the kids I was working with, just like I miss the kids at Xavier. It’s always hard to create impact and then leave as quickly as you came.
In late fall I was admitted to Sydney University’s Medical School to undertake a Masters in International Public Health, which was part of the reason I left BGCA. I made the decision to go back to school pretty fast, and wanted to spend the last few months I had at home with my family and preparing to leave. And there are lots of preparations! Loan applications, visas, medical exams for visas, trying to get people to give you money to pay for your visas… the list is endless. Whicchhh pretty much brings this blog up to date in the quickest way possible! I’m leaving at the end of the month, and will (likely) return next December, hopefully with a Masters!
The uni system works differently in Australia. I’m doing a Masters by Coursework and it’s a year-long program, which surprises everyone because it seems so short. I’m unsure if I’ll pursue doctoral work or just try to get a job or travel or whatever afterwards… I have to see where this degree takes me. I’m really interested in the classes it offers (besides epidemiology and biostats). It focuses on public health in developing countries, which is sort of what I did working for Chuuk Women’s Council. I’m a little nervous about the work, but excited about living in a new place. I’m lucky that I have a support system there already, which wasn’t really the case when I first arrived in Chuuk.
Anyway, this is just a catch-up post – for now, I am still home in New York finishing up some last minute things and tackling the impossible task of figuring out which clothes to pack. I am unsure what my new address and phone number will be, but I’ll be sure to send them out to friends and family when I know them.
Thanks for reading!
Peace,
Lydia
Thursday, December 9, 2010
A Word about Muffin, and Others.
I have been an animal lover since… forever. When I was little, I pined for a pet, but the best I got was a tankful of pretty fish that to my dismay usually lasted all of 48 hours. Once, when I was in kindergarten, I got to take home some baby chicks for some project or another. They all died in a few short days, stricken with some mysterious chicken disease. I was devastated. When I was a little older, I took to capturing salamanders and putting them in the same tank that once housed my fish. They usually escaped.
For whatever reason, my parents never got us an *actual* pet. Most of my friends had either a cat or dog, or both. Some had birds, rabbits, or lizards. Reptiles seemed lazy, rabbits seemed stupid, and I hated the idea of keeping birds in a cage. Nothing could possibly be more contrary to nature. I wanted a cat or a dog desperately. I couldn’t tell if my parents just never liked the idea of a pet because they had never had one themselves and didn’t understand the joy that animals invariably bring, or they didn’t want to spend the money and time taking care of something that would not get a college degree and go on to make lots of money to support them in their retirement. Somehow though, I knew there was a hole in their hearts that could only be filled with the sweet barks or meows of a loving critter. My suspicions grew more and more concrete when one Christmas I asked for a horrible little toy: a fake dog that came with so much “fur” and a set of salon tools with which to cut and groom it. My parents both expressed disgust at such a thing and told me with certainty I wouldn’t be getting it and I should ask for something else. To my delight, I received it on Christmas anyway; a gift from Santa. I inwardly cackled at my expertise at wrapping that fat old man around my finger once more, and receiving what my parents vowed they would never give me. Of course, when I stopped believing in Santa, I realized they had been the ones buying those toys all along, and that one in particular which they thought so distasteful. Something told me that deep down, they really wanted a pet.
Things progressed. We got a hamster named Esquire. He lived in a two-tiered golden cage like a king and had the best of the best. Because my father hated keeping anything locked up, the two of us would sit in my room for an hour every night while the hamster ran around all over the place, as free as could be. Sometimes he would sneak away, only to be found hours later sleeping in someone’s fuzzy slipper, or munching on nuts and grapes beneath a table. He had an adorable face, but a rather tedious disposition despite the various personalities and alter-egos my brother and I invented for him. I drew pictures of him everywhere, and talked about him constantly with my friends at school. He was a relatively boring animal in retrospect, but my brother and I loved nothing more. Once we had a visitor stay with us; a family friend’s sister. She asked us if we had a pet, and we both answered excitedly that we had a hamster. She guffawed and shouted, “No, a REAL pet!” My brother and I sat in silent shock. What was more real than our precious rodent? When he died, we had a “family meeting.” Our mother told us gently he had passed away in his sleep, and my brother and I burst out into violent tears. We could not even be consoled with offerings of Friendly’s Jim Dandy five scoop ice cream sundaes that we were usually never allowed to have.
I became more and more of an animal adorer. I’m not ashamed to say that I am often more affected by cruelty to animals than cruelty to other people. It sounds harsh and misguided, but that’s just where my feelings lie and I can’t change them. In trying to explain why I love animals so much and why I am so much more hurt and angered by the mistreatment, neglect, or abuse of animals than of people, my response is always because animals cannot understand their feelings the way humans can. Animals know feelings: loneliness, pain, abandonment, sadness… but unlike humans, cannot discern why they are hurting. If forsaken, animals do not know why, they only know they have been left behind. If abused, they cannot understand that some humans are sadistic and evil, and that a better life is waiting for them elsewhere, only that their life is painful. Unlike humans, animals have no ability to be malicious or vindictive. They have no sense of doing someone or something intentional harm. They act on instinct and loyalty. It makes me sad in a way I am never otherwise sad when I hear about stories of animal cruelty and abuse. It is difficult for me to imagine humans having the capacity to harm animals just out of sadistic pleasure, apathy, ignorance, or just a lack of kindness, but this is so often the case. Maybe this is why I have so much more compassion for animals than I do for most people.
I have talked before about the neglect and abuse of animals in FSM, so I won’t do that here. This post isn’t about my feelings regarding animal treatment in this country (which are not positive one), it is instead about the wonderful experiences I have had with animals here, despite the obstacles they must overcome. It shows the true resilience of all creatures, and not just human ones.
During my first month last year at Xavier, my mother informed me via email that my cat was ill. My cat had always been sickly, needing various medications for various problems. He had always been, though, the love of both my life and my brother’s. He made a cat-lover out of my father, whom never thought such a thing possible. We got him when I was about 11 or 12 years old, and despite our parents’ fear that we would grow tired of him, our love for him only grew exponentially. He was not always the most affectionate animal; very selective about when and where and with whom he wanted to cuddle, but I knew that he understood more than we usually gave him credit for. When I was sick, I could always look forward to him sitting by my side tirelessly, something he would never do otherwise, even consenting to be held and petted for extended periods of time. As difficult as this is for me to admit, he probably loved my brother most of all, taking to sleeping in his bed every morning before my brother woke up. Hearing that he was seriously ill was devastating for me, and I wanted nothing more than to be back with him, comforting him the way he always comforted me when I was sick. A few days later, my mom called me to tell me he was dying. I pleaded with her to wait to do anything until I came home in the summer, but she said that it was urgent. He was in pain, and the vet would need to put him down right away. The hurt and shock I felt was immeasurable. I cried endlessly, hating myself for being across the world while my beloved pet was dying, maybe wondering where I had gone. My brother told me later it was the first time in years he had cried. In retrospect, I am glad I was not home. I think it would have been so much more awful for me spending that last night with him, knowing what was coming while he remained so ignorant. I don’t think I could have gone to the vet with him and seen him go to sleep for the last time. I am so thankful that my father had the strength to do that so Twilight was not completely alone.
I have spoken countless times about my cat Oreo that came to me (not the other way around for once!) while I was at Xavier, and whom I raised from kittenhood, so I don’t need to elaborate on her here. Like all my pets, I love her and miss her with all my heart, and am always hoping for her safety and happiness.
The day I returned back to Pohnpei from Chuuk, I discovered a delightful surprise: we had a puppy! One of the Pohnpeians built him a cage in which he was resting fretfully. My uncle warned me that he was a mean, savage little thing and hated everyone. I walked up to the cage and hesitantly put my fingers out to touch him. He growled at me viciously. Because I had just recently been bitten by a dog, I did not want to tempt fate, and left him to stew in his emotions. He had just arrived that day, and my uncle was positive he was just scared of being in a new place, trapped in a cage, away from his mother. That night, I tried again. He let me lightly touch his head, but remained angry and sad. The next day, he was better still. I pet him and offered him a piece of sausage… but eventually, he growled again and this time, barked and snapped at me, trying to bite. I left him again, and again I came back later. He was in much better spirits, and was trusting me a little more. We let him out of his cage, and he explored his new domain reluctantly. By the third day, he was my new best friend. He leapt up excitedly when he saw me, and let me hold him. He put my hands in his mouth without biting. He stayed close by my side while we walked around the yard so he could sniff things. When he was scared he hid under my skirt or between my legs. By the fourth day, we created a new routine. When I came home from work, I sat outside under the roof, and let him playfully come up to me and gnaw on my hands. He sat in my lap and fell asleep while I sang quietly. After that, I taught him to come to me when I whistled, to fetch (sometimes), and to play rough, but not too rough. He became my protector, barking at people when they walked by if I happened to be outside with him, and chasing away the cats when they clawed at me for food. Last night during the feast we had for the bishop, he barked and ran around anxiously until he saw me and leapt straight into my lap, licking my mouth, never more content seeing a familiar face. While everyone was dissembling tables and hauling away chairs, he came in my room with me, sleeping on an old pillow and snuggling with one of my flip flops. It never ceases to sadden me watching his face when I have to drive away somewhere. I call him Muffin despite my uncle’s insistence that this should not be the name of a future guard dog. He’s just a baby though, and will be my baby until I leave.
I didn’t think I would really be upset to leave. I feel it’s time for me to go home, and I’m ready to go back to my friends and family. Muffin has put a whole new perspective on this, however. We just met, but have already formed such a close bond. It’s widely accepted here that he loves me more than anyone else in the house; he will follow me anywhere and is (relatively) obedient and good-natured. He has never peed indoors, and is already often barking at strangers who come on our property. He is complacent and loving and has so much emotion in his face it’s hard to bear sometimes. I cannot stand thinking about driving away that final time – seeing the dismay in his eyes that I’m leaving again, but the faith that I will return, as I always do. It’s incredibly difficult to imagine how abandoned he will feel once I’m gone. Not that anyone here mistreats or neglects him: people will still pet and play with him, will still feed him and change his water. But the bulk of the attention has undoubtedly come from me; and the bulk of the pampering and comforting when he has been hurt or afraid. I don’t want to think about his sadness; I don’t want to think about leaving him. The inability to explain the circumstance to him is what kills me the most: if only he could understand.
I am also afraid for his safety. It’s a somewhat popular trend for children to steal puppies if they think they are cute, and an even more popular trend for Pohnpeians to steal adult dogs to eat. Everyone else here is largely apathetic on these points, or even joke about it, but for me, it isn’t a joke. It rips me up inside to know this is the potential fate I leave him to. I have never cried so bitterly as I do when I am alone and thinking these terrifying thoughts. Even though it also hurts me to think this, some part of me hopes he will forget me completely so that if something does happen, he will not be wondering where I have gone and why I have left him. Of course, none of these things are certainties. I know that despite all the jokes he makes, my uncle loves him too and will watch over him. You can’t not love this dog, and it’s so hard to leave him. I can’t be there to make sure he is ok; the best I can do is ask after him, and hope that he remains happy and safe, guarding the house that once was mine.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The Waiting Game
This was my last weekend in Pohnpei, and a relatively quiet and anticlimactic one at that. Saturday morning I received a text message from some of my World Teach friends inviting me to go to Nahlap, a small “picnic” island off the coast of Kitti. I had never been, and figured I could use some fun in the sun before returning to a bleak, dismal NY winter. After running some errands and pick-ups, we finally reached the Nahlap dock around 2 in the afternoon. I was told a little late in the game to make such plans myself, but everyone else was banking on staying overnight. I was also told that it is only a 5 minute reliable boat ride to and from the island. I figured I would stay until about 6 or 7, giving me some good afternoon hours on the beach, and then leave after sunset to have a full night back on the main island.
As is too often the case here, we ended up waiting. And waiting. And waiting. We kept hearing and seeing boats, but none of them drifted our way. We called the owners of the island every half hour asking over and over again in broken Pohnpeian for them to send out a boat for us. They assured us, with growing impatience, that one was coming. And yet we waited. Not that it was a complete loss: we had some good conversation, shared some good gossip, and had a few good drinks. Still, I was itching to go. Waiting has never, ever been easy for me. Anyone who knows me well knows that despite my pipedreams of going to school in Hawaii or California, I am anything but a laid back, roll-with-the-punches kind of girl. I am a true New Yorker: always on the go, compulsively organized, persistently punctual, and planned out to the hilt. I am impatient because I value these qualities in myself, as inflexible as they often render me, and expect these qualities to be present in others. In Micronesia however, this is a tasteless recipe for disappointment. The Westerners that I’ve known, both here and in Chuuk, joke about “Micronesian time” (everything happens 2 hours late) and the carefree, come-you-are-whenever-you-want attitude. I’ve noticed that people here don’t like setting times or making concrete plans, preferring to let things crystallize at the very last possible moment. People don’t wait for invitations or abide by conventional formalities (for instance, at a feast we had last night for the arrival of the Bishop, tons of “uninvited” villagers came just for the food and left promptly after eating). To me, these characteristics indicate rudeness, and it’s hard to see them in any other light. Of course, locals here have their own ideas of what is rude, and I’m sure I’ve made many slip-ups in this regard during my stay here.
Finally, after 2 hours of waiting (perfectly on time for Micronesians), the boat arrived. By this time, it was a bit after 4pm, and I realized that I would have very little time to spend on this island. I was invited over and over by my friends to stay the night, welcomed to eat their food and use their soap, and I considered it. But I had been hoping to make it to the annual Bell Tower Christmas ceremony over by my house, and potentially go out for a few drinks afterwards. After much internal struggle, I decided to stick with my original plan: stay for the sunset, and leave shortly after that.
Nahlap was much different than I expected. I figured it would be something like Pisar, since that is really my only gauge for what constitutes a “resort island” in Micronesia. But Nahlap is much bigger, and unlike the bareness of Pisar, is overrun with mangroves. There is only a small portion of the island which is actually “beach,” leading out into very still, gray water. The owners stay on the island and operate a “front desk” where you have to sign in the members of your party and pay for the boatride. There is a small “café” where you can buy chips and water, a slide, and a few rope swings, making the island resemble a primitive version of Splash Down. When we arrived, there were a ton of people there. Pisar, Jeep, and other such islands in Chuuk are not at all popular with the locals, but at Nahlap, there were several Pohnpeian families spending the day picnicking. Small children drifted around the dock area in oversized floaties. Mother carried baskets of food, and strangely, huge Tupperware containers of extra clothing and thick, quilted blankets. Most people were leaving as we were arriving, however, and soon enough the island was quiet and largely empty. We took a walk to the other side of the island where we found a strange little out-of-place chapel, and a random stepladder in the middle of the water. We played a version of bocci with coconut husks (which I was terrible at! Surprising since I’m actually pretty good at regular bocci), swam around, and watched the sunset from a rocky part of the shoreline. We had our own nahs, and Will built a fire and cooked some hotdogs. It was pitch dark and I could hear some boats leaving. I decided to say my goodbyes and check out the ride situation, hoping there would be some available space on a departing boat.
It was about 7:30, and the owner told me there would be two boats leaving. Originally she said I could leave whenever I wanted, but perhaps now that it was growing later, somewhat changed her tune. She said I could take the earliest boat that came, but when it finally did arrive, told me instead to wait for the next one. My impatience began flaring up again. One thing that never ceases to aggravate me about living here is there are rarely any explanations offered for why things are or are not happening. When our electricity situation was bad and becoming less and less reliable, there were several different rumors about what was going on, but no formal clarification issued by the utilities company. Before leaving for Chuuk, I had to wait an extra hour for check-in to open for some reason still unbeknownst to me or any of the other visibly irritated travelers tapping their feet in the middle of a stuffy, unbearably hot airport. My project here at MicSem was cancelled. Why? Don’t ask me; no one thought it necessary to enlighten me as to the reasons despite my hours upon hours of dedicated work. It is more difficult to accept let-downs and unpleasant circumstances when you don’t know why you are being forced to endure them. Such was my situation waiting for a boat to come. Experience told me that regardless of this woman’s promise that I would get a ride, I somehow might not for a reason I would never know. I tried to ignore the bubbling aggravation within me as I sat on a narrow wooden bench in total darkness, listening to the owner and her family laugh over dinner inside their small house. I dutifully tried to convince myself I was not as frustrated as I felt, attempting instead to view this experience as another lesson to learn about myself. I tried to peer through the thatched roof I was sitting under and look up at the stars which were endless and inviting. Instead of thinking about everything I was missing (the bell tower ceremony), I tried to think about everything I was having: silence, peace, a spectacular view of the night. Finally, the woman came outside of her house and told me the boat was arriving. She pointed with her thick finger towards the long, shaky pier, “You wait for them there.”
I didn’t have a flashlight since I hadn’t been planning to stay so late, so I walked in darkness down the wobbly planks towards the dock. It felt like I was walking into a new dimension or some kind of strange eternity. I couldn’t see anything in front of me but shadows of shoddy structures and worlds and worlds of traveling stars. I walked slowly, unsure of my footing, along this narrow pathway towards an indiscernible blend of dark sky and dark water. The owner, finally realizing I had no light (and probably cursing my stupidity) followed me shortly after with hers, and waited with me at the open mouth at the edge of the dock. A few people departed off the boat, and I got in alone. I was accompanied only by the owner’s sons or nephews who were navigating with nothing but a small flashlight they periodically shone into the water to determine their route. As unfair as it probably is, I did not feel totally safe out in the water, in the dark, with two Pohnpeian men I didn’t know. I had my cell phone in one hand, and my pepper spray in the other. Perhaps another indicator of my New Yorkerness, I couldn’t just sit back and enjoy the slow ride and the magnificent view of the sky. Instead, I was wary and suspicious of the people alongside me, who were realistically doing me a big favor by driving all the way back just for me. Of course I arrived in safety, realizing to my embarrassment that they had even called me a taxi without asking me (though I had my own car). I thanked them, and drove home, relieved to be back safe and sound, but still housing that undercurrent of frustration that I had missed out on the rest of my night. I’m not sure when or if I will learn to accept things as they come. I have friends (one specifically comes to mind) who revel in spontaneity and are never satisfied with making plans or being on time because these systems are too rigid and do not allow for any outside influence to take them where they were perhaps meant to go all along. I can’t make value judgments on which behavior is better, but as much as I might want to, especially after a year and a half of living here, I’m not sure I can shake my need to have everything already decided, already organized because I want to be the one to plot my course. I’m not yet comfortable with anyone or anything else mapping out my roads.
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