Cultural Awareness 101

Prior to moving to Australia, I had to take a survey about my perceptions of Aussie culture. I also had to go through a 1 hr course on cultural awareness. The course was pretty straight forward and basically told me that even though Australia is an ‘English’ speaking nation there would be days where I felt the woes of being a foreigner. To alleviate those woes, I try to make note of the ‘foreign’ words, and get a giggle out of the moments lost in translation.

Here are some potential misconceptions Americans have about Australia:
Just like we don’t ride horses to work in Texas, there aren’t kangaroos, koalas, or crocodiles roaming the city streets of Melbourne. In fact, you have to go out of your way to find any of the said creatures. Unfortunately, culture class did not warn me of the Australian spider ‘situation’ (for further information please refer to the blog about my friend Webster).

Only the bogan Aussie’s and Crocodile Dundee (Texas translation: rednecks) say things like “G’day Mate”

They don’t really ‘throw shrimp on the barbie’ but maybe that’s because five out of the 6 months here, I’ve been in winter, thus not much barbie usage going on. Menus don’t ever have ‘shrimp’, it would say prawns. If you want bell peppers on your sandwich at Subway you have to say ‘capsicum’ – otherwise the 16 year old behind the counter just stares at you blankly while you say bell pepper louder and slower (as if that was going to translate into capsicum eventually).

It’s sunny and everybody surfs. Wrong. Considering that Melbourne has now had a record breaking number of days below 20 degrees (which is 68 F) there isn’t much surfing. Now, 68 isn’t bad on a sunny day, but 6 out of 7 days a week it rains at some point in the day, and is rarely sunny after 10am – which makes for shit weekends. (That’s another thing – shit is a pretty common adjective here, not that I’m shy to cursing, just find it is used much more casually).

Australia and New Zealand are one in the same. Not even close – even more different than Canada and the US. Fortunately, once you’ve been here awhile, it’s pretty easy to distinguish the accents. What’s really starting to surprise me is how quickly I can differentiate British from Irish and Scottish (this all used to sound the same to me). I’ve also learned that Canadians get really offended when you ask if they are American. So to hedge their bet, if an Aussie thinks you are from North America, but not sure which part of the NATO agreement you would have signed under, they ask if you are Canadian – which I think explains why I get asked that, a lot.

One consistent misconception about Americans would be that we all love Obama – no further comment.

This one is a bit specific and weird:
Lady in my pilates class: “Heathah, is it true that you can’t walk at night in Greenville, Mississippi because wild dogs will attack you?” (She was travelling there for work next week.)
Me: “Uh, I think that’s about as likely as being attacked by a drop bear”

And of course, more Aussie vocabulary lessons:
Grown men wear “jumpers” – I think it is a type of shirt – more of a winter type that requires another shirt underneath to stay warm, but different than a sweater.

“Thongs” – go between your toes not your butt cheeks

One buys “petrol” at a “servo” – that would be gas at a gas station. And I must admit, I didn’t have a good response when an Aussie asked me “why would you refer to a liquid as ‘gas’?”

Jugs – I think this is a pitcher of beer. I don’t hear this much, but maybe that will change when I start travelling to Sydney and New Zealand.

So back in States (aka Texas), I was always envious of people with nicknames. And I loved calling people by nicknames, especially ones with a funny story behind it (aka Niddy). Nicknames are huge here. The weird part is that male nicknames get a bit of a feminine touch. Matt is Matty, Nick is Nicko/Niko, so forth and so on. Of course, Heather or Heath-ah is difficult to shorten. I’ve heard ‘Simps’ but that just doesn’t roll of the tongue. Occasionally I get called ‘Texas’ but only long enough for someone to realize I don’t have a Texas accent, and consequently the nickname just doesn’t stick.

People here are ‘keen’ and not easily ‘fussed’ or if they are fussed, they will ‘suss it out’ – still not sure I’m spelling that one correctly or to what degree ‘keen’ should be used. I’m not sure if when I say “I’m keen to do xyz” if that means, “I really have to do this” or “It would be nice, but I’m not going to freak if it doesn’t happen”

Liquor stores are ‘bottle shops’ and shops in general aren’t open as late or on weekends like American stores.

Arse is ass, and bum is butt – who knew body parts could have so many names

ps - Thanks Liz for the blog idea :)

Random Coastline Pictures

Can you tell I've spent alot of time looking at pretty beaches?

Dating Down Under

Call it Kangaroo Mating or Aussie Dating...let’s get down to the ‘root’ of it all!

Wasn't too sure about writing this one (yes, I would sooner write about my poop than this) but hey - what do I really have to hide...besides that lovely tattoo on my ass that I was inspired to get as a declaration of my independence on my 18th birthday.

I’ve always appreciated my single friends and married/couple friends equally. I occasionally contemplated the feeling of being the 3rd/5th/7th wheel in what I now longingly refer to as my “Life in Texas”, but I always had my single friends to cheer me up. It’s a little different here, as I don’t have as many friends without SO’s (SO = significant other’s), and there are a lot of activities that are just not as fun when your flying solo.

Believe it or not, I’ve found dining alone to be pretty easy. Other than the elderly couples that stare at me as if I belong on that show Modern Marvels, I generally feel comfortable eating alone, and toying with the occasional good looking waiter. Surprisingly, the pangs of ‘singledom’ hit close to home while dining out in a group a few weeks ago. This might just be that I’m in a country that generally disregards customer service, but nothing quite scorns the single girl ego like a 7th chair pulled up/forced onto a table of 6 already seating 3 couples. I’m usually a ‘chin up’, take a tequila shot, find the best looking bloke in the bar to mug down with, and ‘let it roll of your back’ girl, but when the gold class movies only had seating in pairs – my blissful life that is ‘all about me’ came to a screeching halt (not really, but you get the point, the pot of frustration finally boiled over). So life is starting to need an SO…even if it is just for the moment…aka - travel companion, movie date, fancy dinner date, and the highlight of being dreadfully obligated to another person - some consistent…er…rooting - or what we more liberal but still classy American girls refer to as ‘getting laid’. Sorry Mom and Dad.

So in the spirit of “getting with the program” or “when you can’t beat’em, why not join’em”…I decided it’s about damn time to for Operation Find Heather a Feller (said with varying degrees of laughing sarcasm). Said conquest is much easier said than done, and I’m guessing will require some amount of leg work (and no, I don’t mean the legs behind your head type leg work – get your minds out of the gutter).

Of course, we can’t set out on such a difficult mission without guidelines or a plan, so I’ve made a few notes:

-They all have accents, so this is no longer a point of attractiveness. In fact, the less of the accent, the easier it is for me to understand what they are saying. There is only so much “smiling and nodding” a girl can do before a date goes down hill.

-Mate is a friend. Heterosexual men refer to other heterosexual men as their ‘mates’. These men are still very eligible.

-When someone refers to their ‘partner’ here, it is not the politically conservative way of saying “I’m dating someone of the same sex” It merely means they are taken, these men are not eligible.

-“Are you from Canada?” or “Is that a Canadian accent?” has to be the worst (and most consistent) pick up line. And no, I cannot explain why I sound Canadian to these people. I need a witty response to this question.

-Considering the above, I need to work on my “Texas” accent. There is an extreme look of disappointment when men realize I’m from Texas, but I don’t sound like Jessica Simpson in Dukes of Hazard (or some other version of an uneducated southern bell).

Some non-lady like Aussie words that one shouldn’t use:
Fanny - this would be like saying cunt in the US (and yes, I learned this because I used the phrase "fanny-pack" in front of mixed company – can we say awkward?)

Rooting - You don't 'root' for the home team, unless we're talking Debbie Does Dallas porno. The proper Aussie use of "root" would be something along the lines of..."She was a great root…" per Nick Wee.

And lastly, I leave you with some great quotes about being single, from some of the best commentary on being a woman, Sex and the City:

“Think about it. If you are single, after graduation there isn’t one occasion where people celebrate you … Hallmark doesn’t make a “congratulations, you didn’t marry the wrong guy” card. And where’s the flatware for going on vacation alone?"

“The fact is, sometimes it’s really hard to walk in a single woman’s shoes. That’s why we need really special ones now and then to make the walk a little more fun.”

Save the Whales!, er, I mean Water

WARNING: This post directly relates to bowel movements, or at least my personal experience with them. So if you fancy any romantic attraction to me, are easily grossed out, or just generally have a life policy not to talk about your poop (or mine for that matter) then stop reading now.

No really, I'm not kidding, this gets graphic.

Last chance...

Ok, here goes it:

In Australia (and this might be true in countries outside the US, however my experience is limited to comparing US and AU) water conservation is a really big deal. The tree hugging hippies of Austin pale in comparison to the thirst driven rain drop worshipping drought asylum seekers from down under. Understandably, we're talking about a continent that's 80% uninhabitable because water becomes a scarce resource more than 80 miles inland (that's probably a gross exaggeration, but I don't have time to research the real statistics).

Now, due to said arid wasteland, water conservation extends into a very real part of my everyday life (and yours too I would hope).

The Toilet.

Yes folks, it's time for potty talk. Enter any Aussie banos (and no, most people here don't know what the word banos means) and you will see signs reminding you to clean the toilet or leave it in the same cleanliness that you found it. I'm all for this - granted, I can't imagine why some adults need a reminder to flush, but A + to the guy creating those lovely reminders. There's a catch...

In the spirit of saving water, toilets have as little water in the toilet as possible. I hope you know where this is going...so low water, big porcelain bowl, poop doesn't have a water beacon calling it into a clean little pile in the center of the bowl. As you can imagine, on any given day, there are varieties of poops. And yes, some of those suckers stick like glue on impact. Hence, this lovely sign isn't a polite reminder to flush, it's to let all of us water wasting foreigners know that we are expected to brush the toilet clean after taking a dump.

Personally, it takes away the satisfaction of having dropped the kids off at the pool. With the fear of being hung out to dry (haha no pun intended), I try to flush a couple of times, hoping the tides of water spilling from the sides of the bowl take mercy on my distaste for household poop related chores and wash away the remnants of my dinner from the night before. But inevitably, I often surrender, and participate in this Australian public clean potty ritual. I find I've used a toilet brush more in the last 3 months that probably the last 5 years of my adult life.

Jackie and Chase - Pictures

They had this great video but I can't get it to load :o(

As you will see in the pictures, they covered a lot of ground!

So I live in Australia...

...every few days or so I stop and think, did I really just move to Australia?

This thought usually goes one of two directions
1) What the hell have I done? This is usually when I'm missing something from home like having friends/family nearby, Austin lifestyle and food, or all the crap I accumulated to make myself 'comfortable' (Heating and A/C, nice apartment, couch, TV, bed, car, fancy coffee machine, electric toothbrush, strippers, etc) - I am clearly still struggling a bit on that materialistic selfish side.

or what follows is some version of...

2) Yes, Heather, yes you moved half way around the world, HELL YEAH!

As you can imagine, I am constantly being asked "So why Australia?" to which I haven't come up with a good answer. I mean, I know why, but it's boring and doesn't really make for good conversation. In typical Heather fashion, I wanted to think of some clever, witty, or funny anecdote...but I never came up with anything good (please if you have any thoughts, send them my direction).

My original remark to said question "So Heather, why did you move to Australia?"

My reply: "The Australian Thunder Down Under, of course" to which I received blank stares and courtesy laughs.

I finally grew a pair and asked..."So where can I see said 'thunder down under'?" (Jeanette this was so I knew where to take you when you came to visit) This is when I learned......but the Australian Thunder Down Under is only a figment of the surreal life otherwise known as Vegas. Said trou dropping, thong wearing, perfectly toned and tanned dancing beef cakes do not, in reality, exist in Melbourne.

ps -(I can't speak for the rest of Australia just yet - there is still hope!).

Everything is not bigger in Texas

Maybe it's been a long time since I had a kiwi fruit in Texas, but I'm pretty darn sure that the kiwi fruit here is almost double in size.

This is why they don't serve ICED TEA!

What not To Do on the Choo Choo

Trams and Trains are part of my daily life. I can't get very far in Melbourne without having to get on a tram or train. Since this is part of my daily routine, it's something that I have observed certain 'things' if you will that I think should be immediately corrected. Many of these behaviours are probably common public place annoyances, I just find them particularly annoying on the tram/train.

1) Consumption of Food - I would vote just don't do it at all, but most certainly don't consume foods that require eating with your hands. Have you considered where your hands have been just to get on the train, much less the disgustingness of the germs in that little cabin of air space. This really came home one morning as I was innocently riding along the Epping line to get to work. This lady sat directly across from me(see later bullet point on choice of seating) and promptly unloaded what, to my surprise, was apparently her definition of breakfast. Course One was Pringles sour cream and onion. Seriously?!? Who eats that for breakfast? Not to mention the foul smell that was now drafting my direction, on top of which I had to watch this lady (who clearly had feasted on pringles multiple times in life) crunch through a whole can of these chips, LICK her fingers, and then attempt to brush away the crumbs. With an annoyed sigh, I thought to myself, well at least that's over, she's finished the can. Oh no no no, she wasn't done. Then came Course Two, to blend with the stench of sour cream and onion, she pulled from her bag-o-treats an orange! Yet another loud smelling, finger food that I was just perplexed that someone would even attempt to eat on a train. It was clear that she had pulled this stunt before, as she managed to peel the thing in one cohesive piece of rine. At the next stop, before I threw up what little food I had in my stomach, or worse she pulled out a can of tuna, I got up and moved to a different seat in the train.

Which leads me to my next 'understood' rule of tram/train travel.

2) Seating - Now, I know I'm not in Texas anymore, and there is no such thing as men who give up their seats for women anywhere else in the world, however, there are still some expected human instinct type behaviours. One, if its high traffic time, and you are capable of standing, then stand. If you are a lady with a ridiculously oversized hand bag, said 'purse' does not need it's own seat. It does not have legs, and it won't kill you to hold that monstrousity in your lap (might do you a bit of good to get a good feel for exactly how large of a bag you've actually managed to haul around this whole time). My other piece of advice would be, if you see someone who is relatively tall, and there are several other open seats on the train, do not sit directly across from us. We do not appreciate bumping knees with you (unless of course you are one those gems of a hot Australian man, in which case let's get a drink and then we can bump all sorts of things) and it is not comfortable to try and sit with my feet tucked up under my chair. If you just have to have a window seat, kindly ask, I will be more than happy to switch with you.

There are a few other points I've gathered from my daily train travels that can be stated quite briefly.
- Take a bath. The spiders will still get you, even if you stink.
- Don't block the doorway, I will knock you down to keep from missing the train.
- Talking loudly on your mobile, to tell the person every 30 seconds that you can't hear them because of the bad reception on the train is POINTLESS. Hang up.
- Heaving petting or making out to the point that there are slurping or moaning noises merits a hotel room. Get one.

A personal definition of Success

Someone recently asked me what I would consider successful, or to define what would be the achievement of success in life. I, of course, couldn't put words together right away but found myself contemplating the question later on while dining alone at a local pub. So here is what I came up with...

Success is...
...having a career that I can look back on and be proud of, ripe with self improvement, intellectual realizations and academic accomplishments.
...having relationships that I valued, nurtured, and invested in, sprinkled with people who are tantalizing fiction book worthy characters.
...having a past rich with adventure, impossible moments conquered, and dreams fulfilled.

But most importantly, I know I'm successful when I have those random moments where my head tilts back to let the warm sun hit my face and not being able to help but smile because it just feels good to be alive.

Heaps of Reckoning!

So the Australian Vocabulary lessons continue...

Quantities in Australia are often measured in 'heaps' - if you have a significant quantity of anything, you have 'heaps'

To my amusement and surprise, Australians also 'reckon' about everything...I can't tell you how many times a day I hear someone say "well, I reckon..." Feels like I'm sitting in an old west Texas western movie when I hear it.

Torch = Flashlight
Petrol = Gas
Dot Point = Bullet Points (i.e. for list making)
Heath'ah' = Heather - it's actually really cute the way they all say my name

Some new foods...
Sushi with a new twist - they sell sushi in this handy to-go format. It's like a roll that was never sliced, so you get this delicious cylinder of fresh salmon rice and avocado all rolled in seaweed paper. It's a great healthy fast food to grab once I get off the train, and can't make the tram ride home without a snack. They average about $2.50 AUD, which isn't bad at all!

TimTams - These little thigh fattening jewels are just too good to resist. It's two bisquit (aka cookies) with a chocolate moose in the middle, covered in a milky chocolate outside. I've heard tales of biting off each end and sucking coffee or hot chocolate through it like a straw, melting the chocolate inside, supposedly great in these 'cold' winter months.

Chocolate here seems to be more milky (or maybe just less waxy) than in the US.

A world for women with big feet!

A quick post to let every woman with a 10+ size foot that there is hope! I needed a pair of black dress shoes, and was dreading the thought of trying to shoe shop in Australia (as most things are much much more expensive that the US). I happened upon this small shoe shop in Richmond on Saturday, and made away with 6 pairs of shoes. Not only did I strike it rich in the 'shoes that actually fit my feet' category BUT it only cost me $200 AUD (which is something like $188 USD?). My shoe size here is a 10, which was a good feeling, and there were tons of shoes to choose from (hence my mildly over zealous purchse of 6 pairs). Two of the pairs I only paid $10 for each pair! Now, I know the gentlemen reading my blog are probably thinking - really, all this excitement over shoes? - but you ladies out there, you know how it feels when you find a treasure like this...yes Saturday was a good day - 6 pairs of shoes, and 1 dead spider.

Heather Versus Webster

The spider killing gear...


I tucked my pants into my socks so the spider couldn't jump to the ground and crawl up my pants leg. Pretty clever of me, huh?

The target..

So this is the smaller of the two spiders - the bigger one is still missing (eek gives me the shivers to think about). And yes, as you might imagine, every dust particle that moves makes me jump 10 feet in the air :o(


The hunt...
I spent a span of 3 days debating how to kill this spider. I tried to find an indoor spray, but read on almost every can that it was not wise to spray the spider directly - although it didn't say why? I'm imagining this mutant spider coming at me even faster and more angry, with a foaming mouth and red beady eyes. Now that the first spider is dead, I have purchased a spray that is supposed to kill on contact. I plan on prevention spraying as much of my apartment as possible.

The kill...
With all my might, I couldn't convince myself to swat at this spider on the ceiling. And after many hours of standing and starring at the damn thing, I ended up finding a more much suitable person to kill this spider. Thanks Wei! Now, if Wei (or some other white horse riding spider killing hero) could please be available every time one of those critters finds his way into my apartment, all will be well in the world of Heather.

It's never ending!
I did research online, and basically every time it rains, spiders will come inside. I also happen to live in an apartment that is ideal for spiders. There are so many different little dusty corners that I can't see or can't reach to vacuum or spray, it's quite stressful to think about. My solutions so far are 1)hire pest control people and make sure they get ladders to reach all these stupid little corners and such. 2) move to a newer, less spider infested apartment...the latter is sounding much more appealing.

Surviving without electricity

I've lived almost 4 nights now without any electricity. Now, this wouldn't be too bad except for a couple of things.

1) It finally got cold in Melbourne or I forgot what 'cold' used to feel like. I almost put my winter coat on to sleep last night it was soo cold.
2) No hot water is just miserable when it's 15 degrees outside - I think that's in the 50's?
3) I'm 27 and still scared shitless of the dark. This is like some sort of sick therapy for a woman that slept with the bathroom light on for the last 4 years, and wouldn't dare walk into a dark room without turning on the light. And to top it all off, for some brainless reason, I passed up the posh apartment in Richmond (mainly because it was next to a prostitution house and didn't have washer/dryer connections) for an 'old Irish pub' turned apartment. Now for all of you who know me, shame on you for not reminding me I have a habit of attracting ghosts. Remember the toilet paper ghosts who like to shut the door to the bathroom at my first Austin apartment? Well the ghost here likes to walk across the wood floor upstairs and then in a flash start making a 'snap snap snap' sound from the kitchen. I nearly peed my pants last night when it first happened. Then I told told the ghost I was tired and going to bed, and he seemed to have left me alone.

That's it for now, night is setting in, and I'm freezing my nipples off - so to bed I go.

Great Ocean Road Trip

Bucket List Items Accomplished:
1) Driving on the left side of the road (without any major errors)
2) Driving the Great Ocean Road to see the Twelve Apostels (which is really 5, 7 drowned).

I will have to fill you in on the details in a later post.
In the meantime here are some pictures.





There were a couple of amusing signs.
This is me demonstrating what not to do.


One of the many coastline views during the roadtrip...

We have a WINNER!

...don't look now, but I've signed a lease on an apartment.

In total, this process will only have taken:
31 days (by the time I actually move in)
3 different hotel rooms
$2260.53 for the 3 different hotel rooms
852 hrs (I'm making that up) of internet searching
...and the constant pestering of the people who know me.

I've attached videos and pictures of my apartment so you can appreciate the current place I call home. I should note, I'm thinking about breaking my lease and moving to a less 'exposed brick/spider loving' place. I can't deal with big hairy spiders everyday.


Downstairs


Upstairs

Blokes, Hoons, and Sheilas

A little vocabulary lesson for my fellow Americans...

Bloke - of the male gender (whether that be by God's creation or a really good plastic surgeon), this is a character we've all encountered. He typically wears 'smart' suits, and has a bit of smart-ass arrogance.

Hoon - again, typically male, with an abnormally high level of testosterone while driving. This societal pest drives with reckless abandon and a sense of entitlement over the roadways. The less politcally-correct American's refer to their mode of transport as 'rice-bunners' (Side note: I'm yet to see a real manly pick-up truck)

Sheilas - stay tuned, all I know is I wouldn't want to be referred to as a Sheila

There are some other things like:
...chips are actually fries
...lollies are any sort of candy
...boot is actually the trunk of a car
..."large long and black" is what I have to try and say every morning with a straight face to the barista making my coffee
...ice hasn't been invented yet
...and beers come in oddly termed sizes (middy, pots and schooners - I still don't know which one is bigger), but that isn't too shocking.

When someone asks "How are you going?" they don't want to know by car, train, or bus...they actually mean "How are you?"

I'm sure this list will continue to grow, I will be sure to keep everyone well informed.

Got a little story for ya Ags...

It's a small world...and a big Aggie Family
As most anyone who knows me knows (did I say that right?) I am an Aggie. Along with the many Aggie jokes comes the immense pride of being an Aggie, dreadful football seasons, and a network of people that spans across the world. Being one to test everything I've been told, I thought it would be nice to attend Muster (Aggie tradition for our fallen Aggies) in Melbourne this year. I got on the Former Student website, found contact information for someone in Sydney (about 11 hrs by train from Melbourne, I think) and emailed this person. I mainly wanted to see if she by chance knew any Aggies in Melbourne that were going to hold Muster. Well she passed my name on an Ol' Ag (Fightin' Texas Aggie Class of '73) who emailed me. He was very welcoming, told me all about his family, his time at A&M, and invited me out to the farm he and his wife live on, just outside of Melbourne. He suggested that his son, 28 yr old male (just in case 'son' needed clarification), help me with the train/tram route to their house, as his son lives in Melbourne. I wrote said Ol' Ag back, thanking him for the generous hospitality, and told him a little bit about myself. I also mentioned that he could pass my contact information along to his son (to be honest, I had a glass of wine or 3 before writing the email and was feeling rather serendipitous about the whole situation). Well, this guy didn't just have a son, my age, who live in Melbourne BUT his son....wait for it....wait for it....works for the same company I do, in the same field that I work in - now if that doesn't make you believe in 6 degrees of separation, I'm not sure what will!

Queen Victoria Market and Royal Botanical Gardens

Aside from apartment hunting (which I'm tired of talking about and people have to be tired of hearing me talk about), I found my way to two very interesting places in Melbourne.
1) Queen Victoria Market - Basically like a farmer's market, but huge! And so full of life and savory smells. It really made my day, and gave me hope that not everything in Melbourne is ridiculously priced. I was beginning to feel like I moved to NYC with the cost of a bottle of water in this place.
2) Royal Botanical Gardens - I'm sure I only covered one tenth of the possible paths, but I can definitely see this as my new Town Lake Saturday morning jog. I sat an had peppermint tea with some fresh made scones (yummy!) in the Tea Garden, and then walked passed not one but two weddings. It's a lovely time of year, and the perfect setting for a wedding, although you basically invite the general public to watch your ceremony (which I found to be a little impersonal and fishbowl like). Oh well, they seemed happy.

Today, well today (which is Easter Sunday - more about that in a minute) I will go check out some more apartment locations, and finally catch up on all the administrative stuff I've been putting off.

Side Note: Easter in Melbourne is a big deal. I'm talkin' hot cross buns at work on Thursday (yeah, I had no idea what they were either) and tons of chocolate: chocolate bunnies, chocolate eggs, you name it, they've made it. Apparently this is the last big holiday for months, so I guess it's go big or go home. Being that I'm not very religious, I wasn't planning to get in on any easter egg hunts, but, as a woman, I feel I am entitled to the discounted chocolate tomorrow, and plan to be at one of these fancy chocolate shops to get supplies for winter.

To the left, to the left...

I was all determined to teach myself to walk to the left side. My thought: If they drive on the other side of the road, they probably walk on the other side of the road. WRONG. It's just clusterfuck on the sidewalk. You zig, then zag, elbow, and knock down the elderly to get a walking lane. I've concluded that the reason walking 'to the left' doesn't work is because downtown is a melting pot of cultures, some of which drive on the left, some that drive on the right, and the remainder are people that disregard any logic or orderliness and just drive where ever there is space.

The things I wish I brought with me...

...a tall dark and hansome American man (Australians tend to be shorter)
...a Keurig coffee machine - at $3 AU a cup, I'm going broke fast, and they don't make simple coffee machines in this country? Can we say market begging for life simplifying products?
...my Pontiac - I loved that litte car. I hope she found a new home that loves her as much as I did.
...a spare set of legs, I can only walk so far everyday (on the positive side I've lost over 10 lbs walking my little ass off.
...Sonic care electronic toothbrush - the closest thing they have is the crappy Oral B kind...and drumroll for the price - $230.00 AU (and the conversion rate doesn't make that cheap in the US).
...my BLACKBERRY - omg I miss my blackberry.

And so it begins...

I've packed up what I could fit into two 50 lb suitcases (and cheated by putting the rest on a ship) and moved to Melbourne, Victoria, Australia (future referred to as "Melbourne" or any learned shorten form). The information to follow will be my own ramblings on the typical 'Heather' moments in life and other thoughts of what life is like in Melbourne.

I will do my best to keep it interesting, but sometimes life as an auditor falls short of 'entertaining'.

Feel free to email or reply with your thoughts, comments, or own personal experiences.