Halfway House -- First Casualty

I've always heard that halfway houses have a very low success rate. You just never want to think it will happen to one of yours.

But it appears that it has. And I don't know if there's any going back after this.

This morning I get up and pour myself a bowl of cereal. When I add the milk, though, I'm met with an unpleasant surprise. I sniff the milk, not wanting to believe what my eyes are telling me. Then I check the label, and sure enough is says the expiration date is March 2, a full seven days away. Then what on earth is that putrid stench wafting its way up to my nostrils? And then it hits me.

Gimpy curdled our milk.

Oh boy, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. But it is clear that poor Gimpy simply isn't adjusting to life in civilized society. The pull of his old ways seems to be too much for him to handle. I'm trying not to take it too personally, telling myself that there's always one that doesn't work out, one that you just have to let go of.

But it's hard. I mean, was there something I could have done differently? Could I have been there for him? Could I have saved him?

I just have to accept that you can't save them all.

Halfway House

I feel like I'm running a halfway house for second-hand appliances.

I've already introduced you to Gimpy, our three-legged refrigerator. True to his name, Gimpy only has three legs. We have also since discovered that poor Gimpy can't even do the one thing in the world he was meant to do--refrigerate. But don't worry, his freezing technique is perfect.

And then there's Walter, the obese washer. Poor Walter has led a hard life--he's too big for any space he tries to take up, but despite his size, he just lacks the gumption to really sink his teeth into a load of laundry and get them sparkling clean. And (if you ever tell him this I'll kill you), he's a little smelly too.

Tara the TV, as compared to Walter, is the runt of the litter. She's tiny, her screen barely taking up a full 25 inches. And, bless her heart, she doesn't even get any channels. We tell her it's our fault because we don't have an antenna, but really we're not so sure.

Dave the DVD player may or may not work... he's been pretty blase since settling into his new home, and hasn't had much occassion to interact with us. Maybe Dave and Tara will hit it off and work some magic on their own. I can already see the... uh... sparks flying.

The only one who seems to be doing his job rather well is Mike the microwave... well, except for his loud growling and altogether surly attitude.

I guess we can't complain. What do you expect when you purchase your appliances from a second-hand shop where the rejects tend to congregate? Who knows, maybe a little tlc and some elbow-grease will turn these babies around. But for now, I feel like I've done a good deed, fostering a band of underloved appliances and delaying their certain junk yard fate for a couple more years.

So here we are: proud Mama and Papa of Gimpy, Walter, Tara, Dave, and Mike--all together a more than halfway happy little family.

First Weekend at Home

This Little Piggy Went to the Market...

This weekend Will and I took our first trip to the grocery store and the market that is right around the corner from our house. I am IN LOVE with the market. Seriously.

Eww... vegemite. We didn't buy any.

The shopping carts here are built to enhance consumer responsibility. You insert a one dollar coin when you take the cart and you get it back when you return it.




Fresh cupcakes at the market

We bought fresh pasta for dinner tonight, along with bread, homemade gourmet dips, and cheeses. I LOVE THE MARKET!!!!
We also grabbed cappuccinos at the market... it's a full-service place! They were phenomenal.

This Little Piggy Stayed Home...

Yesterday we stayed home most of the day waiting for a delivery of all of our whitegood appliances. We purchased everything we needed from a second-hand shop, which was great because they gave us free delivery. It was hard to stay home on such a perfect Saturday (gorgeous weather!), but now we are truly moved in, complete with a refrigerator, microwave, television, DVD player, and washing machine. Life wouldn't be complete withut Gimpy, the Three-Legged Refrigerator.

Empty Apartment with no appliances or furniture


This Little Piggy had Roast Beef...

Errr... or other kinds of beef, like Kangaroo Meat

This Little Piggy had None...

Will waiting for his cappuccino


And This Little Piggy Went Wee Wee Wee All the Way Home...

We are so thankful we finally have a home that we are settled into. Here are some pictures.

Uhhh... it's a little small. But we love it!

Time Here: Sunday, February 22, 2:00 pm

Was That Valentine's Day?

Did Valentine’s Day come and go already? I really didn’t even notice. Will and I spent the day on a romantic, sensual trip to IKEA getting furniture for our tiny little one-bedroom apartment (albeit small, the cost of furniture still adds up!). We then went into the city to try and catch a movie, only to realize that the inner city on weekends is only populated by the two terrible T’s: teens and tourists. Only when seeing the large masses of overly mushy teens—the age group that Valentine’s Day was truly created for as an excuse to ask people out and set free one’s over-active emotions—did I remember the significance of the day.

I think one reason Valentine’s Day was further from my mind is because Will and I have spent the past two weeks in a ground-hog-day of Valentine simulation. Since arriving in Melbourne on Wednesday, February, 5th (two weeks today! Isn’t that crazy?) every day has been Valentine’s-like for us. We’ve been eating romantic dinners at cozy restaurants almost every night, going for long walks on the beach, and exploring this beautiful city together. Quite frankly, since we know no one else in Melbourne, there has been never-ending alone time—a fact that, when remembering how hectic things were before we left the States and how alone time was all I wanted, I am very thankful for.

But I’m also ready for the next item on my checklist: friends. Everything else has fallen nicely into place: cell phones—check! internet—check! apartment—check! job—uhhh…still working on. But friends? You can’t exactly go to IKEA and pick out a nice selection of friends to coordinate with your furniture. Or put in an application for a relationship that sounds like it would be just perfect for you—the right part of town, the right price range, close to the park... Not so much.

To be honest, I kind of don’t know how to go about meeting people here. In Atlanta I had Will’s already-established relationships and kickball as an entrance point into people’s inner circles. But here? I don’t play cricket, or Australian rules football, or rugby; only because kickball was barely a sport was I able to passably play. And I don’t have a job… yet. Or a church. Or many interests to note. And it’s not that people aren’t nice here—they are, extremely nice—but you can’t very well go up to a nice Australian on the street corner and randomly ask them to start hanging out with you on a regular basis.

Who knows—maybe “job” and “friends” will go hand in hand. And maybe if I want friends badly enough I’ll try a little harder on the job front??? (yes, that deserved triple question marks) And let it be said that I have not reached any point of desperation… I’m merely thinking through the scenarios and wondering how to go about checking off the next item on my list (in an overly public forum where who-knows-who is reading, but whatever).

But until then, never-ending Valentine’s Days are kind of nice. In fact, I’m extremely grateful to have someone who I love so much to share all of these days with. And when it finally comes time to check off that last elusive item, I’ll be reminded that, once again, my best friend was here with me all along.

The Worst Feeling in the World

Until this morning, I would have said that the worst feeling in the world (and prepare yourself for a run-on sentence, coupled with slight melodrama) is being stuck at a traffic light as you see a tram approaching your stop, but not being able to cross the street until the light changes or the onslaught of cars slows down, then running like the wind after the departing tram, yet realizing there’s no way you’ll catch it, but feeling like a dud if you don’t at least try.

Melbourne Trams

Until this morning, that feeling of helplessness that you get when you realize you’re not going to make your goal, and knowing that it will take at least another ten minutes before the next goal comes along, was pretty much nightmare material for me.

And then this morning, I realized it could get a lot worse.

How?

Well, let’s look at a hypothetical scenario.

One could hypothetically be checking out of one’s hotel room and moving into one’s apartment—and be hauling large amounts of luggage, mind you—as one sees their sole means of transportation heart-sinkingly pass them by in the aforementioned manner. And one could also have to let the next tram go as well, because of the load of luggage one is carrying and the filled-to-capacity status of the tram. And then one could potentially be slapped by a little old woman on the next tram—which is also crowded but one doesn’t care anymore because one will be getting to her apartment, dangit!—as one accidentally bumps into this old woman with the heaps of luggage. And then when one needs to change trams, one could wait for a full fifteen minutes before the next tram arrives, every second thinking, “Hmmm… one should just walk the remaining distance,” but one knows that as soon as one steps foot off the tram stop, the tram will come and one will be faced with the same nightmarish scenario that one fears in the first place.

Hmm… I guess that’s a little worse.

But wait, there’s more.

One could also be on a deadline to arrive at the apartment, because one’s furniture, which is scheduled to be delivered that morning, could arrive before one gets there. But then one can sigh with relief when remembering that the delivery people promised to call half an hour ahead of said delivery. Then, when checking one’s phone to see what time it is, one can realize that one’s Blackberry didn’t charge the night before and is not receiving phone calls, texts, or e-mails because the battery is so low. And as one’s heart is busy stopping in one’s chest as one is checking one’s Blackberry and waiting for one’s tram, one’s skirt could fly above one’s head as a gust of wind comes one’s way.

When one finally reaches the apartment—thirty minutes after the window of delivery was supposed to have commenced—one could have no idea whether the delivery ever came or not, but still decide to wait interminably in the apartment on the off-chance a delivery comes her… errr… one’s…way today. And one can blog about how things can always get worse than one thinks.

Yes, this scenario could be a little worse than just missing a tram. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

But that’s not even the worst feeling in the world. That only comes tomorrow, after sleeping on a hard floor in an empty apartment when no mattress is delivered today… thanks to a hypothetical series of events that all lead to—what?—the worst feeling in the world.

Time Here: Wednesday, Feb. 18, 12:00 pm

First Week, by Guest Blogger William Stone

If you’ve ever started a new job, you know it’s something that you anticipate quite extensively. For me this anticipation was coupled with uprooting my life and transporting myself halfway around the world. Needless to say, both of these occurrences and everything that goes with them have been in the forefront of my mind for the last five months or so. It’s easy to think that your new company, and country in my case, would have the same sentiments. After all, they have been waiting for me to start for so long—eagerly anticipating the irreplaceable skills and unparalleled talent that they hired me for. I would expect nothing less than a parade to commemorate the historical significance of my arrival. Considering my circumstances, surely everyone should be gaping at my exotic, adventurous nature.

Alas, this was not the case. It turned out to be exactly like the first day at any job. There were no parades, no parties, not even the free lunch that one could possibly expect on a first day. In fact, the IT department was away setting up a new office, so I didn’t even have a place to sit or an email address for the first half of the day. But that’s the way it is with any new job. Every office has a balance, and new employees can upset that balance until they are fully integrated into the system and become a cog in the machine. For a time, new employees only create more work for everyone. Administrative red tape, printing, timesheets—all tedious procedures that someone else must do for or explain to the new guy.

Don’t get me wrong—everyone has been very friendly. And I quickly realized why no one was impressed with my expatriate status. The office is literally a melting pot (sorry, United States, my company has you beat). In my first week I met another American, a Canadian, an Irishman, and two South Africans. A wide variety of Asian countries are represented as well.

I wonder if these imports had as much trouble interpreting the local lingo as I did. On Thursday I received an email from one of my co-workers saying that tomorrow (Friday) the engineering division was having its semi-monthly “morning tea” and that it had fallen on our section of the office to provide the refreshments. Morning tea, I assumed, was a synonym for breakfast, but of course I had no idea what constituted normal fare for a morning tea. Luckily the email included a spreadsheet allowing you to sign up for something specific to bring. Great, I thought to myself, I’ll just look at the list and pick something. The list looked something like this:

Chips
Lammingtons
Choccy Bikkys
Lollies
Muffins
Cake
Biscuits

Well, this list wasn’t as helpful as I thought it would be. Chips, cake, and biscuits I knew could mean several different things in several different English speaking countries. Lammingtons, lollies, and choccy bikkys? Your guess is as good as mine. Muffins … I was pretty sure there were fewer interpretations for this than the other food items, at least. I quickly put my name on the corresponding line and saved the spreadsheet, fearing if I waited too long I’d be stuck bringing the “choccy bikkys.” All in all it turned out well, although to my puzzlement there was no tea at morning tea. There were choccy bikkys, however, and they lived up to their name… whatever that means.

All in all, the first week was a success. I had a moderate amount of work to do, which was fine with me considering I still had some moving-related red tape items to take care of (aka apartment nightmares). I also met most of the people in my division and I think they will be good to work with. I’m also fairly certain they will help keep me entertained while at work—an important factor, because, while there are many differences between America and Australia, I can assure you that CAD work is still quite boring whether in the Northern or Southern Hemisphere.

Time Here: Sunday, Feb. 15, 2:00 pm

Breaking News

This just in: we here at News Australia have received confirmation of an eyewitness viewing of a real live Australian Real Estate Agent. Only a handful of sightings have ever been reported with any measure of credibility, but the eyewitness, Kimberly Stone, was lucky enough to snap this photograph with her camera phone:

She even reports having spoken with this most rare breed of mythical creatures.

"Yes, well I arrived early at the inspection on Tuesday and waited outside for someone to let me into the apartment. Thankfully it was raining, so that disuaded the crowds. Everyone always says the Real Estate Agent is afraid of too many people hovering around, probably fearing that they are only after his ability to grant them the Wish of Real Estate. I can't explain it, but I felt good about my chances of meeting one today. As I suspected, he showed up. He seemed a little nervous, but he was there in the flesh. And the myths are true! Once I caught this wondrous creature, he was able to use his magical ability to bestow upon me the blessing of a tiny one bedroom, over-priced apartment. Truly, he is the fairest of beings."

Well, Kimberly, we hope that we, too, will someday have the honor of witnessing a full-blooded Australian Real Estate Agent in its natural habitat. But until then, hold your head high, Australia. Don't forget, you have the best beef mince in the world.

Note to Readers: Yes, this does mean that Will and I have found an apartment. And it was due in large part to me hounding a real estate agent until he agreed to read my application.

Since Everyone Else is Doing It...

Will and I were discussing all of our friends' 25 Random Things that we've been seeing going around, and decided to try to do it ourselves. Not to be cliche or anything...

25 Random Things About Kim

1. I am living—not visiting, roaming, backpacking, or meandering, but actually living—in Melbourne, Australia… and I have the two-year cell phone contract to prove it!
2. I spent my first day in Melbourne worrying that I had made the wrong decision in moving here.
3. I spent the second day extremely excited about living here, after remembering that I always second-guess myself after committing to a decision.
4. I am fairly certain I will be seriously injured by either driving on the left side of the road or crossing an intersection in this country where others drive on the left side of the road.
5. I used to have a nose piercing… and I’m thinking about getting another one.
6. I refused to take said nose piercing out for my internship at Lifeway, a Christian publishing company (despite the secretary printing out a copy of the dress code, highlighting the portion about no piercings, and leaving it on my desk for me to find).
7. However I did take this same nose piercing out for my part-time job as a hostess at Houston’s restaurant (the general manager was a lot bigger and scarier than the secretary).
8. Gone with the Wind is my most favorite book of all time. I read it annually, and actually called in sick the first time I read it so I could finish it.
9. I also called in sick when reading the fourth Harry Potter book.
10. I get ridiculously obsessive about certain book series, including Gone with the Wind, Harry Potter, and the latest addition—Twilight.
11. I kind of want to be a vampire.
12. My dream is to write a book that inspires this same obsessive behavior in others.
13. I spent the majority of my life living in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and I wouldn’t trade growing up in another country for anything in the entire world.
14. I was in downtown Rio in the middle of a riot between the police and a group of kiosk vendors who the police were trying to shut down. I hid behind a porn stand, and was injured by a large rock that a vendor threw at a police officer.
15. I was caught in the middle of a shoot-out between the police and the drug lords in the slums of Rio. I hid in a church along with the rest the American mission team I was translating for.
16. When translating for a medical clinic in the slums of Rio, I dispensed a woman the wrong medication and we spent the rest of the day trying to track her down so she didn’t die. No wonder you need a degree for that sort of thing.
17. I went to high school with some of the richest kids in Brazil. At least 80% of them had personal drivers, bodyguards, maids, and/or chefs, and helicopters occasionally accompanied our field trips for extra security.
18. My SAT test was interrupted by a large congregation of monkeys making disturbingly loud noises outside of our school window. The proctor had to inform the SAT headquarters that the Brazilians’ scores may be slightly off because of a bunch of excessively loud primates. I’m sure they bought that…
19. But don’t worry, I took the SAT four times… and had an unfortunately consistent score each time. Apparently the monkeys didn’t bother me as much as I hoped.
20. I had never been to Nashville, TN before setting foot on Vanderbilt’s campus my freshman year.
21. I hate awkward silences. If I feel a silence has gone on too long, I unconsciously start saying “ummm” at regular intervals, just so others know that I could come up with something to say at any second, and that I am not unaware of the awkwardness of this silence.
22. Will is the only guy I’ve ever dated, and I love it that way.
23. I broke my foot by tripping over a suitcase when moving out of my dorm room junior year. Will finished packing and moving all of my stuff for me as I lay on my bed, high on pain killers… just watching.
24. I started a door-to-door sales internship the day after I broke my foot. That morning, I had to catch a flight at 4 am to go to a week-long training session. When I got back, Will had already moved all of my stuff and set my room up for me. Two weeks later I quit the internship.
25. I have run two half-marathons—and both times crossed the finish line hand-in-hand with my husband.


25 Random Things About Will

1. I don’t fill out surveys.
2. Horror movies really scare me. When I was a kid I always pretended to be asleep so I didn’t have to watch them.
3. I only use the “bathroom” (i.e. number 2) once a day—no matter what.
4. When I was a kid I used to cry about everything and get upset when any little thing went wrong. Now I never cry and nothing ever upsets me. Horror movies do still scare me though.
5. I live in Melbourne, Australia, even though throughout most of my childhood I never really considered leaving Tennessee.
6. The thing that scares me most about living in Australia is not a) blue ringed octopus, b) box jellyfish, c) deadly snakes, or d) shark attacks; it is becoming a liberal.
7. I love being outside—playing sports, watching sports, doing sporty things—as long as it ends with me sleeping in my own bed or at least a nice bed in a hotel room.
8. I really hate planning things. When I proposed to Kim she knew it was coming because I made dinner reservations without her forcing me to.
9. I stick my tongue out when I concentrate. I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be like Mike.
10. My first car was a yellow Ford Focus hatchback. It was awesome.
11. I got rid of it three weeks after Kim and I got married. I had to know she really loved me for me and not my car.
12. On my first date with Kim the aforementioned car broke down and my dad had to come rescue us.
13. I’ve been snowboarding in the Alps. My butt still hurts.
14. I don’t like tropical fruit of any kind.
15. I’m very creative. My childhood teddy bears were named Little Softy, Big Softy, and Humongous Softy.
16. I grew up in a house with one TV and no cable. It was the same TV my parents bought when they got married, five years before I was born. They finally got rid of it the year I graduated from college.
17. When I was four I got a concussion and went to the hospital, but the doctor refused to discharge me until I told him what my name was. I was fully aware of what was going on but was too stubborn to talk to him. My parents spent all night trying to convince the doctor that I really was fine, I just didn’t feel like saying my name.
18. I took Portuguese in college to try and impress Kim. Apparently it worked.
19. I once ate five double-stacks with cheese and a frosty in a single sitting.
20. I could eat Taco Bell all day every day and would still love it forever.
21. I fall asleep all the time: in class, in the end of exciting movies, when I’m reading good books, it doesn’t matter. Levels of excitement are no indicator as to whether I will stay awake or not.
22. Moving my dog to Melbourne has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. Moving myself was easy; the dog, ridiculous.
23. My family loves traditions: Every July 4th until my grandparents moved, we organized a parade up and down their street. The lead car was always the light blue Cadillac convertible, followed by whatever other cars, motorcycles, scooters, bikes, and strollers happened to be around. We decorated all the vehicles with American flags (and sometimes Rebel flags) and red, white and blue streamers and blared “Stars and Stripes Forever” on the Caddy’s 8 track player. And there is plenty of video evidence of this.
24. My wife thinks I’m boring because I’m struggling to think of 25 interesting things about myself.
25. Screw it… I must be boring.

Could There Be Revolution In Australia?

As Will and I were having a leisurely breakfast yesterday—the first day we didn’t have a jam-packed schedule since it was Sunday and, unlike the United States, pretty much everything is closed on Sundays—we ran across an interesting poster.

Now this got us thinking: what about Australia could possibly demand a revolution? From our short-but-intensive observations of the Australian culture, everything seems rather heavenly. The entire population has access to healthcare. The beach is within walking/public transportation distance of pretty much anywhere in Melbourne. To our knowledge, there does not seem to be a poor class, with even McDonald’s workers making upwards of AUD$15/hr. The unemployment rate, while higher than normal at the moment thanks to the global economic crisis, is still low compared to most countries. I suppose the revolution instigators could be a bunch of capitalist businessmen who are upset that their income possibilities top off at around $300,000/yr instead of $700,000 or so, but that seems like quite a lot of effort for people who are busy having power lunches and playing on their yachts.

Then it hit us—the revolution must be referring to the Australian real estate system! It’s really the only plausible option. And this is a revolution Will and I can fully get behind.

In order for you to fully appreciate the necessity for this revolution, allow me to explain the status quo as it stands in Australia today.

Upon moving to Melbourne, Will and I weren’t at all concerned about being able to find an apartment. We had done some preliminary research before leaving the United States so we knew the areas where we wanted to look and the price range we would mostly be looking in, and there seemed to be quite a bit of availability. A mirage, my friends, a mirage. When we got here someone kindly explained to us that Melbourne has less than 1% rental vacancy at the moment, and the market is quite competitive at that. Apparently we unwittingly moved to New York.

But no matter. We could be competitive and pushy as well. We would just get a real estate agent to pull up a list of vacant properties throughout the city (we didn’t have internet, so how could we do that?), drive us around (we didn’t have a car, so how could we cover that much area on foot?), show us the properties (how would we know what the features are and when it’s available?), and we would just choose one (we weren’t planning on being picky, I swear).

As you can imagine, the [quite logical, I thought] assumptions that I have articulated above are, in fact, riddled with a variety of inconsistencies and problems. First and foremost, the problem of the mythical real estate agent. I use the term mythical because Australian real estate agents are often referred to in whispered conversation, yet are quite rarely seen. When calling a real estate agency, one will unequivocally speak with a receptionist—the front-man for the whole operation—who will without fail tell you that no agents are in right now because they are “extremely busy at the moment.” When leaving your number and asking them to return your call, one never hears back from them (either because they are “so busy” or because they don’t exist, who can tell?). When asking to view a property, one is told by the receptionist front-man that, again, the real estate agents are “extremely busy” and have no time to personally show you the property, but that you can go to the “inspection” (a fifteen-minute cattle call when anyone who is interested in this particular property hauls themselves to the property in question, stands in line with the hundreds of other interested people, files into the 500 sq. ft. un-air-conditioned one-bedroom apartment, picks up an application if interested, and is assured that they will “hear back” if they have been selected to be the lucky recipients of the $1300/month rent payments). Why the agents are always “so busy” I have a hard time understanding. It seems to me that the consumer is the one doing all the work—finding the place, getting to the place, filling out an application for the place—and all the real estate agent has to do is schedule a fifteen-minute inspection once a week until the place rents… oh, and get paid a commission off the rental, though they have done nothing sales-oriented to deserve it. At the inspections one can occasionally catch a fleeting glimpse of what I can only imagine could be a real estate agent, but they tend to vanish before one’s very eyes prior to actually speaking with them. (Seriously, they really do just vanish. It’s incredible.)

Mythical or just very, very lucky that they have a cushy job? Who knows. But if I ever do catch one of these wondrous creatures, I will ask them how I too can become a real estate agent.

Saturday, the first time Will and I actually set out to look for apartments, the weather got up to 115 degrees. For those who have never experienced weather of this magnitude, 115 degrees is very, very hot. The black flip-flops I was wearing practically began to melt into my feet. As an added difficulty, there was a breeze blowing. Now I hesitate to use the word “breeze” because that makes the monstrous force of nature that we experienced on Saturday sound like a good thing. When one thinks of a breeze one normally pictures cooling winds lapping at the skin—Mother Nature’s air conditioner. What we experienced was, in fact, exactly the opposite—hot, scalding winds blowing dust, leaves, and debris into our eyes. (If wind chill makes cold weather colder, what would you call wind that makes hot weather hotter?) Every time I think back to Saturday, I can’t shake the picture of us in the Sahara, chasing after an oasis that we hoped would be just over each sand dune (in our case the oasis was the apartments we were trying to “inspect”). We only looked at three apartments, but it took hours for us to get to each of them because we had to stop every ten minutes to find shade, it was so hot.

I have a few more inspections to go to this week. Will is starting his job today so I will be the sole inspector from now on (who knows—maybe if I’m really, really lucky I’ll get to see a real estate agent in their natural habitat). I think we will put in an application for one of the apartments we looked at on Saturday, just to see how difficult the rest of the process is and how long it will take. We’re hoping to find something by February 18, the day we have to be out of our beautiful, air conditioned, serviced hotel-apartment (tear).

Now that you have heard our heart-wrenching tale, hopefully you too will realize that Australians live in a world of real estate depravity—a system governed by the elite, mythical real estate agents with no thought for the homeless hordes searching for a place to lay their weary heads. Clearly the only solution is revolution. Will and I will fight. Will you?

Time Here: Mon., Feb. 9, 4:45 pm

St. Kilda Festival

Yesterday we happened to be eating breakfast at a place on Fitzroy St., a popular street close to our hotel that leads to the beach and is filled with restaurants, cafes, and bars, when we began to notice an abnormally large quantity of people heading towards the beach. We asked our server what was going on and she told us that it was the day of the St. Kilda Festival. (St. Kilda is the neighborhood where our hotel is located—about ten minutes out of the downtown district). Lucky us—we happened to be staying in St. Kilda during the St. Kilda Festival!

Thousands of people streamed into the St. Kilda area yesterday. The festival turned out to be more like a giant block party, with street performers, bands, and kiosks set up along the beach. Will and I walked all through the area, and stopped at a restaurant that we saw served nachos! (I was so happy!!! And they were pretty good, although not Sunset Grill quality. The salsa was more like marinara sauce with diced onion and green peppers, but they served it with sweet chili sauce on the side, which was an interesting touch.) We also met a man from Germany who ran away from the German army when he was offered ten passports to ten countries for ten thousand euros. He was heading to Spain—his third country—today and eventually planned on winding up in South Africa as his final destination (apparently if he goes back to Germany he’ll be arrested). What a tender slice-of-life moment… sigh.

All in all, I highly recommend the St. Kilda Festival as a great way to spend the Sunday before you start your first day of work (well, not me, but Will!).

Nachos

Aboriginal Muscians with a surprisingly perfect Aussie accent

Catching Up

Will and I finally got the internet. We’ve felt very cut off up until now and haven’t had the opportunity to talk to hardly anyone about our experiences, so I thought we would related them here. Not to bombard you with too much information (I did envision this blog being a symbiotic mix of fact and introspection, and this particular post definitely leans more towards the former than the latter) but we have some catching up to do. So here’s a quick recap of events as they have happened up to now.

Last Weekend:

Last weekend feels like a lifetime ago. It was pretty much a haze of choosing what we would be able to take with us to Australia and cramming the rejected pieces away into a storage unit. My parents and sister came down to help us (they are master packers… they’ve done the international moving thing a time or two, so we had the pros on our side! I really don’t think we could have managed it without them). Here are a couple of pictures:

Luggage

Empty House

Overflowing Storage Unit

After all of the hard work, we went to Fire of Brazil to celebrate with some Brazilian churrasco. There was something especially encouraging and slightly poetic about our “last meal” being comprised of the fare that I grew up with, also in another country, and helped override the few nervous flutters I was occasionally experiencing in my stomach.

Kim Eating a Chicken Heart – Delicious!

Sunday evening Will and I went to two Superbowl parties and said our final goodbyes to friends. The next day was spent making one last haul to the storage unit, saying goodbye to my parents, getting massages (moving to another country is stressful!), and preparing for our 29 hours of traveling (that’s what it turned into, at least).

The Atlanta airport was a breeze—they didn’t even make us pay for the extra bag! We totally thought we had gotten away with something sneaky and were extremely proud of ourselves. The 5-hour flight to LA was also uneventful… nothing blog-worthy to recount. We thought we were home-free and would just be skipping onto the next flight in plenty of time for departure. Wrong. Not only did we have to go outside of security, but we also had to traipse our way through four other terminals (with no clue where we were going), re-check ourselves in at one counter, go to another counter to pay for our extra bag (dangit! We weren’t sneaky after all!), go to the ATM because their credit card reader wasn’t working, go to another counter because my visa wasn’t being cleared, talk to three different people before we realized that it was because I had gotten a new passport with my married name since we applied for the visa, spend one hour waiting in the security line again, get food because it was 1:00 am EST and we had never eaten dinner, and then run to make the flight. At least we were tired out.

Will and Kim on the Big Plane

The airplane was very large and very packed. I sat in between Will and a 70-year-old man who never learned the meaning of personal space and liked to fart while he sleeps (the man, not Will). The most depressing point of the entire flight was after I woke up from the first time I fell asleep. I was sure I had slept for at least six hours or so. We must be nearing Melbourne. I asked a flight attendant how many more hours we had left. Eleven. Eleven hours. I started watching Step Brothers. I finished Step Brothers. I watched The Duchess, which I finished as well. I started watching the remake of The Women, which was stupid so I stopped watching it. I watched Romeo and Juliet (Leo DiCaprio… I still remember seeing that in theaters and swooning/crying on an alternating basis. Now I don’t swoon or cry, but I can understand the Shakespearean language. Ahhh, maturity.) I watched Sex and the City. I reread parts of Twilight (swoon, Edward Cullen). I talked with Will in between his movie choices—True Lies, Step Brothers, Dirty Harry, and various video games. Still three hours to go… wait, make that four. The announcement just came that we are an hour delayed due to weather. So I slept more.

Finally we arrived. We went through customs, got our bags, had cute little beagles sniff our bags, went through customs again, and were then once and for all released into Australian society.

A woman from Will’s office was there to meet us and drive us to our hotel (that was the last time we have been in a car since then… you don’t realize how much you miss it until you don’t have it). Will and I actually weren’t all that tired, but even if we had been we made a pact that we wouldn’t go to sleep until night time. So we walked to the beach (ten minute walk from our hotel), got some lunch, walked around some more, looked for an internet café but couldn’t find one, had a couple of drinks, and then headed back to the hotel room, where we proceeded to pass out utterly and completely… at 5:30 in the afternoon. So much for the pact. But at least we stayed asleep until 7:30 the next morning.

Melbourne Bay

The next day we were up bright and early, ready to get to work setting up our new Australian lives. We went into the city for the first time (we are staying about ten-minutes-by-tram outside of the city, close to Will’s work). It’s beautiful—filled with shops, tourist centers, libraries, restaurants, etc. It feels very European. We spent the day going to several cell phone and electronic stores—something that takes a lot longer than you think it will, considering you have to learn an entirely different infrastructure for each communication device you could want. Cell phone (excuse me, mobile) plans are based on credits instead of minutes, internet is based on download quantity instead of unlimited useage, and there are infinitesimal combinations for both. It made my head hurt. We decided to take a break and get a cappuccino in the Queen Victoria Center.

Cappuccino

All of the Information You Ever Need to Know about Mobiles, Internet, and Melbourne

We left the city without getting anything, but went back the next day for a wireless internet device… which didn’t work, and now we need to return it. And let me point out that this may not sound like too big of a task, but we are doing all of this on foot. It gets pretty tiring, and what you think should only take 30 minutes ends up taking 2 hours. Such as looking for apartments, which has been such an extraordinary experience that it deserves its own post.

Yesterday also served as the mile-marker for our first day with cell phones! After breaking down all of the different providers and plans, we finally settled on a Blackberry Storm for me (yay for e-mail anytime!) and a lower-credit plan for Will (all mobiles in Australia receive free incoming calls, so my phone will be used for most of the calling). And it was relatively inexpensive—just $79 for an unlimited data plan and what equates to 550 minutes for the Storm, and you don’t even have to pay for the phone. Which is ridiculous, because from what we have seen, so far everything in Australia is more expensive than the United States. I guess because it’s an island?? (what do I know about the economy really) For example, to buy an iPhone outright without the plan, it’s $899 for the 8GB, and the 16GB is over $1000. Restaurant food is extremely expensive as well, with lunch prices hovering around the $16 mark and dinner being upwards of $20 (exception: Asian food… but even cheaper food is around $9). Rent for a one-bedroom apartment outside of the city is around $300/week. Expensive.

Today we spent the day looking for apartments, an event that, as I said before, will be its own post. Unfortunately today was also the first day it decided to get really, really hot—45 degrees, which is about 115 degrees. We felt every single one of those degrees, too (again, no car).

Rock-Solid Proof of Global Warming and Subsequent Holes in Ozone Layers

But in our explorations, we wandered upon a great little market that I’m sure we will frequent a lot.

Fresh Produce

Fresh Pasta

We’re pretty worn out from the apartment experience, so we are currently—as in right this minute—sitting in out little hotel room, enjoying the air conditioning, and looking for cars and apartments online (oh yeah, we picked up the wireless service today, too). Will’s first day is on Monday, so we hope to spend tomorrow relaxing a little and heading to the beach. Tomorrow it’s only supposed to be 25 degrees (77 F). Australians have a saying that Melbourne has four distinct seasons, often in one day.

Overall we have been loving Melbourne, but we will be happy when all of the logistical issues get taken care of… and when the weather cools off tomorrow! I’ll try to post a little more frequently, now that we are connected to the outside world once again.

Time Here: Saturday, Feb. 7, 6:45 pm

We're Here!

We have arrived! Again I find myself with no time to write (this time the limiting factor being an ever-dwindling time card at the internet cafe), but maybe some day I will be able to recount the craziness that is involved in a 20 hour flight and first impressions of a new country.

But rest assured, we got in safely yesterday morning, had lunch, fell asleep at 5:30 pm and slept through to 7:30 am, woke up, went for a run, and are hitting the streets in search of cell phones and real estate agents.

Time here: Thursday, Feb. 5, 11:30 am

Last Day... No Time

So today is our last day in the United States for quite some time. Believe it or not there is a lot to do before our flight at 6:55 pm. I wish I had more time to blog about this past weekend--it was really a great time with family and friends, all who will be missed dearly. I'll probably have to write some retroactive posts once Will and I land safely in Melbourne. But for now, allow me to share our itinerary for those who wish to know where we are at all times (and for those who are looking for a chance to feel smug about not having to fly 20-plus hours):

Depart Atlanta: Monday, 6:55 pm (EST)
Arrive LA: Monday, 9:05 pm (PST)
Flying time: 5 hrs., 10 min.

Depart LA: Monday, 11:15 pm (PST)
Arrive Melbourne: Wednesday, 9:40 am (Melbourne time??)
Flying time: 15 hrs., 25 min.

Those of you who are a little slow on the uptake, yes, we are departing Monday and getting there Wednesday (stupid international date line). We are assured, however, that we will regain the lost day on the way back. I'm thinking I'll fly back on my birthday and get to celebrate two days in a row.

But for now...

So long, friends... see you on the other side!