Australia doesn't get out much

What do COPS, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch have in common? They're still found on Australian television. And I'm not talking about obscure cable channels, I'm talking about major networks.

"I'll shoot you if you change the channel!
This is the only country where we still get
air time and I need those royalty checks!"

Before moving to the Land of Oz we'd often been told, "Oh, it's just like the United States was twenty years ago." For the most part there was nothing that stuck out in my mind as a blast from the past. Except for television.. 

It seems like Australia doesn't get out much, so they don't know that the people who make TV shows didn't die en masse in 1999. There are, in fact, new shows that come and go every year. 

But the good people of Oz continue to watch the drama of Dr. Quinn treating an injured horse even though she wasn't trained in veterinary medicine, or teenage Sabrina learning that using spells to get a boy to like you is the Hogwarts version of a date rape drug. 

But while Australia doesn't get out much, it seems that all the actors do. In fact, they get out of the country completely. Aussie thespians are invading the States. 

Sure, pre-crazy Mel Gibson, Nicole Kidman, Russell Crowe, and Cate Blanchett have been around a while. They were the vanguard and now they're the old guard.

Now all the newbies hitting the screen are Aussie: That dumb guy from True Blood. The woman from X-Men: First Class, Eric Bana, the guy from Thor, that Thor guy's brother, Isla Fisher, the late Heath Ledger, Sam Worthington (Avatar, Terminator), the guy from The Mentalist, the guy from Hawaii 5-0, the guy from Nip/Tuck, absolutely everyone who had a speaking role in Animal Kingdom. And most of the time they're putting on American accents. 

What's ironic is that these Australians are coming to the U.S. to make the very TV series and movies that will probably air on major Australian networks in about a decade. 

So Australia, don't worry about leaving the house to find out what's going on; we'll come to you.

Going Local

When you tell people you're moving to Australia the response tends to be one of surprise. This was especially true when I told my mom over the phone, who I think went quiet for a good 60 seconds. Colleagues generally spoke the name out loud, half questioningly -- "Australia?" -- as if letting it sink in, typically followed by an exclamation like "That's incredible!"

All except for one person, a project manager working at the same client. "Oh," he said casually, "my daughter lives there."

Now it was my turn to be surprised; I didn't know of anyone who lived in Australia. "What's she doing over there?" I asked.

"She's a model."

Once again, not the answer I was expecting. I had a brief vision of getting invited to parties full of scantily clad beautiful women. (With Sharon, of course.)

"Yeah, she lives there with her husband, who's also a model. You'll see him on billboards around Sydney. He used to be a professional surfer. I'll pass on their contact details so you can get in touch."

When we arrived in Sydney, I sent the guy's daughter, Stacy, an email and we coordinated a meet up at the only bar in Double Bay, the Golden Sheaf.

Stacy was a sweetheart. Steve was everything I expected from an Aussie: friendly, gregarious, tan, into surfing. After a couple drinks we got to talking about the Sydney beach lifestyle.

"Just wait, mate." he told me. "Give it a few months and you'll be drinking chai tea, doing yoga, getting acupuncture. Your friends will come over and see you and say 'What the hell happened?'"

I was skeptical but should have known better….

A friend who lived in Japan said expats there had an informal rule book: "You know you've been in Japan too long when…" As in, "You know you've been in Japan too long when you bow while talking on the phone."

It's time for  a similar rule book of my own, "I've been in Australia a long time when…" As in, "I've been in Australia a long time when I start doing yoga on a regular basis."

Yes, it's true. I've started doing yoga. I actually got up at 6:30am on a Saturday to go to a Yoga class. Voluntarily. And I purchased a daily deal for yoga on the beach. When I told Sharon, she replied, "Who are you and what have you done with my fiancé?" She loves it of course, as a yoga devotee, but it is, shall we say, an unexpected development in my character arc.

I haven't ordered Chai tea yet, (ashamed to admit I have) but I will have a few sips when Sharon gets one for herself. As for acupuncture…well, I haven't bought into it just yet, but sun exposure drives a man to do crazy things.

Television Flashback

Sitting down to watch TV here in Australia is a ticket back in time. When bored with nothing else to do I sometimes catch myself watching re-runs of shows that we in America watched back in the 80's and early 90's. Head of the Class, Murphy Brown, The Nanny and Cheers... just to name a few.

Not really sure why the TV programs are so horrible here but I am looking forward to the day when I have my good old DVR back.

Due to poor television programming I will just have to pirate the good stuff illegally. Please start raising money for my bail now. Thank you Australia.

The Car I Never Dreamed Of

Its true! After a whole year of suffering in Sydney without a car, we finally broke down and decided it was time. Since Sydney's roads follow the general layout of a plate of spaghetti, getting around without a car is pretty tough -- doable, but tough.

A few friends advised us to check out Parramatta Road, which is lined with used car dealerships  whose listed price is always much higher than the price they're willing to sell at. After a long day of walking from dealership to dealership looking at crappy Holdens, Fords, and Daewoos, and sweating buckets in the humidity, we decided that this was not the best way to do things.

We retreated to our home, on public transportation of course, to do some more research. We hit up Drive.com.au and limited our search to brands we'd actually want to drive. We checked each make, model, year, and how many kilometers the car had. Then Adam contacted each one and talked the price down by at least $1000; for the ones that said they could drop the price, we plotted the location on a map and told them we'd come see the car the next day. We rented a car this time around and the next morning headed out to see each one.

Three dealerships and one house call later we ended up getting an oldie but a goodie. Since we only needed a car to last us for the next year and a half or so we decided cheaper is the way to go.

We are now the owners of a 1997 Silver Audi A4 that was listed for $5k but we got for $3750. Its registration ("rego" in Aussie parlance) and insurance don’t expire until May so we saved ourselves roughly $400 on that.

When shopping for a used car I suggest following the method we used. Here are a few more things to consider when shopping around.

• Check Drive.com.au or CarSales.com.au and determine what you actually want to drive rather than blindly going to dealerships hoping you'll luck upon something you like.
• Get to the point when on the phone. The first dealer Adam called, he said "I don't want to waste my time coming out to your location; what's the best price you can do on the car?" He used that much lower price as leverage with each following person. Don’t for a minute think that the price listed is the price you are going to pay. Don't be afraid to walk away -- many dealers will have last second changes of heart and drop the price even more.
• Ask about the history and how many owners the car had. Check the boot and under the bonnet. Look for rust and uneven lines between body panels (sign of a collision).
• Always do a test drive even if you are only remotely interested. You don’t want to have to come back later to do this. Plus, you will only know if something is better or worse the more you have to compare it to.
• Ask about the rego and how much time is left.
• If you are purchasing from a dealership then ask about a warranty. Most were willing to throw in 12 months for free even after talking them down on price. They want to sell cards. 

A short list of things I like and dislike about Australia...

After more than a year in Australia, it is time to pass judgment on the entire continent:

Good

• Great beaches
• Great mountains not too far from the beaches
• Geography in general is strong to quite strong
• Great breakfasts -- better than the U.S.
• Easy outdoor lifestyle

Bad

• Not a week goes by that a Kardashian doesn't appear on a magazine cover (last week they were on the cover of at least five magazines) -- why is everyone so obsessed with these oxygen thieves?
• Pizza doesn't come close to a New York slice
• Come to think of it, almost nowhere offers slices
• Pizza places are only open for dinner
• Mmm...pizza
• Prices -- everything is ridiculously expensive

There...that wasn't too bad, was it?

Australia may have misrepresented itself…

...Weather-wise, at least. As I write this, I'm huddled up on the sofa in sweat pants and sweat shirt, draped in a blanket, with a space heater pointing directly at me. It's not yet winter and already getting out of bed in the morning and exposing myself to the cold air is a daily psychological struggle. 

In Sydney the night temperatures drop to the 40s (Fahrenheit). Even the nights at Ayers Rock, a monolith sprouting from scrub in the middle of the continent where the sun regularly cooks the air to 100 degrees during summer, have crept down into the 30s.

Now, I know what all my brethren in the northeastern United States are saying: Oh, that's nothing, it drops below freezing here and we get dumped on by blizzards. Duly noted, but you also have indoor heating. That's right -- most housing in Sydney has neither air conditioning nor heating. This would be explicable if cold nights and chilly days were rare, but they're not. Fall and its lower temperatures came in late March and we won't get much relief until September or October. Space heaters do a brisk business.

On my walk to the bus stop in the morning I often see wetsuit-clad surfers, carrying their boards, on their way down to the water. Crazy, I think to myself. They all swear the water is warmer than the air, which it probably is, but I just don't have the willpower to throw myself from a dry cold environment into a watery not-quite-as-cold one. I'm happy to wait for summer to roll around again before jumping in the ocean.

The only solution is to reverse the migration direction of America's snow birds, the legions of mostly retired citizens who decamp to Florida during winter. In Australia's case, you'd have to drive some 1,500 miles north to Cairns or thereabouts, where temperatures are a balmy 80.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so unpleasant if it wasn't so unexpected. Before moving from New York, I got rid of my winter coat. I was going to Australia, you don't need coats there! Obviously I didn't do much homework, but I'm going to put some blame on the Australian tourism office. The A$180 million "So Where the Bloody Hell are You" tourism campaign from a few years ago -- which turned out, on analysis, to have decreased tourism from some countries -- prominently featured blue skies, stunning beaches, turquoise waters, kangaroos, and hot chicks in bikinis. In other words, they suggested this was paradise. It's pretty damn good, I'll grant, but paradise isn't cold six months a year.

"At home in front of a space heater."

The one benefit of the colder weather is that Sharon and I don't feel obligated to spend every sunny day by the water, soaking up the beach culture. Instead, we're exploring more of Sydney's neighborhoods, scoping out new restaurants, bars, and shops (including the coolest butcher shop I've ever seen, Victor Churchill). Still, I'll be spending three weeks out of the next eight in the U.S., where it will be summer. I'm pretty pumped.

Pound v. Gram and Other Challenges

Sharon and I always say Australia is like the love child of England and America, culturally speaking. We see the DNA of both cultures here. So, coming from the States, things are familiar, but just different enough to throw you off occasionally. One of the subtler changes I experienced is shopping for groceries.

My first solo trip to the grocery store found me at the deli counter. I ordered a 1/3 of a pound of turkey. The deli person looked at me blankly and I remembered Australia uses the metric system. I quickly tried to calculate in my head how to order metrically. My mind went through the paces: 1 kilogram is equal to 2.2 pounds…let's just round that down and say a kilogram is twice as heavy, so I should cut the order in half from pounds to kilos… okay, I'm good. "I'll take 1/6 of a kilo of turkey," I said. Confusion still hung in the hair.

A native Aussie woman took pity on me. "You should order 300 grams," she said. She turned out to be right and I've been ordering 300 grams ever since, which I find amusing since the only time grams is mentioned in the U.S. is in the context of a drug bust.

The differences in measurement confounded me again when I went to buy fish. "$39.99/kg" it read. Holy crap, I thought, I can't afford to buy fish at that price. Then I remembered to convert it, which made it about $18/lb which is on par with New York City prices.

And I don't know any brands. When it came to buying peanut butter, I went for Kraft, thinking that as a multinational conglomerate their peanut butter would be suitably over-processed, indestructible, and delicious, just like good old Skippy or Jiffy back home.

This ignorance extends to clothing. 29 years of brand exposure went down the drain when I moved here. If I need a pair of slacks for work, what's a quality brand? What's just overpriced hype? You take for granted that this sort of knowledge is actually useful. Here's to learning all over again!

Being the foreigner

I just finished week one at my new job here in Australia ( I work here ) and other than having no time to workout the week was pretty cool. I met new people and best of all am now back to having income!

In the past I have been pretty quick to adapt to new environments, but I can already tell this is going to take a little more time. I am the only American among many Aussies; they all speak fast and use LOTS of slang. I now know what an ocker and a blower are and also learned that cursing in the workplace is totally acceptable.

I have to be honest, though: it's pretty great being the foreigner! I can get away with so much. I just say "Oh, but I am from America" or "Thats not what we do in America." Plus, they love my accent! One co-worker asked me to setup her work voicemail and another co-worker asked me to call one of our difficult-to-handle accounts because they thought my accent sounds nice and I would have a better chance at winning her over.

I moved here from Manhattan thinking no one could possibly work longer hours than New Yorkers. Man, was I wrong! I start work at 830am here and leave the same time as I did in New York. Plus, public transportation sucks here so after taking 2 buses to get home I have pretty much killed an hour.
Goodbye Lady of Leisure, hello working woman!

Do you have any pies?

The Friday after Thanksgiving Thursday in the States, we celebrated Thanksgiving at my boss's boss's house in North Sydney. He's American , his wife is Australian, and they invited some people over for the holiday.

Sharon and I were tasked with bringing pie, something that seemed easy enough so I didn't think about it again until Friday morning.

I did a search for local bakeries and started calling them. I figured it would take a few seconds to figure out whether they had what I wanted or not.

I called the first bakery. A French-sounding woman answered.

"Hi," I said, "Do you have any pies?"
"Yes," the French accent answered, "We have chicken pies, chicken and bacon pies, beef pies, lamb and…

"No, no," I cut her off before getting the entire menu, "I'm looking for dessert pies."

"Eh, dessert pies?" She asked as if this were an alien concept. I was starting to get the sense this task might not be so easy.

"Yeah...like apple pie or pecan pie," I suggested.

"Pecan pie?" She said, as if confused. I had pronounced it peh-cahn, like it's said in the States. I had heard it's said pee-can here so thought maybe that threw her off.
"Yes...peh-cahn pie, pee-can pie." I tried it both ways, hoping that might get things back on track.
"Eh...no apple pie or pecan pie. But we have chocolate cake, cheesecake, and…lots of other cakes." She paused, before triumphantly stating that they also had apple strudel. "That's like apple pie," she said.

"Oh, apple strudel?" I was willing to settle for anything approaching pie at this point. "Okay, that might work," I told her.

"I'm sorry -- you want strudel?"

"Um, look, I'll just swing by to look at what you have."

The French accent didn't understand. "Sorry?" she said. This was going downhill quickly.

"Um…yeah, it seems like you guys have a lot of…offerings…so I'll come take a look." I was now thinking to myself…'Offerings?',  what a bad choice of words. How do I extract myself from this conversation?

The French accent started talking again, but it was garbled.

"I'll just stop by," I said, not sure how I was still on the phone.

There was another round of garbled French accent.

"Okay, um…I'll see you later," I said and hung up.

Sharon could barely contain herself and started laughing hysterically. Then she declared that no one could understand me. While it's true that I mumble a bit (okay, all the time), I told her it wasn't my fault and gave her the honor of calling the next bakery.

In a very clear, professional voice Sharon asked the first bakery she called if they had pie. It was a voice you could have confidence in and I figured she'd have this situation all wrapped up in a few seconds.

The façade quickly broke down though when after a moment of silence she raised her voice and stressed "Not meat pies, dessert pies. Like apple pie or pecan pie." I broke into a grin.

There were a few more seconds of silence before Sharon again had to describe what she was looking for. At this point I started laughing. Either we were both idiots or all the bakers were, but if the former at least I wasn't alone. She hung up the phone, defeated.

After calling about five bakeries to no avail we gave up and figured we'd try again when we got to North Sydney. We called a bakery that, surprise, surprise, did not carry dessert pies. But the very kind lady did let us know that a deli across from her was selling pies. We walked in and found out they had just made a bunch of pumpkin pies that morning. I scooped up two and we made our way to the Thanksgiving dinner. Next time I'll just show up with a meat pie: "Oh, that turkey and stuffing was fantastic. Hope everyone saved some room for lamb pie!"

Only in Australia...

 

I found this on my walk home from Cook & Phillip Park and thought... I am definitely in Australia!

Mailing just isn't what it is today...

The more time I'm in Australia the more I see that it's very similar to America...but not the America we know and love today. Instead, it's like the America of 30 years ago.

Here in Australia, just like in America, mailmen/women deliver mail to your home or apartment. However, unlike America, here they do not pick up mail from your home. No walking to  the front of your house and simply lifting the red flag to designate a pickup. No, here you have to walk around to locate the nearest drop box, where ever they are, and hand deliver your mail for a pickup.

Now I don't want to sound spoiled, maybe I am, but since the mailpeople have to deliver mail to your home why not eliminate one extra stop and pick up our mail as well.

I'm just saying....

Mozzies

I am a big fan of NPR. They have some great programming that provides a nice overview of news and cutting edge thinking. Not all of their programs are winners, though, and neither are all of their guests. A while ago I caught a few minutes of a special on bed bugs. They were in the middle of interviewing the U.S. Army's chief bug expert (yes that is a post in our military -- he'll tell you what type of Deet to pack).

When you think "U.S. military" you probably think of corn-fed Americans carrying around 100 pound packs in 100 degree weather. This dude did not convey that image. At all times he carries on his person a tube of live bed bugs. He lets them roam his hand and suck his blood to stay alive. He displayed his calf, which he had apparently offered up to the bed bugs as a snack, to the program host. It looked "welty" to her. The Pope gets more action than this guy, I thought.

The reason I bring this up is that I'm currently getting destroyed by Australia's native mosquito population. At last count I was sporting about 30 mozzie bites from my knees on down. My body has this great reaction where the bites at first form the typical pink bump, then morph into dark purple welts. As a result, I am both looking like the bug expert and in need of his services. Irony.