You know what else should be encouraged? Barbies. As in delicious food on a grill, not a disproportioned doll. The stereotype of Australian barbies are wrong—they’re better. Imagine a glorious park next to an equally glorious beach entirely occupied by happy Aussies. Every single one is drinking beer (‘no booze in public’ laws are overlooked for Sunday barbies). Sausage, steak, beer battered bacon (surprisingly awesome (speaking of awesome, Australians are amused when we say it)), the works. Some dudes next to us were grilling kangaroo, but since I had pet a kangaroo within the last 24 hours, I stuck with non-kanga meat. This particular barbie was particularly amusing as my friend and I were in the minority (females, without full sleeve tattoos, etc.) and also because I shared a kabob (pronounced ka-bAb) with Nicole Kidman’s bodyguard. Top ten most entertaining nights of life, easy.
I don’t wear a watch or have a calendar here. I have, literally and more than once, told time by a sundial. Normally I tell time by how crowded street cafés are, how dark it is, or if there are still kids and puppies kickin’ around. It beats digital clocks and roman numerals.
We celebrated (as we, like this whole nation, take any excuse we find) our One Month of Australia Anniversary recently. That means that we have been here for a month. That is absolutely insane because my plane landed, oh, yesterday. Living in the future only makes the warped speed with which time is traveling even more intense.
Ever since I joined the Australia network on the book, I have gotten some bizarre friend requests from strangers on this island. But they all have silly Australian names (Dunstan, for instance) so I accept.
Speaking of things that make the world seem tiny (fbook), the small world-isms keep on rolling. In the middle of the woods in the Blue Mountains, I ran into a girl from high school I haven’t seen since graduation (we said “holy shit!” simultaneously). At a bar, a friend introduces me to his friend…except I already know his friend. We had freshman year Spanish together. And the creep LBI dude from the first night, who I assumed went to U. Sydney, who I assumed we would never see again…he sat behind me at orientation. Straight up nonsense.
A lesson in Australian speak, for all of you keeping score at home. If someone says to you, “Mate—you seem really pissed this arvo, do you think you could help me carry this esky filled with capsicum and not winge about it? Or maybe you should just SMS me when you get home? Ta.” If you were to hear that, and you never, ever would, the speaker means, “Dude, you’re drunk this afternoon. Help me carry this cooler full of peppers and please don’t complain about it. Or text message me when you get home. Bye.” End of lesson.
I will end with a bunch of top five lists, because I want to.
Things I miss:
1. George lord and his wonderfully fat cheeks
2. Pictionary tournaments in 424 (speaking of, I saw a metaphorical “lamp” girl carrying an ACTUAL game of Pictionary around campus yesterday. I laughed aloud.)
3. A meal plan
4. Wireless internet in my bed
5. YOU!
Things I don’t miss:
1. Boston weather
2. A world without kangaroos
3. Class five days a week
4. Being obligated to wear shoes
5. The smell of Edmond’s
Things we now have in our apartment that aren’t, technically, “ours:”
1. Eight neon shot glasses from unibar AND one wine glass from a classy restaurant
3. More than 50 plastic sporks from garlo’s meat pies
4. A (very comfortable!) canvas director-ish chair we found on the street
5. Three posters advertising themed parties at bars
Five excerpts, out of context, from our running (100+) list of Why Australia Rules:
19. Drunk cop at Mardis Gras
29. Bondi Rescue
27. Uniforms with hats
33. "Simon(s)"
68. Three Mile Tuesday