Queensland

I’m only happy when it rains


Oh, the rain! Rain rain rain. It’s almost painful without being touched. For the past handful of nights I lay with my window open, falling asleep to the mad rush of rain pellets against the roof, the windows, the pavement, slashing against the trees, car tires screeching, sirens blaring, running water rising higher in the corners of the streets; it’s almost a constant whipping sound. I just think to myself, dear god, not the floods.

I arrived back from the US a mere two weeks ago and immediately the cabbie was reminding me that it is officially one year since “the floods” as it is most commonly referred to.

I can tell you exactly what I was doing this time last year as the water peaked at 14.6 feet in Brisbane city. I was sitting in another city who just years before fought a very similar devastating battle, New Orleans. In between po boy sandwiches and late night shenanigans on Bourbon Street, mixed amongst all day work meetings of course, it was confirmed that I would be moving to Brisbane pending visa approval. Sold on a city that was under water.

And so I’ve returned from a 3 week work/holiday stint in New York ready to take on summer full swing, but I’m met with the damn road block of constant rain! I’ll give it to you straight.

Big Day Out

Big Day Out is a multi-city all day festival. It has a reputation of being for those youngins because it’s a 15+ show, however when I saw the lineup I said myself, of all the new music I’ve exposed myself to the 7 months I’ve been here, how can I deny myself a hard core rage to My Chemical Romance and a nostalgic sing along with long time idol Noel Gallagher? Cleary impossible. So I paid the $175 to go.

I arranged for my Sunday best. I braided my hair the evening before to result in perfect crimps, I removed the packing from my shinny new fanny pack (which have I mentioned has a whole different conotation here?), and I pulled up my socks to the knees and stepped into my gum boots (uhum rain boots). I then knocked on new roomie Kelvin’s door, a manager at a top of the line fashion distributor, to get confirmation that my attire was suiting. What I received in response was a huge laugh. I defended myself stating, perhaps you don’t know I dress for comfort and convenience, over style. So off I went.

I arrived at Roma Street bus station, where I pre-purchased a round trip bus fair to save myself or others the inconvenience of organizing transportation, amongst the plethora of 16 years olds attending the show. I caught my reflection in the mirror and thought two things, holy shnikes my outfit does not look good in one bit, and secondly, am I getting a rush of being too old for this? Shnikes is right! Luckily the bus ride was calm and quiet.

I arrived a good 1.5 hours before my friends so opted for some lunch, a decent scope of the arena, and a first up jam out to the Medics, an unique Aussie indigenous band who’s bassist rocks out like no one I’ve ever seen, seriously! After a quick stop off at Calling All Cars and the Cairo’s my friends have finally arrived and we tango’d with some heavy metal sooo not my speed before I removed my gum boots to relax to California natives Best Coast.

Jacqui and I at BDO

I secretly (I think I just changed the secrecy aspect of it all)  just went to the show for two reasons, amongst some other decent acts I wouldn’t mind having on my score card (Foster the People, Kasabian, Kimbra, Architecture & Helsinki and more), but ideally, it was a hard core rock out to My Chemical Romance and a nod and shake to Noel Gallagher and the High Flying Birds. But holy what, MCR was a disappointment! I’ve seen their shows in London, New York and Philadelphia and they are always a literal pee-in-your-pants raging good time. But on the Gold Coast this energy was low and sound quality bad. I thought it was just them but as I danced my way to Kasabian it was the same, nooooo way, this crowd should be rocking out to this way harder despite the downpour, but no avail.

So when my friends waited in the pouring down rain for Kayne West I walked away to see Noel G, shuffled myself to the second row from the stage and it all came rushing back. I was 13 again belting out Oasis B-sides, known classics, and the good stuff from his new album. Here he was, Noel Gallagher mere meters (whatever that is in feet) from my face. And after all the rain (yes, my gum boots finally came in handy), and after all the running from stage to stage, this was it, just me, myself and I, raging out to Noel Gallagher, my teen idol, and taking the bus back to Brissy with a huge yawn and smile on my face. Yeah, yeah. It may never go away.

Noel Gallagher

Say It Ain’t So


The existence of tomato sauce flavored chips is about as foreign to me as tomato sauce flavored chips. Gross! Apparently lots of things come in tomato sauce, aka ketchup, flavor.

I just found this new delicious restaurant slash craft beer bar not too far from my apartment called Bitter Suite. Beers are awesome, and expensive, and awesome. Yum Sunshine Coast Brewery Porter! Also, the food ain’t too shabby. Pork belly with succulent crackle, mmm whah (like a smack on the tip of your fingers). I just returned from there. Love that the owner recognized me and my love for Porter’s from a few weeks back. Yeah girlfriend.

I fly to New York in less than one week from today. I was hoping my killer tan would impress everyone, I’m not sure if it’s so killer anymore. I was told to not forget my roots when inquiring about how freezing the temperature actually is. Damn’it, its freezing! Back to the beach. Not sure if I can squeeze a last minute sesh in, however would like to point out that the last two occasions I was at the beach, my bathing suit bottoms, known in Aussie slang as togs, were on inside out. Twice! Yes, twice I’ve been lazily tanning and minding my tanning business to have someone point out, “Oh hey dude, you know your bottoms are on inside out!” Uh…twice, really?!?!

There is a rule many folk may be familiar with which states “no shirt, no shoes, no service”. I would like to tell you that that rule does not apparently apply in Australia. No shirt, no problem. Boys don’t wear shirts, a lot. Actually, if they do, it’s probably a singlet, which is what they call a tank top. Which I hear only Californian surfer boys wear, and FYI no one on the US East coast would ever be caught dead in. There is also a tendency to not wear shoes. Like a lot, again. Most often I see this in grocery stores. Service is all of a different standard, so no problem.

I’m back in time a bit, but as the much anticipated Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part I was released, I was pleasantly entertained at the Blue Room Cinebar in Rosalie, a cute suburb crawling with eateries of all cuisine and alfresco seating, displaying much cuteness in every direction (apparently I’m not one with words this evening). Anyways, Blue Room, tickets cost an appreciated $11 in advance, they have a swinging bar to socialize in before the show, and you order bevies and food prior to taking your assigned seat in the small 50 person theatre and they feed you as you watch the movie. Another wine? Press the button and it magically appears while I stare into Edward Cullen’s dreamy eyes and imagine running my hands through his bouffant.

In the US there is this fabulous reality TV show called Beauty and the Geek where they pair “beauties” of super hot chicks who aren’t meant to be fairly intellectually challenged with even the basics of life, with a “geek” who has most likely never a kissed a girl and is unaware of pop culture phenomenon’s. Heaven must love TV series creators! They were smart enough to run Season 2 of Beauty and the Geek Australia, thank G, and although it has expired I had intentions of blogging about its addictive nature months ago, as the Geeks got sweet makeovers and all the sudden turned hot. Just saying, download that for some amusing entertainment, hello Gilly!

Spike, the damn lizard who has lots of relatives that sprawl all over Brisbane, is technically a Goanna. Just thought everyone should know.

While working in Hoboken, New Jersey from 2007 to 2011 my local bar was called The Dubliner. It was an Irish pub that served awesome cole slaw till the management changed and annoyingly took the cole slaw off the menu. I would just say to Ben, the bartender, side of slaw and Yeungling please! And could sit there for hours. Things changed over the years, but that was the gist of it.

The “pub” next to my work now is called The Coro. There is no weekly Thursday HH (happy hour) like there was in Hoboken, but on the occasion that we do go there all bottled beers are only $5, even deliciousness like Leffe. The toilets are see-through until you press the lock, then it goes cloudy so people can’t see you doing your business. These are the vast differences of the Dubliner verses the Coro. I still secretly favor the Dubliner in the old days, where you could sit there with a pint of Guinness by yourself and listen to the Fratellis. Luckily a new boutique beer bar called Scratch just opened in the Milton neighborhood that may soon to be the Coro replacement.

I’m going to quote my friend Anthony who said at the Coro “I’m pretty sure Australia created the plastic currency that’s now used around the world, except in America because your money is made from paper.” Have a think about that.

I’ve got! I’ve got!


I’m staring into the face if a 250 lb pound man. He’s running toward me at top speed. He wiggles to the left, then the right really fast but I just stand there and stare back. Touch. He has to stop and walk over the ball. I run backwards 10 meters thinking to myself, those shorts are pretty short for a big scary man.

This is my Monday night routine for the next 17 weeks. We’re the Milton Magic, a mixed touch rugby (football) team. I’m in it for the cute jerseys. Maybe the boys too. Also was feeling pressure to obtain that Australian hobby I’ve been promising myself and I’ve just hit my 6 month mark so needed to get cracking. Oh, and frankly, it’s fun!

I’ve got ponytail! I’ve got yellow shorts! I’ve got the big one? The scary looking one? No, you can’t say that, keep it polite when you’re screaming who you’re covering while running around like maniacs for quick 20 minute halves.

We’ve played 3 games to date and haven’t won one yet, but I swear we’re getting better. I haven’t scored a try aka goal and don’t see that in my near future, however I feel proud of learning a new sport and getting out there all team spirit and rah rah. Plus, it was a good excuse to buy new pair of sneakers from the Adidas store. Fellow Americans – I call to you – are you aware that we are apparently the only people in the world who pronounce Adidas as Uh-dee-dis as opposed to Ah-de-dahs? Humph, thanks for making me the laughing stock English teacher!

I would love to explain all the rules but will spare you the ignorance as well as love to give you the fine details of the differences between rugby league, rugby union, Aussie rules, and touch – can you believe there are so many types of rugby here! However, frankly, my eyes only see big men vs. lean men, touches vs. tackles, kicks vs. backwards throws etc. I’d say the hardest part for me is remembering to run backwards, not forwards! Whew.

Since I’m in the wild world of sports I’d also like to comment on my attendance at the Brisbane Bandits vs. Sydney Blue Sox in the ABL (Australian Baseball League) – what a joke. Played in Brissy at the RNA Show Grounds turned baseball diamond, the seats were empty, the food stalls Japanese, and the commentators American. Oh the classic American pastime brought a slight sense of reminisce but only a slight. For this one I was in it for the beer. And maybe the boys again. I’ll give the league credit for trying though. Between each pitch a small clip of the Cha Cha Cha slide “everybody clap your hands” was on repeat. They must have known it’s my classic dance party jam.

And you wonder why I was so bitter at being dubbed Sporty Spice when portraying members of the iconic group in our youth.

The true Brisbane Bandits

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man


Apparently snakes don’t give warning before they attack! I know, weird right? I’ll make it clear up front that I have not been bitten by a snake however, I have been intrigued after having a discussion on the top of Mount Tamborine, whilst  overlooking the valley, of people who have been bitten on the ankle by a snake, and only realize such after returning home from their walk. I would assume there would have been some fair warning. Apparently because of all the flooding last year the snakes are coming out to play!

Cheers! We're on our way

Mt. Tamborine is a boutique wine region on an eight kilometer ridge of a mountain chain along the Gold Coast. Since my friend Nidya was celebrating a birthday we rented a limo and headed to the southern hinterlands – up the mountain for some schnapps, wine, beer and cheese tasting to celebrate! I relived what felt like prom, posing for photos out front of the limo before our friendly driver Brian ushered us on our way.

Mt. Tamborine Distillery, so cute!

First stop was Mt. Tamborine Distillery. A cute little property tucked back behind black iron gates, the distillery sits amongst gingerbread house style buildings with large black and white spades plastered over the exterior. Vintage gardening tools rest against oak barrels as the fountain trickles calmly in the background. We were greeted instantaneously by the colorful owner Michael and his wife with a rendition of happy birthday played on accordion.

Michael from Mt. Tamborine Distillery wrapping some lemoncello

Michael looks a bit like Father Christmas only in his Hawaiian style shirt it all seemed out of place. The eclectic charm of the distillery was a good choice for this first stop as the variety of schnapps in hand painted colorful glass, from wattle toffee to Turkish delight to musk and lemocello (a favorite amongst the group), had given everyone a head start with their buzz so early in the morning. I’m thinking that the champagne we had up the mountain didn’t help either.

I’d recommend a stop here for anyone traveling in the region – polite, unconventional, and fun. The handmade eastern European knickknacks around the shop were enjoyable to browse through and we all left with a little something – whether it is a bottle of schnapps or hand-woven wool hats. But before we got too comfortable it was time to move on.

The vineyard at Witches Falls

Witches Falls Winery is one of the most favored in the region. In addition to light and fruity syrahs and sauvignon blancs with hints of capsicum (pepper) and oak they also specialize in batches of wild fermented yeast varieties. A big risk for wine makers because the outcome is so unpredictable however the viognier was one that I couldn’t refuse to take back with me.

Gallery Walk

Back in town is what is known as Gallery Walk. It’s the closest thing to “downtown” as it gets up in this mountain community, with a strip of art galleries, fudge shops, local craft merchants and handmade goodies all around. Tucked at the top of the street sits Mount Tamborine Brewery. With the small craft brewery on site, this cute stop off is a great place to get lunch, use the toilet (as many of the wineries don’t allow customers to use the restrooms unless there is a restaurant on site – weird!), and sample some of their delicious brews. $10 gets a sampler of 4 beers that the knowledgeable staff helps mix and match based on your preferences for taste. I chose the darker variety which had an awesome Belgian dubbel, black forest German dark beer, a mild lager and strong wheat. Also here is the cheese factory where they make delicious cheese on the premises and may have judged us a little bit for wanting a taste of nearly everything! I have a garlic goat cheese waiting for me to dip into that I’m having hard time not gobbling down instantaneously.

Flight of beers at Mt. Tamborine Brewery

Cheeeeeese Factory

All the champagne, schnapps, wine and beer started getting to our heads so we traveled farther down Gallery Walk to the Mt. Tamborine Winery to
have lunch on large picnic tables outside. The food was a bit disappointing as was the fact there was no actual vineyard. We nibbled on small baguettes, salads and lamb shanks. I find it interesting that lamb shanks in N. America can be quite expensive and only served at certain restaurants where it is a dish that I’m told many Australians have grown up with and I’ve spotted it on menus quite frequently. So, because we were running a bit tight on time we opted to skip the tasting and find a view so we could enjoy the scrumptious looking rocky road cupcakes made by Sharni.

The top of the world at Mt. Tamborine

Brian drove us to a lookout point on the side of the mountain where hang gliders often leap from. As the wind blew my hat off of my head and we watched it tumble down the mountain Jacqui caught it in time just before it leaped over the same edge the hang gliders often do. I asked her not to risk if for a $9.99 hat but luckily she was fast! So there we sat, quietly and calmly eating our cupcakes while taking in the breathtaking view and winding down from a very long day which unpredictably was going to be a lot longer. This is where we talked about the damn snakes that don’t give warning.  I also asked Brian if this was a popular make out point however I don’t think he heard me because I never got a response.

We turned into the side streets of Paddington, back in Brisbane, bladders nearly busting and contemplated where to take the night. Naps before dinner or shine right through. I think the answer is obvious.

Vietamese at Kim Lan post winery tour

Those with other evening obligations traded spots with some of the guys since they didn’t join on the wine tour and there was no better spot to dine then KimLan in Chinatown. I watched Nidya eat a fried Quail whole – literally, whiling singing the tune “bones bones bones bones bones” as I couldn’t believe it is okay to eat friend bird bones, spine and all. But, I’ll let you judge her for that.  Happy Birthday Nidya!

Happy Birthday Nidya!

It’s okay; I’m not a professional.


One would say a professional blogger may comment on such things about 99% of the population and what it truly means to share the wealth, or perhaps the probability of it snowing in New York unexpectedly this past Halloween, or the odds of having floods again in Queensland this summer. The interesting thing is, I’m not a professional blogger. Yup, a massive surprise to us all.

In no way do I have intentions to undermine any of the above controversial global issues nor contribute an educated opinion without supporting the facts (which I’m aware doesn’t require professional blogging skills) but I’m just here this time around to talk about a few simple things in life: Byron Bay and the hippies, Surfers Paradise and the tanned guerillas, and the quality of the XXXX brewery tour to outshine any of its beer worthiness. I would assume a best practice in blogging may be to assume one subject area and objectively present your opinion. I like to combine all subjects that I experience over a week or two period of time and overwhelm my readership with an explosion of thoughts.

Byron Bay Street Art

About a 2 hour drive south of Brisbane, crossing over the Queensland border into the state of New South Wales, sits Byron Bay. It’s known for its laid back atmosphere, a carefree paradise where hippies sit around bonfires in the evening strumming their guitars amongst the plethora of backpackers that flock to this coastal town. There are strips of local beach shops mixed amongst high street retailers, stalls selling fish tacos and wheatgrass shakes mixed in between a thriving nightlife.

Jacqui rocking back from the beach

A weekend getaway found me approaching this beach town passing the surf shops and tanned and toned surfers walking the highway with board in tow giving me a sense of the Australia that foreigner’s picture in their heads. The relaxed, artsy hostels packed with locals and travelers alike make this a prime stop off for most backpackers traveling along the east coast. We were just here however to celebrate a birthday.

Cheeky Monkeys

After late night shenanigans at notorious, trashy and divey Cheeky Monkey’s we spent the following morning letting the rays soak up our hangovers before heading to the Cape Byron Lighthouse that marks the most easterly point in Australia. Also noted that whilst tanning on the beach the lifeguards simply put up a sign near the rocks that hug the walking path (aka sidewalk), bathrooms, and road with “Snake in the grass. Please leave alone.” Let’s hope that was a friendly, cuddling sort of snake, not one of the world’s deadliest that live in these parts.

Snakes in the grass!

Most easternly point of Australia

So that brings me to the following weekend, pre-Halloween weekend. A bit depressing that this would have marked the 6th year of Emily and Lisa’s Halloween extravaganza where we rent a bar in Manhattan, give away $$$ worth of prizes and provide our friends with a place to get down and scary. Alas, I hopped on a train, down the coast again, for my first trip to Surfer’s Paradise.
Surfer’s is a place that many a traveler to Australia puts on their agenda. But reality check! Surfer’s is a touristy, high-rise filled Gold Coast destination, complete with tanned guerilla men, meter maid fairies in Leia-like bikinis and clubs pumping with mega techno beats. Think Jersey Shore people. And not the Jersey Shore I grew up with as my home away from home.

Oh, Surfer's Paradise

Halloween of oh-eleven came about a bit like this…I was way “over” my Oktoberfest costume that showed up the Monday after the event, that I refused to wear it and instead am hoping to score some bucks on eBay and therefore roamed the streets of Brisbane searching for a fun, scary, and cute Halloween costume. Guess what though? There are no Halloween costumes in ALL of Brisbane! Target, Kmart, Big W, chemist shops, malls…NOTHING! My best bet would be hiring (aka renting) a costume for about $70 bucks a pop at a costume store which was not an option so I got some office supplies, made some leopard (note Leopard, not cat) ears and ended up with some girlie affair of a costume. *By stating “I”made what I meant is asked some creative colleague types to make on my behalf.

I'm a freaking Leopard okay, not a CAT!

We went Surf Club hopping – from Broad Beach (less trashy, more classy) North to Surfers stopping off at the Surf Clubs for some brews. Surf Clubs perhaps could be comparable to US golf club houses, but not quite the class – you pay a fee to access food, bar and premium real estate. Very good fun.

Surf Club Hopping

And so I have to give a proper shout out to one of my best besties Emily who prior to me arriving in Brissy gave me the sweet present of a gift voucher to the XXXX brewery. XXXX is a Queensland icon. A crisp, unflavorful beer drunk by the Queenslandish Queenslanders in a way that Nascar drivers drink Coors Lite. Get it, right? But from beer appreciator to beer appreciator I couldn’t have asked for a more inspiring gift.

It took months to recruit some local friends to join me on this beer journey; many of them grew up in Brisbane and have worked for years at Wiley, where the lights of the brewery shine up from the view from our office cubicles, however mission accomplished. The $38 dollars to fork over was hard to justify but my dear mates Nidya and Anna were in and on we marched up the hill to the brewery on a warm Spring Wednesday evening.

Impressive! I recommend to any friend or family member who will pay $2000 to fly over to hang with me! Funny, old school adverts showcasing authentic Aussie males sipping their XXXX in the bush being men of men with strong backwoods accents; bring in a hopping kangaroo and they couldn’t have been more picturesque Australian. With corny tour operator leading the pack, this journey took us through the history of this beer to the bottling process where we watched factory workers attempting to stop bottles from slamming into each other before breaking on the factory floor. Hilarious for us spectators.

I learned things such as the Aussie term “sculling” aka chugging, is derived from the Vikings who would decapitate their enemy then drink beer out of their skull, as well as the urban myth of authentic Aussie spread Vegemite being derived from leftover beer yeast. When on the factory floor I dared Anna to ask about how many workers have had their arm sliced off in the machinery; I don’t believe our guide when she said no one recently.

At the end of the tour we got 4 beers – pronounced “be-ya’s” which weren’t small, in addition to a bbq feast. We envisioned some sausages and light salad but what we got were full course meals of sausage, ribs, salad, cous cous, potato salad, and a roll. Big hit! Plus, becoming bff’s with tour guides Jessica and Paul, who let us pour our own beers behind the bar, and took photos with us. We walked away after taking off our bright orange safety vests and protection goggles with a souvenir of a XXXX lanyard and memories to last a lifetime. They gave us no choice as they were professional talkers. Or whatever.

Behind the bar at XXXX

They also brew things like the delicous James Squire imprint which tainted me with their dark, delicious Porter. Mmmm yummy stouts!

My final thoughts of random include a few things:
Spaghetti. I grew up calling spaghetti, spaghetti. Not spaghetti and meatballs, regardless if that’s what it contained, just spaghetti. In the UK, as well as here in Australia, you would specify more so as spaghetti Bolognese. Or as the Aussies do, just call it Spag Bole.

Secondly, summer storms. It’s still not summer, but already the storms are coming. The hard, fast rain pounding on the pavement, the lightening lighting up the sky, my face under the pillow, it’s all a taste of what’s to come. I’m scared.

And lastly, toilets. Many restaurants don’t have their own restroom. It’s typically some sort of public toilet shared by multiple restaurants down some weird alleyway or whatever. I don’t like it. But that’s how it is, public toilets even for private businesses. Fine.

A Virtual Reality


Virtually speaking, I thought it would be a good idea to video my life here in Brisbane for a 7 day period. Wouldn’t my friends, family, and those people I don’t know but secretly adore who follow my whereabouts be interested to see where I live, work, and socialize? In theory, great idea. In practice. Not so great. But I did it anyway.

Below is a 4 segment series of ‘A Video Diary’ which took place in Brisbane from October 1 -11, 2011 (note, a bit longer then the 7 days I anticipated. It’s quite easy to fall in love with the camera). Don’t worry, I cut out all the inappropriate stuff!

Segment 1

Segment 2

Segment 3

Segment 4

Now that you’re done watching my affairs I thought I’d share with you a few more things. Firstly, Oktoberfest in Brisbane. You saw it with your own eyes and could you have expected it to be as such? I was surprised by much of the authenticity and flair to the event. As soon as I heard the word Prost shouted at the top of every one’s voices my mind and body rushed back to Munich 2006. Oh the memories flooded in.

Now I would say it was a blessing in disguise that my costume never arrived in time. I would have been one blending in with the crowd. How appealing it was too see how many people took this grand event so seriously. So there you have it. $10 beer steins and schnitzel. I can’t wait until next year!

On a different note you may not know that at the young age of around 12 or 13 my bestie Nat and I thought we had discovered a phenomenon: the shortening of words. Yes, it was magical! In the summer you wore your bader (bathing suit), you hung out with your G’s (girlfriends), as you discussed the sitch (situation; made popular prior to The Situation debuting on Jersey Shore).

So there you have it. It stuck and it spread. From Nat to Ab to Kris to Ker to just…G. At the time however, it was appalling. How will you get a job if you speak like that?! No one will understand what you’re saying! I’ll tell you now dear friends and family, I’ll tell you who knows what the heck I’m saying – Australians! If there is a rule book to shortening words and making up new ones the Aussies have it down pat!

You know what else that have down? Doing away with cheques. When I set up my  new bank account months ago it would actually cost me money to get cheques. People just transfer money from one account to another, for everything! To get paid, to pay the cleaner, to buy concert tix off a friend. Everything. I think the US should move toward this model.

Did you notice how in the US area codes just keep changing? As the population grows, that oh so sacred three numbers that used to be associated with your home phone is no longer the association to your state etc. Well, as discussed last time, because the population is so small, each state has its own prefix, as in one, and all mobiles start with 04. Every single mobile in the country. Impossible I say!

I’ll leave you on a final note as it is Friday evening and beers are being had in the kitchen, at my work, directly above from where I’m typing. I finally found an Australian hobby. I’m learning it at the moment. Not this very moment, but this moment meaning last week and the weeks to come. Are you curious yet?

It’s A Small World After All


According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics the population clock for the entire country reads 22,726,327 at this very moment.  The New York Metropolitan area, defined by the U.S. Office of Management and Budget as the New York-Northern New Jersey-Long Island, New York-New Jersey Pennsylvania Metropolitan Statistical Area (MSA), had a population of 18,897,109 as of the 2010 census (roughly 1 in 16 Americans). Put that into perspective. The entire population of Australia is just slightly larger than the entire Metro New York area. So that explains things.

I won a contest the other day. After discovering my odds of winning something are somewhat in my favor in comparison to the competitiveness that I’m used to (roughly 1 in 16 Americans) I gave it a go. Australia did something awesome. It just unveiled a new radio station called Triple J Unearthed. Basically, this station is dedicated purely to playing music from unsigned Australian artists. Awesome. So when I stumbled across a contest to win tickets to the launch party and a free tee and cd of course I thought what the heck. And I won! Here’s what I had to do: just email ABC2, the television station, explaining what my favorite show was and why! Well that’s a no brainer, TwentySomething! Here’s what I wrote:

“Hey ABC2!

My favorite ABC2 show is TwentySomething! What’s not to love! As a TwentySomething new to Brisbane, I find myself in constant misadventures all around this city almost as if I’m reliving my glory days when in fact I work full time and am on the later age of the TwentySomething spectrum. My friends think I’m crazy for living this double-life, but isn’t that what living abroad is all about! My flat mate Sam and I are in a constant battle of who is Jess and who is Josh in the relationship; it’s a hard toss up, especially when I asked in a joking manner when I can start exposing him like Josh during the erotic cleaning episode, and he responded “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that all day!” I
turn to Jess and Josh each week for new ideas, and can’t wait to see what’s up
their sleeve next!

Lisa Vecchio (NYC transplant)”

Thought that was cheesy enough to catch their interest, and apparently it was. I also like it when I go somewhere and someone comments on how darn crowded it is. I do at times mutter to myself, “walk into a bar in the middle of Manhattan on a Saturday and perhaps your perception of ‘crowded’ will change”. However, it’s all relative I guess.

Brisbane TwentySomethings

Halloween is approaching. Well, first Oktoberfest is approaching and I’ve got myself lined up for an all day stein sculling event tomorrow however my costume never made it across the seas. Boo. Alas, should be a fun day and makes me think back on Oktoberfest in Munich in 2006, oh the days. So yea, this would be the 6th year of Lisa and Emily’s Halloween Extravaganza in NYC but I’m in Brissy and Emily is in Buffalo and there is no extravaganza. There is no big Halloween, no trick or treaters, no pumpkin patches to pick pumpkins from, no carving of silhouettes and worst of all, no CANDY CORN! Ahhh. Well, at least I can repurpose the Oktoberfest costume I never got to wear so it won’t be a complete waste.

I rarely watch TV, and when I do its two shows, TwentySomething and Miranda (UK) and they are hilarious. Well, I also secretly download the Vampire Diaries but shhhh. Regardless of what my television amusement preferences may be, I did want to touch upon that at times I notice an exact script of a television commercial shown in the US, to the tee, only with Australian actors. Now, I’m fully aware of need to adapt marketing and advertising materials to a local culture, it’s just very fascinating when you get to witness it firsthand. I’m sure many of you, regardless of your national orientation, may have seen the yogurt commercial where the wife talks about all of the yummy things she ate that day like key lime pie and chocolate mousse etc and the husband is searching through the fridge trying to find all the of the “real” desserts when in actuality she is referring to yogurt. Oh boy, it’s a global phenomenon only with local desserts referenced!

No blog goes complete without a reference to the astronomical cost of living. For example, after a late night bender instead of stopping off at my usual Pie Face for a delicious meat pie that without a doubt regardless of my intentions ends up on my outfit, I chose to venture with my accomplice to New York Slice. Holy Mother, Oh My Gosh. $7. Yes, $7 for a slice of pizza! Now, granted it was 3 am, I still think that it may, and I need to do better research, be $7 around the clock. Yum, but no thanks. Secondly, after accidently going on a spree at Target yesterday, when asked if I would like the items I purchased in a bag I was kindly told that will cost me 10 cents. Now, I understand everyone is trying to encourage the population to be environmentally friendly, which I 100% agree with, I was just a little surprised when Target is the type of bulk buy place that it is. Let me just clarify, Target here is of the standards of a US Kmart, nothing to get excited about and in no way a Tar-jay (spoken in the condescending French way that I don’t know how to use special characters to spell out).

As an east coaster growing up going to “the shore”, and yes it happens to be in New Jersey however please let’s not go there, I kind of like that the same affinity here is referring to the beach as “the coast”. The only difference is clarifying if you mean the Sunny Coast (Sunshine Coast) or Gold Coast. I’m sure there is secret lingo to specify without actually specifying which I’ve yet to discover.

Two other points of observation. If I’m excited, and can’t wait until the time that I’m waiting for to come, or maybe even in other references too, I would refer to the nights until the encounter is to take place in terms of “sleeps”. “Only one more sleep until Oktoberfest!” Additionally, if I were to go somewhere where the weather is cold and snow appropriate I would describe that as “I’m going to the snow” or while in mountains “I’m in the snow.” And people just know, that means your skiing or something. I guess because snow is such a big deal and all.

So yea, in times of needing alertness or motivation to get pumped I turn to my flatmate Sam, and he plays for me the S Club 7 theme song. And everything is alright, S….Club!!

Currently Accepting Applications


I would just like to clarify one thing; I’m not on vacation. I’m unsure who I’m clarifying this for exactly, but I feel obliged to do so. Here’s the root of the problem, I want to be on vacation so badly, and I’m not, and therefore need to specify that to my readership. I guess you could say I’m now accepting applications if your interested in taking one.

One may think, but you live in Australia, it must be paradise! Is this not a semi-permanent vacation for you? And this is what I’ll tell you dear reader…I do live in Australia AND there are many a paradises. However, I personally would not classify Brisbane as a paradise. I’ll let you in a secret though; paradise is less than an hour’s drive in the directions of North and South. Hehehe (insert evil laugh to make you a tad bit jealous). Did it work?

So let’s get back to the problem, despite quote paradise unquote being a mere skip away there are still a few issues. Firstly, the heat has just sort of arrived so the weather is not quite perfectly ripe. I can’t complain about it just yet. Not till the sweat starts dripping down my face while I step on the bus, fresh from my recent shower, and step off the bus wishing the person in front of me had showered. What I’m trying to get at is that summer isn’t quite here yet.  It’s still technically spring. When it is summer I will damn sure know its summer because the heat will be unbearable and I’ll think, ahhh summer! Let your rays shine on me! I think that is also when I’ll start “feeling” like I live in Australia as opposed to just randomly really really far away from everyone and everything I know. Maybe that’s also when I stop taking notice of the differences.

Queensland is known for its sunshine and beautiful weather. The fact that winter was 60/70s, maybe 50s at night, means that I cannot even predict what true heat will feel like. I guess they compare the climate to southern Florida.

Okay, secondly I don’t have a car or drive for that matter. I know, right! Like after 5 years of not driving you’d want me to attempt to gracefully manage the other side of the road without endangering people. So this puts me in a position of relying on other people going to paradise in order for me to go there.  And add the fact that they have to actually want my company and invite me along.

Near Beautiful Snapper Rock in Coolangatta

Luckily last weekend my friend Louise was kind enough to take me to a paradise otherwise known as Coolangatta Beach. Just an hour and half south of Brisbane on the Gold Coast, we hit the open road, skipped all the touristy spots and for my first time since moving to Queensland was exposed to crystal clear blue waters to explore the surfers, the bogans (remember them?) and the seafood. I lightly dipped my ankles in the chilly saltwater, tempting those sharks I know lurk in the murky depths, and then continued on with the strenuous task of acquiring a base tan. After a full day we came back to Brissy to mingle with another class all together – the Irish for the Rugby World Cup. I was just happy to jam out to a cover band, belting the Killers at the top of my lungs and pretending it was Mr. Greengenes!

City Riots at Big Sound

Since returning from Melbourne I’ve spent the last few weekends immersed in the Brisbane music terrain. Big Sound was on a few weeks back. More or less a big industry event where music publishers, promoters, label execs etc all meet in the Valley while local and national up and coming acts play at pop up venues tucked in alleyways or at local dive bars. Pretty fun couple of nights in a music frenzy.

Spike!

I came across Spike again the other day. Spike’s the name given to the damn iguana that lives on the water next to the botanical gardens in the city. Typically this is what happens…I run along, struggle for breath here and there, and contemplate when to take my next break while trying to self-motivate then boom, ahhhh! Damn Spike is just chilling blocking my running path. And I go, “ahhhh, Spike!” He gets me every time. I then just stare at him for a while. I’m secretly a little nervous he’ll bite me or hop on and not let go.  Some people say there are really big ones that just hang out in trees, like dinosaurs.

River Fire

Brisbane Festival is happening at the moment. It’s like 3 weeks or something of art, music, theatre, culture, blah blah blah. They kick it off each year with River Fire – basically a combination of fireworks and laser shows over the river throughout the whole city. We booked a table on the water at the Bavarian Bier Café on Eagle Street Pier and watched the fireworks light up the Story Bridge. It was pretty neat, and apparently the view from Southbank is even better because you see the whole city light up. I was a bit indifferent however, perhaps due to seeing the 4th of July light up the sky every year on the beach. Tough life.

Yes, the beach, back to vacation. So I’ve got my heart set on Bali or Vanuatu but it’s not looking so good. My options of travel partners are slim. Then I was going to pop over to Thailand to visit a friend from college and do some Koh hopping but flights are outrageous. I may just have to head back over to New Zealand for a long weekend or something while I wait for the beaches to warm up on the coast. I’ve got Byron Bay and a trip back to Coolangatta up my sleeve at least!

Note to readers: This is no way was intentioned to sound like a selfish complaint. I hear fall is pretty chilly up on the Northeast coast of the USA however I did have to witness your summer from a far and it was torture. The accounts mentioned above were just literally the most interesting things that happened to me since I last wrote, a terrible internal turmoil of wanting desperately to travel and not doing much about it. Well, darn it, fine I’ll book something ASAP so I have something more inspiring to share!

The great Pinot Grigio debacle of 2003


I had thought the great Pinot Grigio debacle of 2003 had left me scarred of white wine for life. Thank goodness that phase has worn itself out. You see, as a 19 year-old college student living abroad for the first time, the sweet fruity yum yum in my tum tum of Pinot Grigio at a point in my life where my buds haven’t quite developed the appreciation for a dark roasted stout left me jumping into the wine world head first. There was so much Pinot Grigio consumed during that four month stint in London, late night benders of cheap two pound bottle after bottle, and long-afternoon sleep-ins that my body reached a point of saying, “white wine! Yuck!” But like I said, I’m so glad all of that is over.

Luckily for me, the proximity and availability of deliciousness gracing itself in my presence in the form of Sauvignon Blanc’s and Semillon’s and combo situations from South Australia and New South Wales and New Zealand keep surprising me quite regularly. Pinot Noir’s & Malbec’s – you’ll never out wear your welcome but while the sun is shining (although not as warmly as Id like, still!), you’ll have to move over and share my buds with your lighter variety friend.

My weekend evenings are spent drinking schooners (the larger size option, but not even a US pint size really) of craft beer in places with live music in West End and vintage-torn nooks and crannies of the Valley.  A young guy who reminded me a bit of Jesse Eisenberg asked me about Brisbane’s style – am I noticing any trends – I replied that in the types of places I’ve spent time the past few weekends – it looks like the same bunch of hipsters you’d find in the east village or Brooklyn. He thought that was cool apparently.

If someone were to ask you to drink your drink very fast, in comparison to a “chug”, that would be called “sculling.” For example, “hurry up; scull your beer so we can go.” Another point of observation, if you were the bar staff and it was your job to go around and pick up everyone’s empty glasses you’d perform the job of “glassying”, and be labelled a “glassy” to guests and other members of the staff.

I don’t drink tea, because I don’t drink caffeine really, at least on purpose, but tea is a form of life here as it is in the UK. Tea means tea, like what you would drink, but tea also means food. I have two tea breaks a day at work, morning tea and afternoon tea, and that usually consists of me eating the free cookies. So far, the cookies are winning the tug-of-war over my will power. These tea breaks are also conveniently, or perhaps inconveniently, timed in accordance to my old smoke breaks so conceivably the cookies have become a substitution. Let’s hope I’m not fat next time we meet. If I am, you’ll know why.

Monday evenings I play Bingo at the boutique beer cafe Archive in West End. I’ve gone twice and have not won yet. I also found out that the really really really really cute bartender is married so now I want to try something different. Bingo just became so lame. Thursday I go (well, I went once but plan to make it a regular thing) to a boot camp type workout class organized by Wiley that takes place out on the lawn next to the building. It’s fun, because it reminds me of my old boot camp type workout class on the lawn next to the  building in Hoboken. Only different.

I was tasked with obtaining an Australian hobby as a means to meet people but I don’t think I’ve accomplished that yet. Prior to my arrival we’ve determined the following limitations: no surfing because I’m scared of being eaten by a shark, no rugby because rugby players aren’t datable – and I’m a wuss, no scuba diving because I’m afraid of being eaten by a shark. I guess I’m left with learning how to play the didgeridoo. I’m still open to suggestions at this point.

Lollies are candy. And candy is chocolate. Make sense? Basically, lollies are hard candy and gummies. And they all are a bit not as awesome. I went to go see Harry Potter in 3D the other night, obviously, and was a bit perplexed by my candy options. Where are all the Sour Patch Kids, Swedish Fish, and Hot Tamales damn it!  It was a literally a tossup between Fairy Floss and popcorn. BTW – do you know I was asked, “Is it true in America you can put melted butter on your popcorn?” Sure is! What the heck do you call that unsalted, unflavoured bag of corn seeds? It’s also worth mentioning that for this particular movie theatre, when we purchased our tickets online, we also selected our seats in advance as you would on an airplane. Not too shabby for $21 thank you very much Australia.

My roomie Kate refers to herself as a Cadbury. There is a glass and half of milk that goes into a Cadbury bar of chocolate apparently. And therefore, she is a light drinker. The French Festival was on last weekend in Southbank. I’d never been to Southbank properly yet. Now I know where those weekend markets are, and where the lagoon is so I can tan hopefully very very soon (still unlikely). When we drove back in toward the city she said, “ahh, I love the Brisbane skyline, it feels like home.” Mind you, we were still in Brisbane, just crossing the river, but when she asked what in the States reminds me of home I could think of three distinct things, the Ben Franklin Bridge, the feeling you get when you first arrive down the shore, and the view of Manhattan from Hoboken.

I’ve been eating out a lot recently. I love to eat out. I think I’ve finally adjusted to the inflation on food. I don’t flinch as hard when my main costs anywhere from $20-35 and it’s just an easy night out. An entree is an appetizer and main is an entree. Make sense? I really craved a Mamouns falafel the other day, straight from the west village. I also eat a log of sushi. Often, you just get handed the whole roll over the counter, not cut up or anything, and just take a big bite from it like that, maybe dribble a little soy, but it’s kind of an on the go situation, unless you’re at a sushi train or something.

And I think that’s all I wanted to share with you for now.

Hey! I’m over he-ya


Alibi Room

Hey! I’m over he-ya…yup, right he-ya. That’s “here” for all you people. Exactly!

So I love Sydney. Straight up, no lie. When I was traveling back in November it was places like Sydney that made me say, “Damnit, I’m going to move here!”  –  he-ya.  But let’s be honest, Brisbane isn’t’ Sydney. Brisbane isn’t New York. It’s all in its own. But that’s cool, we’ll just move along with it.

So, two weekends ago was the fabulous Queen of England’s birthday. But not really. But they celebrated it. Okay. So I had a long weekend. I spent too much money to board a plane to guess where? Sydney damnit! And I loved it all over again. I stayed out till 7 am in “the Cross” drinking expensive-cheap bottled beers and mingled with ridiculous chefs. Actually, hilarious. Attempting to get into a bar around 5 am, we kindly got denied but we’re pointed to the “open 24 hours” joint next door. Excellent.

Steph and I out in Syd

Then on a very groggy Sunday morning/afternoon we (Steph, my only friend in Australia – former Mountbatten, London, New Yorker) and I slept in late, watched some Singapore-knocked off DVDs, and finally made it out to dinner in Surry Hills around 10 pm. Yikes, the rain was pouring and it was “cold”. It was quote – cold – merely because, yes, it was damn cold, but I still don’t feel dignified to complain. So another late night out in the Cross left found me dumbfounded confronting a very cute boy I found myself confronting back in November, really? Sweet.

Back in Brissy I have housemate drama but thankfully it’s resolved. Samm and I are awaiting a new roomie to make this home fabulous and beautiful and charming. This week is filled with a local sales conference in our Milton office so everyday I’m delivering what I would like to think are compelling presentations to sales reps staring back at me blank-faced. At least I get delicious food and wine in the evenings and free lunch in the afternoons. These events cannot compare the US shenanigans that go on in exotic locations around the US – with late night swimming and hotel room parties, but alas, they’ll suffice.

So am I missing anything? Ummm.  I’ve been laughing most often, which seems daily, at hearing the term “here”, pronounced, “he-ya”. It’s one syllable for us, two for them.  It’s awesome.

There’s a Winter Festival going on Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane right now. The one in Brissy is in King George Square, where I switch my bus in the evenings. On Thursday I thought I’d take a gander to scope things out. I heard rumors of things such as ice-skating and mulled wine. The rumors were true, but I must be honest, the scale of this event was like the Nutcracker to a local play. I even feel silly of thinking of winter things, although it is winter and all, but with you all tan, and glorious in the sun. Anyway, needless to say, the idea is cute, and on a Friday or Saturday this place be hopping, but it’s nothing to take the time that I’m doing right now to write home about. I guess I just wanted to share a caption for the pictures.

Winter Fest

Last Friday evening I witnessed local Aussie white rap sensations Evil Eddie. It’s like Eminem, but not, all over again. It was actually kind of cool. The most memorable line was “show your back to us, shake that glutinous maximous”. Awesome Edie! But seriously, after a mediocre night out in the Valley, Edie was a saving grace! I had a sentimental moment of Mikey-G rapping in the shed back in the day. Love it!

Evil Edie

Sunday, after eating delicious left over Indian takeaway I decided to run, and I sure as hell ran – just like Forest. I ran up the hills, and over the Story Bridge. It was pretty sweet. I came back, cleaned the apt – was dumbfounded in the grocery store trying to select cleaning product – having a cleaning lady for the past 5 years will do this to you – how the heck does it work? I have to what! With what? To the ….seriously! Yea it sucked, and now I think I should convince the others to just pay for someone to do it on our behalf, seriously.

So yea, after cleaning I walked to the Eagle Street Pier to visit their Sunday markets. I love crap, so this was excellent. I even bought some jewels. At this point it was mid-day, and I thought there is no point in traveling home, as I have to meet for work drinks in a just a few hours so it was a quick jaunt to the city for a more-expensive than New York ($50!) mani-pedi session before walking the 30 minutes to our office. Holy shnikes. If I knew I’d be walking so much all day, I would have never run over the damn Story Bridge. Aside from the awesomeness it was.

Eagle Street Pier

Last night, Samm and I wandered across the street to Alibi Room – a quirky pub on the corner that features local artwork and a laid back vibe, where I relived my college days playing Galaga, the video game, creating a top score like a top dork and knocking back a few delicious ones while bonding.

This week is filled with more presentations but hopefully my next communication will be exciting. I have this weekend –guess where? Sydney bound then about 7 days in New Zealand! Yay! I also failed to mention I’m day 4 without smoking. Let’s make this happen!

Cheers!