United States

Everything in the world can be on your way


I’ve always been envious of those who have literally traveled around the world. You too likely know someone daring who’s done it. They buy a ‘round the world’ ticket that entitles them to travel to a pre-specified number of continents, then a specific city on each continent, to be used in one direction over a maximum length of time. This type of ticket offers freedom to those people who have time at a very affordable cost. The benefits to an independent traveler mean that they can ‘generally’ stay for as long as they like, move on when ready, and can decide when and how to make the most of their destinations.

Last month I circumvented the globe. I can assume this counts too, but it wasn’t your typical trip or initially intended to be as such. I reclaimed my old haunts while in London, sipped wine in Paris, explored architecture in Oxford before a 12 hour stint in NYC to grab a pint and a snuggle with old friends. I moved on to Charlotte to celebrate my sisters wedding then relaxed on the beaches outside of Charleston before an afternoon of fine dining over lunch with the ladies back in Manhattan. My long hauls took me from Melbourne to London (via Dubai) to New York then back to Melbourne (via LA) and alas, global circumference.

Sitting on multiple planes (for an entire day at times) during this 3 week whirlwind of a holiday sure gave me a lot of time to think. Here are my 5 biggest reflections while circumventing the globe:

  1. Australia really is really, really far away. But it’s not the distance I took note of, by now I’m used to the flight time. What was more interesting is that for the first time since living here for close to 3.5 years the segregation of Australia to the rest of the world became prevalent. I was clueless that I missed out on major global media scandals, was reminded of diversity walking through the streets of New York and how few Americans I encounter living in Australia compared to the constant sound of a hard ‘R’’ that accompanies the American tourists in central London.
  2. Don’t let jetlag control you; jetlag will control you. Despite a motto of ‘just ignore it and it will go away’, jetlag really is the pits. And whilst I was in and out of cities faster than being able to unpack a bag, there was no time to waste on an extra nap or late sleep in. Once you throw a few wines into the mix your body clock is even more thoroughly confused. If you can ride the jetlag wave, all power to you.
  3. Frequent Flyer Status is holy. In a world where I’ve achieved One World Gold status, which entitles me to the business lounge, free food and alcohol, free Wi-Fi, priority check in, priority baggage and occasional upgrades, flying a non-partner airline is like going back in time. The disappointment, as self-entitled as it may sound, to have to pay for wi-fi while waiting to board a flight or annoyingly wait in a ridiculously long and disorderly queue makes me cringe at the thought. I can at least say I witnessed non-Gold perks during all the flights it took to obtain it in the first place.
  4. Waiting to write drains the intensity. I have pages and pages of notes from my trip encapsulating the emotion I felt when stepping outside Victoria Station for the first time in 8 years to seeing my nephew for the first time in 8 months. Unfortunately, there’s too much to say and sometimes it feels all too late. Next time, I’m writing to you on the go.
  5. The world really is a small place, and quite accessible if you make the opportunity to see it all! It is possible to fly around the world – even if you’re not on a yearlong journey with a backpack strapped to your back. And while I’m still envious of those who take an extensive amount of time off to discover the world in one pre-paid for direction, I’ve also discovered that hopping over to London before my trips to New York, or maybe somewhere else in Europe is quite do-able. I don’t need to wait another 8 years to see the places I love.
Louvre

Catching up with an old friend in the rain outside the Louvre, Paris.

I crave


The first bite is nearly indescribable. On my fork is a piece of romaine, a crumb of blue cheese, a sliver of apple-wood smoked bacon and the money shot, a morsel of fried chicken doused in buffalo sauce. Mmm, delicious.

It’s not uncommon that I get asked about the food I crave from back home. Typically I just respond that nothing specific comes to mind. But it’s not until I step off the plane onto US soil and get the first grumble in my stomach that I hunger after all the foods, healthy or not, that I don’t have the opportunity to indulge in regularly here in Australia.

I’ve yet to taste the sweet and spicy combination of buffalo sauce, a hot sauce mixed with various spices, vinegar and butter usually poured over fried chicken wings, hence famous Buffalo chicken wings. A big salad with buffalo chicken or chicken wings with a side of celery and blue cheese dip is always a hot item (literally) on my list.

Buffalo Chicken Wings

Buffalo Chicken Wings

Then again, no visit to Philly or South Jersey is ever complete without a traditional Philly cheesesteak.  Thinly chopped steak on an Italian roll with provolone or Cheese Whiz, with or without (onions) is the customary way to go.  It’s quite contested who has the best steak in town but if I’m around for just a short time, I’ll take any I can get my hands on. Luckily for me on my last trip home over the holidays I had the pleasure of trying Campos Deli for the first time, voted Best of Philly.

Campo's Cheesesteak

Campo’s Cheesesteak

But no cheesesteak is complete without a Yuengling, my favorite everyday lager and the oldest brewery in America. Plus, you can’t beat the price of a 6-pack for $6 compared to the appalling price of about $18 in Australia for just a mediocre brew.

Additionally, nothing compares to the convenience, quality and sheer volume of Wawa convenience stores. Growing up, there were four Wawa’s in my town and I got accustomed to quality deli sandwiches made to order. Little did I know how rare it was to find such superiority. Nothing beats a Wawa hoagie, South Jersey slang for sub or sandwich on a long roll. I wouldn’t dare walk into a 7Eleven and order food from over the counter. Once you go Wawa there is no going back.

Wawa Hoagie

Wawa Hoagie

And if I could choose to be a kid again I would go to a Wawa and pick up candy that I can only find readily in the US, like Hot Tamales, Red Vines, Sour Patch Kids and Swedish Fish. I’m lucky that family and friends usually remember this bit and I’m welcomed with at least one of the above.

Swedish Fish

Swedish Fish

I usually split my time between Philly/South Jersey and NYC. The city that never sleeps doesn’t fail to offer a variety of cuisines but when all is said and done, nothing beats a New York pizza slice. Think every topping you can imagine in every combination. Imagine one slice is larger than your face, and all for the price of a few dollars. Even better, you can find a slice on nearly every block at all hours of the day or night.

New York Slice

New York Slice

And while in New York a few weeks back I walked out of the cold and into a deli and just stood there in shock for a moment. I then said out loud, “Wow, look at all of this!” My friend responded, “Are you serious? What? You don’t have deli’s like this in Australia?” How could I have forgotten about the excellence of a NYC deli Panini or bagel smeared with an inch thick splattering of cream cheese. There’s nothing like it anywhere in the world.

New York Deli Panini's

New York Deli Panini’s

On the flipside, Australia has recently put their footprint on Manhattan. It started with one simple store and now it’s grown to many – Pie Face has invaded. The classic Aussie late night snack, the iconic meat pie, is now all over Manhattan. To my pleasant surprise the NYC stores carry classics such as beef and cheese, Thai chicken curry (favorite), and spinach rolls but also add an American twist by offering barbecued pulled pork and Philly cheesesteak pies. My worlds have collided.

New York Loves Pie Face
Pie Face Pies
Pie Face

The Princess Bride in Pictures


Kerri Kenny married Will (Herbert) Clegg on Saturday, March 16th, 2013 in Philadelphia. This picture story took place at  Loews, Saint Peter’s Church, and Fairmount Park Horticulture Center . Congratulations Kerri & Will!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The American-Australian Debate


I’m an American expat and have been living in Brisbane, Australia for exactly 1 year and 10 months (in two days). Acquaintances of both nationalities often ask me what the other is really like. Are we really all so different?

What’s interesting is that many Australians, like many other societies, have an idealistic vision of certain aspects of America influenced by pop culture. Going to Disney World, New York City, and Vegas are top priority destinations on a bucket list for many. For some equally naive Americans, Australia is depicted as a laid back, blond-haired surf community who put shrimp on the barbie and have pet kangaroos.

So here are 6 observations – and I must preface “in my opinion” – between Australian and American ways of life.

There will be people, places and ideas that of course don’t apply to everyone, and everything. I’m in no way insinuating that they do. You could argue that I could include facts about dueling healthcare systems, poverty lines and unemployment rates, but I’m not going to go there. There are also many topics like food, drinking cultures, and television. This is just a small aspect of current reflections of my time on both continents.

1. Societal pressure

This is my ultimate number one; a topic I engage in conversations regularly. As an American growing up on the East Coast there is a simple formula to success. You go to school and get good test scores. You choose a university and the more prestigious the name, the better. While enrolled in university you partake in extra curricular activities, clubs and begin undergoing internships as soon as possible. You graduate in 4 years, no more. After graduation due to your collegiate success you have a job lined up and gradually work your way up the corporate ladder. There is no gap year; there is no break to sit back and think about your future. At 18 before you even leave high school you sign up for the rest of your life.

Furthermore, your career becomes your status. Blue collar jobs are frowned upon and success is measured by you and your significant other’s occupation.

I find that the societal pressure I speak of above is drastically less significant here in Australia. A university degree is important, but not essential to obtaining a career. And I use the term career loosely. Less significant is what job you have, but better the fact that you have a job. Blue-collar jobs, mineworkers, plumbers, construction workers, what they term as “tradies” are highly regarded, because they require skill and get paid big bucks. There is no shame in saying your significant other is an admin assistant or carpenter.

With that, keeping a long-standing career in one area isn’t as essential. Most young people go traveling between graduating high school and going to university, if they even do. In fact, its called a “gap year” and encouraged. Many people work for an amount of time to save their money and then go traveling…in their 20s AND 30s. But what about your job when you get back, saving for a house, babies? The priority tends to be more about enjoying your life and spending the time and money you do have on experiencing it.

Of course, there is the current economic state and unemployment rate in the US compared to the high economic success Australia is having at the moment (ahum mining) that one could argue are attributing to both of these factors and cannot be ignored. However if you removed them from the equation I still feel strongly that it’s an underlying mentality of each culture more then anything else.

2. Cost of living

In Australia, it is astronomical. Again, the economy…I get it. Australians get paid more and therefore things cost more. New York is expensive but in comparison to everyday Australia, it’s a bargain.

Here are a few examples of Brisbane and New York price comparisons:

Piece of Pizza: AU $7; US $2.50

Bus Ticket: AU $4.80; US $2.50

6 Pack of Beer: AU$ 16; US $8

Pair of Nike sneakers: AU $240; US $180

Gatorade: AU$4.80; US $2.50

Another example is retirement packages. In the US, your employer may provide you with a 401K package, in which you contribute a certain percent (typically a 3% minimum) of your salary in which your employer contributes another 3%. In Australia, your employer legally has to pay you Superannuation of 12% on top of your salary, and you can contribute to it as you like. Not a bad deal.

3. Airline etiquette

One advantage of being a country that has no majors concerns about national security means that your airport traffic and regulations can be a whole lot more lax. Let’s compare the two experiences.

If I were to have an 8 o’clock domestic flight, I would depart Brisbane Airport at 7:40. I would therefore likely arrive at the airport before my flight at 7:20 or so. Yes, 20 minutes before boarding is plenty of time. Upon entering the destinations lounge I would approach one of the 30 or so Qantas kiosks scattered around the area to check in. To do so I’d simply search by my last name, then first name, and finally select my destination from a list in order for my boarding pass to print. While I’m at it, I would also print my baggage tag and then check my own bag without the assistance of anyone needed, but the friendly service attendants make themselves available just in case.

Once approaching security, at worst will take more then 5 minutes, I put my bags through the scanner. The only thing I need to take out is my laptop or any sort of aerosols. Shoes stay on, sweatshirt stays on, water stays put and get this, and so does my ID the entire time! I’m through, whew, although I will add that I always get picked for that darn bomb detector swifter.

There’s also something strange about the plane etiquette. It’s an unspoken signal. Just as its time to board, without an announcement needed everyone just files into line to board the plane. Sometimes they announce to board by row, buts its unnecessary as everyone takes into an orderly fashion. There are some passengers with carry-on items but not everyone carrying everything they own on earth.

Qantas domestic provides one bag complimentary checked, complimentary meals or snacks on every flight, and free booze during evenings. Sometimes I even get inflight entertainment – like movies on my own personal screen. Just saying. I’ve never seen anyone get bumped for an oversold flight or asked to give-up his or her seat.

The flipside. Where to start. Smelly home-made food, old-school planes, madness, no overhead room for luggage, chaos at security.  My god.

Most US airlines oversell their seats. That means that if you don’t select your seat when your purchase your ticket (usually at a cost if you’re not a member of their loyalty program with a certain status) there is a chance that when you arrive at the airport to check in you may not have a seat on your purchased flight. Notice boards are now customary in many airport lounges with a long stand by list. A plus, if you’re in no rush you can usually give up your seat for a voucher for a free future flight and get on the next plane.

Because luxuries like complimentary meals, even measly food like the classic bag of peanuts, no longer exist, that means that people have begun the disgusting habit of bringing left overs from home or in take out containers from the airport food court. There is nothing like sitting in a vacuum-sealed compartment with the pungent smell of hundreds of passengers’ leftovers wafting in the air.

And one final point, as plane upgrades seem like a thing of the past and flying aviation from 20 years ago is trending, airlines have tacked on costs for checked baggage. Yes, this exists here in Australia too for airlines aside from Qantas. But, for some reason I find that American passengers have decided it’s just not worth the cost to check a bag, and therefore try and beat the system by bringing on board everything they possibly own. If you’re unfortunate to board the plane last you won’t even have room to tuck away your handbag.

4. Shortening of words

Is it shortening of words, or just slang? I think a bit of both. Some say it derives from the criminals who founded this darn continent (geez lets just forget about the indigenous people), regardless, picking up new fashion slang and slicing every multi syllable word in half is right up my ally.

Ranga – someone with red hair (short for orangutan)

Tradie – someone who works a trade job

Arvo – Afternoon

Bicky – Biscuit aka cookie

Cuppa – Cup of coffee or tea

Barbie – BBQ

Togs, Swimmers – Bathing Suit

Snags – Sausages

Singlet – Tank top

Sunnies – Sunglasses

Bottle O’ – Liquor Store

Servo – Service Station/Gas Station

Mate – Friend

5. Sitting in the front of cabs

So one of the best things about New York City is the cabs. You can get across town, uptown to downtown etc. for under a $20 cab fair. While your at it, yapping away to your friends passing street vendors, bodegas, and various bars, although it can be annoying at times, you have a TV sharing with you the latest weather, pop culture, and news. Don’t like it, simply turn it off. But sometimes it’s a nice distraction to pass the time. Rarely do you sit in the front of a cab, and that’s only when you’re exactly 4 people.

In Brisbane at least, a cab from the trendy “going out” area of The Valley to my apartment a 15-minute walk away cost $12. Public transport is outrageous, hard to come by without dialing a number, and the fairs increase the later it gets.

The expectation is that if you’re a solo passenger you sit in the front. It can be an exhausting experience. Sometimes I don’t want to make conversation and so I’ll say my brief hello, provide my destination then stare aimlessly out the window or watch the expensive meter tick by. Other times call for being a chatterbox and time passes quickly with friendly attentiveness from my chauffeur.

I’m aware this isn’t a comparison on America as it is more on NYC versus Brisbane but for someone making the transition, sitting in the front one on one with the driver can be intense.

6. Service and options

But none of the above comparisons can go without mentioning the luxuries that America has that Australia, or at least Brisbane can’t compare by an inch. It’s what makes America, well, America and so many other nations and cities envious. America has options, and a lot of them.

In Brisbane shops close at 5 or 6, there is no mid-week shopping – except one day a week allocated for “late night shopping”. What!?!? Not only in NYC, but also even in suburbia shops are open until at least 9. And there are options, so many options. There are cheap clothing stores with cheap clothes for cheap prices and cheap stores with decent clothes for cheap prices and expensive stores with cheap clothes and expensive stores with expensive quality.

When it comes to food you can’t even compare. 24 hour options, fast food, gourmet foods, trendy restaurants, hot dogs, pizza, donuts, cheesesteaks, hoagies, beer. Yum yum yum yum.

Minimum wage in the States is appalling. Many service works don’t receive incentive packages like healthcare and live solely by tips. With that, you expect attentive service and if you don’t get it many know the restaurant’s reputation and their tip will reflect. For me, 20% was standard. What’s great about tipping is you can incentive better service. What’s not great is you can spend a lot more then the cost of the meal shelving out those incentives. Because more customers mean more money, it’s not customary to take a table for a full evening. It’s in and out.

In Australia, many service workers make around $20 an hour. Tipping is only done if service is extraordinary and you want to thank a server for going above and beyond. Tipping is very rare. Although the food prices are higher, the atmosphere can be a bit more relaxed and you can take your time with your meal. That also means though that the servers have no incentive to provide exemplary service and at times this can be very frustrating.

I leave Australia again this week to head for America for a quick trip. What I’ve noticed has become a bit of a pattern is that for my first few days in the States I’m constantly making comparisons in my head to my life here in Brisbane. I’m grateful for the laid-back lifestyle and simplicity of things here. By the end of my trip after enjoying the luxuries of a fast paced lifestyle back in New York indulging in all its luxuries the tables turn.  Oh the woes of living abroad.

Dear United


I’m hoping you may be able to provide some clarity on some details of your international flight routes. Specifically, customer comforts such as in-flight entertainment and refreshments? I thank you in advance for reading, despite the length of my letter, as I think it’s important that you hear my story. I’ve also shared my story with the readers of my travel blog www.thesetwoeyes.com and look forward to disclosing your feedback with them as well.

Firstly, I’d like to acknowledge the economic situation and the impact it has had on the airline industry. As a fellow person in business, day-to-day I see various industries shifting and shuffling trying to make ends meet to keep afloat. Those that I value the most are the companies that look to the future and acknowledge customers’ needs, rather than cut corners to hit hard budgets. In all business, customer loyalty and word of mouth can fortunately or unfortunately make or break you.

In the United States we’ve seen trends such as this take over the industry and for much of Europe as well. The airlines that get the most praise are those that are doing something different than the rest and give the perception that they’re customer focused; airlines such as Jet Blue and Southwest come to mind. Internationally, there are handfuls of airlines aspiring back to the days where it used to be a privilege to fly; as a customer on a plane you were treated with respect for your time and loyalty, even in economy. I’ve experienced this myself on Qantas, Emirates, Thai Airways, Air New Zealand, British Airways and others.

As a loyal Continental flyer for a number of years, I can honestly say that I looked forward to flying domestically. With Newark Liberty International Airport being a fantastic hub for a northern New Jersey resident, I always made Newark and Continental my primary choice for flying both business and leisure. I found the service hospitable, the planes in tidy condition, and even appreciated the small snacks like the turkey sandwiches. This truly gave them a competitive edge while others were taking away perks such as complimentary baggage and even soft drinks.

When Continental merged with United I got a bit nervous; what could this mean for my favourite airline? I found out too soon after cashing in my hard earned miles for a flight from Newark to Sydney, Australia in November 2010. As a frequent international flyer, I was astonished at what I found on the other end of the jet-way. I’d like to acknowledge that yes, I did cash in my miles and despite the taxes this flight could be classified as “complimentary” however I do not think any service should be downgraded due to this.

United LA to Sydney

My thoughts from November 2010 flying United LA to Sydney

I have my notes from that flight still today. I was so uncomfortable with my experience that I took the time to write them down and it’s unfortunate that I’ve waited this long to notify you. What is most interesting is that on my flight from Newark to LA I had a fantastic experience. The plane was in impeccable condition and I had an empty seat between my window seat and my neighbour in the aisle. I was surprised and grateful that I had my own in-flight entertainment in the seat in front which made the long journey go by pleasantly; something that was not expected for a domestic flight. I remember specifically thinking to myself to not watch any of the good movies yet, I’ll save them for the long haul flight on my next leg.

From LA to Sydney is where my real complaint comes in. The plane was dated and the interior was in poor condition. I didn’t feel as if it were going to fall apart, however I am always comfortable in the interiors of Virgin and British Airways and expected the same conditions (if not better) for an even longer haul, especially the leg room. I thought to myself, how was my domestic flight superior to this?

My biggest disappointment had come with the entertainment. The last time I’d been on an international flight in economy where the entire plane had to squint to watch the same program, as there were no personal entertainment systems, was on an Olympic Air in 2008, and despite their bankruptcy, I swore to never fly with them again. With average meals and no complimentary alcoholic beverages it makes me wonder how United can stay in business against the likes of Virgin Australia and Qantas on this same route?

I am now residing in Australia and take the international flight from Brisbane to New York, or some similar combination whether it be from Sydney or to Philadelphia, a handful of times a year. I am very loyal to Qantas due to their service, professionalism, entertainment, efficiency, and refreshments being above par. So much that I rave about them quite regularly on my blog www.thesetwoeyes.com. In fact, I make a point to ask every person I meet who has travelled via LA to Australia what airline they took. Before even answering I know by their expression if was United. It’s a common joke amongst cross-Pacific travellers that if you have a United flight, you might as well not even go because it’s anticipated to be that bad.

As the holidays are approaching I’m returning to the US on another long haul flight.  I cannot express the intensity of my disappointment when the only option within my budget during overpriced holiday season was with United. I write this to you because I don’t want to have the panic that I felt when I spent over $3,000 on a flight and already anticipate a horrible experience. I am not cheap, I will pay for a bottle of wine or sandwich if that is what is required however after already paying $3,000 this is completely unnecessary. And as far as entertainment goes, I think your flight crew may have a more pleasant time if their customers were distracted and content watching what suited them on a personal level rather than overhearing their neighbour snoring because they can’t see the communal television.

I can appreciate that all of these may sound like superficial complaints but for a frequent flyer who enjoys flying, who looks forward to the experience and has praise for many airlines that get the formula right, I’m asking you, United, when are you going to lead the pack? Or as a minimum, improve your services to be on par with your direct competitors? What are you doing about in-flight entertainment, service, leg room, and refreshments for long haul flights?

An Australian colleague recently said to me, “We look to the United States as a global leader, as someone who always has the best. How is it that flying a US airline is one of the worst experiences a traveller could have?”

Thank you for reading this lengthy letter. I do anticipate your response and look forward to hearing about how my experience and future travels will be improved.

Kind Regards,

Lisa

Please take my poll below.

A lekker reunion


In the summer of 2006 I was introduced to a culture I never knew existed. Whilst living in London an American friend had befriended a colleague who invited us to a South African bar in Leytonstone called Zulus (now unfortunately the Red Lion). It seemed like nearly every South African in London flocked to East London where they could bunch up 12 people in a 3 person flat and pay cheap rent – so Zulus was perfectly situated.

Zulus was a hole in the wall where Afrikaans from across London would meet regularly, braii (BBQ) next to the sand volleyball courts out the back, and sip on Savanna’s. Downstairs was a pub decorated in African trinkets with zebra fabric and wooden statues. Upstairs the club got too rowdy for my liking. At Zulus, you’re more likely to hear Afrikaans spoken over English. And it became our world.

From there slowly but shortly my close friends and I became dear friends with a household of South Africans. There were 6 guys and 3 girls living in poorly reputed Forest Gate in East London, and about 45 minutes west on the Tube sat our sad dwelling otherwise known as the Crack House on the cusp of posh Maida Vale and decrepit Kilburn Park. We were similarly 5 girls and 3 boys shacked up into 4 bedrooms.

Nearly every weekend we made the trip east, or vise versa, and became immersed in their South African customs. Days were spent laying in the sun, braiiing over wood boards in the backyard and learning how to say Afrikaans sayings like Hoe gaan dit? and lekker. At night, it was off to Zulus where we would be a select few American girls trying our Afrikaans out on foreign boys and dancing the traditional, ballroom-esque dance of langarming. Other weekends a handful of them would shack up at ours, bodies sprawled out on couch cushions haphazardly on the floor after hosting our traditions of an American BBQ with red Solo cups and beer pong.

Christmas 2006 was my first Christmas away from home. Although sad to be away from friends and family, my best friend Emily and I couldn’t have had a better second option spending Christmas in Forest Gate amongst a plethora of South Africans who cooked us a traditional feast before heading off to Zulus and dancing the night away. Just 5 months later our Visa’s had expired and we had to head back to the States. Saying goodbye to our colleagues and closest American friends was hard, but saying goodbye to the South Africans was equally as depressing. We swore one day we’d make it to South Africa to see them again and experience their culture in their own country.

Prior to meeting them I had encountered a few South African whilst living in London in 2003 and Scotland in 2005, but experiencing the Afrikaans culture was very new to me. Friends and family at home curiously questioned when I told them about my new friends whether they were black or white. The ignorance of white African’s living in Africa was not assumed. Do they make clicking noises when they speak? I had never before heard of Apartheid – how is it that us Americans have been so sheltered from far-off monumental global affairs? I don’t recall my high-school history class going into detail about Nelson Mandela and the race struggle that is still so apparent today.

Since returning from London, both myself and my good friend Jaime have ventured overseas nearly every year continuing our travel legacies. This past November was the year, and Jaime and I prepared for our trip to South Africa. With only 16 days to make the most of an enormous country we planned and detailed our route. We’d spend a handful of days in the cosmopolitan of Cape Town, where mountains and sea create a unique city like none I’ve experienced anywhere before. From there, we’d drive to the wine lands to meet up with our old friends the boys, before road tripping the Garden Route on the Eastern Cape and ending with a 4 day safari in Sabi Sands and Kruger National Park.

Prior to arriving I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was told Johannesburg was a dangerous city, ranked 50 on the global scale and even walking around during the day was unadvisable, so we chose not to spend time there.  A ranking of 50 is bad, but my college city of Baltimore is rated worse. Carjacking and mugging is common in general apparently, and the police are corrupt. You’re better off paying off a cop to avoid a night in the slammer then facing what’s on the other side.

With blacks as the majority they rule the country. But did that mean we necessarily should have something to fear? Many acquaintances we met along our travels were bitter – with the Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) program stating that those disadvantaged by Apartheid are given preference for jobs before a white person – our friends fled to London in their 20s claiming there was no work and earning the pound allowed for a solid sum to send home to their families. In South Africa, a black person is black, a mixed person is colored, and Indians and some Chinese are classified under this rule. Saying your black or white isn’t taboo. You don’t look over your shoulder wondering if someone overheard and thinks you’re being racist. It is reality and government decisions are based on race. With that said, many question current policy leaders.

The reality for us then constituted, what is safe? Are we supposed to tip toe around and fear everything and everyone? What happened to giving the benefit of the doubt first, and judging second? This was a topic Jaime and I discussed in detail every night before we went to bed. Even locals say they fear walking the streets. Is this all a bit of paranoia or is it really as bad as they say?

Amongst the various travelers we met on our journey, from a middle-aged Afrikaans couple, to Irish sweethearts, a young South African miner to random people on the street – it was always a topic of conversation. “Two young white girls like you have to be careful.” “Don’t stop for anyone, lock your doors every time you get in the car, and hide the GPS.” “Take a taxi, even though its two blocks, always take a taxi.” Ultimatley, we opted for better safe than sorry. But I still question, is that a way to live? We felt it from the bottom of the country all the way to the top. In the end however, the people we met from tour operators to restaurant owners to taxi drivers to people in bars, the South Africans provided a warm and interesting experience.

Cape Point

L&J and Cape Point

On our fourth day we rented a car in Cape Town and headed to Cape Point, one of the most southerly points in Africa. I let Jaime do the driving at the onset and played navigator often providing friendly reminders about being on the other side of the road despite the GPS as we headed south. By the time we reached Cape Point the fog and rain had cleared and we hiked to the top of the lighthouse, weary of the Beware of Baboon signs sticking out from the bush. The guys had warned us to leave early, the 3 of them calling throughout the day pressing how horrific Cape Town traffic could be. But at this point, we were already late.

South African Baboons

Baboons!

Driving out from the Cape Point lighthouse traffic was a stand still. Would you believe it? Baboons! A truck was stopped just two cars ahead and had baboons hanging off its passenger side. Others aimlessly walked in the road, then scurried into the bush with a baby clinging to its chest. We sat there for about 15 minutes, snapping photos and admiring the vulgar, aggressive animals. Yup, we were definitely going to be late.

Finally, hours later we arrived at our old friend Cedric’s house in Paarl, situated in the center of the beautiful wine lands. Standing in the driveway awaiting our arrival with a beer in his hand, I nearly cried when he picked me up and spun me around. “I know you like beers,” he said, and we went inside.

After a bit of catching up, we were desperately late arriving to the braii at Jacques after 8 pm. Then again, we were on South African time. Being with Ced and his wife Althea, Jacques and Felicity and their new daughter Mackenzie, and Derek and his girlfriend felt like old times in London. We sat for hours reminiscing about the these times – each of us remembering different stories in a variety of detail. I even thanked them for speaking English with us around, as it is their second language. By the time the braii got going, and man do South Africans like their meat, it was after 10 pm on a Tuesday night. They say South Africa comes second to Argentina when it comes to meat consumption.

south african friends

Old friends, good times

Since leaving London at some point over the past 6 years we’ve all grown up a bit, but it still was as if none of the important stuff had changed. The guys are all married now, in their mid-thirties, and Jaime and I despite our cubicle-life, Ced’s right, we do like beers.

Paarl winelands

Paarl winelands

The following morning Ced and Althea took the day off of work to tour us around the wine region. From Paarl to Stellenbosch we took our time sampling wine and cheese from 4 different wineries, while Ced kindly did the driving. I was delighted to be introduced to pinotage, a South African red staple, which a bottle from Rhebokskloof Estate had to come with me.

snoek

Snoek!

That evening, we sat around the braii in the front yard as Ced cooked the snoek, a common fish found in the southern hemisphere and we had another late dinner relaxing in the summer breeze. The next morning, saying good bye was sad, it all went so fast. From here on out we were on our own in South Africa again, and Jaime and I began our road trip on the Garden Route, just her and I on the open road.

Stay tuned for upcoming posts on Cape Town, the Garden Route, and our African Safari.

Good Hope FM

Road tripping to Good Hope FM

Road Tripping


On September 26, 2012 my New Jersey state driver license expired. For months leading up to this day anxiety had been seeping in.  I doubt I’ll ever drive again, I thought.

It began back in 2006. Yes, I know, 6 whole years ago! I cleaned out the interior of my Hyundai Elantra hatchback, parked it at the top of the drive, locked the doors and barley looked back. Mere hours later I was on a plane to London where I’d live for the next 12 months. Public transport became my haven. It felt like nearly every other weekend I was catching a bus at 4 am to a remote airport to fly a budget airline to a random European city where I would hop on a train to get downtown where Id ride a ferry down the river to admire the views and then walk back to my hostel. Yes, public transportation very much so became my haven.

Salzburg Airport

Arriving at Salzburg Airport in 2006

I returned to the US in April 2007 and took my good old hatchback for a few spins around southern New Jersey while painfully interviewing for jobs. But just one month later I relocated up north, and became one of them city folk. A Car! What car? All I heard amongst the sirens and horn beeps was hassle.

City parking meant street cleaning on the 4th day at 3rd hour of the week each month. And who wants to move their car every week? Or drive around the block 15 times until your head explodes and you start imagining that your car is smaller than it really is and maybe, just maybe it will fit in between the yellow lines very close to the fire hydrant but really, what are the chances they’ll need to use it today? But it doesn’t fit anyway. No way I say. See you for good Hyundai Elantra.

So I got a bike. And I loved it. And I rode it to work every day. Up the hills, on the sidewalks, to the bars, and safely locked it out front of the gate next to my brownstone’s stoop. And nearly every other weekend for someone’s birthday, engagement, shower, wedding, fiesta, just because I’m your friend/related to you I was on the Bolt Bus traveling from 34th and 8th in Manhattan to the parking lot of Red Lobster outside the Cherry Hill Mall. It costs $12, has leather seats and free Wi-Fi, and beats battling my own personal road rage. Back in town though I took the subway, and cabs, and my own two feet when not on bicycle. And it worked. For four whole years.

Beach Cruiser Bike

My sweet cruiser

Then in May 2011 I arrived in Brisbane. And I said again, a car, no way! Not me…I haven’t driven in years. You don’t want me driving on the other side of the road anyway. So I take two buses to work. It takes 30 minutes, but if I walk home it takes 45. I also take the train, rarely the ferry, and too often a much overpriced cab. And it seems to go okay.

Why Not Street Brisbane

Why Not Street Bus Stop, West End, Brisbane

But then September 26 started approaching. I searched high and low the New Jersey DMV’s website and it seemed impossible to get a license renewed when living abroad on a foreign visa. So then then I thought I’d renew it when back in the States last, but then I realized I’m ‘technically’ now a resident of Pennsylvania, and that’s a whole other piece of sticky red tape. So, I came to terms with the fact that I may never drive in the foreseeable future. Or at least, in order to do so I may actually have to take the driver’s test again. Gulp.

Who knew though, apparently the people who informed me did, that getting a Queensland driver license was as simple as pie? It’s okay that I haven’t driven in 6 years, and have never driven on the left hand side of the road, and cannot drive a manual car. I walked into their Department of Transport, handed over my passport and nearly expired New Jersey license, paid $250 for a 5 year licence, and wallah! I am still a licensed driver for the next 5 years now under an Australian driver’s license. But, you’re not allowed to smile. They’re very strict about this one element of it.

Next week the true test comes into to play. I’m traveling to South Africa, have a reservation booked for Avis rent-a-car and will be road tripping the Garden Route from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth with a friend. A friend, who very similarly moved to London in 2006 (pictured with me at the Salzburg airport in fact), and has been living in Manhattan ever since. What I’m getting at is that we’re in the same boat. The good news is they say it’s just like riding a bike, something I’m proud to say I am very good at!

Stay tuned to hear all about it…

The Art of the Long Haul Flight


Flying economy is a skill. I mean this whole heartedly. But flying long haul economy is a talent.

Sort of like the band Nada Surf’s “teenage guide to popularity” in the 1996 alternative hit “Popular”, the below is my ABC’s to a successful long haul flight.

Firstly, it all starts with the airline. There are airlines that I praise, as do others hence why they win awards. They soar in excellence for in-flight service, entertainment, customer care, culinary delights, cabin décor and leg room. Of those I’ve personally flown I put Qantas, British Airways, Virgin Atlantic, Air Canada, Air New Zealand and Emirates on this list yet I know there are still many more to dip my luxury toes in.

Jaime and I on Emirates from JFK to Thailand via Dubai in 2009

Then there is the DO NOT fly list. And I will more than happily cough over an extra few hundred dollars to avoid this list. This includes Olympic Air, Iceland Air, United or better yet, any US airline both internationally and domestically. But those are all a story for another day. Let’s assume you’ve done the sensible thing and purchased a ticket on a credible airline.

Eileen and I not happy campers on Olympic Air on our way to Athens in 2008

You’ll need to arrive at the airport approximately 1.5 hours before the flight, merely due to immigration hold ups as you will undoubtedly experience a smooth check in procedure as your chosen airline is a professional and competent organization.

After checking in and upon clearing immigration, grab that bottle of water and start the stretches. Long haul flights are long, and you want to avoid leg cramps otherwise known as DVT (deep vein thrombosis). Use the furniture such as a chair to prop your leg up on and reach for your toes. Try the big floor to ceiling window next. Put your hand on the glass while admiring the massive plane you’re about to board and the base of your foot against the bottom of the window to stretch your calves. Next grab hold of the vending machine to stable yourself while pulling your leg back to stretch those thighs.

It should be almost time to board. They may call you by row number, or request flyers with more elite statuses to approach first, however I like to assume I’m one of the elite and begin boarding as soon as possible. Yes, it’s annoying to have to sit on the plane longer then needed however people can be stupid, and if you can avoid watching them try to awkwardly maneuver their suitcase into the overhead compartments or tell their child…not that row, keep going, not that one either, hurry up people are waiting…you get the idea.

The big debate – aisle verses window. You’ll need to make this decision the moment you purchase your ticket, because not only do you want your preferred seat you also want to be as far in the front of the plane as possible and this can only be guaranteed if you choose your seat immediately while booking.

I see the perks in both sides of this debacle yet I’ve been a loyal snoozer to the window for nearly ten years. So saddle in to your window seat, remove your shoes and put on a comfy pair of slippers, or slipper socks is what I prefer. Pack your water, Kindle, and journal into the seat pocket in front of you but leave the iPod behind, there’s plenty of in-flight entertainment to satisfy your aural needs. Open the in-flight magazine and let the journey begin.

To put the next 24 hours of flying into context, let’s assume you’re flying from Sydney to New York. The first hour will be spent reading the in-flight magazine from front to back cover, even admiring all those lines dotting around the world map in the very last page while you envision yourself and all the air miles you’d acquire connecting them. While reading, safety procedures will be conducted by the air hostesses in the background.

Once finished the in-flight magazine, turn on your in-flight entertainment screen on the headrest in front of you and scan the entire list of movies, yes even the classics, TV shows, games, destination guides and the flight map. Pick at least 4-6 of your favorites. Begin movie # 1.

Around the time that movie #1 ends you’ll have been distributed a menu for the duration of the flight, as well as some sort of compliments bag containing an eye mask, tooth brush etc. Dinner will now be served, yet it’s probably only noon or 1 pm in the afternoon. Enjoy it, it’s probably delicious and while you’re at it drink at least 2 mini bottles of red wine throughout the process. You’ll need them and they’re free.

An hour of fine wining and dining and then your meal will be collected. You’re now about halfway into movie #2. You may feel the urge to go to the toilet but not just yet, you’re in the window seat remember. Wait until movie #2 finishes, take a peek at your neighbors, and then do the old, “I’m really sorry, do you mind?” with an apologetic smile.

The next part is up to you. The lights are dimmed, it’s probably early afternoon, and it’s time to pretend it’s night time and sleep meanwhile you’ve only been awake for less than 8 hours. You have a few options – movie #3, but then again, you know you’ll never make it through the whole thing; read, but you’ll probably piss off your neighbor with that darn light; or just go for it, sleep. For approximately 6 hours.

At some point they’re bound to get up, and if they do, that’s your one shot. Do a few laps around the plane, and hang out in the very back by the toilets. You’ll thank yourself for getting a good seat in the front and not having all the people like you linger in the back. Plus, they usually store extra snacks back there so help yourself.

It’s movie #3 time and will you look at that, the cabin lights are slowly glowing brighter. Rise and shine! Breakfast is served, and it’s an option of hot eggs and mushrooms and bacon or boring cereal. Go for the eggs! Yawn, yawn but you know what this means, you probably only have 3.5 hours left. This is very exciting. That’s only one more movie, and a few reruns of The Big Bang Theory.

Take a moment to fill out your landing card so you don’t waste time at customs in LAX and flip over to the flight map. Spend the last hour watching yourself get closer and closer to landing. Boom, you’re there before you know it.

Now, you’ll most likely have a minimum of 2 hours in LAX but after clearing customs and having a beer or 2 at 7 am California time you’ll be on another plane shortly. 5.5 hours to New York is a breeze, and because you will have barely slept on the first leg, this is your chance to catch up because once you land in New York, its go time, probably only 6 pm the same day you left Australia. Weird.

So now that you have this excellent advice from a well versed long haul economy flyer, I wish you luck on your travels to visit me here in Australia or elsewhere around the globe. I’m embarrassed to say I just booked a long haul economy flight on United to visit Philadelphia for Christmas and will not be privileged to any of the aforementioned perks however will stretch adequately prior to boarding.

Start spreading the news…


Start spreading the news…I want to be a part of it, New York, New York!

Descending into John F. Kennedy Airport in Queens, New York, I imagine myself landing in the city that so many people dream about for the first time. It’s by far not my first time, I grew up in Jersey for crying out loud, but that feeling still never goes away. There’s so many of them; teeny tiny lights. They’re clustered nearly on top of each other, and appear endless. This is the true definition of population density.

Stepping foot into Manhattan that old feeling rushes back. It’s euphoric, and energizing, and makes me want to scream from the inside out, “ahh, I love you New York!” There really isn’t anywhere else like it.

Walking the old streets again made me feel like I had never left. The smell of Nuts for Nuts, zigzagging the unpleasant bustle of mid-town, instant aggravation. I craved shopping, took one look at Macy’s with lust, then took another look and remembered the vow I made to never step foot in Macy’s on 34th Street again. It’s an anxiety attack jam packed into one old iconic building.

I jaywalk without fear of a ticket, hop in the back of cab to catch up on the daily news, and squeal a bit that I can go so far, for so cheap. I look up at the symbolic Empire State Building and curse myself for never actually making the journey up myself. Then pass the line down the street, the tourists huddled in groups being bombarded by sightseeing companies. I’m just one with the locals; they don’t know I left.

But the even better part is going to the old hang outs. Dirty dives in the East Village and restaurants that deny you a table without a month’s advance reservation. These streets are just every day streets, with everyday people. It’s not chaos, it’s just living. Cab horn beeping, siren blaring, crazies cursing, stroller pushing, frat boys smoking, high heels wearing, beer drinking, cocktail sipping New York!

And I miss the days where I had no pretentions about it. I knew exactly where to get a $2 beer and 2:1 meals. Where live jazz in an unmarked door in the West Village kept me up past my bedtime on a work night. Or when I’d wake in the morning to the sun on a friend’s penthouse balcony in Hell’s Kitchen or to 3 people in a Murphy bed in a studio on the Upper East Side.  But that was a different time.

This is my New York now, nostalgia for all that New York is.

My View of Manhattan from Jersey

 

Born in the USA


Sometimes I’m cautious when I speak. The complexities of responding to innocent, and what one would think are common questions, is overwhelming. You’d be surprised by how troubling this could be; speaking out loud.

I was at a bar I frequent called Black Bear Lodge a few months back during a local music festival. I stood at the bar, debated the two beer taps, then the red verses the white. The music came to a lull between sets and I just hung there for a minute. A nice gentleman standing next to me began to make conversation.

“Hey, how you going?” That’s Australian for, what’s up, or how are you. He was a Kiwi though. That’s slang for New Zealander. Regardless, I think the “how you going” is common language. Tomato Tomato.

“Hi”, I responded.

“Have you seen them before?” (Referring to the band.) “Nah”…

“Are you in the industry?” An appropriate question considering the evening was part of the Big Sound conference. “Nope…”

So right when I thought things were getting quite awkward due to my one word responses, BOOM!

“So where in North America are you from?”

Seriously?! Seriously?! One word responses, was not in the mood, thought I could trick you. Ahhh, he’s good.

So this is where it begins to get even fiddlier. Perhaps if you’re a fellow comrade from New Jersey you can relate, however, for those who aren’t you will begin to see how this question could potentially have one debate their very existence.

A typical response could be, and get ready:

New Jersey; South Jersey; Philadelphia; New York; New Jersey just outside of Philadelphia; New Jersey/New York; or even just New York , but then I get “what part?” and that’s when I respond “the Jersey part”; or “like New York, New York?”, and I say “just across the river from Manhattan.”

Whew, see what I mean? Complications. Now you may be asking yourself, what’s with all the fluff? Again, I bring you back to the statement two sentences up; perhaps this is something that someone who’s only lived in both North and South Jersey can attest to. Here we go…

It basically comes down to who’s asking. I wouldn’t expect a non-Australian resident to be familiar with every state or city in this country, so it really depends on who’s asking about mine. If I assume they’re going to go the Jersey Shore route, I avoid the word “Jersey” at all costs. Then there’s the whole phony “joysy” nonsense if I do decide to speak the word, and I normally respond with, yeah, because clearly that’s how I talk. The whole Jersey Shore fiasco, have I been there? Is it really like that? Are your friends like “the Situation”? My response is, I grew up going to the jersey shore, however it’s not like that, but that does exist.

I feel like I’m back in college in Baltimore, or should I be more specific to avoid any further confusion, Towson, MD, defending the fact that I’m from South Jersey, not North Jersey and they’re totally two different worlds! Anyone can tell you that. But that was also at a time that anything north of Trenton was considered North Jersey and all of Central Jersey got left out of the equation all together.

Then I moved North. I think I wrote a blog about it back when MySpace was still an active medium of communication, and that was when I first moved to <insert relative excuse for living in North Jersey>, I’ll be more specific, Hoboken, that I felt inspired to write about that fact that yes, I actually now live in North Jersey. Perhaps you don’t feel the impact yet.

Let me clarify. South Jersey is where people who support Philadelphia sports teams live. Suburbia is filled with summers “down the shore”, but to be more exact, the Atlantic City to Cape May coastline. South Jerseyians eat cheese steaks while watching the Phillies, get hoagies from Wawa before going to concerts in Camden, the 2nd most dangerous city in the whole country, and get fresh produce from roadside farm stands. In South Jerseyian eyes, North Jersey folk speak with funny accents only seen in TV, they’re filled with muscled up Guido’s, and support New York Sports teams, the enemy. I will admit that some of the above is stereotypical, and some of the above is also reality. These worlds are vastly different, and both think the other has it all wrong. This is coming from a state whose population is a bit under 9 million however you can drive the distance top to bottom in less than 5 hours.

Having newly famous, thank you reality TV, Cake Boss’ Carlos Bakery a block from my office and the birthplace of Frank Sinatra under my doorstep (not literally) didn’t help my cause. And get this; rumors are that the Jersey Shore cast is coming to Jersey City – stop ruining it for us all, please!

Now, I’d like to disclaim that I’m not saying I’m not “proud” of growing up in New Jersey. I had a fun filled childhood in middle class suburbia on a street with a kid around the same age in every house on the block and summer nights spent playing jailbreak, however, what I am left with while traveling the globe is the sour taste of the only association with the word Jersey is Jersey Shore; Philadelphia, poor sportsmanship; and New York, tourist haven Time Square. For example, I just Googled the statements “Jersey”, “Jersey quotes” and “famous New Jersey phrases” to be inspired for a title for this blog, and the first two pages of entries were specific to the show Jersey Shore. See what I’m getting at? What happened to Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi people?

So the conversation will typically start like this: Where are you from? And, to keep it simple before all of the above comes in to play, it’s a darn hard task of responding awkwardly “America”, “the US”, or “the States”. Regardless of which association I choose, I am undoubtedly greeted with, “Well obviously, but which part?” Yes, my accent usually gets me brownie points.  I’m just grateful when I don’t get the “Oh, I thought you were Canadian”, because, don’t get me started there.

I