Best Commute in the World?

Many of us go through the daily commute to work: fighting through crowds and traffic, trying to wake up and prepping for what the day ahead holds. I do miss my car, but the Sydney work commute has been an adventure. First, it was the 333 and 380 bus fun. Since moving our office to North Sydney a few months ago, I've now had the pleasure of taking Sydney's trains and getting squished next to school kids and office workers from Bondi Junction to Town Hall and North Sydney stations.

A few weeks after arriving and taking the train across the Sydney Harbour Bridge, I predicted that this has to be the best commute anyone can enjoy, anywhere in the world. Tourists pay thousands just to see the Opera House and harbour, where I pay just $28 a week for ten trips over one of the most iconic settings on the globe.













However, this might be a little overrated, since I usually have my head in a book or too blocked by the packed train car to see anything more than traffic and bridge beams. But a good view of the water and top of the Opera House 'shells' reminds me of the scenic city I reside and work in. One strange aspect of heading back into Sydney is that while the train is going south, the traffic is driving north making passengers feel like we're going back in time or the wrong way down a one-way street.

Whether you work or visit Sydney, I'd suggest you grab a train over to Milson's Point or North Sydney for the journey and see what it's like every day on my way to the office. And after the train, another bonus is a good glimpse of the bridge going down the hill to McMahon's Point.

Koo Wee Rup

After the traditional trip to the Opera Bar, hiking the Bondi to Bronte cliffwalk, ferry to Manly, picnic at Ryan and Andy's and Japanese fish dinner, the next stop on mom and Aunt Eileen's Aussie Adventures took us south to Melbourne. OK, well, they ventured up to Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef, but this was MY next stop on their tour.

It was Friday the 13th, so I was expecting bad things to happen somewhere in the vicinity of the airport. Nothing drastic, but maybe sitting next to a fat guy or a delayed flight. The closest things I could decipher is the inability to catch a stand-by flight, sitting next to a fat guy and not having any money for the one shuttle bus into Melbourne. But good luck prevailed, as the kindly skydiving instructor Chris fronted me the $20 for my ride. Yes, my life is at a point where I need the help of skydiving instructors to pay for my shuttle bus because I don't know my Wells Fargo pin.

Finally getting into Melbourne around 11pm and grabbing a quick dinner, I snoozed away on my rollaway cot in room 121 of the Rendevous. Three things struck me from the Melbourne city tour the next morning: the guide spoke way too softly for 8am, Melbourne has a gaggle of sports venues and Captain Cook grew up in a house the size of an outhouse. Oh, and Yarra means 'everflowing' in Aboriginal. Why do we end up tired after just sitting in a bus most of the morn? Well, we needed our rest for a trip to Phillip Island and the Penguin Parade.

In short, the penguin tour took us two hours (in part through a town with one of my fave Aussie names, Koo Wee Rup) to Phillip Island, a scenic spot that's host to what else: an F1 and Moto GP racetrack. At sundown every night, hundreds of little penguins leave their daytime home in the ocean to head home to their burrows. On the marathon trip, I was wondering what all the fuss was about hanging out in the cold to watch penguins walking around...until I saw the little guys waddling out of the Pacific in droves, at exactly the time they promised. We even got something called the 'penguin premier' tickets, which was like box seats for the show. It was pretty cool to see these identical black and white birds rush out of the water and take to the penguin highway, coming home from work. There was even a Wallaby sighting to complete the night of nature.

They forbid us to take pictures, so here's a generic shot of the parade:













Sunday was looking like a hot one, so I made it over to the Australian Centre for the Museum Image to check out a exhibit of Dennis Hopper's films, photos and art collection. All I can say is the dude had it together, and still rolling along strong at 76. After Easy Rider, Colors and Andy Warhol paintings, I met up with friends Nirali and Martin right in the middle of a Polish festival. Seemed like a perfect time to grab a polish sausage for lunch.















Later on, mom, Aunt E and I cruised down Lygon Street, which seemed to have as many Italian restaurants as Phillip Island has penguins. We decided on the one that offered free wine and garlic bread, better deal than any others. Although it was 12 days after mom's birthday, I arranged the whole 'make a big deal' birthday dessert thing, and sure enough, they brought out tiramisu with the entire restaurant singing happy bday.
















Back to the Rendevous for a whopping four hours of sleep before saying g'day to mom and Aunt Eileen (they were headed for a week in NZ) and a 6am flight, then straight to work on Monday. This time I had the $20 for the shuttle bus.

Oh, and Tiger won the golf tourney, which took over the country's attention for a week. Speaking of blue blood sports, thinking of heading back down to Victoria for the Australian Open in January. Maybe I'll run into Andy Roddick at one of the alleyway bars.

Is There an Old Zealand?

Every time you apply for a new Visa, they make you leave the country. In April, it was Bali. To get my 457 last weekend, I made the quicker trip across the Tasman Sea to New Zealand. This would only be for a weekend, but I was determined to at least see a little more of Australia's little brother.













Don't follow the pushpins, just notice Auckland at the top of the north island

Before I get to the actual city, I have to make note of the concept that is Duty Free. You have to walk through this place to get into, or out of the gates. What is it exactly? I see, booze, cigarettes, purfume and electronics. I feel like Duty Free is what maybe purgaory is like. Sure, there's no tax, but now you're left with a bottle of Jack and another Ipod that smells like Chanel No 5. Yo digresso.

Auckland is New Zealand's biggest city, and from what I've heard, it's least attractive. But I've always been open to make my own opinions about these things. After arriving at the Base Backpackers, I took care of business and promptly applied for the visa. By this time, it was about 2am and people were still hanging out and milling around the hostel's lobby. Why are you still up?? Go to bed, people! It's at this point I officially realized I'm too old to stay at these places anymore. Luckily, I was checking into the Hyatt on Saturday.

One side note about Auckland: they have Dunkin Donuts, Wendy's AND a Denny's. This place went up about five notches just for that. I only ate a Dunkin Donuts, but damn, those glazed and Halloween Boston Creme donuts went dwn well with a coffee coolatta thing.

For nothing else, Auckland is worth a visit for the trip to, and experience on Waiheke Island. It's a Maori word, probably meaning 'the good wine' or something. A ferry ride over is about 30 mins and gives you a good vantage point of the city and it's surrounding areas. Auckland city is ok, but its harbor and local islands are much more impressive. When arriving on Waiheke, you have the option of a bus or hoofing it by foot. No question here, since it was a sunny 25 degree day.

A view of Waiheke from my private plane. No, my camera just wouldn't work.












After a recent day of wine tasting in Hunter Valley, became accustomed to the process of running through the wine list while some expert tried to explain how the next pinot should provide a 'stonefruit, forest floor' flavor. Duuude, it tastes like wine. OK, fine, they're all different, but my pallete is just taking in the alcohol. Since the third vinyard of the day (Jurassic Ridge...not to be confused with the dinosaur movie) offered free tastings, which was being done by the owner and winemaker....AND had bread with olive oil, I felt he deserved $29 of my hard-earned money. Since you can't bring back more than 100ml in carryon luggage, that meant I'd have to polish off my bottle of Jurassic Ridge Syrah (it's what the Kiwis called Shiraz, don't ask) that night. Woe is me.











Waiheke really is a nice island, especially when the wind isn't howling and it's clear, when you can see blue/green water and cool little islands in the distance. After about four hours of wine and walking, it was time to hop the ferry back to the mainland. That meant back to my hotel(!), the comfortable, quiet and classy Hyatt Auckland. For some twisted reason, I love hotels, even moreso after a night in a windowless room of Base Backpackers. That place felt like I was back in Stradley Hall at Ohio State.

I found a takeaway pizza place and picked up a calzone to share with my bottle of red and proceeded to spend the rest of Halloween in the room watching The Shining, All Blacks vs Wallabies, Frost/Nixon and Red Hot Chili Peppers videos. I'll think of something they all have in common, give me a minute.

On Sunday, I was up early enough where I could take another wander around Auckland in the daylight and make another venture to Dunkin Donuts. Seriously Sydney, I like that you're not full of chain restaurants, but get with the program here. I'd love some Munchkins! Made my way to a place called Sky Tower, where they offer something between a skydive and bungy jump off the tower. Seemed pretty cool, but pricey. Sky Tower has Sky City Casino, which is probably a healthier version than, say, hundreds of casinos that Vegas offers. I really just wanted to see some college fooball at the sports book, but yet another thing they don't have outside America.

I'd have to give Auckland a solid 7.5 out of 10. The city itself had some nice parts, good parks and a fine, fine Hyatt. Waiheke was worth the visit and the wine yet again flowed like fine itself. Really, though, I'll just be happy when the visa comes through. Processing, processing...

Where the Wild Things Are

This is an adventure where the phrase 'we're not out of the woods yet' applies perfectly. Growing up in the suburbs of Connecticut, I wouldn't exactly call myself a City Slicker, but yesterday's experience made me realize I'm not exactly an outdoorsman either.

For a few months, I've wanted to make a short trip down south to hike through Royal National Park. Saturday turned out to be a 25 degree (warm) day, so I decided to hop the train for Wollongong way. The express train dropped me out at Waterfall, what would be a fitting stop for this journey. My first hike took me to a place called Uloda Falls, which I suppose was a scenic spot about 5k from Waterfall station. From here, I decided to swap out my Rainbow sandals for trusty adidas snakers, which have served me well since 2001. This turned out to be one of my few good moves of the day, since a new path was uphill and rocky enough to warrant worn-out running sneakers. After reaching the peak of a scenic location, I decided to turn back and head for the waterall. But, um, where did the path go?? Oh, there it is...no, wait, that's just a bunch of rocks. Uh oh.

Royal National Park:


















Just a few months back, an English backpacker got lost in the wilderness of the Blue Mountains, then he was miraculously rescued. Now, those thoughts crept into my head. Am I the next transplant to make headlines and do A Current Affair inteview about my ordeal in the woods? OK, maybe not that dire since I could still hear motorycles off in the distance. But where the hell was I? And am I stepping on a poisonous snake with every step? I was still getting mobile reception, which I suppose was a good sign, in case I needed to dial for 'directions.' Hi, Mr. Park Ranger...I'm lost...I see rocks, trees and more trees...where am I?

Then of course there's that moment of elation: I've found a path! Where it's going, I don't care. But after about 10 minutes, the path dissolves into more forest. Where'd it go? Is this another Blair Witch Project? When do I start yelling for someone??

OK, time to dig into my bag of outdoor tricks. What have I learned from Bear Grylls and Man v Wild? Has Crocodile Dundee taught me anything? Yes, as a matter of fact, they have. When you find a lake or stream, follow it back to civilization. And watch where the sun is setting, it will take you west (where my train was probably patiently waiting). I was starting to get pretty thirsty, and that's when I found Banana Hammock and his wife.

Mr. Banana Hammock was a proper Aussie bloke, in his Greg Norman-meets-Mick-Dundee hat. His leathery skin resembled a topless Iggy Pop. And yes, the revealing Speedo was a little distracting. But alas, other humans! I'm saved...sort of. They directed me along the stream, per Bear Grylls, back to me home base at Waterfall station. I even managed to snag a bottle of water from the couple, my guardian angels in the wilderness. The walk along, next to and through the stream lasted for another hour and half. Still walking around trees, still probably avoiding snakes, still acquiring whatever rash these plants have to offer. In these situations, one always has a random song in their head to keep them truly insane. Randomly as always, mine was 'Up, Up and Away' by the 5th Dimension. If only I had a balloon that could take me out of there.

Finally, FINALLY I came upon the closest thing that resembled a path and heard the sweet sounds of 21st century civilization. Trains, motorcycles and other transport weren't too far off, and they sounded so sweet. Of course I had stumbled back out at the exact spot I started my day: Waterfall train station. How do these things work out so well?? As for my next blogger plug, I downed two bottles of Powerade and bag of M&Ms as my 'lunch' while boarding the train back to Sydney.

There were a few casualties of this four hour tour, including one of my Rainbow sandals, big rip in my jeans and water bottle from Banana Hammock's wife.

Following my experience, I offer these tips if you decide to hike in the wilderness of New South Wales:

- Bring multiple bottles of water (duh)
- Bring sunblock (duh)
- Bring a map (duh duh)
- Don't listen to your Ipod before getting lost
- Don't hike alone(duuuuh)

Today, I've decided to sit in the comfort of my home and watch college fooball. USC is winning.

'I'm So Going to Visit While You're Down There..."

I heard this quite a bit upon leaving the US two years ago. Friends, family, acquaintences were all making plans to jump on a flight to Sydney and enjoy a free place to stay. Even heard it when I was well-established here. Well, two years and a recession later, the visitors are in short supply. I know, I know....heard all the excuses so far: I'm waiting for the economy to get better, can't get work off, I'm drying my hair, it's baseball playoff season.

Well, those of you saving up to get married, this is a great place to get hitched. Anyone with babies? What's a better place to wake up at 4am?! As for that little financial difficulty stateside, well, your dollar goes really far here! On the US dollar, you could live like a king on kebabs and meat pies all week. Plus, flights within the country are pretty cheap, so you can be chilling Harbourside one day and sitting in a hammock with hippies in Byron the next, all for about $60.

I was fortunate enough to have a few friends this summer/winter, including a repeat visitor, someone who enjoys tropical North Queensland and both strawberries and fields. Then just heard that mom and Aunt Eileen are coming for a few weeks in November. That's the spirit!

But for all you Yanks waiting for the special moment when Qantas offers $250 return flights to Sydney, just know that your fellow adventurer Kev won't be down here forever. And then you'll be left to visiting Sydney without knowing the right kind of beer to drink, how to avoid getting hit by the buses and the easiest way to calculate the time difference.

In my first ever blogger plug, check out the great fares at http://www.vaustralia.com.au/. I heard this airline rules, hot meals and flight attendants.

9:07 is Now 10:07

Labor Day long weekend was also bday weekend. These are the little things that make four days pretty damn cool.

Friday: had birthday drinks with friends till I started to hiccup. I'm ok with my new age, an athlete's still in his prime, it's technically considered young and if in a band, I'd be entering my better, more mature phase. After Beauchamp, took the bus home while having my 1am dinner, a Reece's Peanut Butter Cup and Red Bull. No, I am not too old for this lifestyle.

Saturday: chatted with this cool girl Trinh for awhile, then got Turkish Delight and watched finish of Semi Pro and fave concert movie, Monterey Pop. Pretty much the script of how I wanted to spend a rainy/windy bday. At some point after going to sleep, time then went forward for daylight savings. It's like the Santa Claus of time came along and gave us an extra hour of sunlight. Leaving work in daylight hours is extremely underrated, and I will enjoy that for the next six months.

Grand Final Sunday: started as college football Saturday. Buckeyes won. Traded some good texts and made my way to the famous Golden Sheaf in Double Bay. Got Double Bay mixed up with Rose Bay and walked 30 min out of the way. While doing so, found $25 in the street. Somebody's getting both a train AND bus ticket this week. After pulling away from friends, walked back home and consumed more Turkish Delight. That place is like crack.

Monday: for the first time in forever, enjoyed a full football Sunday today, watched with fellow Yank, Tim. Giants won and Al Michaels is still announcing, both positive. More chatting after, followed by walking in the rain. Borders closed early, but just allowed me to come home and watch the season finale of Entourage. Did I not call that E was putting all his eggs in the Sloan basket?? Ari's entrance to the agency was classic.

And what's better than a long weekend is a short following week. And what's even better, baseball playoffs start this week, with an one-gamer tomorrow. Honestly, I don't ask for much.

Two Step

Today marks two years since I first set flip flopped feet in Australia. Way back then, George Bush was still screwing stuff up, Michael Vick was just going to jail and I didn't know NRL from Union. Fortunately, during that time, I've learned a few things about this place they call Oz. A digression of course, but whenever I hear that phrase, I don't think of Dorothy, but transcendent shortstop Ozzie Smith. The guy did backflips to go to his position. Why don't we have baseball players like that anymore??

OK, here are 24 things you may not know about Australia unless you move here. Why 24? Because I first thought of 20 and then kept thinking about funny things in this country.

The architecture is all over the place.

People really do say 'Gday' and 'no worries.'

Living north of the city isn't considered cool.

Contrary to popular belief, they don't really like Americans.

The weather isn't perfect.

Aboriginals are treated like a mix between American Indians and blacks. Yikes.

The country feels like America in 1964. That's a good thing.

These people know how to vacation. Or rather, holiday.

If you're not from Victoria, you don't tend to follow Aussie rules football.

The music scene is not good.

When not in maintenance, the Sydney train system is efficient.

Their politicians aren't dumb enough to be interesting.

They have an aversion to men's personal hygiene products.

They're not as sport crazy as advertised.

Queensland gets a bad rep.

Wine is a much better deal than beer.

Even if you're not a resident, you still need to file as resident 'for tax purposes.' Oh, of course.

People trust one another.

They feel better than New Zealand, but secretly know it's pretty cool over there.

Their newspapers are huge.

Rugby players don't really argue with refs, even after horrible calls.

They really like dogs.

They use the live auction format to sell a house.

They make a mean milkshake.


I can't imagine more valuable lessons than those. Oh, and when you get here and first meet people, don't be dissapointed if they think you're a Canadian.