Silly Sydney

So about a month ago, I got a job offer back in America, which officially will end my time down under on May 18 and cease the Aussie Adventures for a good while. With a vacation to Thailand in between then, it only leaves me about three weeks to soak in the Harbour City and surroundings. A good part of that time will be catching-up with friends for the last time and tying up loose ends. Don't worry, I'll save time for a kebab or two before then.

Before I go, I wanted to share with those planning to come here some more aspects about Sydney (and all of Oz for that matter) that I find amusing. Maybe you will, too.

They really like their tank tops. They call them singlets here, and apparently it's warm enough to wear sleeveless shirts on a regular basis. I haven't rocked my guns too often, but invest in bright singlets if you're an apparel maker.

While you're at it, make jean shorts and white slipon shoes. Don't know where this fascination came from, but it's a pretty funny look these kids have adopted. Jorts are actually popular and not considered completely redneck. On a trip back to the states recently, my friend Meghan would not let her Aussie boyfriend Adrian roll to a SD Chargers game wearing jorts. Good call.

An all-boys school near my work has the most ridiculous uniforms. So they do the shorts, pulled up socks with shoes, ties and jackets as you would expect in Australia and England. If that's not enough to get your ass kicked, they have to constantly wear these barbershop looking brimmed hats at all times. I'm waiting for a group of them to break out into a rendition of 'Hello, My Baby' at any given moment.

For some reason, ATM cards (which they call EFTPOS) go in and out of the ATM reeeeaaalllyy sloooowly. But the money that comes out sure is colorful.

Have I mentioned how the phrase 'shrimp on the barbie' isn't appropriate since they calls them prawns? Americans must've come up with that one, along with Outback Steakhouse and Fosters.

London has 'mind the gap,' while Sydney-area trains has the less memorable 'doors closing, please stand clear.' But they do have a place called Wooli Creek.

Rice Krispies are called Rice Bubbles, Frosted Flakes are called Frosties, Cocoa Puffs are called Cocoa Pops (without the bird mascot) and Burger King is called Hungry Jacks. There are Woolworths, but it's a supermarket chain with limited cereal isles. Fear not, they have KFCs that actually sell a form of chicken.

One of their official public holidays involves a horse race on a Tuesday. While NSW doesn't get this day off like Victoria and ACT, most people leave at 1:00 for the race at 3, which pretty much revolves around champagne and drinking. Another holiday, which is coming up soon, honors war veterans by betting on dice games.

It's one of the cleaner cities I've come across, but you'd be hard-pressed to find a publicly provided garbage can. One time at a train station, I just had to give up and leave my garbage on the ground. Is it lttering if you genuinely try to throw it away but run out of options?

Bondi is less of a Sydney suburb than a United Nations of transplants from around the world. I'd say Italian, Irish and French win. Or maybe that's just the riff raff I run into at the Dominoes on Tuesday nights.

Sometimes the buses just don't show up for their scheduled stop. Does this happen in other cities? I don't know, have never been a consistent public transporter. Oh, and people love running for public transport. My favorite is when they don't make it.

They have shampoo and conditioner, but never combined the two. Maybe it's a national rule; both in one bottle just doesn't exist.

Brick rules the day. Every other building I come across is made out of brick, and most of those buildings are relatively ugly. Which in the end, kind of makes Sydney look like a sunny Great Britain.


My next g'day Oz post will translate phrases from Aussie to Californian....stay tuned.

Journey to Jervis Bay

Note to self: go to Jervis Bay if you want some great beaches, white soft sand, good trampolining, easy living and warm weather. Don't go there if you want your college basketball team to advance in the NCAA tournament.

A crew of us and assorted dogs made the 2.5 hour trip to Jervis on the last weekend of long summer days. Before taking the road on Friday night, I was told the correct pronounciation is 'JARvis," even with the E. Sure, why not, can do the pirate voice with that one. The rented house provided all the amenities: cable tv to watch all March Madness we need, yard for the pooches and a walkway out the backyard right to the beach. Even my room, which was seperated from a couple by a glassed door, offered the sound of waves crashing from the window.

After a late arrival and some Lingere Football League on Friday, we got up early enough to go for a morning swim and watch a tough loss by the Buckeyes. Damn you, Tennessee, couldn't even take it to the next game. But the day was saved with a trip to Cave Beach, where we surfed, boogie boarded and cricket-ed to our hearts content. And the water so shallow, waves calm enough, didn't even need to paddle out...the best kind of surfing. These beach experiences, complete with the green/blue water is one of many things I'll miss about these parts.

You know what tastes delicious? Mexican food, prepared by Andy, with a few cold beers. You know what Earth Hour is? 60 minutes where we don't get light or music, 60 looong minutes. You know what's more interesting than regular Scattergories? Filthy, dirty Scattgergories. With this group, the game left emotional scars that we're not likely to recover from. Ryan's attempts at coming up with a match for the letter O was pure genius. Adrian's dirty excuse for missing school was just awesome.

Unfortunately for Ry, the next day we caught his UK Wildcats clanging threes (and free throws) while going down to West Virginia. After that debacle, another swim and beer, we eventually had to confront the dreaded Sunday drive home - it's never welcome, but with Riley in tow, road trips are entertaining.

As for this year's Final Four, it's an enigma, I suppose Duke are the favorites. JAAAARRRrvis has to be one of my favorites in the Aussie adventures.

Why Baseball is Better Than Cricket

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of experiencing a live match of Australia's beloved summertime sport, cricket. Most people know the sport as going for days on end, but me, Rory and the Dans went to the Sydney Cricket Ground to check out a 20/20match, which meant that the contest between Australia and the West Indies would actually end that night. Being a dirty Yank that I am, there didn't seem something right about the sport, though, in comparison to its Amercan sister sport, baseball. Actually, ten things.

1. No tailgating. This really is an issue with all Australian sports. For a country that enjoys a good barbeque and beers, this seems like a given. They need to learn how to hang out and do both from the back of a car.

2. The uniforms. For the 20/20 matches, they look like the warmup gear for the Washington Generals, complete with sponsor logos instead of team insignias. For the test matches, they all-white with wear knit sweaters and old-style caps. None of these combos really looks cool.

3. There's only two bases. Along with a lot less activity than four bases, I immediately wondered: how do they determine how far you get with a girl? Yeah man, I gave her a wicket last night. Huuuhh??

4. The food. No Cracker Jacks, hot dogs, nachos, or even KFC, even though it was the team's main sponsor! The closest thing I came to a hot dog had the texture of a toy hot dog and was the color of fire engine red. After waiting for 15 minutes in one of the two concession stands, I opted for a meat pie and VB beer instead.

5. The format. Basically, cricket is kind of like baseball, except you watch one team have a 100 run inning, and then get to see if the other team can beat that. No back-and-forth like a good ballgame. When the West Indies only got 130 runs, you pretty much knew the Aussies were going to match it. I don't think the sport can ever really have a nail-biter bottom-of-the-ninth, two outs moment.

6. No home runs. Sure, they have something called a six, which is when the crowd cheers and the ball goes out of the park. But it's not that big of a deal when you're trying to get 150. Therefore, it's the equivalent of maybe a double. Again, no bases-loaded, edge of the seat moments.

7. What are they playing for? I'm still not sure what the whole summer's competition has been about. Against England, it's for somthing called the Ashes (and bragging rights). Maybe they're all playing for some free KFC.

9. No Wild Thing. It's a pretty cool moment when the reliever comes in to close out the deal in baseball. Think Eric Gagne circa 2003. That doesn't really happen in cricket, because the same few 'bowlers' are on the not-mound for the entire match.

10. You don't get to keep the ball. So when the guy hits six, fans have to throw it back. Not in the Wrigley Field style, but because they need the ball. So much for fan-friendly.

I could've mentioned that there's no 7th inning stretch, but don't want to pick on the sport. On a positive note, the Aussies did get past the 130 runs and whooped the Windies this summer. On to the Kiwis for another yet-to-determined title.

El Bueno, El Malo y El Feo

Chinatown has lots to offer in the way of food, including chicken buns for under two bucks and four emperor's puffs for a dollar. (Chinese New Year bueno) I shouldn't tell them how tasty these are, or else they'll raise em to normal Sydney prices. (which are regularly malo)

On the way to Tropfest, an annual short film festival held in Sydney (bueno), the overcrowded buses forced me to hoof it up to Bondi Junction and take the very same buses, only emptied out. I got to Tropfest an hour and a half late. (malo)

From Central Station, they offered shuttle buses right to the cricket grounds for the Australia-West Indies 20/20 match (bueno). Oh, but you couldn't use your regular bus ticket, you had to buy a special return ticket, even if you weren't returning (nooo bueno).

There's a pedestrian walk on the Harbour Bridge into the city. Instead of taking the bus a few weeks back, I hoofed it across the bridge while it's still staying light until 7 (bueno, bueno).

Speaking of summertime hours, I've fallen into the habit of either running to, or running beforehand, and then going to the beach around 6 or 7. (so very bueno). Today, however, there was a tsunami warning after an earthquake in Chile. (obvious malo).

Foxtel (the cable service) has four new channels dedicated to Olympic coverage from Vancouver (a cool bueno), but even for long-time subscribers, they charge us for these channels (lame malo).

I recently noticed they sell Ben and Jerry's here now (bueno!). Oh, but it costs $12.50 for a self-sized carton (uhhh, seriously? malo).

The train to work is quicker and arrives more frequently, but it's pretty depressing and there are changes. The bus ticket is cheaper and no changes, but it takes longer and only arrives once every 20 minutes. (hmm, both bueno and malo).

I have a really cool girlfriend (bueno), who currently lives 17,000 miles away (muy malo).

I recently went bowling for friends' birthdays (bueno), but bowled by far the worst score of the group (feo). A group that included guys and girls.

Aussie, Ozzie, Ossie

Unlike previous Australia Days, I didn't take part in any flag waving, barbeques, VBs or even renditions of 'Land Down Under.' Pretty lowkey, but for the sake of blogging about my life, here is a synopsis. Keep in mind, while not wildly exciting, these are all fairly quinnesential Australian activities.

- Displayed my Aussie flag on the windowsill, held up by a Padres matchbox ice cream truck.

- Went to Bondi and saw people go into the ocean with inflatable Haviana sandal floaty raft things, completing a world record attempt of some sort.

- Ate a veggie burger at 'Australia's largest vegetarian BBQ.'

- Fought with Vodafone, and got out of my two-year contract with their 'broadband' service

- Watched about two minutes of cricket - that's all I could handle.

- Ran to Bronte, then Tamarama Beach - went for a swim and almost had my shoes and shirt washed away by the Pacific tide.

- Had a kangaroo burger for dinner and watched the Aussie Open tennis

- Ate Tim Tams for dessert

Oye, oye, oye....

Game, Set, Game

For a few years, I’ve heard people describe full tennis competitions as ‘games,’ even though a game is only one-third. This has perplexed me – there’s a game of rugby, a game of cards, but in tennis, it’s a match. With that said, I travelled down to Melbourne last weekend to watch many MATCHES of tennis at the Australian Open. Figured while I’m here, might as well check out the only Grand Slam (and yearly sporting event of significance) in the Southern Hemisphere.

After a flight on the luxurious Tiger Airways (enter sex clinic jokes here) and catching a few trains to East Saint Kilda (home of the Saints), I settled down for a long summer’s nap. My first mistake of the weekend was only one application of sunblock – and missing the ‘above-the-knee’ and upper arm areas – later revealing a baaad farmer tan and knee sunburn look. Guess that’s what nine hours under the Australian sun will do to you.

Now a few quick notes about tennis in general. First the ballboys and ballgirls. This is such an odd little setup, with these disciplined ball-retrieving soldiers tracking down every stray ball that’s humanly possible in a three-hour tennis match. How do they never trip, drop a ball or even sneeze during a match? I did learn that one actually relieved himself on centre court, resulting in a 40-minute delay. So they are human after all... Another strange one are doubles teams, both men and women. They slap five and discuss strategy after pretty much every single waking point, to keep up the team camaraderie I suppose. I decided to do the math on this one, and at a minimum, they would slap hands at least 48 times if they won every single point. At a five each, that totals 240. Then at breaks, they sit on their ‘bench’ without saying a word to each other. Huh? Not even a 'this water is good,' 'you're hitting your forehands nicely' comment??

Day one was court hopping between women’s singles, men’s singles, women’s doubles, men’s doubles, mixed doubles and a scattering of practices. I hardly knew any of these players, with the exception of an Australian female player, whose name I’m ironically now forgetting. But there were memorable moments, from the rambunxious young (probably drunk) Aussie fans to cheering on what I assumed was one half of an American team. Day two, I repeated the early start and met up with friends Mike and Laura, who proceeded to recruit me out of the sun of Margaret Court (Court? no, Stadium) to Rod Laver Arena. It was like being called up to the big leagues. Murray, Nadal...I know these people! Oh, and I was a sunblock Nazi on day two, so my awesome looking redness wouldn’t spread. Like day one, I managed to stick around until pretty much every match was exhausted, deciding to skip the end of a 'legends' match (four guys I never heard of either). The weekend of tennis ended with another attempt by Aussie fans to cheer on their country people to victory. In vain. They try so hard, they really do.

Another few great things about the Open is they allow you to take in food to the grounds and Melbourne is a centrally located city that really embraces the tournament. This allowed me to catch a free tram, grab a burger from Lord of the Fries and watch some of the night matches from Federation Square.

Why do I insist on leaving Melbourne with 6am Monday morning flights? 4am should never be a wakeup time unless you’re a fisherman. On to Australia Day....

Good Things Come in Three (Phases)

Let's just start by saying that Christmas 2009-10 was much more productive, fulfilling and hard to recover from than last year. Maybe it was the Rose Bowl, the extra six days or merely the fact that I accomplished that much more this time around...but let's do it again sometime real soon. Will take this in three phases, since each chunk of the US tour had it's own unique personality. Starting with the fantastic 14-hour flight back home...you think I'm kidding.

Phase 1 (Where We're Going, We Don't Need Roads):














This is the phrase where I learned to appreciate the endless entertainment on V Australia, did not learn how to play dice, that Barney's Beanery has an endless supply of beer and food, the California DMV doesn't have to be that bad of an experience, it feels like Christmastime 110% more than in Australia (even when it's 70 degrees out in LA), being back makes me drink consistently more (probably because my friends do), Runyon Park is an excellent place for a run, get togethers honoring me spawn couples, Pag has access to all the Captain Morgans he can get his hands on, I seem to know people in big houses in the Hollywood Hills, Huntington sidewalk sales still rule and Long Beach Airport may look rundown, but it's underrated.

Phase 2 (Twas the Night Before Christmas...):














New York is a cold, snowy and slushy place, I can get jetlagged (or maybe just can't sleep on red eye flights), I still like oatmeal with Cool Whip on top, when I hear of Chianti, I still think of 'Silence of the Lambs,' I haven't been in a limo in more than five years, I have the cutest newphews ever (who cares if that's biased, it's true), being back east makes me even more in the Christmas spirit, I have a certain level of tolerance for incessant Christmas music, luxury cars drive niiice, Dunkin Donuts does eventually close (except with gas station drive throughs), Bellini is one drink that will wake you up, any form of hot dog is delicious, Candyland is quick and fun, Monopoly is endless and a form of fun, Sound of Music is lame when on during football, homemade lasagna is unreal, clothes in the US are oh so cheap and the best way to JFK Airport is not the Grand Central Parkway.

Phase 3 (Three's Company, Four's a Double Date):












Flying with a friend is much better, pho is a great meal at 10pm, sleeping on the floor isn't all that bad, six hour road trips are best with good food, music and company, California is georgeous (even on the 5), I should buy stock in In n Out, West Hollywood is west of the 101 (duh),I'll never really like Scotch, don't try to call for a taxi in the hills, Sport Chalet is in fact open at 10am on New Year's Day, you can tailgate without a car, some seven-year-olds know how to open beer bottles, PR agencies do get good seats, Oregon fans are nice enough people, bacon-wrapped hot dogs remain amazing, Aspen is old money/Vail is new money, snowboard lessons use endless instructors and analogies, skiing is like riding a bike, the chairlift remains dangerous, even after 31 years, Bill Cowher isn't going to coach in 2010, Rainbow Factory closes at 5, Pedro's breakfast stops at 11, Ralph's is open all night, there's a train that goes through San Clemente, Estancia wine is good and V Australia is still a legit airline.

Well worth every minute and penny spent. It couldn't get Eddie Vedder than that, until next time America.