Mid-Semester Crisis

I’ve reached an awkward point in my life, and it has nothing to do with puberty.  Although the changes are just as life-changing and real, this awkward stage falls more along the lines of… a mid-life crisis.  Let me rephrase that—a mid-semester-of-an-exchange-student-life crisis.  Sticking to puberty would probably have been a lot less complicated.

You see, similar to the way most people in life are eventually faced with a mid-life crisis, exchange students are faced with mid semester crises.  It begins with the realization that time is short.  In fact, not only is he short, but he’s also quite quick, kind of like Dash in Mr. Incredible—short, fast, and flying by before you even get the chance to blink an eye. 

Then comes the scramble.  The tofu scramble—alongside a side of fresh fruit and orange juice for breakfast before you rush out the door to see, do, and experience everyone and everything you possibly can. 

Then comes the confusion—the identity crisis.  Those in their mid-lives probably question their purpose in life and whether or not they’ve fulfilled it.  Have I lead a meaningful life?  Am I happy with who I’ve become and the way things worked out?  Those facing a mid-semester crisis deal with questions similar not only in severity, but also in seriousness.  Have my experiences met my expectations?  Am I making the most of every moment?  And arguably the most important of the whole lot, who am I?  

I’ve spent what I’d consider a good amount of time in Aussieland, which is what makes this point in my life awkward.  Who am I? I haven’t spent enough time here to crave Vegemite on butter-slathered toast, but I ‘ve spent enough to know that although it takes a My 2 bus pass to get to Central Station, you can usually get away with a My 1 if you’re quite sly and sneaky about it.  Not enough time to replace my American “Hey, want to meet at McDonald’s in the afternoon for a cup of coffee” for the casual Australian “’ey mate, want to meet at Macka’s in the arvo for a cuppa”, but enough to know that a sausage roll done right is one slathered in ketchup.  Who am I?  I know, it’s a loaded question.

I’m in that awkward in between.  I’m no stranger, but I’m like so like totally not a local.  See?  I’ve still got the SoCal in me.  But I’ve been here long enough to make quite a few observations.  Like Californians love their avocados, coconut water, and breakfast burritos, Australians, or at least those residing in the Sydney surrounds, love their beaches, brunches, and markets.  

Sometimes, if you’re lucky enough in Cali, you’ll get a meal with all three lifestyle essentials.  Avocados in your breakfast burritos and an ice cold Zico on the side and you’re golden.  Likewise, in Sydney, some days if you’re lucky enough, you’ll get to experience all three: you’ll grab brunch at the market by the beach, then head to the beach and once again, you’re golden.

I guess I got lucky.  I guess I’m also golden.

Here is Manly Beach and the Manly Market in pictures.  I got too excited for brunch, so instead of my brunch sitting happily on this page in picture form, it’s sitting happily in my tummy.

In all that excitement, I’ve forgotten the final step of a mid-life, mid-semester, crisis—realization and acceptance.  In actuality, both are blessings in disguises.  They help you to realize and appreciate all the wonderful opportunities and experiences that have fluttered so kindly your way, and are reminders of the many more to fly on by.  So embrace them.  Embrace the beautiful moments.  Embrace the markets, the avocados, the Zico water, breakfast burritos, and beaches; but most importantly, embrace your so-called crisis.  In fact, have another one while you're at it.

Cheers,

Kimmy

Sydney's International Fleet Review

Last Saturday marked the 100^th year celebration of Sydney’s International Fleet Review.  Over the course of this week, over 50 warships will be making their way into Sydney Harbor to “commemorate the centenary of the first entry of the Royal Australian Navy’s Fleet into Sydney”.  What better way to celebrate than with fireworks?

Or I guess in this case, a picture of fireworks!

There's really not much left to say on that.  I spent the night feeling a child-like combination of awe-struck and giddy.  I can only imagine what the New Year's Eve fireworks on the harbor would do to me.  I would probably melt into a blob of glitter on the ground out of sheer happiness and excitement.  I mean, I nearly did on Saturday.

Yours,

Kimmy

Do It For The Story

If you happen to be in another country for, oh I don’t know, four months, make sure to visit a museum.  If not to foster cultural immersion and better your understanding of the aforementioned country, then at least do it for the story.  If museums are at the bottom or simply not even present on your to-do list, just do it to say you tried, and who knows?  You may be pleasantly surprised.

Trust me—I speak from experience. 

And so, I present to you the Museum of Contemporary Art.  

 

 

And at last, my personal fave...

Located on  140 George St, The Rocks NSW 2000, and opened 7 days a week from 10:00am-5:00pm with extended hours on Thursday (10:00am-9:00pm), you really have no reason not to go.  There's no reason to not to immerse yourself in Australian culture; but even more importantly, there's no reason not to do it for the story.

Cheers,

Kimmy

Masters and World-Class Experts

So, I've decided to take a break from writing my lab report--I've decided to take a break from being productive.  I know right?  As if it's a difficult thing to do, but you know what makes it easier?  It turns out that I'm a master at it--a master at being unproductive, I mean.

Let me explain.

According to mister Malcolm Gladwell, it takes approximately 10,000 hours to achieve mastery in a field.  And seeing as I have spent more of my life than not, being unproductive, I'd say I'm a master by now, wouldn't you?  Regardless, Malcolm would.  In fact, I'd even argue that I've surpassed the quota and have gone beyond the level of mastery associated with being a world-class expert.  To avoid being unproductive yesterday, I took a day trip to the South Coast...as if I needed the additional hours.

Let me start off by saying that this trip wasn't planned--it was supposed to rain that day and hence, I actually intended to stay much closer to the city.  Scanning over a public transport map over a bowl of chocolate oats however, my plans began to change.  Let me tell you, nothing brings out the adventure in you like a public transportation map...or any map in general.  Don't believe me?  Just try it.  Pull out a world map and bam, you'll find yourself on a one-way flight to Peru.

I couldnt afford Peru.  So, instead, I grabbed a few things: my bus pass, my iPad, my laptop (to charge my iPad), and headed out the door.  A good three hours and a few hundred pages into A Cuckoo's Calling later, I arrived. 

 

Not in Peru, but in Kiama!

Three hours outside the city, Kiama is one of those towns.  You know what I'm talking about?  The ones where everyone knows and genuinely likes one another; where families are out and about on a Sunday afternoon for ice cream after church; where the dogs, as well as the children, run about leash-less. 

Where the milk comes straight from a farm in Kiama, and is in the most literal sense of the word not only local, but fresh.

It just has that old time feel that visitors are drawn to.  They also come for the blowhole.

 

They actually mostly come for the blowhole.

To get to the location, you simply follow a paved path that takes you along the coast and winds through some beautiful, beautiful places.  

The word winds is extremely misleading though.  It makes it sound as if the path was miles long...In reality, the blowhole took no longer than fifteen minutes to get to from the station.

But, in all honesty, the fifteen minutes will pass by in a matter of seconds.  I mean, who's counting the seconds when the view is this stunning.

 

  And to add to it, the blow hole was simply a work of art.  

Or to be more politically correct, a work of nature, haha.  The Kiama Blowhole is essentially a hole in the rock, positioned in a way that when tide rolls in, the water crashes into a rock wall and is forced up, out of the hole, and into the air!

The splash from the blowhole actually soaked me after this picture was taken!

It was a great day, but truth be told, reliving it has tired me out a bit!  I actually think I forgot to mention one more thing I've actually mastered almost quite as well as being unproductive--sleeping.  I'm a few hours short on being a world-class expert on that one.  I know, I know, shameful, but I'll get to working on it now!

Until my next spout of un-productivity,

Kimmy

Sometimes...

Sometimes, I don't feel like writing blog posts.

Sometimes, pictures are worth a thousand words.

Sometimes, they're worth even more.

Sometimes, like maybe once in a blue moon, these things go hand in hand.

This is one of those times.

Enjoy a day in pictures at Watsons Bay!

Yours,
Kimmy

Undies and Costco

So, you know that feeling when you’re at Costco and you happen to be out of chonies and laundry detergent?  No?  Well, let me help you out.  You’re obviously in desperate need of laundry detergent but you don’t want to buy the one from Costco because it’s sold in a bucket with an unwritten guarantee to last you, and your cat, nine lifetimes.  So, you do the next best thing and head to the undies section and buy yourself a pack of undies instead.

Only kidding.

But actually though.  Y’know what I’m talking about?  It’s also kind of like wanting one bowl of rice.  You don’t want to buy the giant bag from the Asian grocery store because it would simply provide 999 bowls too many.  It’s a first world problem and I’m a horrible person, but I’m grateful for what I have, and in desperate situations like these, I’m even more grateful for beautiful things like that section in Whole Foods.  You know, the one with the clear plastic tubs filled with rice, beans, and all sorts of goods—the section where if you want one bowl of rice, you can grab a plastic bag, a metal scoop, and scoop yourself one and none too many bowls of rice?  What a great section.  Now, imagine that section, but bigger.  Better yet, imagine a whole store like that.

I know.  I peed my pants out of excitement too.

That’s what The Source Bulk Foods is.  It’s like that one beautiful section in Whole Foods, expanded, and plopped in Balmain, Australia.  The goodies that fill the clear plastic tubs range from almonds to honey macadamia nuts; black sesame seeds to red quinoa; chocolate covered honeycomb to yogurt covered apricots; varieties of mueslis to even more varieties of mueslis…need I say more?!  They also have giant barrels filled with honey, maple syrup, apple cider vinegar, local Australian olive oil…and wait, I saved the best for last.  You can grind your own nut butters here too.  You think I’m joking…Almond butter, peanut butter, macadamia nut butter; however the type of nut butter depends on the day.  Today, for instance, was almond butter day.  I have to go back on Thurday.  That’s macadamia nut butter day.  If you want to go back with me, the address is 262 Darling St, Balmain, NSW, Australia 2041.

See you there,

Kimmy