Those First Few Weeks Can Really Scare You

G’Day, Mates! 

Okay, so let me shatter the preconceived illusion that people actually use that phrase in everyday speak over here, I regret to inform you that this be a farce. They do, however, use a few interesting phrases that I still haven’t completely acclimated to. I suppose I shall regale you on the unique slang that Australians have adopted over their interesting existence within Oceania. I have been faced with these unfortunately embarrassing scenarios on many occasions, and believe me, my responses were nothing short of ridiculous stupidity… Such as:

Australian Phrase: How are you going?

American meaning: How are you doing?

Scenario:  
Café Barista: How are you going? 

Me: Ummm... I am walking to work, so I am going by foot. Or did you mean how I am going home later? I am going by train… Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not what you meant? I will just have a cappuccino…

Needless to say I never returned to that café after that lovely interlude. Don’t you worry, folks, this is not the only time Mr. Ray has made an American fool of himself!

Australian Phrase: That’s okay/That’s alright

American meaning: You’re Welcome/Of course/No Worries

Scenario:  
Me: I had a really nice time tonight, thank you for coming out with me.  

Date: That’s okay.

Me: Oh I’m sorry, was your night horrible? Damn it, I knew I talked way too much about Pokemon!

There’s a little insider for you to show how obscenely awkward I am on first dates. Anyways, I digress… Oh, did you think that was it? Oh, no, my Americanisms continued to make my life ever so more uncomfortable.

Australian Phrase: Ta!

American meaning: Thank you!

Scenario: 
Friend: Hey, can I have some of your water?

Me: Yeah, of course, help yourself.

Friend: Ta!

Me: Wait, where are you going? I still want some of it…

Friend: (confused face)

Me: Oh, you’re not leaving? You know, like “Ta ta!” You know Tigger? His slogan? “TTFN! Ta ta for now!”… No, not ringing a bell? Alright then, just drink the water and ignore me…

So there you have it, a basic introduction on how to converse with the locals down under. If you ever find yourself in this country for the first time, I desperately hope you remember these scenarios and do not make a complete idiot of yourself for those first few weeks.

Making adequate conversation was just one of the seemingly endless struggles of adapting to life in Australia. As seen in the previous post, there were so many adjustments to the lifestyle that I honestly did not anticipate. Perhaps I should’ve been more prepared and heeded the warnings beforehand, but I suppose my head was so wrapped in the excitement of a new adventure that I disregarded all cautions and tossed worries to the wind. BIG mistake, there.


Alright, so let’s begin with step one: Living in an Australian apartment, and the conflicts that come along with it.

A few days before Jon and I arrived in Sydney, Lacey procured us a quaint little living establishment from a sophisticated meek Italian lady, Miss Elena. We moved in two days after living a fair bit too lavishly in a city hotel, which right away was depleting my ever so futile savings, so I was happy to settle in my own space. We had the apartment for one month while Elena and her family went on holiday back to Italy, so it was a good placeholder for the time being. Her home was nestled in the lovely suburb of Rose Bay, a quiet upscale small town vibe with a gentle charm.

A few words about Rose Bay. This was a cute and serene place to start my journey, but after looking back, I don’t believe it suited the lifestyle I was craving. Moving into a flat so early on in my “backpacker” existence marred a bit of the experience that I originally was expecting to be thrust into. It was far too comfortable for my liking. It made me expect a certain security from that point on that I wasn’t really supposed to have during my travels.

However, the apartment certainly was not perfect. First of all, upon entering our humble abode, I immediately thought I walked into an IKEA catalog. From the dishes to the linens, the commercialized decoration was abounding. Half the time I felt like I was on display for some reality commercial promoting the product (queue Robby posing effortlessly with a setting of IKEAS latest china collection, oh so classy! Triangle patterns are so IN!). This oh so minor detail was very easy to get over. Other challenges we came across were not.

Let’s talk about mold. I don’t like it. It’s nasty. I may be allergic to it. Basically, Elena’s apartment was an incubus for the decaying infestation that creeped into our living space. Each morning I would wake up to the sudden shock of believing I have gone blind, when in reality the moist interior created a lovely moldy heaviness to my eyelids that was just the greatest pleasure to deal with on a daily basis. Mold is gross, and Australian apartments are riddled with it. Joy.

Let’s talk about the seasons. So, as we are in the southern hemisphere, seasons are reversed, and seeing as we left our sunny warm American June, we dove right into the inception of rainy chilled Australian June. Now, Sydney winter is fairly similar to the winters I have experienced in Orlando, just a bit more spread through the months. Orlando winter is basically three weeks of the temperature decreasing to 30-40 ish degrees* where Floridians everywhere believe Hell has started to freeze over, and then shoots right back up to the humid sticky 90 degree* climate where Floridians immediately begin counting down to the next winter season. Sydney winter has the same chilly vibe, but it’s more gradual and really begins to get on your fucking nerves by the second month, especially from my selfish Floridian perspective. I want my humid sticky 90 degree* climate back, and I want it NOW! So, this pertains to our living situation in two ways. First, insulation must be a fleeting fancy in Rose Bay, because you could basically feel the biting winds brush through the paper thin walls of Maison Elena, which was taxing and honestly a little bit frightening, I was half convinced the apartment was haunted for a few weeks. Second, this lovely Italian family apparently must’ve been cold-blooded, because they only felt the need to live harmoniously in the winter months with just one teeny tiny heater, roughly the size of a Game Cube. Oh, and what was even more fun was once you really got that little guy’s juice flowing, we would short the circuits in the apartment and the power would go out. So, we learned to coexist in our flat by converting ourselves into cuddling blanket worms, using whatever warmth we could grasp onto.

*Degrees are notated in Fahrenheit... If it was 90 degrees Celsius I'm pretty sure we would be liquified at this point. 

Of course, this living situation was not always uncomfortable. Rose Bay was a delightful suburb within walking distance to the beach and a myriad of pleasant little shops and restaurants. The bay from which its name is derived is a beautiful sight to behold. You can always catch a few sailboats bumbling about the gentle waves, and there you can hop onto a ferry and enjoy a relaxing windswept journey right into the heart of the city, with pristine views of the Sydney Opera House. 

Our view from the ferry ride from Rose Bay into Circular Quay

A grievously horrible selfie of me and a sailboat during a run through Rose Bay

Yes, once we adjusted to our surroundings, the confines of Rose Bay became quite the appealing place to live for the time. However, challenges arose from not only the physical aspects of our home, but the behaviors of those living there as well. Jon, Lacey and myself each had our own unique expectation of what this adventure would give us, and of course that is bound to create some adversity when living around different opinions and lifestyles. I am not saying that one outlook was better than another, we just had different ideas on how to live in Australia.

For Jon, this was an opportunity to expand his already well-traveled horizons and understand how to portray his adventure with an aesthetic that the world would appreciate.

For Lacey, her reason for being here was twofold: the first was the excitement of spending more time with her boyfriend who had moved to Australia a few months prior, the second was to start working on her ambition to travel and see cultures unknown.

For me, I needed to escape. I needed a blank slate and to really understand myself, and what better way to do this than somewhere foreign? The harsh truth to this was that I really looked at myself as foreign. Not in the way of being from another place physically, but the person I was seeing in the mirror was sometimes unrecognizable. I needed this experience to rediscover the passion for something greater, a passion that I forgot I even had living back in Florida. I needed to scare myself, so much to the point of uprooting my life and landing it on the other side of the world, to wake myself up again. Trust me, it’s working swimmingly so far, but we shall delve into that in later posts.

But, alas, expectations are not always met in the way we anticipate. I shall not go into detail, but things with Lacey and her boyfriend hadn’t played out as she hoped, so when we arrived in Sydney, there was a brooding angst around Lacey’s aura and her quirky fun personality was hindered greatly from it. Additionally, she was fighting an internal battle with the possibility of leaving Australia early to start a Master’s degree for an education program she was suddenly accepted into back home while living in Rose Bay. The pain from her boyfriend and her uncertainty on what she really wanted put Lacey into a pretty messed up place for a while.

I am still not completely sure what Jon was hoping to achieve from this journey, and I couldn’t tell you if he ever found it, but I will say that after a few weeks into living in Sydney, Jon decided that this wasn’t the place he wanted to be, and courageously made the choice to move to Fiji for a few weeks to volunteer at a school.

For me, those first three weeks were the scariest of my life. It was blatant at this point that I had not diligently saved enough money, and my spendthrift mentality was seeping out of every corner of my wallet. Of course I realized this a bit too late, in typical Robby fashion. It was about damn time for me to find a job, like, yesterday.

Which brings us to step two: Getting a job in Sydney is not as easy as they all said!

I honestly couldn’t tell you what kind of job I was expecting to get coming over to Australia. I obviously knew it wasn’t going to be anything like the role I held at Disney, I wasn’t here to stress and manage an operation, I was here for the exact opposite. If you asked me the first day I arrived in Sydney what dream job I would want during my time here, the answer would’ve been “a bartender in a pub that closes by 10:00pm, something mindless that I can just go in and have a good time and leave.”

Oh, Robby, how ridiculously naïve you were, my boy (This is Future Me addressing Past Me, this may happen quite a bit in upcoming posts, be on the lookout).

So, I want to talk about my experience with job interviews in two ways. The first shall be: 


That Really Awesome Sounding yet Incredibly Misleading Job in Sales That You Almost Fell For 


After I settled into my Rose Bay apartment, I immediately dove into the world of job seeking. I scavenged job listings like a rat in a dumpster for hours each day. Of course, since my background is mainly hospitality driven, I teetered within the realm of “customer service,” a popular category it seemed, since the job postings were abundant. 

While on a run through the bay one sunny afternoon, I received my very first call for a job interview. It was for a very impressive advertising firm in the heart of the city, and they wanted me! After a brief discussion with the sweet lady on the phone, I had my appointment set for the next morning. I hung up the phone and in an instant went into what I could only describe was a mix between an Irish jig and “the dougie.” (oh yeah, my white boy dance moves are THAT extraordinary) I was set! I had this interview in the bag! No more worrying about money for me! What was even more incredible is that entire day I was receiving calls left and right for what seemed like every marketing and advertising firm in the city! Talk about a major confidence boost. That next day, I went out and bought a suit (since it never crossed my mind to need one of those during my travels. An investment, yes, but in the end quite worth it) and showed up with an air of such sophistication, so ready to kill this interview.

I stepped into the elevator with a tall blonde girl, who was dressed professional, yet modest. It seemed that she was heading to the same interview as me, so immediately I thought, “Challenger approaching, destroy!” 

However, remember my conscience? Yeah, we haven’t heard from him in a while. Well, he decided to put in his two cents at this thought... 

Conscience: Robert, are you sure this lady is the enemy?

Me: DUH! She is OBVIOUSLY competition, and this is the job of my dreams! I need to clear the field until I’m the last one standing.

Conscience: Oh, Robert, come on now, you’re being dramatic. Job of your dreams? Have you ever once considered working in marketing back home? Let me save you the exhaustion of that retort and assure you that you haven’t. I’ve been living in your head the past 24 years, you won’t get anything past me. Now, why don’t you put down your weapons and be social? After all, that’s partially why you’ve come to Australia, no?

… That fucking conscience, I swear. What could I even say to that?

Me: … fine. Whatever. If we sit next to each other I will strike up a conversation. But that’s the best I can do.

Well, turns out the girl and I sat right next to each other in the waiting room (grumble grumble), so I couldn’t go back on my word. 


Ladies and Gentlemen, that is how I met my very first friend in Australia, and fell in love with her. Platonically, of course. Females, gross.


Her name was Lucy, she was from Wales (NOT England!), and she was instantly a Rock Star. We bonded over the fact that our application forms were ridiculous, seeing as how our resumes had all the same information, and we laughed and shared little quips about our countries and heritage. In the meantime, a teeny smiley girl with big lustrous blue-green eyes overheard us speaking and chimed in the conversation. Her name was Charlotte, she WAS from England (Birmingham, to be exact), and she was instantly a hoot. The three of us giggled and shared stories for the next ten minutes before being called into a large conference room where our group interview took place. 

Afterward, with all of us giddily excited about the prospect of employment with this seemingly pristine company, we were all offered second round interviews the next day. We celebrated at a nearby café with overpriced Chai lattes, and life was beautiful in that moment. I was doing it, ladies and gentlemen! I was getting a job! I was making friends! I was BALLER at Aussie life! What could go wrong?

Well, let me tell you just what. So, upon returning to our lovely future job establishment for the second round interview, eagerly awaiting the moment of employment, we were less than pleased to discover that the job was a purely commission based role, where we would have to basically verbally abuse the masses in order to make a pretty penny. My heart sank at this dreadful news. I was THIS close to being a happy little rich boy, living without a care, making what I was lead to believe “$1000 a week!!” Well, this goes to show that you should always read the fine print in things.

Yes, I fell prey to false allure of the backpacker’s sales job, and I was almost fooled enough to accept. But, alas, I could not justify going to a job that would not guarantee me any money at the end of the day, this was far too risky. So, back to the drawing board I went. 


This leads me to my second segment of job interviewing: 


Apparently Australia hates the fact that I worked in the American Food & Beverage Industry 


Since I was determined to not be duped by the myriad of elusive job ads, I decided to revert to roles that I knew I had experience in; Hospitality! So, perhaps I went into this field with a slightly bigger head than I should have. But come on, look at my track record! I worked as a server & bartender at a swanky country club in college, then spent five years parading around Disney World as a performer, event planner, and most recently a catering manager. To me, I had more than enough skill to conquer the hospitality world of Australia. How different could it be, really? 

I really need to stop asking myself these questions…

I managed to secure myself an interview at a classy little brunch establishment in the heart of Sydney’s botanic gardens. To me, this was just the picturesque place for me to spend my days. I would serve the charming Sydney folk delectable dishes with an air of polite grace, and life would be grand.

Apparently, the manager did not seem to think I was up to par.

Upon seeing my experience in America, he immediately dove into an elaborate speech on how “my American style of service is not nearly as strenuous as here in Australia,” and how “he just didn’t believe that I could keep up with the pace.”

Fuck you, mister douche face manager.

The entire interview was one degrading comment after another, and it became all too clear to me that Australians had a very different approach to the world of hospitality, and apparently my years of excellent guest service in the States left little to be desired by the powers that be. I had my own opinions on the matter of Australian vs. American service, and trust me, living in a career where your entire paycheck was dependent on your ability to please your guests and win a fair tip is certainly “strenuous” enough.

So, there I was, denied employment within the very field that I exceled in. I was at a bit of a loss for words at this point. I really did not think that this would be that much of a challenge. All the meanwhile, my money was draining from my bank account at roughly the pace of a waterfall.

I was fucked.

That’s really all I could think about at this point. I was screwed, nobody wants to hire me, and basically I am going to have to go home in a few weeks. My spirits hit an all-time low, and I began to sink into a miniature depression from the overwhelming stress of where my life found itself. Had I made the wrong decision to come here? What would everybody think if I had to quit and come home after only a few weeks? I didn’t want to be seen as a failure, but at that moment, that’s all I could feel.

With my mind a bit scattered, I needed to figure out my next steps, before all hope was lost.

What eventually would become of this endeavor? Do I manage to pull myself out of the dark crevice of uncertainty and piece this journey back together? Well, that will have to be a story for another time, my friends (this post is getting too long, in actuality).

I shall reveal the results of this foggy future I had before me soon in the next post, so be on the lookout! 


As always, much appreciation for the time you have taken, I am always thankful for you, my friends.


Until next time,
-Robby  

So, Let's Finally Talk about Australia

 "A Person at intervals needs to separate himself from family and companions and go to new places. He must go without his familiars in order to be open to influences, to change." - Katharine Butler Hathaway

Why, hello there! My, my, it has been QUITE some time, hasn’t it? What can I even say to try and persuade you that my neglect of putting my metaphorical pen to paper has been anything but the infliction of a nasty case of writer’s block, along with the occasional hiccups of utter laziness? Nothing. So. Let’s just try and move past my folly and collectively give me hope that my scattered mind will eventually piece itself back together long enough to pump out a few entries.

Ok, so, woah, WHERE to even begin? My original plan here was to talk about my time chronologically, and highlight different Sydney hotspots throughout each entry, but seeing as how my lethargy has corrupted that plan, let’s just see what happens, shall we?

When my plane landed in Sydney International Airport at roughly 6:34am (emphasis on ‘roughly,’ here, people, give me some slack), I was full of a boundless excitement that I couldn’t even try to hold in. This intense rush of adrenaline washed over me like a waterfall, each drop of pure elation motivating me to get off of this plane, get out of this airport and see my new home! I didn’t have expectations, because I truly didn’t have any preconceived notion of what Sydney would actually be like. Come to think of it, I had no clue what it would even look like. My naïve American brain just constantly pictured roads and skyscrapers centered on the Sydney Opera House, and that everything surrounding was exotic unknown land (it quickly became painfully clear that I had not done even the slightest bit of research prior my travels).

After Jon and I made our way through the not-as-tedious-as-imagined customs and impatiently waited for our luggage, we were reunited with our dear friend, Lacey. I was lighter than air at this point. I was in an exciting new country with my best friends, there was only adventure for us to conquer! With the blink of an eye, we found ourselves on a public train into the heart of the city, typically referred to as the CBD, Lacey, in her typical fashion, started spewing out information at mach 3 speed, telling us about life in Sydney and little quips of advice here and there and how to act when doing this and that… I confess, I wasn’t paying much attention at this point, I was in sensory overload with the new country I was so eager to envelop myself in.

So, since I have to catch you guys up to months of my existence Down Under, I am going to summarize a few things that I have made acute observations on in this country. Because the first few weeks were some of the most stressful and scariest of my life, let’s start with the “Things that Robby hates about Australia” list:

• Public restrooms smell weird. Like, I mean people in other countries may be more comfortable with personal space and such, but woah, there are some overly urinated public toilets around these parts!
• Food is expensive! I mean all food. You want a bag of potato chips from a supermarket? Sure, just give me your left arm and firstborn child. A typical meal out anywhere in Sydney would equate to about A$20-30, not factoring in alcohol. My cheap-ass American mindset had a few conniptions that first week when we went to find places to have dinner.
• Alcohol is expensive! A jack & ginger is, on average, A$8.50… ugh. Once, I went to an “American” style bar and was elated to see they had bottled Corona, so naturally, I order one… A$9.00!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK, SYDNEY?? Are you KIDDING me? You could get a BUCKET of those little fuckers back home for 5 bucks. Blasphemy. Let’s not even begin to talk about cocktails… Basically, I’ve seen people pay more for a margarita than I would on my main course at dinner.
• Rent is expensive! This has been an ongoing struggle since coming over here, and I am still not comfortable with the real estate mongrels of this city stripping me of every pretty penny I earned, not monthly, but WEEKLY. Oh yeah, you will typically pay rent weekly over here, and on average, in a decent area of town, for your own bedroom, in a 4 bedroom house, you will pay roughly A$350… remember, this is weekly. I don’t think I’ve stressed this enough, everyone say it with me… WEEKLY.
• I miss American coffee. I miss my weak, single k-cup serving of delicious Caribou coffee from my impeccably designed Keurig dispenser, complete with a dash of fat-free hazelnut creamer. Long gone are the days of drinking 6 cups of that cheap shit every single day.
• Australia has ruined candy, forever. If anybody knows me even a little bit, they understand my a-bit-more-than-mild obsession with sour skittles. Those decadent sugar-encrusted nuggets of glory have gotten me through times, good and bad. Well, you can imagine my utter disgust when I purchased a bag of my favorite sweet treat and discovered a mutated, weak morsel that should be ashamed to call itself a sour skittle. There was no sour sugar, there was no perfect tingle upon my tongue. All joy was lost in the world that day.
• Same goes for pizza. You know what, I have one thing to say to Sydney concerning pizza. Fuck you.
• While on the subject of the edible, I want to point out that Australian milkshakes are indeed NOT American milkshakes. That thick creamy divine mixture that takes immense straw-sucking pressure and skill to devour is quite the rarity over here. If you want something that closely resembles the American milkshake, you must preface with “I would like a THICKshake, please. Like, extra extra thick. I’m American, does that help you to understand how thick I want it?” (I would be lying to you if I said I did not use this exact line to someone in a café once. Ok, maybe more than once…)
• Sydney apartments are riddled with mold. Ewe. I think I am developing some leprous-like disease from basking in the confines of too many mold-infested rooms over my past few months here…
• Sinks are small. They just are. How do you expect me to shove my entire head underneath a faucet when I am too lazy to take a shower? How, Sydney, how?

Now there are more, but these remain to be the forerunners of what come across my mind when I’m in a “screw you, Sydney!” mentality.

However, after those first few weeks dissipated, my mind was able to find a nice equilibrium between the chaos of a new lifestyle and how to support myself within it. I found a job about a month into arriving, which was in the nick of time, because Robby’s already joke of a savings was dwindling fiercely at this point. After life balanced itself out, I was able to really appreciate this vibrant city, instead of panicking each time I paid A$7.00 to step into it (oh yeah, public transportation is expensive!).

So, here we will have the “Things that Robby loves about Australia” list:

• EGGS! Oh my god, ok so yeah, at first, I admit I thought it was weird to not refrigerate your eggs, but they must be onto something here, folks! The clandestine cluckers of this country successfully churn out the most delicious eggs with yolks of pure gold. Give me a poached egg on toast, and you will find yourself with a happy Robby.
• JUICE! Let’s talk for a moment about American orange juice. You know, we have the high pulp, low pulp, pulp free, blah blah blah, and yeah its oooooook, but nothing to exalt over, right? Now, orange juice in Australia, is ORANGE JUICE. I don’t know how else to explain it. Over here, so many cafes and restaurants use fresh produce and juicers to create these delicious concoctions that are foamy and pulpy and delectable. They usually contain some sort of plant you would never consider ingesting for general fear of eating trees, but somehow they manage to blend fruit and foliage into perfection in a glass.
• THAI FOOD!!! So, I was first introduced to the ethereal flavors of Thai cuisine during my time at Penn State (random that a tiny little college town smack in the middle of Pennsylvania would host a delicious Thai establishment, but hey, I will not complain). Since then, I have been in love with the myriad of spices and flavor combinations that Thai food has to offer. When I moved to Orlando, I was sorely disappointed that decent Thai was few and far between. However, upon landing in Australia, with its impressive Asian influences, Thai cuisine is not only present, it's heavenly abounding!!! I have had the pleasure of enjoying some delicious Thai food, which is only fueling my desire to travel to Thailand during my travels on this side of the world.
• This is a strange one…. But stop lights. Let me explain this further. So, you know when you have the teeming throng of people waiting for that little red man turn into the jovial green man? Well, they have managed to add this quirky little sound effect each time the light goes green for us pedestrians. The closest sound that I can relate it to is one that would symbolize the start of an obstacle course on a game show. Each time I am poised to cross the hallowed gravel of the path ahead, and once the signal ignites in a green blaze, I am off and away! (Interesting what little observations you can make when you have a fair bit of extra time on your hands)
• Even though public transport isn’t wonderful here, it is fairly simple to get around in Sydney. It doesn’t take more than 20-30 minutes to really get anywhere, even in a higher-than-normal traffic situation. And they have brought the brilliance that is Uber to this country, so that’s always such a breath of fresh air.
• Sydney has a little bit of everything. You want to go to a beautiful beach? Great, take your pick! You want to frequent some trendy hip shops? Awesome, just pick which suburb. You want to get wrecked all night and into the morning at a club? Wonderful, we have a fine selection for you to choose from. Not only that, but I have successfully discovered a new place every single day while being here. Just by taking a slightly different way home, I would run into a cute coffee shop, or get into some nerd life and discover Sydney’s eclectic libraries. Today is a perfect example of this. I wanted to buy a book, so I stumbled upon my new favorite bookstore/café/general loner hangout spot that I am writing to you from at this very moment.
• I know that the locals don’t necessarily agree with this, but people really are nicer over here! Especially when they find out I’m “foreign.” (I still can’t help but smirk when addressing myself as such… In fact, I went on a date with a guy over here that told me my accent was “exotic.” I almost choked on my drink from laughing so hard) People are so curious to know my “story” and why I decided to drop my life and jet across the world. It’s true, Australia has a very prominent “backpacker” culture, but for some reason, Americans are still rarer than other travelers, so I still get a bit giddy when people fawn over me like a magical being from another dimension.

So, there you have it. That is a VERY rough overview of what I have observed throughout my time in Sydney. Now, of course, there is so much gap that I need to fill you in. I hope you enjoyed reading through my wandering musings on my life so far, and I am genuinely thankful for all that take the time to read. I have to say, what an amazing feeling it is to be writing once more! I cannot wait to include you in on the drama, stress and sheer beauty I have experienced over these past few months across the world.

I plan to go into more depth on where I lived and how I survived the new abrupt change in lifestyle throughout the course of my time here, so hopefully you can understand my life here a bit better, and of course get to experience and understand a bit more of Sydney, since this is indeed a travel blog, after all. 

 Look at how long my hair is now! Oh yeah, and there's the Sydney Opera House.

As always, it has been a pleasure letting you in on my life, so until next time, my friend.


With renewed inspiration,

-Robby 


P.S. The bookstore/café just converted to a bar and has live Latin music... I love this place!

From Stars of Hollywood to Sydney Harbour

"If you wish to travel far and fast, travel light. Take off all your envies, jealousies, unforgiveness, selfishness and fears." - Cesare Pavese

Salutations, friends. You have found me in the midst of a trendy little coffee shop in the heart of Hollywood, drawing creative inspiration from every corner of the energetic city of Los Angeles. Although this visit to the West Coast is more of a pit stop to my final destination, it has been impactful and enriching. I have had the absolute pleasure of spending my time here with one of my old Orlando roommates and close friends, Emily.  

There is one word that I think of when I want to describe Emily to the world: Inspiring. She is one of the most innovative and courageous individuals I know, and she never hesitates to pursue a dream to her heart's fullest content. Like me, she is a writer. Her creative mind knows no limits, and her writing is drenched with clever satire, my personal favorite style of literature. When it comes to my craft, I value Emily's opinion over most, because she is basically a writing guru extraordinaire. When Emily made the decision to break away from the confines of Orlando and begin a career in writing in Los Angeles, it was a sad day indeed, but also a necessity. She is creating a future that is successful and adventurous, and I cannot be more happy to call her my friend and confidant.  

Most of my time here has been spent with Emily and her boyfriend, Jack. Let me say something about Jack. At first I did not believe this man existed. I was convinced that Emily had conjured up an elaborate ruse in order for me not to pity her lonely existence here, because the stories she had of this man were too ethereal to be real. This mythical character, she claimed, had made a successful life in film, with various triumphs including freelance work with large corporations and fully written and directed shorts that were powerful enough to move you to tears. Yeah, ok, Emily, this fabled "Jack," I'm just not buying it.

Well, lo and behold, it pains me to inform you that Jack does indeed exist in human form, and what a human he is. Apart from the obvious physical perfection that Emily and Jack are together, he is an incredibly kind and decent individual, and he takes a very true interest in the lives of the people he meets. Immediately, I could tell this man was right for Emily. It put my mind at great ease to know that she is taken care of over here.

Visual proof of Jack's existence.

The day was spent beautifully. Emily took me to the local farmer's market, where we marveled in fresh produce and awed over the delicious tastes of organic living. I had already visited Los Angeles once before, so I wasn't in desperate need to experience the tourist hotspots, however, we couldn't help but appreciate the Hollywood Stars Walk of Fame along our track about the town. Of course, we also had to stop and excite ourselves over the celebrity imprints among the TCL Chinese Theatre. Its an exhilarating feeling to know you are surrounded by the footprints of such timeless silver screen talent, dating back to the inception of film stardom.

The energy of Los Angeles filled me up with bright longing. I could begin to feel the creeping ambition to possibly start a life here becoming more present with every passing moment with these beautiful souls. The people who created lives for themselves here had somehow combined fierce tenacity and relaxed inhibitions, and the end product was an astoundingly wonderful lifestyle that I immediately craved.

However, I couldn't focus on that craving just yet. I had an adventure to begin.

The preparations over the past two months for my travels to Aussieland were complete, and all that stood before me was a 16 hour flight across the Pacific to my new home in Sydney. The realization that I was spending my last moments on American soil didn't occur to me until yesterday when I casually mentioned to someone that I "am moving to Australia tomorrow." Vocalizing that fact immediately sent a rush of fearful excitement through my body. Was I ready for this? That seemed to be the most popular topic of debate within my friends and family.

To answer honestly, no, I'm not ready. I don't think anyone is ever ready to leave behind the comfort of an old life and dive into something completely foreign and unknown. I think it just comes together in fragments, like pieces of a puzzle. I am not going to fully understand what I need to successfully live in Australia until I learn and experience the people around me. The only true comforting notion about this upcoming leap of faith is the fact that I won't be doing it alone.

I am incredibly thankful to know that my good friend, Jonny, and I will be taking this adventure overseas together to meet our mutual soul mate, Lacey.

Jonny, Lacey and I met each other in 2010 in a whirlwind of ridiculous insanity, and our souls have been connected ever since.

Jonny boy is the reason I pay any resemblance of attention to my fashion sense when I decide to grace the world with my presence every day. His uncanny ability to look at a person and immediately see what makes them beautiful is comforting when you are like me and have a difficult time seeing that. He is a fiercely loyal friend, and I could not be more excited to be a fellow character in his already well-traveled existence.

Lacey is a creature unlike any I have experienced in the world. She is a unique individual in so many aspects of her life. From her inexplicably infectious demeanor to her endearing giggle, Lacey is one of a kind, and I am beyond thankful for her friendship. When we met, it had been like we were waiting for the other to come into the other's life. She is a puzzle piece in my world that I hope to never lose. It is because of Lacey that I grew the strength to make this life-altering decision to leave America. Together, along with Jonny, this adventure will never have one dull moment.

I am constantly comforted by Lacey, because she has worked so incredibly hard in preparation for our arrival to Sydney. The girl has spent days pouring over the apartment advertisements in order to find us a and affordably suitable roof to have over our naïve heads. She has spent the last month and a half learning the culture and sharing her knowledge on how to live humbly in an intensely expensive community. If it were not for her, I would not have had the courage to make this transition to a new life. I truly hope she knows how thankful I am to have her in my life.

Lacey, Jon and I being wonderfully weird in 2010.

The three of us still killing it in 2014.



So, this is it, ladies and gentlemen. In these past posts you have seen me laugh, cry, panic, fear, but most of all, love. I have loved so many moments these past weeks, and it has given me so much light and happiness that I could burst into a million sunbeams and blind the world. I thank you all so much for following my posts so far, and you have my unyielding gratitude for the endless support I feel from the four corners of the world. No matter where I found myself, there was a journey to be taken, and boy did I take it wholeheartedly. I have been built up by the world around me, and I cannot wait to experience life in a completely new way. So, I plan to soak up the rest of this beautiful LA afternoon in true Robby fashion: too much coffee, and surrounded by the positive energy I find in people along the way.

I cannot wait to write again to you from the wild new habitat of the unknown world I am about to encompass myself in. Right now, I am balancing on the cliff of my comfortable life, staring into the tumultuous mystery before me. All that's left to do is jump.

Until next time in Australia, my dear friends.

-Robby  





Pittsburgh: A Renewed Sense of Home and Heart.

"I never realized how much I loved being home unless I'd been somewhere really different for a while." - Juno

Good morning/afternoon/evening/whatever hour of the day I am finding you. Once again, I am drawing my inspiration among the happy folk of Southwest Airlines, on my merry way to the West Coast. Please excuse any brashness of sorts, as my veins have not been yet blessed with the divine power of caffeine.

This past week was spent frolicking about my hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I have to admit I am selfishly proud to call this great city home, but not for the typical reasons one may assess the ‘burgh with.

Yes, we are all vividly aware of the almost cultic following of Pittsburgh sports teams, as they have been known in years past to crush the national competition (let’s not focus on the now, people, I am remembering the good times of yore). Even with this obsessive pride that seemed to be ingrained into our brains as children, I sadly never fully embraced the sports allure. However, I will shamelessly admit that more often than not, I will lie and say that I “bleed black and yellow,” just to appease the masses.

No, dear old sports fans, I could not for the life of me carry a conversation with you about the Steeler’s new running back (is he even new?) or reminisce over the Pirate’s 7^th inning stretch (dear lord I hope these apply here). But please know that I have always wanted to, and perhaps one day will buckle down and finally learn what a Power Play is.

What drives my Pittsburgh pride are the connections I have made with the people I have met, naturally. If you haven’t already guessed at this point, I am deeply moved by the individuals that come into my life, so this post will be no different in terms of putting into words the immense appreciation I have for those special people.

Where to even begin? Alright, I think it’s best to go chronologically over the course of the week. I arrived to my Pittsburgh abode in the late hours this past Friday evening. The very first thing I noticed walking up the pathway to my door was a big, fat “For Sale” sign posted in the front yard. This shouldn’t have shocked me, but alas, I suppose the idea that my childhood home was being pawned off to the highest bidder hadn’t come into fruition until that moment. So, with a sense of nostalgic longing, I walked into my house and promptly passed out on a bed in my father’s room, not entirely pleased with the fact that my old bedroom was unrecognizable, and more closely resembled a storage facility.

The first half of my day was to be spent with my Orlando friend, Bethany, who was by some splendid stroke of fate visiting the Steel City for the weekend.

A little backstory to Bethany and me. Technically, we officially met in 2010, when we were both participants of the Disney College Program, a unique internship where lost souls congregated together to work front line roles at Walt Disney World. Every breed of human from every walk of life could be found among the College Program participants, some could not be more different from one another. However, we all had one commonality: our mildly disturbing obsession with Disney. It was one of the most incredible and hectic experiences I endured, and I highly recommend it.

Anyway, one fateful night, I found myself in Bethany’s apartment during a mutual friend’s birthday celebration. All I really remember from this evening was that tacos were involved, and the people were nice, but at this point in time, Bethany and I merely acquainted each other over shredded lettuce and cheddar cheese. The evening sunk into a deep chasm of my memory, and was not thought of again until 2013, during the first week of my Professional Internship with Disney Housing, where fate decided to step in and bring us together once more. There were four of us interns, and at the start, Bethany was not one of them. During the first week, one of the girls was offered a promotional internship, and in a matter of days, a replacement was found. Her name was Bethany. After an extensive amount of cyber stalking was completed, I decided that this girl needed to be my friend. In a preemptive attempt to accomplish this task, I bought her a flower-shaped sugar cookie from Panera to greet her arrival. Now, usually people refuse gifts, especially food, when first trying to make a good impression, especially in a business setting. Not this girl. Bethany had absolutely no problem with taking a massive bite of that cookie in earnest gratitude. The best part of this, after about 15 minutes rolled by and there was still half of the cookie left, I had absolutely no problem asking her, “Are you gonna eat the rest?” And without hesitation, Bethany allowed my fat selfish ass to eat half of her cookie present. So began our beautiful friendship

So, in order for people to fully grasp just how much of a freak Bethany and I are together, I need to share possibly the most embarrassing story of my life… Here goes.

One day, the four Housing Interns were tasked to work outside in the sweltering heat to load/unload our lovely box truck. This was daily life at Housing, and each day was either torture or bliss. Before we go further, it must be stated that the four Housing Interns each embodied a certain personality trait, which will help with understanding this story. There was Jersey Girl, Care Bear, The Cheerleader (Bethany), and The Boy Intern (me, but hopefully that was obvious). The four of us were huddled in our office, which was complete with four desks and one communal bathroom that we shared with our coordinator and manager. Once we were summoned to the glorious loading/unloading of the box truck, the girls made their way outside, but I trailed behind to use the facilities. So, apparently dear old Robby forgot one significant detail, and left the restroom door unlocked. As I was finishing my business and just about to pull up my shorts, my lovely manager waltzed right into that restroom, unaware of its occupancy, and caught me in a full frontal exposure of my gentlemanly parts.

Let the trauma of this moment be a lesson to you all: Always. Lock. The. Door.

She stood there for a fraction of a millisecond, a look of sheer horror upon her face, turned around quickly, and dashed from the scene. I, frozen in that spot, pondering the exact moment on when I was to be terminated for flashing my boss, slowly formulated my next steps, which were to wash up and get the hell out of that office. I reunited with the girls outside, and immediately they could tell something was wrong from my ghostlike visage. When asked what happened, all I could muster, in a deep harrowing voice, was:

“She saw my dick.”

The reactions that followed were like clockwork:

Care Bear: (long high pitched gasp) “Ohhhhhhhhhhh noooooo!”

Jersey Girl: (through exasperated giggles) “Oh you are SO fired!”

Bethany: (without hesitation, complete with hand motions): “Did you swing it around for her?”

 

That right there, ladies and gentlemen, perfectly sums up my love and admiration for dear Bethany.

 

So, needless to say, I was excited to have this gem in my life just a bit longer while in Pittsburgh. We spent that Friday afternoon together with some of her friends from college, and explored some of the more touristy attractions that Pittsburgh has to offer. I was excited to be present for her first experience on the Pittsburgh Incline, an archaic railway car that transports you from Station Square to the idyllic views atop Mt. Washington. While there we laughed, we reminisced and we drank a bit (typical day in terms of our relationship) before parting ways for the evening. Later that weekend, by means of strange audible noises and tightly-squeezed hugs, we said our goodbyes. I am happy both of us aren’t very good at saying farewell, because it helped hold off the tears for a more private moment.

 

View from Mt. Washington, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

 

 

Now, it’s about enough time talking about Orlando kinships, back to Pittsburgh.

The bulk of that first weekend was spent with my two soul sisters, Ashley and Kendra.

Let’s start with Kendra. She is the smartest human I know. I don’t just mean book smarts, of which she obviously is a master of, but I mean smart in the way that she understands things quicker and has a more leveled and well thought-out comprehension of every aspect of life than I could ever even try to grasp. The girl just gets it. And she isn’t pretentious about it, which is a rare combination. She sees past the opaque and fully accepts the gray in between of things. This constantly comes in handy to have her as a best friend, because she blindly supports whatever crazy new life decision I make, even when I don’t fully support it myself.

To Kendra: Thank you for your unwavering support and constant reassurance that what I am doing is worthwhile, no matter how fraught with terrorizing mystery.

Now, let’s talk about Ashley. She is the most loving human I know. She values family and friendship above all, and she never hesitated taking me in and opening up her world to me in times of need. When I think of Ashley, I think of shelter. Whenever I am being battered with the trials of life, all it takes is one conversation with her to know that everything is going to be ok. This girl has seen some true poverty and strife in the world, and yet she never belittles any pain I may be going through, no matter how trivial it seems later. Her fierce loyalty is almost intimidating at times, and it constantly challenges me to be better.

To Ashley: Thank you for never being afraid to state your mind. You have helped me understand what courage it takes to be a true friend, and I am forever grateful for your heart and how you have touched mine.

 

The three of us have been best friends for almost nine years now, and what an adventure it has been.

 

Over the course of the week, I was able to reunite with my three college roommates, Mitchell, Allison and Matt. Every reunion culminates the same way: A myriad of laughter mixed with ridiculously loud and off-pitch singing of our favorite YouTube videos, and the occasional reminiscing of our favorite episodes from Bones, which was less a TV show and more the prime choice of college procrastination in our house. I am incredibly happy that I am able to stay connected with these hilarious people, who are all working toward such wonderful paths of life. I am immensely proud of the three of them.

 

A trip home to Pittsburgh would not be complete without spending some quality time with my other close-knit friend group, “The Gay, The Dick, The Sweetheart, and the Skank.”

Obviously we can guess who The Gay is, but the other personalities are owned by three beautiful people: Sciullo (The Dick), Taylor (The Sweetheart) and Emily (The Skank).

Disclaimer #1: Sciullo (pronounced shill-oh, and whose first name is Michael, but always went by his surname) isn’t actually a dick, he has an enormous heart and is actually one of the most chivalrous men I know. He just seemed to always say dick-like things growing up.

Disclaimer #2: Emily isn’t actually a skank. She just always had the BEST sex stories.

Disclaimer #3: Taylor actually is, and always will be, the sweetest heart I know.

It is bittersweet with this friend group because Taylor has pursued her dreams and is now happily married and lives in Mississippi with her Southern Gentleman, and although I am incredibly happy for her, I selfishly want her to be as lost as I am and still living in Pittsburgh. However, I still have the utmost pleasure of enjoying the presence of Sciullo and Emily, who are just a fucking hoot to be around. Every reunion is packed with gut-splitting laughter and the constant inability to tell a story from start to finish. We could (and at one time seriously contemplated) fill a book with the amount of inside jokes we had between the four of us. The unhinged ridiculous friendship we have together is something to truly marvel at, especially since it hasn’t changed since the day we met.

 

I hope they know how much I love them.

 

I even got the chance to see my college music school friend, Anne, play at a local bar as a PROFESSIONAL musician! I’m telling you, this week was going swimmingly so far!

 

This trip home was unique, however. So, remember when I mentioned my house and it being my childhood home? That’s not entirely true. From age 2-14 I lived in a humble little neighborhood which was full of life. Our house shared a backyard with our neighbors who had a daughter the same age as me. Her name was Erica. Every memory of my young childhood has Erica in it. Every single one. It was as though my goal in life was to spend time with her. We were inseparable. It wasn’t always just the two of us, though. Another neighbor’s daughter, Carly, who was a year older, seemed to fit like a puzzle piece in our little possey. This sounds a bit “Mean Girls”-esque, but we ran that block. It was up to us (really more up to our parents, but we liked to take the credit) if there would be a neighborhood gathering of any sort. Summer nights were full of made up games, movie nights in the yard, and the annual block party, among countless other moments of pure innocent bliss. Over the years the group grew as we met more people, and that’s when Leah and Claire came into the picture. Leah, my first EVER girlfriend (yes, I had girlfriends growing up. Quite a few actually, I was a mini-playa), was this little spitfire of joy. Claire and I became very close in high school, we bonded over a mutual love of Olive Garden breadsticks and cartoons. I have so many happy memories with each of those girls.

Life, unfortunately, got in the way, and in the middle of high school my family moved to another part of town, and I slowly became more detached from this group. It was a sad moment, and I wish I had some excuse as to why it happened, but the truth of the matter is that I just became lazy. Years passed, high school ended, college started and flew right on by, and still no effort. It seemed to look like this fringed past of mine would fray and eventually dissipate for good, was it not for the interesting moment when my dad told me he had reconnected with Erica’s mother over the past few months. This fact surprised me, but more it intrigued me. Maybe there could be a glimpse of some rekindling of friendship within those fleeting moments of youth.

Erica and I reconnected via text, and we decided to find time to meet. To say I was nervous would’ve been a serious understatement. Would I recognize her? Would she recognize me? Will she think I’m weird? Will I think she’s weird? These scenarios were swimming back and forth in the car ride to the local eatery for our fateful reunion. I had no preconceived notion on how this lunch would coalesce. I was going in blind.

Shame on me for losing touch with Erica. Shame on me.

It was one of the most rewarding moments. I can’t even put into words how great it felt to be around Erica, and her mom even came too! This was such a beautiful interlude, complete with reminiscing about our adorable childhood antics together. I was so proud to see how far she had come since the last time I saw her. She has grown into a successful, happy, gorgeous and independent woman, and I just could kick myself for losing those years between us.

Later in the week I had the chance to see the rest of the girls. Wow. It’s incredible how people can grow and mold into someone new, and yet still connect the way we used to as kids.

 

I am so thankful for that moment, and truly cannot wait for more once I return from my adventures.

 

So, in good Pittsburgh tradition, I ended my time at home with a late night excursion to Eat n’ Park, a local diner that served bad coffee, good pie and great conversations. Ashley, Kendra and I have come there for as long as I could remember. We have laughed there, we have cried there, we probably even fought there at one point. Basically, we were notorious for being the worst customers you could hope for; we would order a coffee and a slice of pie each, and sit for approximately 3-4 hours. Our bill typically totals to about $10. A server’s dream right there. Alas, it has been our safe haven for many years, and I couldn’t leave Pittsburgh without a slice of peachberry pie, heated up, a la mode.

It’s in these final moments with the people you love that you get the chance to look back and appreciate what has been given to you. It is still sometimes hard to fathom the amount of people who have influenced me so greatly in my short life. Here I was, 24, and I had an army of love standing behind me. From those old souls rooted from childhood, to the new bright spirits I have learned to cherish during my time on earth, every single one of you have found a special place in my heart.

 

To those who have endured this novel, I do really thank you for taking the time to read a bit about my childhood and those that found a special place in my life. I think it’s important to tell people how much you care about them, and this was my way of doing so.

So, with my tired, now overly caffeinated body about to board my next plane to Los Angeles, I take my happy leave from you this morning/afternoon/evening/whatever hour of the day I’m finding you.

Until next time, my friends.

-Robby