Day 40: In Transit

As my Greyhound bus pulls out of Sydney’s Central Station, I watch hordes of girls in tight dresses and sky-high heels totter toward the entrances of bars and clubs. They hang on to the arms of boys who are clad in festive green shirts, hats, beads and more.

It is that most epic of drinking holidays: St. Patrick’s Day.

I won’t be celebrating tonight, though. I’ve just flown in from Melbourne and hopped on a train to reach the Greyhound pickup point. Now, I quietly observe the massive queues of party goers stretching from every hot spot as I settle into my seat for a nice 12-hour overnight bus ride. I can’t help but smile.

I’ve had my fair share of green beer and soda bread. I’ve uncoordinatedly bounced along with Irish step dancers. I’ve desperately borrowed green clothing from friends and wickedly pinched those who didn’t put in the same effort.

Tonight, I’m happy to miss out on all that as I hurtle up Australia’s east coast to my next destination. I’m happy to be in transit.

I often feel this strange contentment wash over me as I watch the world shrink below me through an airplane window, or as I navigate a city’s public-transit system for the first time. It’s the feeling of knowing exactly where I’m going, yet having no idea what awaits me there. I have no fear — just delicious anticipation.

The sun rises over the South Pacific on my flight to New Zealand.

I think back on my life in Seattle and remember how I hesitated to venture out to nearby neighborhoods, like Capitol Hill and Queen Anne, because I didn’t know quite how to find my way around. (Part of that was because I disliked driving and hated trying to find parking, even though buses were available.) I usually stayed in my little corner of Ballard or ventured back to my familiar hometown of Woodinville. In other words, I played it safe and explored very little.

There is no bad view in New Zealand.

Out here… well, I have no choice. Every day, I find my way around new places using all types of transportation: buses, trains, trams, ferries, water taxis, airplanes and — my favorite — my feet.

That’s not to say that I’m a master of all these things. I’ve definitely embarrassed myself trying to figure out where to buy a Melbourne tram ticket, and, when I have to ask for help, my American accent screams, “LOOK AT ME! I’M NEW HERE!”

But that all comes with the territory, and the initial fumbling inevitably gives way to understanding. Mastery. Blending in.

Most of all, once I’m on a bus or train or ferry going wherever, I love that I feel capable. Maybe I used to stay so close to home because I feared I wouldn’t be able to figure things out.

Now there’s no question that I’ll figure everything out eventually. It may not be the most graceful process, but I have confidence in myself to do it.

The unknown is no longer a deterrent. It’s an invitation.

I lost my return train ticket out of downtown Sydney, so I hopped on a commuter ferry instead. I've never been happier to lose something.

I’ve done plenty of exciting things during my 40 days of traveling, but I’m finding that these little, happy moments to myself are the most meaningful.

I can look back on my thousands of travel photos to remember all the fun I had, but to summon this particular good feeling, I need only to drink in the scenery from the window of a moving vehicle or take a deep breath as an airplane lifts off from the tarmac.

I always look forward to the doing. Now I remember to savor the going, too.

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Day 32: Foodie Heaven at Taste of Sydney

"Testicle #10!" the woman yells. "Testicle #10?"

The surrounding customers snicker a bit as I step forward with my ticket.

I am, as it happens, testicle #10. File that under things I never thought I'd type.

Before you start getting any crazy ideas, this scene took place at Taste of Sydney, an annual pop-up restaurant festival that features many of Sydney's leading restaurants, wineries and artisan producers. My friend's roommate casually mentioned to me Friday morning that this was going on, and I was immediately sold. As in, how quickly can I get there?

After buying a $55 ticket online — which included my entry and $30 worth of Crowns, the festival's currency for buying food and drinks — I walked 3 km to beautiful Centennial Park for the noon session of Taste of Sydney.

Almost there!

I collected my ticket, book of Crowns and menu card at the box office and was ready to go!

Upon entering Taste of Sydney, I was immediately thrilled to be there. It was a bit fancy-schmancy and not very crowded. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. And I've been making food from the grocery store all this week, so I was totally ready to gorge myself on delicious bites from local restaurants.

Note: I photographed everything I ate, so if you don't want to see animal testicles, this is your fair warning to jump ship right now. Run, don't walk.

I did a lap of the festival to get my bearings, and then studied the menu card to figure out which dishes were worthy of my Crowns. The first item that caught my eye was the traditional charcoal BBQ lamb and veal kebab, smoked eggplant and Chobani Greek yogurt from the Turkish restaurant Efendy. Yum!

I headed over to the Efendy stand just in time to overhear an older Australian gentleman inquiring about lamb testicles. Oh, yes, I had seen those on the menu, too: pan-fried lamb testicles with almond tarator — only 20 available per session.

The woman behind the counter confirmed that they were still available, and the guy was so freakin’ happy. He was then handed a numbered slip of paper and became, naturally, testicle #9.

I asked this man if he’d eaten testicles before and if they were good, and he responded, “Of course. They’re gorgeous!”

But of course. Ah, what the hell. I decided to abandon my original plan and get some testicles, too.

I wasn’t grossed out by the appearance of this dish, but I made sure not to think too much before I dug in. I can only describe the texture as sort of like fatty, oily chicken. There wasn’t any particularly strong flavor involved, and the almond tarator didn’t add anything exciting. By the time I’d reached the third… um… piece, I was very aware of what I was eating. I didn’t want to wimp out, though, so I polished off the whole damn thing.

So… what do you even eat after that? I resumed my search for a tasty dish and settled on the slow-cooked and caramelized short rib with bone marrow persillade from Quarter Twenty One.

This. Was. Heaven.

The short rib was impossibly moist, tender and rich. The mashed potatoes were whipped into smooth perfection. I set down my knife and fork after the first bite and just reveled in the flavor. I’m not a super-sophisticated food connoisseur or anything, but it was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. I wanted it to go on forever.

What the hell are these people eating? Short ribs for life!

Pause. Breathe. Make it count.

I chatted with a woman who also had the short rib, and she said she visits Taste of Sydney every year and uses about 150 Crowns ($150 worth of food and drinks).

“30 Crowns are never enough,” she emphasized. “Not even 100 Crowns are enough.”

Hardcore. But I was beginning to think she was right.

I knew no other meat could top the short rib for me, so I went with seafood next — the Hiramasa kingfish double crunch sushi roll from Saké Restaurant and Bar.

It was a miniature raw delight featuring a refreshing flavor I didn’t expect: parsley! I just love me some sushi.

With that, I was out of Crowns, but I knew I had to have some dessert. On my way to purchase a $10 booklet, I spied a Chobani truck giving away free Greek yogurt.

The (very cute) guys in the truck informed me that blueberry was the best flavor, so I chose based on their advice. I plopped down on a red bean-bag and enjoyed it in the sunshine.

I then perused Australian Gourmet Traveller magazine for a bit in order to give my stomach time to free up some space for sweets. I found a recipe for prune and fudge brownies — I’m an unabashed prune-lover — and the first direction is to soak the prunes in Cognac for two to four days. Jeeves, fetch the decanter!

Back to the eating. I could have easily chosen one of many desserts that cost 10 Crowns a pop, but where’s the fun in that? With a little strategy and a little more guilt (which I promptly squashed), I chose Black Forest cake gelato for four Crowns…

… and one of these magnificent creations for six Crowns. Can you guess which one?

If you guessed the most chocolate-y combination of cupcake and frosting available, you win!

My God, it was beautiful. And delicious. I’m pretty sure edible glitter significantly improves lives.

After devouring the cupcake, I was out of Crowns and really out of stomach space — but I didn't want to leave quite yet. I was happy as a clam at Taste of Sydney and wanted to hang out a bit longer.

Luckily, I happened upon a cooking demonstration by big-shot Sydney chef Justin North.

He spent 45 minutes whipping up some delicious dishes involving pears and duck fat and some other stuff. I was paying more attention to the pear samples being passed around along with blue cheese and brie, but I did catch Justin's advice that everyone should keep some rendered duck fat in their fridge for everyday cooking. It keeps beautifully, you know.

Right.

After this, I headed back to my friend's flat in a state of utter contentment. The 3 km walk back was wonderful, as it helped me digest and featured lovely tree-lined, sun-drenched sidewalks like this:

Yup. It was pretty much a perfect day in travel-land.

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Day 30: Bondi to Bronte

On day 30 of my travels, I wake up 7,755 miles from home. I'm one hemisphere, two seasons and a full day away from all of my friends and family.

I'm in Sydney, Australia.

I don't feel quite that far from home, though. One reason is because I wake up in a big, comfortable bed in a quiet, private room. It belongs to a friend who also grew up 7,755 miles away from here.

He's not a close friend — his name and face merely dot the periphery of memories that stretch back to elementary school — but he didn't hesitate to offer his empty room for my use while he's out of town on business.

I'd consider it very strange if he made this offer back in our hometown, but, over here, it just sort of makes sense. Our very different lives, which have haphazardly branched in such ways to bring us both to this place, share a common root.

The other reason I feel a little closer to home today is because, with reliable (and free) Wi-Fi at my disposal, I've caught up with some dear friends via Facebook chat — friends I hadn't communicated with in a month. I hadn't realized how much I've missed them.

Lately, I've felt a bit like one of my many devices that have North American plugs: lost in a place where things look almost like home, but are just different enough so that I don't quite fit.

The solution for both of us?

Adapt. Connect. Recharge.

***

With a good night's sleep under my belt and a renewed vigor to see and do, I set out to visit Bondi Beach. I slapped on my SPF 30+, grabbed my sunglasses and tucked an umbrella in my daypack since the forecast called for rain at some point. I just hoped the partly sunny weather would hang on for me.

Google Maps told me Bondi Beach is about 3 miles away from my friend's flat in Double Bay, and I could either take a train and walk, a bus and walk or walk... and walk.

So I walked.

The most satisfying form of transit.

My Google Maps route took me through tree-lined suburban streets and alongside a park and nature reserve before I reached the hustle and bustle of Bondi Junction. I worked in a stop at Vodafone to sort out an issue with my prepaid phone plan, and then continued on down Old South Head Road toward the shore.

I spied turquoise waters while still a few blocks away from the beach, but stopped short when I caught sight of the menu at Sabbaba.

One Ayia Napa was quite necessary at that moment.

Green basil pesto falafel balls, hummus, tahini, Haloumi cheese, lettuce, tomato and capers were stuffed into a pita and into my eager hands. I chuckled at the description of “green basil pesto falafel,” but it was delicious despite its redundancy.

I proceeded with a full, happy belly to the beach, where I found a pristine expanse of sand lapped by some of the most beautiful blue-green water I’ve seen. It was blissfully uncrowded, with the majority of visitors out bobbing on surfboards, waiting for their next great wave. I plopped down on the sand to take in the scene.

I’d love to say that I sat there contemplating life and drawing deep conclusions about who I am and where I fit in in this world… but mostly I just took joy in being there.

I thought about how happy it made me to get around on my own two feet. I sifted the soft, fine sand through my fingers. I felt it cling to the underside of my legs, forming a light crust when combined with sunscreen and sweat. I watched clusters of tourists take the same photo over and over again: back turned toward the water, arms flung out wide, smiling broadly.

My version of that photo, minus the arm-flinging.

Wind whipped across the beach, but at 24 degrees C (75 degrees F), it was not unpleasant. A swath of clouds in the distance vaguely threatened rain, so I decided to get a move on and begin the popular Bondi to Bronte Coastal Walk.

The 3.5 km track from Bondi Beach to Bronte Beach is paved, fairly flat and replete with benches and scenic viewpoints. Well, the whole thing is a scenic viewpoint, really.

That sign says it takes an hour to walk it one-way, but I think that’s just if you stop to take pictures every five seconds (like I did on the way out) or if you meander quite leisurely.

It's absolutely worth taking the time to absorb the incredible scenery.

Many runners cruised along the track, and I would have loved to run it, too, had I been without my daypack and my falafel-belly. I'm so jealous of those who call this their regular running route!

Solo traveler = self-portrait expert.

Once I made it to Bronte — which is a much smaller beach and has far fewer stores and restaurants surrounding it — I hustled back to Bondi in well under an hour.

It’s so weird — this strawberry-blueberry smoothie was just waiting for me at Bondi!

OK, not really, but it did cool me down and revitalize me after the walk. After all, I still had quite a trek back to Double Bay ahead of me.

The overall trip clocked in at 8.5 miles and more than three hours of actual walking. (Yes, I'm a nerd and wore my Garmin.) Very satisfying indeed!

Also satisfying was the much-needed shower I took upon returning to my friend’s flat. I didn’t even go swimming, but I was still covered in that delightfully beachy combination of sand, sunscreen and sweat.

As I scrubbed the layers of grime from my legs, I heard what sounded like an enormous crash of metal pellets striking a tin roof. I glanced out the window and saw that the Sydney sky had opened up in an instant, releasing incredible torrents of rain.

I just smiled and continued scrubbing, thankful to be enjoying a warm shower inside when I could have been easily caught in that shower outside.

It seemed as though the travel gods had held off on the rain especially for me.

###

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Day 25: A New Kind of View

I've struggled with writing for this blog since I began traveling because I have so much to tell you about; I don't even know where to begin.

My instinct was to start with my first adventure — a trip to the lush, picturesque Bay of Islands — and continue on chronologically, but I just don't feel like writing that way. I want to write about what strikes me at any given time, and that may be something I did today or something I did two weeks ago.

I felt a bit paralyzed because I had no idea how to proceed. Today, I decided to continue with a strategy that has worked well for me so far, and that's to do whatever the hell I want.

So today, I'm writing about today — day 25 of my travels. Next time, who knows? Don't worry — eventually I'll reflect on all of the most incredible things I've done, like hiking the Franz Josef glacier (day 20) and plunging 134 meters over the Nevis River during my very first bungy jump (day 22).

Fact: Glacier hiking makes you feel like a badass.

Umm, yeah. About this.

It's really crazy how many adrenaline-pumping, once-in-a-lifetime activities I've packed into the last 25 days. But most often, like today, I'm just doing things I would normally be doing anyway: sitting on a bus, chatting with people, reading, eating, running.

It's just that the view is a little different while I'm doing them.

Rather than watching Seattle's streets wake up on my way to work, I see this view out the window on my daily commute.

I used to eat lunch in front of my computer or dash over to a nearby fast-food joint to fill up. Today, I leisurely munched on brie and crackers while perched on the rocky shore of a glacial lake.

My old Seattle neighborhood, Ballard, has no shortage of lovely running trails, but today's three-mile route along the winding Hooker Valley Road in Mt. Cook National Park easily trumped them all.

And rather than looking out my bedroom window to see the neighbor's dogs barking and jumping around like crazy yet again (seriously) or the garbage truck rumbling down the street, I just see... whoa.

I did nothing out of the ordinary today, but every run-of-the-mill activity was enveloped by New Zealand's surreal majesty.

I've traveled through this country for 25 days now, but never before have I stopped everything I was doing several times an hour to gaze around me and think, my God, what an incredible planet we live on, and how lucky am I to get to experience so much more of it every day.

***

Now for a few general travel updates!


BUMPS, SCRAPES & SICKNESS

I'm still in one piece after nearly four weeks of travel, but I have had some minor health issues.

I was sick for a few days with a nose that ran like a faucet, and I'm pretty sure I cleaned out a few hostels' stashes of toilet paper (too cheap to buy facial tissue, party of one). I've been taking Allegra every day to successfully manage my seasonal allergies, plus a multivitamin to get those nutrients that spoonfuls of Nutella don't provide.

By far the most painful and annoying ailment I've suffered is sandfly bites all over my feet and ankles. Those little black suckers are far worse than mosquitoes, as my bites itched like crazy for about a week and still haven't fully healed! My bug spray with 30% DEET didn't even seem to deter them.

I also scraped both of my big toes one night by tripping over my flip-flops. A carafe of red wine may have been involved in that incident, but who's to say, really?


LOST & TOSSED

I was devastated by the loss of my travel towel on day 10. Even now, I can perfectly picture it hanging on a hook in the Taupo hostel where I left it. I've since replaced it with a regular white towel, which doesn't fold up as small or dry as quickly, but it's much more absorbent and nice to use.

This morning, I thought I lost the lock I use for my main pack, but I later found it sneakily hiding in the bottom of my food bag. Even though I have a backup lock, I was once again devastated when I thought I'd lost the one I usually use. I have so few belongings now that the loss of any one item feels like a huge blow. Backpacking is weird.

I broke my first pair of sunglasses on day 3 and my second pair on day 6. I bought my third pair on day 9 and have treated them like a precious artifact ever since.

I tossed my cheap, flimsy, destroyed Old Navy flip-flops in Wellington (day 14) and replaced them with Havaianas flip-flops, which are much more comfortable. I really only wear flip-flops or running shoes 99% of the time, so it was very important to upgrade!


COULDN'T LIVE WITHOUT...

Kindle, Klean Kanteen water bottle, purse, Havaianas flip-flops, lululemon Groove pants, both of my cameras, laptop, Diva Cup. Seriously, the Diva Cup is the greatest thing ever.


WISH I HAD...

A pair of lightweight, stretchy jeans. A dressier pair of sandals (I have the perfect pair... in Seattle). A few dressy tops for going out. A lightweight cardigan. I guess I could stand to do some shopping.


DON'T REALLY MISS...

Wearing a full face of makeup or doing my hair. I feel incredibly fancy if I actually put on makeup or borrow someone's blow dryer for a night out, but it also feels like wayyy too much effort to do those things every day. Using a hair straightener is beyond luxurious at this point!

Feeling bored. I never really feel bored.

Going to work.


REALLY MISS...

Alone time (although I am grabbing more of this now that I'm running regularly again — and I update my running blog quite frequently, by the way). Being able to talk to or see my parents at any moment. Catching up with friends. Stretching out in a big, comfortable bed. Easy access to fresh food and lots of healthy options. Having fully charged electronics.

And free laundry. My God, free laundry.

***

I have only a few days left in New Zealand before I fly to Australia! I plan to spend about a month there before I move on to Southeast Asia. I'll be sad to say goodbye to NZ, but I look forward to warm weather and sunshine (I hope) and catching up with a few friends in Sydney and Melbourne.

See you in Oz!

###

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