Romance

Introductions. I like them. My introduction to this city resembles how I hope my meeting of a handsome boy begins a great love affair. Its beauty caught my eye. Then the friendliness of its people drew me to it like a smile from across the room. The pace of the Sydney lifestyle solidified my interest like a firm handshake followed by a witty remark. And if the accent is like our first date--gives me butterflies but leaves me wondering if its all a facade--then its weather is our first kiss--warm with spurts of thunder and lightning.

In their words, I'm keen on Sydney. In fact, in an attempt to keep from being that girl who moves to a new country, falls in love with it and then dismisses her own country as if it has nothing to offer, I have actually begun to search for Sydney's faults. So far the only thing holding Sydney and I back from taking our relationship to the next level is a little thing I like to call cockroaches. To be clear, however, they are not little. My fear of bugs can be traced back to the Wolf-Spider-In-The-Hallway Incident of 2004, so while I am keen on Sydney, I am not so keen on bugs, especially ones the size of wine corks. Perhaps then you can imagine the effect the large cockroach that crawled up the wall during my second lecture at the University of Sydney had on me. If you can't, I'll tell you that for the remaining forty-five minutes of class I couldn't take notes because I was busy scanning. I twitched with fear every time my hair brushed my shoulders, and I sat, perhaps impolitely, with my feet up on the chair in front of me. Luckily, Sydney and I are still in the infatuation stage of our relationship when you find the other's quirks endearing, so I'm looking at the sunny side of this bug situation; it's preparation for when I finally make the trek to Thailand.

Friendliness in Sydney is one of the first things I noticed, and I come from a place with a pretty friendly reputation. Northern California may not be the Midwest, but we have that wave-to-your-neighbor and use-your-blinker-light kind of courtesy. Still, I noticed the friendly level at new heights in Sydney. Drivers yield to the pedestrians in the cross walk (ahem, Boston), and random people are happy to help you find your way and, in one case, walk you there. But they're not just nice to each other; they're nice to tourists. And they're especially mindful of American tourists. The intersections have painted reminders on the streets that tell you which way to look for oncoming traffic (with arrows!), obviously a gesture to its American visitors who drive on the right side of the road. No pun intended. And on the day of President Obama's inauguration we were treated like celebrities. Upon recognition of our American accents we were met with congratulations. Journalists from ten different news organizations interviewed, photographed and filmed five of my friends and me. Hello, Sydney televistion debut.

But the characteristic that really grabs me is the pace of the city. In Sydney you're invited to take your time and enjoy life. This may come in the form of a lengthy lunch break, an afternoon stroll on the cliffs, or just a great cup of coffee that comes in a glass cup, forcing you to sit down and enjoy it at the sidewalk cafe, rather than hurry with it to the bus. And yet, professionals abound. I like this balance between work and play that is not so much a personal decision as it is the Sydney way of life. At the cafes in the financial district there is enough space to sit comfortably for lunch; there are no plastic utensils, no premade salads for those who don't have enough time to wait for assembly. The message seems to be that if workers are rested and happy, they'll work efficiently. I'm willing ot test out that philosophy.

Of everything I've seen in my short time here, the sign at the entrance to the Royal Botanical Gardens sums up Sydney's attitude best. It reads: "Welcome to the Royal Botanical Gardens. Please walk on the grass. We also encourage you to smell the roses, hug the trees, talk to the birds, and picnic on the grass." So, Sydney, in the profound words of a 1990s rapper, "I like the way you work it. No diggity. No doubt."

Arrival

It's funny how before you visit a place you imagine it in your mind--its look, its feel--but then you arrive, see it, feel it and you can no longer remember what you imagined. The authenticity of it blows your depiction away. This is my experience with my recent venture to Sydney, Australia. Over the last few months as I prepared for my semester abroad I drew a mental picture that I'll admit was stereotypically dominated by the Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House. I chatted up friends with Sydney experience, searched Google images for "Sydney," "Australia," and "kangaroo," and read half of Bill Bryson's In a Sunburned Country, ultimately trying to quench my thirst for the Land Down Under.

Unsurprisingly, the only sufficient quencher was actually experiencing the city. And experiencing is exactly what I aim to do in this Asian-influenced, but European-feeling, tropical metropolis. That's why on my first cliff walk from Bronte Beach to the renowned Bondi Beach I snapped not one picture. Ok, well actually my camera battery was dead and the charger was traversing the Pacific via UPS. But this issue is something I had thought about before. The digital whirlwind that is Facebook, texting and emailing can get in the way of actually experiencing life and all its adventures. Detailing trips by taking pictures incessantly puts a distance between me and the beauty I am supposedly enjoying, and I don't want to see the world through the viewfinder of my Fuji point-and-shoot. I want nothing in between Australia and me, New Zealand and me, Thailand and me. Undistracted by documenting I hope to feel the places I visit rather than just see them, and besides, after each picture I have snapped, I sighed "a picture just doesn't do it justice." Of all places to build your photograph collection, Australia is among the best that I've seen. Simply, every thing and every one is beautiful, so I will return home (if I go home) with pictures to show my family and friends, to hang on my walls in an effort to mentally return to this expansive and lovely continent/island. However, you'll have to politely forgive me that collecting scrapbook material is not my main pursuit in this journey.

So now that I've arived after a comfortable and seemingly quick Air New Zealand flight from San Francisco and settled into my simple and sufficient one room apartment with one of my dearest friends, let the journey begin. This trip in which I will live and work in the South Pacific's largest city marks my first independent, international adventure of what I hope will be many over the course of my life. I'm obviously not the first to study abroad, and of the study abroad locales, I'm in an arguably familiar setting (although the Aussies would disagree with that.) I'm not the first to chronicle travel abroad. And I'm certainly not the first to vow to lose myself in the culture of a distant land. The only originality I offer is my open mind and my desire to let a different culture influence my life experience. I'll use this space to share my experiences in and impressions of Australia and beyond over the next four months for those who care to read. (That's you, mom.)

Katelyn de Diego