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."