Things My English Roommates Say

Living and traveling with a bunch of Brits these past two weeks has started to rub off on me. Not only have I switched from coffee to tea (mostly due to affordability) and I'm eating things like beans on toast for breakfast, but I've also caught myself saying words & phrases that I would have never used at home. Here's a sample of the English language that I now hear on a daily basis.

Lift / Trainers / Jumpers / Mental / Geezer / Supermarket / Scumbag / Lovely / Shattered / Fancy / Bin / Press ups / Bless her / Brilliant / Fancy / Cheers / Massive / I'll give you a ring / Rubbish / Take away / Nonce / Torch / Mate / Spastic / Bloody / Mentalist / Posh / Leaving Do / Training  / Proper / Spazzing out / I can't be bothered / Lush / Cheeky / To be fair / Guttered / Mental, mental, chicken oriental / Corridor / Lad / Grubby / Scummy / Treat / Toasties / Keen / Comfies / Minging / Saucy / You alright? / Nicked / Jacket potatoes / Loads / Heaps / Square / Trackies / Have a go / Plasters / Wicked

The guys call me a "yank," which I just love considering I'm a southener from Texas. I get into 3-5 arguments a day on the correct pronunciation and spelling of words such as aluminum. As the only American in my room, I'm clearly outnumbered, so I usually let them think they're right. I'm able to tolerate the jokes because I've realized this is probably the closest I'll ever get to living at Hogwarts.

The Backpacking Culture

These first 2 weeks in Australia have been a fast-paced, crazy blur of events. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to realize that I'm actually here, on my own, trying to begin life in a new country. I've been staying at a hostel called WakeUp! which was formerly an eight-story department store. It's located in the CBD, or Central Business District, though it should stand for Central Backpacker's District. Where George Street and Pitt Street intersect, there are an overwhelming number of hostels, backpacker bars, and travel agencies. The streets are crowded with a strange mix of business people in their suits, Asians, and backpackers. We backpackers are like our own race over here.  

How do you spot a backpacker? Aside from the obvious backpack, there are other signs. Boys have unshaven faces, girls' hair is generally unkepmt, & footwear consists of teva sandals, white Converse, or flip flops. You can hear them swapping stories about their latest tattoo and telling tales of their recent travels in Thailand, Figi, or South America. Living in the hostel remindes me a lot of college without the books. I have seven roommates, mostly English, which tend to come and go, as travelers often do. People are constantly discussing money, how there never seems to be enough and how they plan to make their next fortune.  I recently overheard this conversation on my floor: "We should go down to the internet cafe and google sleep clinics / Oh yeah, I forgot we were supposed to donate our sperm today!" Everyone works hard to play hard. The hostel puts on a events each day and there is a bar located in the basement. Pop music blasts in the elevator and the lobby. The kitchen shelves and coolers are jam packed with boxes of cereal, pasta, and "goon" aka cheap boxed wine.  There are bookshelves on each floor with travel books and novels in English, French, German, and Spanish, leftover from backpacks that could no longer accomodate them. 

The backpacking culture is a wild one and while living in a hostel has been fun and provided the opportunity to meet amazing like-minded people, I'm happy to say that I'll be moving out over the weekend. The weather is just starting to warm up in Sydney and I've found a flat to share with two of my new pals, outside the hustle and bustle of the city and closer to the beach. 

The Day I Didn't Exist

Time travel is real. I know this, because I've just experienced it. When I boarded a Boeing 747 (read: really huge two-story plane) at SFO International airport it was Tuesday, September 4. I arrived in Sydney on the morning of Thursday, September 6. What happened to September 5? For me, it's as if it never happened. During this 24 hour period I practically didn't exist. Trying to sleep in my impossibly uncomfortable seat of 51F, I just lingered somewhere in earth's atmosphere. My 2012 calendar has only 364 days. It's a rather puzzling phenomenon--time travel. 

I was given the most warming welcome upon my arrival at the airport in Sydney. When I walked through customs and immigration like a zombie, exhausted and dizzy from my 27 hour journey from Houston, I handed two officers my passport and claims ticket. They glanced it over and one whispered loudly to the other, "American. She'll be here for 6 months. Traveling alone. Could be suspicious." At least I'm pretty sure that's what they said. I assumed they were joking with me, and I let out a defeated chuckle. 

Then they ushered me into a special line, which wasn't much of a line at all since I was the only person standing in it. The female officer asked me loads of yes or no questions as she emptied the entire contents of my backpack. She scanned each item with an iron detector thingy, which is used to trace illicit drugs and explosives and such. She rummaged around in my carry-on bag and with her gloved hand pulled out an illegal item--a banana. I was caught red-handed, trying to smuggle an exotic fruit from a Peet's Coffee shop across the Australian border. After I explained how I had forgotten to throw it away, she just smiled and asked, "Would you like me to dispose of it?"

"Sure, it's pretty bruised."

"We have bananas here in Australia."

"That's great."

"Enjoy your stay!"

Pre-departure Thoughts: Those Daunting What Ifs

With 2 days to go before I leave for Australia, I've reached the point in my preparations where there isn't much to do except wait. My backpack is packed, the last of my summer earnings have been deposited in the bank, and I've visited with as many friends and family as possible. In this period of waiting, my mind wanders to the uncertainties of this upcoming expedition, and I can feel the self doubt and fear creeping in, tainting my thoughts. 

When I tell people that I'm going to Australia, a common reaction I receive is "You're so brave." Funny, because I feel anything but brave right now. The truth is, I'm terrified. I mean...

What if I can't find a job right away?

What if I don't make friends?

What if I run out of money?

What if i get homesick?

What if I can't afford to come home?

What if I get attacked by a shark?

or a venomous snake?

or crocodile?

or box jellyfish?

or spider?

What if this is all just a waste of time and money?

What if this is harming my CV rather than enhancing it?

What if there are no tacos in Australia?

What if I'm packing too much?

What if I'm not packing enough?

There are 101 ways for things to go awry on my backpacking trip. But for every doubtful what if, there is a counter one. The eternal optimist in me says that for all the reasons why things shouldn't work out, I have to believe in the one reason why it will. I mean...

What if this is the most amazing travel experience of my young adult life, I meet a ton of new friends, and discover what I want to do with my life ?

Silly, I know. But, haters gonna hate dreamers gonna dream.

{via}

"She must find a boat and sail in it. No guarantee of shore.
Only a conviction that what she wanted could exist,
if she dared to find it." -Jeanette Winterson