15 Things I Miss About Sydney

An ice storm hit DFW on Friday night, and as a result, I've been stuck in my apartment for most of weekend. The trouble with snow in Texas is that it's such a rarity so when it does actually happen, we don't know how to prepare for or handle it. The roads are too icy to safely drive anywhere and even the sidewalks have become so slick that even the slightest incline is sure to send you to the ground. (I learned this the hard way yesterday when I attempted the short walk to my mailbox-- it wasn't pretty. Just ask my neighbors).

Being trapped in my little apartment makes me long for sunshine and summer and the sea. I can't help but be a little nostalgic for Sydney and the things that made it special. Here are just a few of the things I miss about this city:

1. Being able to walk to work every day
2. Public transportation-- trains, ferries, and even those pesky buses
3. The beaches, bays and coves, of which there are many
4. The mountains--just a short, cheap train ride away
5. The gigantic flying-foxes that emerge at dusk every night
6. The Coastal Walk
7. Beautiful cockatoos and lorikeets that fly freely and hang out on balconies
8. Victorian architecture
9. Hip neighborhoods like Darlinghurst, Surry Hills, Glebe, Newtown and King's Cross 
10. My dive shop and the amazing marine life I saw while scuba diving
11. The jacarandas in spring
12. Centennial Park
13. The coffee! Now that it's cold here, all I want to order is a flat white or a piccolo latte. I also love that chocolate flakes are standard on the Australian cappuccino, and I wish it were the same way here.
14. Passion fruits
15. Words like brekkie, mozzie and fairy floss which are both ridiculous and ridiculously cute

Bondi Beach

Surfboards on the bus

Sydney's skyline as seen from the Manly ferry

a perfect cappuccino made with chocolate sprinkles

I loved the balconies on these two-story homes

Lorikeets-- an example of Australia's colorful wildlife

The Blue Mountains

Jacarandas and their purple blossoms which cover the streets like confetti

I came across an old Welsh word the other day--hiraeth. While there's no exact translation in English, here's a definition I saw on Pinterest:

I think this word perfectly captures how I feel about Sydney. I do miss many things about it, but I know it wouldn't be the same even if I could go back. Many of my coworkers have changed jobs and my traveler friends have moved on to their next adventure. Sydney will always have a special place in my heart, and I may even continue to write a few posts about it. But I'm slowly learning to love the skies that I'm under and embrace the current season of my life, even if that is winter.

Thanksgiving Food for Thought

Last year in Sydney, I hosted my own Thanksgiving dinner for the first time. I was so proud of this American holiday and the traditions that accompany it that I wanted to share it with everyone I knew in my new city. Friends from the UK, Canada, France, Sweden and the US were present. The menu wasn't impressive or traditional. However, we shared our potluck dishes, crowding around my tiny living room, and we all wrote what we were thankful for in chalk on the wall. While I was grateful to be in an amazing city surrounded by good company, my homesick thoughts wandered to a table thousands of miles away, where my grandmother's turkey and dressing and pumpkin pie sat encircled by my family members.

Being in Australia meant I wasn't able to watch my college football team win their big game or see the skyscraper-sized balloons float down 6th Avenue in New York. It also meant that I wasn't bombarded with commercials and email blasts about the upcoming Black Friday sales and doorbuster savings. There are no Walmarts in Australia, and I was a backpacker with few real needs and little means to buy nice gifts for others. Without the incessant notifications and ads to serve as reminders, I sort of forgot about this part of Thanksgiving altogether.

And it undoubtedly has become a part of the holiday. Thanksgiving is no longer a four-day weekend to relax and spend time with family, or even a full day of rest. For many employees of major retailers, Thursday has become a day to prepare for or even begin the mad rush of holiday shopping. With stores opening earlier each year, it seems our beloved Turkey Day has simply turned into a kick-off event for a month-long feast of consumerism. We're now encouraged to shop on Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday. (If you haven't experienced the madness of Black Friday shopping for yourself, it only takes about 30 seconds of this YouTube video to get a feel for it.) 

Last year, the United Nations Foundation and the 92nd Street Y in New York teamed up to launch a campaign called #GivingTuesday. The mission is to "create a national day of giving at the start of the annual holiday season." While I think it's a great idea to encourage charitable giving and support nonprofit organizations, it also makes me sad that it's been tacked on to the tail end of a weekend of overindulgence, as if Giving Tuesday is the juice cleanse for our extravagant holiday dinner. 

What if Thanksgiving was about giving just as much as it is about food, parades, football and shopping? What if our "giving of thanks" was not reduced to a single meal or even a day, but was perpetual? I want to learn to wake up every morning with a grateful heart and count my blessings each night as I fall asleep. And maybe if we all strive to be better at this--to be more mindful of the things we do have, we'll worry less about the things we don't, and give a little more.

Moving Pains

After doing the math, I've realized this is the eleventh time I've moved in the last five years. I wish that were a joke. But since I left my small hometown to attend university in the fall of 2008, I've moved twice each year--at the beginning of summer and again in the fall. Let's break this down:

1. Fall '08: Moved to Fort Worth to begin college
2. Summer '09: Moved back to my hometown (Sealy) to work for the summer
3. Fall '09: Back to school in Fort Worth
4. Summer '10: Studied abroad with Semester at Sea in the Mediterranean
5. Fall '10: Fort Worth
6. Summer '11: Germany for a three-month internship
7. Fall '12: Fort Worth
8. Summer '12: Sealy
9. Fall '12: Moved to Australia 
10. Summer '13: Came back home to Sealy
11. Fall '13: Moved to Dallas

Moving is exhausting in every way possible. In addition to the physical defeat that comes with repeatedly packing and unpacking your life into boxes and suitcases, there's also an emotional toll involved. This is especially true when you're uncertain of whether you're making the right move or if you'll see the friends you've said goodbye to again.

This most recent move to Dallas has seemed like the most challenging one yet, which is ridiculous considering it's within my own home state. But my move here was quick and unpremeditated. And I didn't arrive to a backpacker hostel or college dormitory, where it's easy to make new acquaintances who are all in the same boat. Similarly, apartment leases are no longer in sync with school semesters, so for the first time in five years, I'm living without a roommate (or two or seven). 

I was lucky enough throughout college to have most of my furniture and household supplies provided as a part of my living arrangement. The few appliances and items I did own were sold in a garage sale last summer to help me fund my travels, so when I moved into my little 1BR flat, I had to completely start from scratch. One month later, and I'm still sleeping on an air mattress and eating breakfast on an ironing board, while my kitchen supplies are a mix of camping cutlery (spork anyone?) and take out boxes. And to be honest, I'm kind of okay with that right now. 

Anytime I think about buying a piece of furniture or a mattress, I consider the opportunity cost--a plane ticket to visit a friend. Besides, once you have furniture, moving becomes a whole new ball game. So for the time being, I'll continue living à la Holly Golightly, where there's no furniture in sight, but plenty of milk and champagne in the fridge.

My Favorite Island

In between Bali's mainland and neighboring Lombok, there lies an island that often goes unnoticed by the average tourist. Compared to Bali, the island is sparsely populated, difficult to navigate and anything but luxurious. The interior of the island is arid and hilly, making farming more challenging for its inhabitants. And while still considered a part of Bali, the locals speak an older form of Balinese no longer heard on the mainland. There are no resorts, bike taxis, peddlers, infinity pools or nightclubs. In many ways, this island is what Bali was like 40 years ago, before mass tourism settled in and created environmental and cultural conflict. I'd like to introduce you to what has become my favorite Indonesian island:

NUSA PENIDA

I journeyed to Nusa Penida to volunteer with the Friends of the National Parks Foundation at their Conservation and Community Development Centre located near the village Ped. As soon I arrived, I noticed the stark contrasts from Bali's south coast--the water was clearer and trees hugged the coastline, instead of buildings and highways. My days on the island were spent in the organic garden, cleaning up the beach, snorkeling or exploring small villages. My nights were spent hanging out with the locals and other volunteers at the centre, where we'd sit barefoot around a long rectangular table and sing English and Balinese songs until midnight.

{It's not uncommon to have an entire beach to yourself on Nusa Penida}

{the best way to get around the island is by motorbike}

{sunrises worth waking up early for}

I've debated about writing this post for some time now, part of me selfishly wanting to keep Nusa Penida a secret; a place that wouldn't change no matter how many years passed between my visits. But I've realized that's completely unrealistic, and I know that tourism is welcomed on the island, as a couple of my Balinese friends are trying to start a tourism center there. Nusa Penida is certainly not for everyone. If you're looking for sights, museums and shopping, you won't find that here. Nor will you find pampering day spas and luxury hotels with Western amenities. No, Nusa Penida is for the avid adventurer and explorer--one who delights in camping on the beach, exploring unnamed caves, hiking through forests and learning about the local culture. It's where you go to relax and lose your sense of time as you adjust to the slower rhythm of life and discover the way Bali once was. I encourage you to visit, and if you do, please tread lightly. The island has neither the resources nor infrastructure to support the mass tourism that Bali has seen. So as you explore, remember the tagline created by my friends and featured on the island's only t-shirt, "Keep it natural."

A Night Trek on Mount Batur

My alarm went off at 1:45 am. I rolled out of bed and found my way out of the mosquito net in record time, especially for someone who had just gotten five hours of sleep. I got dressed, slipped on my hiking shoes, ate a couple of biscuits and washed them down with an iced Nescafe that I had bought from the Circle K down the street. At 2 am, a driver arrived at the homestay to transport me and two others to the foot of Mount Batur in Kintamani, which is about an hour from Ubud. The German couple I was traveling with fell asleep during the car ride, but I was much too excited to shut an eye. Riding shotgun, I chatted with our driver and gripped the armrest in fear each time a stray dog ran into the road, which was about once every kilometer. 

We arrived around 3 am, met our trekking guide (a sixteen year old high school student) and began to follow her lead up the active volcano, with our flashlights in hand. We climbed at a quick and steady pace. The terrain was still moist from the recent rainfall, and I had to use my hands several times to catch myself when the gravel-like volcanic rock slipped under my feet. But it was a fairly easy hike, only taking us one and a half hours to complete 1700 meters. 

Once we emerged from the layer of fog that surrounded the two calderas, we were welcomed with a blanket of a thousand stars--the brightest I'd ever seen. Our group of four were the first ones to reach the summit, arriving an hour before the sun, so we sat and waited in the cool mountain air. I spent that time enjoying the silent stillness. I said a quick prayer, thanking God for the many opportunities I've experienced over the course of my travels. And sitting there, dangling my feet over what felt like the edge of the world paradise, counting my blessings on shooting stars, I certainly felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

{the first signs of daylight}

{prayer offerings on top of the volcano} 

{it's possible to see the ocean from this view point on a clear day} 

{beginning the steady descent into "the clouds"}

Advice for hiking Mount Batur:

-Book the tour through a reputable company. For safety reasons, visitors are not allowed to complete the sunrise trek without a local guide. There are several tour companies that offer similar packages, but make sure you're getting exactly what is advertised. I say this because I wasn't 100% satisfied with the booking I made. While I can't recommend that company, I've was pleased with another tour I did with this one, and they also offer a Batur trek.

-Bring your own flashlight or headlamp. I borrowed one from my homestay and the light was so dim that it barely covered the area around both my feet. Be safe and bring your own.

-Wear layers. You might work up a sweat trekking uphill, but it's gets cold once you reach the top, and it can feel like a long wait for sunrise if you're wearing shorts.

-Bring a backpack or small bag to secure your loose items and free up your hand for the climbs. I thought the pockets in my jacket would be enough space to hold everything I needed, but I ended up wishing I had worn a rucksack.

-Pack bottled water. This may be provided depending on who you booked the hike through, but it's a good idea to bring some with you just in case. Same goes for snacks.

-Don't leave your good camera at home. The lighting and visibility can vary greatly at the peak, and you'll definitely want more than just your phone to capture the sunrise. 

-Ask your guide to take you to highest vantage point. Most groups will stop at the lower vantage point, but there's another one just 25 minutes up the slope. All you have to do is ask your guide.

The Sacred Monkey Forest

It's impossible to visit Ubud without hearing about the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary. It's one of the major tourist attractions, and it's easily found at the end of one of the main crossroads in town, appropriately named Jalan Wanara Wana (Monkey Forest Rd). One morning, I was visiting all the local shops on Monkey Forest Road when I reached the end of the street and decided to wander into the forest on my own. What I thought would be a 30 minute pit stop during my shopping day, turned into three or four hours of exploring.

The monkeys found in the Monkey Forest of Padangtegal are long-tailed macaques. There are four different troops that call the forest their home, creating a community of more than 600 monkeys, a population that has tripled since 2006. 

Check out those teeth! The macaques are beautiful animals, but they will bite or scratch humans if they are provoked. Here are a few safety tips to remember when visiting the Monkey Forest:

-Resist the temptation to feed the monkeys. Locals will try to sell you fruit outside of the entrances. Realize that you're putting yourself at risk if you choose to feed the monkeys. Never feed them peanuts, chips, candy or other snack foods which can cause serious harm to their health.

-Don't tease or try to touch the monkeys. Provoking them will only cause them to feel threatened and increase your likelihood of being harmed.

-Don't initiate a staring contest. Prolonged eye contact is considered a threat to macaques.

-Keep a close eye on children. Don't allow them to play near water or feeding areas.

-Don't carry loose items with you. Keys, sunglasses, plastic water bottles and other belongings should be kept securely in a backpack. It's not uncommon for tourists to have their loose belongings snatched by monkeys.

-Ask a staff member for help. The Wenara Wana staff members are easy to identify by their green uniforms. They'll be able to help you with directions, answer questions about the monkeys and let you know when and where the next feeding will be. You should also seek their assistance if one of your belongings is taken by a monkey or if you've been injured.

The Balinese have a love-hate relationship with the macaques. In Balinese Hinduism, monkeys can embody both positive and negative forces. When they are found raiding tourist shops or crop fields, they are considered pests. But in the form of a Barong, monkeys are known to guard sacred holy temples from evil spirits, which is why the macaques in the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary are revered and protected by the local people. 

During my visit to the Monkey Forest, my embarrassing sense of direction and cat-like curiosity led me off the paved pathways. I somehow managed to get lost even with the brochure map in hand. I crossed over a stream on a bamboo bridge and passed decorated shrines and temples until I reached the forest's edge and was standing at rice field. A farmer walked by with two children and a dog in tow. I waved and kept wandering.

I continued on a trail that went downhill toward the sound of trickling water. When I reached the bottom, there was an unmarked cave with basket offerings and a running fountain. It looked like a place of religious significance, but I couldn't find it anywhere on my map and there was no sign or other tourists around to consult. I desperately wanted to know what it was, so I cautiously climbed the steps, looking over my shoulder to see if I was being watched. I poked my head inside the narrow entrance, but couldn't see past a few feet. It was pitch black. Although I'm ordinarily up for a good caving adventure, I retreated this time. I wasn't about to explore an unknown cave without a flashlight, knowing its cultural importance and having someone aware that I was down there on my own. I guess it will remain a mystery until my next visit.

If you're visiting Ubud, I highly recommend checking out the Monkey Forest. It's open daily from 8:30am-6pm, and only costs about $3 USD. Every visitor is sure to find something memorable whether it's the playful macaques, beautiful temple architecture, flora and fauna, tranquil streams or mysterious caves.

Catching Up

Where to begin?

This is my thought every time someone asks me to tell them about my travels abroad. It's also the question I ponder during each attempt I've made to write a blog post since coming home. There are still many stories I want to share about Australia and Indonesia, but they'll have to wait for now. I've been busy lately catching up with:

• my family and friends
• world news and current events
• the latest iPhone apps and hashtag trends
• my reading list and the recent movies I missed.

I also feel the need to catch up to my peers, as most of them are already a year into their careers. Between work, weddings and job interviews, this summer is already going by quicker than I'd like it to. I'm amazed at how swiftly I've rejoined the fast-paced American lifestyle. For every item I cross off my to do list, I add three more. Catching up can be exhausting, but I've got a new sense of direction and big dreams to chase. I don't know how long it will take me to reach them, but I'm excited to begin the journey.

{I found this quote on Pinterest. Does anyone know who wrote it?}

Nyepi

{MARCH 12, 2013}

Outside is a quiet like I've never known. The silence is so heavy I'm afraid to even open the creaky wooden door of my bungalow. There's no movement in the surrounding rice fields; no automobiles or motorbikes honking in the streets. The only creatures that defy the stillness are roosters and crickets. Today is Nyepi, Bali's version of New Year's Day. The Balinese begin their calendar year with a day of silence. Nobody is allowed to leave their home from sun up to sun down. Even tourists are required to remain in their hotel, resort or homestay. If found wandering the streets, police will ask you to return indoors. The cultural idea behind Nyepi is that if the island is quiet enough, it will fool the evil spirits into thinking it has been abandoned, so that they will go elsewhere. For the Balinese, it's a day of prayer, meditation and reflection. For me, it's been a day of introspection, to catch up on reading and writing and correspondence. I think every country could use a holiday like this, where everything shuts down (even the airport) for a true day of rest.

{MARCH 11, 2013}

What a contrast this state of tranquility is to yesterday's celebrations. On the eve of Nyepi, the streets are busy and far from quiet. Locals are dressed in their best attire for morning temple ceremonies and the echo of the gamelan can be heard from anywhere along the main road in Ubud. Monsters (called ogoh-ogoh) crafted from foam and papier mâché are carried into town from nearby villages. The ogoh-ogoh represent evil spirits and are made by different organizations in each village. A considerable amount of monetary donations and weeks of labor go into making each one. I was impressed with the level of detail, creativity and individuality expressed. They are built on a grid of bamboo poles so that they can be carried by the boys in the organization.  

 

In Ubud, these artful statues are brought to the football field where they can be admired by the public. Some of the ogoh-ogoh are as tall as buildings and others light up at night or have a robotic mouth that opens to breathe steam. I got to the football field in the early afternoon and ordered a Bintang from one of the pubs facing the grassy lot. I sat down at a table that was reserved by a local expat, a Danish-Senegalese artist. He invited me to join his party where I got a taste of Ubud's colorful and thriving expatriate community. When the sun set, I rejoined the crowd on the field. The Balinese organizations were wearing matching t-shirts and sarongs. Entire families came out for the parade of ogoh-ogoh. Drums sounded. The young men carried the giant monsters, spinning them in circles while chanting. The girls led the procession into the street with blazing torches and a banner bearing the name of the organization. After the parade, the ogoh-ogoh are carried back to their home villages, where they're either destroyed (by fire until recent years) or put up for sale.

It was a loud and festive celebration in the streets of Ubud that night--surreal, spellbinding and sensational. The following morning was so impossibly quiet, I wondered for a moment if I had merely dreamed it all.