Taronga Zoo

Another weekend passed, another "Bucket list" activity crossed off my notepad. I have been to the zoo!

The Taronga zoo, I was informed by several locals, is one of the best in the world. As I am against the theory of caging wild animals for the purpose of human entertainment, I was initially hesitant to embark on this activity and essentially support the cause. I learned, however, that Taronga implements many humanitarian efforts, such as helping save endangered species and housing injured animals to rejuvenate their strength before releasing them back into the wild. Taronga also takes great care when setting up the animals' living quarters, providing them with as much real-life stimulation as they can and creating games to prevent boredom. Seeing how Taronga uses its zoo as a platform to ultimately make a positive difference in the lives of animals, I decided it is worthy of my support and went ahead and planned my day. 

Upon arrival, my housemate, her boyfriend and I were immediately struck with a multi-million dollar view of the Sydney Opera House, ocean, and Harbour Bridge. At one point I mused at the irony that perhaps the best view in all of Sydney is inhabited by giraffes, who don't have the mental capacity to appreciate it. I pondered this irony, relating it to life itself, and I will leave you with that food for thought. 

The zoo is laid out for visitors to begin their day at the top of a hill, wind downward, and trek back up again at the end of the day to return to the parking lot. Along the way one is able to view hundreds of different species of animals across the board, from spiders and lizards and snakes (both in and out of cages), to koalas, giraffes, elephants, lions and zebras. My housemates took great enjoyment of watching me viewing a giant lizard or turkey and then suddenly realising they were not on display - they were simply wild animals wandering around the zoo. The giant black spiders parked seemingly every few feet in giant webs above our heads, on the other hand, would be classified as more terrifying than amusing. At one point a patron threw a large stick at a spider web, and the weaving was so strong that, to my disbelief, it actually stuck. I was so creeped out that my mind started playing tricks on me, and I began to imagine little spiders running all through my clothes - once I even took my shoes off and shook them out before moving on. We certainly did have a real wildlife experience. 

In one snake-filled room, I spotted a father teaching his young daughter about each of the displayed reptiles. 

"If you ever see this one, run as fast as you can in the opposite direction," he solemnly taught her, pointing to a snake whose venom, the sign informed us, was lethal enough to kill 20 mice simultaneously.

"Can they even bite through my trousers?" She asked, doubting. 

"Yes." I figured that was a good time to leave this conversation before I turned around and booked a flight back to the U.S. 

I was initially most excited about spotting Kangaroos, but to my surprise, the species were few and far between. We crossed paths with a miniature kangaroo in a walkway titled something along the lines of "Kangaroo experience," which was exciting, but I have to admit I was hoping for more. The sole large kangaroo we spotted was leisurely rolling around in the dirt - funny as it was, I would still love to see one hop around during my time here. Perhaps kangaroos are so scarce because zoo management doesn't want to pull them from the wild, in which case I understand.

My favorite part of the day was the seal show, where my group and I sat in an outdoor amphitheater and several seals put on a show, all the while being fed buckets of fish by trainers, thus making the enjoyment mutual. The seals waved, clapped, dove, swam, performed handstands and swam with their fins up like a shark. The audience learned to always keep an eye for a certain sticker when shopping for tuna, so that we are supporting safe fishing practices. The show was a perfect balance of informative and entertaining. 

After the zoo, my little group ventured to a Japanese restaurant in Sydney titled Mizuya, where we met up with some other friends to celebrate my housemate's birthday. I had but to sit down and view the ordering tablets to know it was going to be amazing. Sure enough, the family-style meal was divine, highlights including deep fried silk tofu, teriyaki chicken skewers, sushi, and deep fried veggies. I realized what a great marketing tool an ordering tablet was: rather than placing an order when the waiter stopped by, one could simply press a button any time during the meal and the dish would magically appear at the end of your table when you looked away from your conversation. Several orders were made after my stomache's capacity had been filled, and I have no regrets. I did venture out of my comfort zone when my California roll was delivered below a bedding of caviar. Repulsed, I inquired the table if anyone else wanted the sushi. They encouraged me to take a taste, noting that I eat chicken eggs, so what's really the difference? Unable to argue with the logic in this argument, I closed my eyes and took the smallest bite I could muster. Sure enough, the crunch - dare I say - enhanced the flavor. If I hadn't known what I was eating, I may have even admitted that I enjoyed the added texture. 

After dinner we mosied through Sydney and into Darling Harbour to enjoy some gelato overlooking the bay. To my surprise, crowds began to form along the sidewalk and it was discovered we were visiting during the night that bi-weekly fireworks soar over the Darling Harbour - an initiative instilled to increase tourist activity in this location. It was a great way to end the night. 

Tyco

While I have briefly mentioned that I am employed, I thought I would chronicle my journey and share a little about my new job. Spoiler alert: I love it. 

It quickly dawned on me after the first few rent payments why my Visa is specified to be a Working Holiday Visa: in order to pay the bills, it would be helpful to find a job. 

While searching local listings, I soon discovered that people in Sydney (I can't yet speak for all of Australia) generally register with agencies to find employment, rather than directly to companies, as is the norm in the U.S. So, day after day I would set up meetings with agencies and subsequently bus into their Sydney offices to register. After the 30 minute meeting, I would spend the rest of the day touristing, such as at the Darling Harbour, pictured below. It was a great way to explore the city while still feeling productive. 

 

One agency I visited even went so far as to assign me a spelling test, and I was informed that highly regarded candidates score no less than two answers wrong out of the 20 words (no pressure). I found this particularly difficult, as not only are many Australian words are spelled differently than in the U.S., several of the words on the list I had never heard of. The word "Alright" presented itself, asking to leave the space blank if it was spelled correctly, or to fill in the correct version if I spotted an error. I pondered this for a minute. While my natural inclination would be to write the phrase as two words, "All right," I have noticed that Aussies tend to say it with a slur, as in, "That's alright!" Taking a shot in the dark, I went with my first instinct of spelling it with two words. Implementing a similar strategy on many of the other words, low and behold, by the grace of God I scored 100% (shout out to my Whitworth education, and to whoever invented the phrase, "I before E, except after C!"). 

After about a week and a half of searching and meeting with approximately five recruiters (and, notably, twice being hired - and proceeding to turn down - a Funeral Sales position), I received an email from a recruiter I had met that same afternoon inquiring if I could start a temp position the next morning. Not knowing what I was signing up for, I accepted, later learning I would be the new Service Delivery Agent for a company called Tyco in Rydalmere, NSW. 

A ten minute drive, Rydalmere is an hour-long bus ride with a transfer in the city Parramatta. The perfectionist I am, I reasoned that I could work here until - and only until - I found something closer. Had I followed through with that plan, however, it would have been my loss. 

I arrived to my first day of work 20 minutes late. Yes, I had both risen and shined to my alarm at 5 a.m. and yes, I did leave for the bus stop at my intended time of 6:40. I caught the correct bus - even j-walked across a traffic-polluted highway to make it on time, as is the Australian norm. What I didn't take into consideration was the second bus I needed to catch arriving significantly late, and so I became a victim of the system. 

Walking into your first day of work late - especially when you haven't previously met the manager and have simply been placed by a temp agency - is a situation difficult to compete with in terms of awkwardness. (I did email the agency from my iPhone hoping they could relay the message of the bus delay, but I am unsure if my efforts were successful.) With my shoulders slumped and my mind mentally prepared for the worst, I pushed past the door and entered the building, where I was immediately greeted with a very warm welcome; not a second thought was given to my inappropriate tardiness. "All good, all good," my manager immediately stated, a sentiment I would grow to hear frequently and greatly enjoy, often paired with "No worries." Relaxed, I let my guard down as she began to show me around the building. 

Tyco is huge, with three stories and hundreds of young people milling about. Notably, I was introduced to a handful of Work and Holiday Visa travelers, who sat clustered together. I could easily identify that seeking out scenic beauty wasn't their main purpose for visiting Sydney, and our commonalities began and ended with the title of our visas. 

I learned that Tyco is a fire and safety company, and my responsibility would be completing "Door reports." Long story short, Tyco technicians travel around and inspect doors for fire safety regulations, write down the numerous violations and comments, and mail the papers to me. I then enter the data into a system and email it to the applicable parties. The most challenging part of the job is reading the technicians' handwriting. 

While not something I have previously dreamed of, I love the job! I am allowed the space to work alone that I thrive under, while still graced with the company of several affable personalities around me. I am not micro-managed, and my boss has provided me with nothing but unconditional support and encouragement. I even discovered a new bus route that begins just a few feet from my house and arrives at the perfect time for work. If something ever happens and I am late again, I am easily able to simply shift my hours to work later in the day. If someone becomes upset, it is not uncommon to hear the phrase, "Far out, mate," which, in my opinion, completely takes the edge off. What more can I ask for?? 

I was initially placed next to an Indian man who didn't speak English, but after a day or two he was let go. While the language barrier didn't allow us to become more than strangers, I spent some time feeling sad for him; I can't imagine the difficulties he must have faced to not only be working in a foreign language, but to read the jargon of the door safety world coupled with the frequently un-legible handwriting of the technicians.

As fate would have it, however, the desk soon became occupied by a friendly girl who is my age and recently moved to the area from Queensland. Just like that I had made a friend. Our section is completed with two kind Sydney natives who sit across from us and are generous with their knowledge of Sydney must-dos. 

While the recruiter mentioned the job may last for one or two months, my supervisor recently told me I'll be here for a long time. I suppose it may be a mutually beneficial fit: I love working for them, and they love hiring a Work and Holiday Visa traveler who doesn't straggle in from the bar every morning. 

All in all, life is good. 

Hillsong Church Service

I attended Hillsong Christian Church this evening after Googling "Churches near me." It was more than a service - it was an experience. 

Prior to attending I researched a bit about Hillsong to prepare myself. I first happened upon its mission statement: "Hillsong is a church that believes in Jesus and loves God and its people." Sounds good to me. I continued reading and discovered, to my surprise, the church is absolutely enormous and has campuses in London, Australia, Moscow/Kiev, South Africa, New York City, Stockholm, France, Germany, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Barcelona, and Los Angeles. With that kind of following, you know it's going to be awesome. By some random chance and maybe even a little luck, its main Australian campus is in the same suburb I am living in - Baulkham Hills.

I arrived at the church and noted there were several tarps set up on the front lawn selling food, almost like a carnival. Also carnival-esque were the hundreds of people roaming around, seeming to already be having a blast. (I chose to attend the 6 p.m. service, correctly assuming that was the service the majority of others in their 20s would attend. Other options were 8 a.m., 9 a.m., 11:15 a.m. and 5 p.m.) I spotted a sign that announced newcomers could be greeted in the foyer and wandered around a little bit, unable to spot any obvious welcome center. Resolving to venture into the church, I found about 15 young adults wearing name tags that indicated they were on a greeting committee; I approached them and inquired about the whereabouts of the foyer. I was quickly led to a booth and asked to complete a sign-in sheet with my name, nationality and email address. To my surprise, the orientation did not end there; a new volunteer led me to a reserved visitor section and even went so far as to sit next to me for the service. It was truly an above-and-beyond welcoming that eased the inevitable awkwardness of attending a new organization alone for the first time. 

Entering the room hosting the service, I was awestruck. This auditorium was bigger than the arena that hosted my college graduation. People began swarming in, easily filling the entire seating offering of perhaps 500. (With five services a day filling these seats, it would seem as though the entire Hills District attends this church. And this is only one of its 52 Australian campuses!) Over 90 percent of the individuals in attendance, I would estimate, were in the 18-35 age group, and as the evening progressed it was evident the church leadership plans the service very intentionally to cater to that demographic - an effort of which I was able to reap the rewards. 

The service started with a concert. No, not "The singing portion that I dread because I cringe at the thought of singing and yet feel rude if I remain silent and just feel really awkward until it's over" portion, as I used to call it. This was a bona fide, full fledged concert that I imagine people, if given the opportunity, would shell out top dollar to attend. The concert began with the lights shutting out so the entire stadium was black. After a few moments, strobe lights began swirling around the crowd and talented singers began belting out original Hillsong lyrics to praise music. Enthusiastic young adults swarmed around the bottom of the stage, jumping up and down and forming a gathering that was a few beers short of a mosh pit. Images lit up on giant screens, animating the singers' faces with features such as a blurry effect or adding swirls of color to the background. An element of smoke was released into the air. I found myself easily swaying along with the crowd. If the word "Jesus" hadn't been a lyric numerous times in each song, I would have completely forgot I was in church. 

The music eventually ended, and a guest preacher took the stage. It was announced that he and his wife are opening a church in Miami, and the process is going to be followed on reality television on the E network. During his sermon, people charismatically yelled out sentiments such as "Yes!" and "Preach!" and "Amen!" sporadically as they felt inspired. The preacher, knowing his audience, made jokes that referred to Facebook and Instagram, and even opted to read Bible passages off his phone instead of opening a text. 

The message referred to a passage regarding seeds being planted in the ground, noting that we have to go downward before we can make it back upward, encouraging us to not become discouraged if we are going through a tough time. He recommended a strategy to overcome difficulties is bettering oneself. I enjoyed the line he stated, "A plant can't grow unless it is healthy." 

The 90 minute service ended with a few more songs and then ended with a prayer. A night full of surprises, the experience didn't end there. 

The girl who graciously sat next to me provided an introduction to another volunteer, who took me to a cafe portion of the church and chatted with me for a half hour or so. She explained the numerous services Hillsong provides, and I signed up to join a Tuesday night small group along with a volunteer group. She then provided me with a tour of the church, notably pointing out multiple other stadium-esque buildings where services are held, noting that each service is different, so church-goers can attend multiple times per day if they would like. Other ammenities included cafes, lounge areas, and lastly, a large balcony where there was a large gathering of people my age. We had arrived, I learned, at an event fittingly titled "The Balcony," where individuals ages 18-25 gather after the 6 p.m. service on Sunday nights. 

The girl dropped me off there and I easily made friends with a handful of people - all thanks to their welcoming nature, which seems to be a huge priority of Hillsong. I learned that a different small group throws this gathering each week, and this particular group decided to assign an Alice and Wonderland theme; members of the group dressed in full makeup and costume and walked around, in character, all night. Hip hop music was booming, and a large circle of people gathered, with particularly brave dancers spinning around in the middle. I remained on the outskirts and attempted the white-girl-sway, feeling very much out of my element but quickly assimilating. Once again, I felt like I was in some sort if a night club - sans alcohol. I was incredibly intrigued by the fact that I was in attendance at, of all things, a post-church dance party. 

Eventually people started trickling home. I realized I had no clue what time it was, and discovered I had passed the 9:30 mark, which meant I had missed the last bus home. My housemate kindly picked me up, and then, after three and a half hours, my first church service at Hillsong had ended. 

I am left speechless. That's what I call fun.

Watson's Bay Coastal Hike

TripAdvisor is my new best friend. The website offers the excellent resource of recommending adventurous activities, both tourist-heavy and local favourites. Upon researching last week, I discovered the Watson's Bay Cliff Hike, with blogger commentary recommending pairing the trip with a ferry ride in from and city and and a fish and chips lunch at Doyle's, a beachfront restaurant. Not needing to read more, I had planned my Saturday.

Reading up on Watson's Bay in preparation for the excursion, I discovered the hike is at the very top of large, rocky cliffs, and suiciders have been prone to choose the location to end their lives. The spot also has a history of hosting murders - successful murders, in fact, as it is difficult to prove if the persons had been pushed, or if they had instead jumped. Intrigued, I was looking forward to visiting the historical location. 

I successfully rode my first ferry into Watson's Bay - even scoring a coveted outdoor seat on the second level. Realizing I had never seen the ocean-side of the Opera House, I snapped more than a few photos during the trip. 

Upon arrival, I set off to hunt for Doyle's, eager to taste the popular fish and chips that prompted visitors to write such rave reviews on its behalf. My excitement was abruptly halted, however, when I viewed the sign "Cash Only" - nothing I read had mentioned this requisite. Digging through my stash of emergency cash, I discovered I was only carrying $10, not enough to purchase the $13.50 meal. The amount was too sparse, in fact, for anything on the menu. Disappointed and hungry (anticipating the high calorie meal, I had skimped on breakfast), I unpacked my meagre snack supply of almonds and an apple and set off for the hike. 

Sure enough, in addition to wire-fencing near the cliff perimeter, there were signs every few yards attempting to persuade people off the ledge. 

I soon reached the end of the hike. Very soon. The internet bloggers had made the adventure seem Yosemite-esque, stating, "Wear your hiking shoes!" and "Be prepared for stairs!" Thinking I was embarking on an adventure similar to Nevada Falls, I had anticipated a nice workout. When I realized I was already at the end, however, I hadn't even touched my water bottle. 

Not ready to turn around, I set off to hike around town - noting every turn so I wouldn't get lost. (Five countries and numerous cities later, I am finally learning what they call "Street smarts." It's a relief to not get lost too frequently!) Aimlessly wandering the streets, I stumbled across a sign that announced "Coastal Cliff Walk." At first confused, it then began to make sense why TripAdvisor claimed the hike to have few tourists - likely because they couldn't find it! I'm not sure what the previous hike I completed was, but I had, simply by accident, arrived at my intended destination. 

I noted this hike was extra spectacular, due to its policy to allow dogs off-leash. I passed Labs and German Shepards, and one couple with more than a few tiny fluffy white dogs skipping about, who at one point I heard state, "Gather the kids, it's time to move on!" These are my people. 

Within a short time I began to succumb to the fact that an apple and some almonds were not going to hold me over for the day; I was ready for lunch at any price, at any location. Stumbling upon a closet-sized cafe called Little Grumpies, I indulged in a chicken sandwich that featured an avocado-corn-salsa dressing on sourdough bread. The meal cost more than my entire day's combined travel fares, but was perhaps the best sandwich I have ever encountered. 

Eventually I strolled back to the Watson's Bay Beach, planning to scope out a shady spot to read and leisurely enjoy the afternoon. I met a girl from China, who mentioned she was excited about being in Australia so that, no longer under communist rule, she could open a Facebook account. Talk about a perspective-inducing conversation.

Happy with the day, I decided to hop on the ferry back to Sydney and spend the evening relaxing at home. Of course, this didn't happen. 

The ferry from Watson's Bay to Sydney had a stop-over in an area called Rose Bay. As it pulled up to the dock, I whimsically decided to hop out and explore. When else was I going to find myself in Rose Bay, Australia? I found a simple town with a leisurely path adjacent to the ocean that I hiked around for perhaps an hour, and once again, happy with the day, I decided it was a sufficient time to head home. This is where, by all means, the story should end. Of course, that would have been too easy. 

After deciding to take the bus home, I was about halfway to Sydney when I noticed we were passing through Bondi, the beach I had traveled to with my housemate last week and embarked on the spectacular hike. How, I questioned, can I be in Australia, pass through Bondi - the number one ranked destination in Sydney - and not pay it a visit? Noting that I still felt relatively fresh after my approximately 12 mile morning, I decided this could be a great opportunity to visit Coogee Beach, the final stretch of the Coastal Hike my housemate and I hadn't completed. Viewing the 3 p.m. sun preparing to move in the downward direction and my iPhone - AKA map/ lifeline to help in case of emergency - at 10% battery, I made a spontaneous decision and, despite all odds, took a leap of faith off the bus. 

Walking with purpose, I set off through Bondi, Tamarama, and Brente Beaches - all destinations I had visited before. As the afternoon did not offer much wind, the water was a magical turquoise color. (Unfortunately, as my phone was on its last leg, I kept it turned off and didn't snap many pictures.)

(Above: a woman swimming with her lab in a secluded area of the ocean. AKA Heaven.)

Walking through the path after Brente Beach - the first stretch of new land I was encountering - I noticed the grounds were littered with giant statues. As I made my way closer, I was shocked to discover they were grave stones. I wasjustifiably  shocked that the number one tourist destination in Sydney - a stunning location hosting beautiful, sparkling, turquoise ocean views - doubles as a graveyard??? I couldn't help but realize how death seems to be following me on this trip. First I was hired as a Funeral Salesman (and subsequently turned the position down) - then I was re-hired as a Funeral Salesman (which I turned down again) -  then I visited the site famous for its large suicide/ murder rates - then I took an innocent hike to land smack in the middle of a giant graveyard. This is not the underlying theme I was hoping for when planning my year abroad. 

As the sun creeped lower and lower, I couldn't help but notice that Coogee Beach is quite a significant distance from Bondi. I continued to stumble across stretches of land that allowed me to become optimistic, thinking I may have arrived, only to learn that I was not at my intended destination. The more miles I traveled, the more thoughts of calling it a day crossed my mind, but I kept pushing myself, not wanting to quit on Coogee twice. It wasn't until two hours later, for a grand total of three hours on this coastal walk, that I had finally reached the seemingly unreachable Coogee Beach. After all that effort, I snapped two quick photos and b-lined to the bus stop. 

After three tourist destinations and what I estimate to be 20 total miles of hiking, I slept 16 hours that night. I'd say it was a pretty great Saturday. 

Sydney Opera House to Royal Botanical Gardens Hike

If sitting is the new smoking than I am shaping up to becoming the healthiest Sheila in the land.

Today I had my last free day before I begin my new job tomorrow - I am the new Service Delivery Agent for Tyco, a fire and security company. (Hey, it's better than Funeral Sales!) The first thing that crossed my mind when the headhunter called me with the offer was finally, the most boring class I was forced to sat through in college - my course on Excel - is paying off. (Ironically, I had been offered the Funeral Sales position again, to start next week. I had to send the recruiter an email, for the second time, resigning. It's so bad it's almost movie-esque. In fact, the television show Parks and Recreation features a character, Ben, who repeatedly is offered, accepts, and then resigns from an accounting firm. I have accepted the fact that other peoples' post-work guilty pleasure comedy seems to be, unfortunately, my life.)

Desiring to make the most of my last weekday of freedom, I checked TripAdvisor.com to view suggestions. I noted that the Bondi to Coogee Beach Walk, which I had experienced a few days ago, ranked number one on the list; I tried to shove down thoughts that I'm only a week in and it's only downhill from here. I noted that among the top five destinations listed the Sydney Opera House to the Royal Botanical Gardens hike, and that sounded perfect: free, easy, and after the Pad Thai dinner I had last night (pictured below), I could use the exercise.

I arrived at the Opera House, and to no one's surprise it was perfect in every way. 

I decided to spend time exploring around the Opera House before embarking on the hike, and it suddenly struck me what an incredible thing it is to travel alone. We are, I believe, our own best friends (at least, in the two-legged form). Not only do you reap the logistical benefits of eating at only your favorite restaurants, spending as much or as little time at any particular destination that you want, and not having to worry about anyone else's enjoyment, but there is an element of peace derived from exploring by yourself. You don't have to keep up a constant banter or small talk, you can just be. 

Walking around the Opera House, I was mesmerised by the surrounding turquoise ocean and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to jump into the sparkling water. Remembering what loomed underneath the inviting waves, however, I held my ground. I am convinced that Australia would be a serial killer if it was a human: beautiful, charismatic, easily lures you in - and then could kill you in the blink of an eye in infinite ways. (An odd comparison, yes, but that's what crossed my mind as I was talking myself off the ledge of the Opera House!)

Passing several joggers on the walk, I couldn't help but to notice the difference in short length between Aussie and U.S. culture. While men in the US tend to wear their shorts baggy and knee-length, men in Australia tend to wear theirs tight and short; I felt as though I was experiencing a Chipindales show - free of charge! I wonder if this is what men from other countries think when they visit the U.S. and take note of the skimpy outfits women tend to wear, and realized no, men probably aren't as grossed out. 

Reaching the Royal Botanical Gardens, I adventurously veered off the paves course and into the "Wilderness." I quickly bagged this idea, however, when I spotted my first Aussie spider - and then my second, and then my third. When I say spider, I mean giant, lethal creature. Eventually I stopped screaming when I noticed other park-goers looking at me as if they were wondering if I had neglected to take my meds that morning.

All in all, the day was a perfect end to my perfect first week in Australia.