Things have been going so smoothly in this beautiful country that I've been wondering if my posts have started to become boring to anyone other than my mother. Remembering my months living in San Rafael, Costa Rica, I have been remembering my tales encountering adversity through language barriers, transportation issues, and my host family's demon-dog, Peter. Australia, however, has shaped up incredibly well, leaving me with wonderful days that I fear don't so easily translate into interesting stories. My experience today, however, will allow me to stray from the rut I have been falling into and stretch my writing skills once more.
I had planned my Sunday well and down to the minute. I was going to wake up at 5 a.m., take a blissful sunrise ferry ride to Cremorne Point, hike to Mosman's Bay, grab a leisurely lunch on the rooftop of the Mosman's Bay Rowing Club, meet a friend in the city for "Xtreme Gelato," bus home to shower, meet some friends at church to assist in planning our small group's "Balcony" (the church after-party), and attend the 5 and 6 p.m. services. What I was given, however, was a reminder that the world is out of my control.
Responsibly heading to bed early to prepare for my full day, I was abruptly awoken by the noise of a house party. Groggilly popping my ear plugs in and shutting my window, I was surprised to find that those measures did not work to block out the noise. At all. Soon I realized why - the party was at my house! I checked the time: 11 p.m. Voices from the outside made their way to the inside, people were screaming, quickly occupying both the upstairs and the downstairs, leaving the lights on in their wake. I pinched myself - am I back in college? Was this whole Australia trip simply a vivid dream after a long, tiresome finals week? Aren't my nearly 30 year old housemates old enough to know how to have a basic level of decency? Sure enough, to my dismay I discovered this was, in fact, reality. I sighed with acceptance and opened a book, the understanding washing over me that I would not be getting to sleep for a while, and thus not taking a sunrise ferry, after all.
However perplexed I felt, I became an equal amount happy upon realizing that, while it had trickled down to midnight my time, it was 7 a.m. U.S. time! I quickly took a moment to ponder if my brain could function well enough to hold any sort of meaningful conversation, decided to take the risk and called my parents. After short chats with each, I hoped it was socially acceptable timing and called my grandparents, also. It was the highlight of my day to speak with them, and caused me to feel glad for the house party allowing me the opportunity to be awake at the same time. There was even mention of them joining me in Fiji next year (I heard you, grandma!) which I would LOVE.
Hours later, the people left and I was able to fall back asleep (other than my good night's sleep, I later discovered a devastating casualty of a chocolate bar I had in my pantry). Soon the morning came and I decided I wouldn't let the selfish actions of others ruin my day. I dragged myself out of bed, excited to embark on the first part of my adventure - the Cremorne Point to Mosman's Bay hike!
Soon I noticed a young boy, perhaps 7 years old, who seemed to have been forgotten by his adult keepers and was standing in the area clearly marked "No standing," and leaning against the inward-opening doors, which seemed like a bad idea. Feeling as though I should step in, as his parents clearly had their hands full and I wasn't convinced he could read the English warning signs, I offered to share my holding pole with him in the safe zone. Upon his refusal I advised him to be careful, as the doors open inward. I was able to herd him towards me just as the doors automatically opened into a formation that would have undoubtedly crushed his small body, or in the very least caused everyone involved a good scare. A day's work completed, I hopped off the bus and headed towards the ferry station.
"Excuse me," I heard a voice call and felt someone touching my arm. Turning around, I discovered an older man was speaking to me. Wondering if I am local enough yet to give directions, I was shocked as he began to commend me on my actions in the bus with words so kind they gave me goosebumps. I assume he must have been sitting near enough to see me stand up for the family and help the child. Not knowing how to respond to such a sentiment, I was so taken aback that I simply thanked the man repeatedly, telling him his compliment made my day. That conversation put more of a spring in my step than the large latte I ordered to accompany me through my travels. It also reminded me of the life lesson that positive reinforcement cures more ails than negative - you can scold, say, a child, a dog, or an employee so many times, but the moment you give them a treat, a raise or a simple pat on the back they will tend to be more inclined to work harder. I'll never sit on the bus again.
I took a ferry ride into Cremorne Point; the sparkling Sydney waters of never cease to put a blissful smile on my face. Stepping off the boat, I was relieved to find a blatantly marked path and set off, quickly noticing the trail featured the beauty of bushland combined with the relaxation of walking along the water. This is my kind of Sunday.
The path soon ended at "Cremorne Point Reserve." As my end destination was planned to be Mosman's Bay, I did what any good tourist would do: I waited until a sweaty man walked by, clearly out exercising, and followed him through the city, hoping he too would be embarking on the second part of the hike and could lead me to the path connection. After a few minutes of hiking, however, I gained the distinct impression that he, in fact, was not headed towards the path, and his increasingly frequent over-the-shoulder glances led me to believe he was becoming suspicious of my behavior. Disappointed that what I thought to be a clever strategy had failed, I let him travel alone into the distance, finding myself at a four-way crossroads, none of which specified the way to Mosman's Bay.
Opening my Google Maps, the voice of Siri's unnamed competitor led me through residential neighborhoods and families' backyards until, sure enough, I had landed back onto the beaten path.
After another short stretch of hiking, I discovered the rest of the hiking trail was blocked off due to construction, but a ferry station was easily accessible that would get me to my intended destination. As my latte began to remind me of its presence, I hopped onto the ferry upon its arrival and made a b-line to the bathroom. Within an unbelievably short amount of time I felt the ferry slow. How long was this trip? It couldn't have been longer than a minute or so. Panicking as I began to confirm that we had already reached the destination, I rushed to grab my belongings and charged out of the bathroom towards the exit. As I was about to hop off, reaching the queue just as the last of the passengers were leaving, I realized I couldn't find my phone. Yes - my phone that holds my credit cards, public transportation pass, identification, and is the force behind my lifeline - Google maps. "Slow is smooth and smooth is fast," I thought, imagining the voice of Modern Family's Phil Dunphey speaking to me as I threw my backpack onto a chair and frantically began dumping everything out. As people had commenced exiting and a new wave of tourists were now entering the ferry, I confirmed my phone was not in the bag. And so my nightmare became reality as I began serving as the in-boat entertainment, lapping back and forth from the entrance to the bathrooms, wondering where it could have possibly gone.
'Which bathroom did I go in?!' I began to psych myself out, 'Did I push the door open or did I pull??'
When the ferry driver could no longer wait for me, it started off to the next destination as I continued retracing my steps, over and over, my phone being nowhere to be found. People started helping me, even offering to call my U.S. number (to no avail, as I keep my phone on airplane mode to conserve the battery). "The only place I've been was the bathroom!" I kept telling people, wondering where it could possibly be. Low and behold, it had been stolen. As we were arriving at the next stop I wondered how I was going to get home, having lost all of my most crucial possessions simultaneously. Suddenly an elderly woman came forward holding my phone up in the air, my mind picturing it glowing brighter than a golden ticket and imagining angels singing harmoniously in the background. Apparently she had picked it up on the bathroom shelf before I had realized it was missing and embarked on my desperate search, having intention of turning it in to the ferry crew back in Sydney. After "rescuing" it, she then proceeded to sit on the top deck to score a seat in the sun, where she was unable to see my hysteria. I gave her a big hug, and my endless string of thank you's were interrupted by the ferry attendant telling me I had better get off or they were going to leave again. I could almost see the narration of his thoughts painted across his face: "Bloody Yank." I imagined his tone would be serious, featuring a hint of comedic pity. Elated that my crisis had been averted, I hopped off the ferry, thus ending the show, and realized I was right back on the same platform I had loaded the ferry from in the first place.
A local advised me of a walking path, and I ventured along and finally reached the beautiful Mosman's Bay. I sat on a bench to write, but soon as the wind began to pick up and the clouds began to darken I figured I had better start heading back towards home.
Arriving back in Baulkham Hills in time to attend the 6 p.m. church service, allowing me the opportunity to hear a sermon so brilliant that, coupled with exhaustion, it caused me to experience the full emotional spectrum throughout the hour and a half - often simultaneously. I mark the day up to a success.
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