Since arriving in Melbourne about one month ago, I pretty much feel like I’m still in the States. I came here to live with my Brit boyfriend, and live together we are doing, in our newly rented two-bedroom apartment in Brunswick. There have been little things that are different for me, good and bad. The bad differences always seem easier to notice, like the ridiculous Myki system (sorry), the sizes of items in grocery stores (tiny), the price and availability of Internet (lacking). But, I feel a good sense of neighbourhood. I’ve recognised people on the tram from previous tram trips, whether it was earlier that day or even two weeks ago. That does not happen in New York.
Things like beer and dinner are striking me as super expensive here. Clean Skins wine has become my go-to bev of choice. Don’t judge, it can go either way. At $3 per bottle, the stakes are low. I’ve only eaten out formally here twice. One was before I knew any better and ended up paying about $15 for a bagel with some cheese and avocado on it, and the other time was for a $12 steak night at a pub (totally worth it). Don’t get me wrong, food in NYC isn’t always cheap, but there’s usually a bodega on the corner where I can get a cheap egg sandwich.
I’m sure I just haven’t done enough exploring yet, but my New York staples just aren’t the same here. I’ve only tried the one bagel, and can’t really even contemplate pizza. Mexican food really doesn’t make the cut, either. These things are sacred to a New Yorker. Other foreigners have warned me to stop comparing the prices with those at home, but until I’m making the same wage as an educated Australian, I’ll continue to compare, thanks. The one type of food I can afford to eat out is any delicious variation of Lebanese dough filled with cheese, spinach, falafel, or mince, which basically lets me eat anywhere on Sydney Road, conveniently. These are delicious, and look great on my waist.
Also: Dark Chocolate Tim Tams. Awesome.
Coffee. Not only is my pronunciation of the word a problem, but my lack of experience pouring anything besides drip brew that’s been sitting for hours on a hot plate at a deli basically renders me useless at any attractive 9-5 day job in hospitality. People are super serious about coffee here, but obviously you don’t need me to say that. The fact that I’ve only seen two Starbucks in the entire city so far is shocking and refreshing, but I do have a current Starbucks gift-cards I need to use.
I’ve tried to order a “black coffee” and an “iced coffee” a few times and luckily I’ve been corrected quickly enough, in the case of the iced coffee, to change my order. No, I don’t want ice cream. I want a large glass with ice cubes and black, cold coffee in it. I do enjoy the serious attitude towards coffee, but I don’t think I should feel intimidated when I enter a coffee shop (this goes out to you, in East Brunswick, with the No Bloggers sign on your door). A coffee shop should also have Internet. Most don’t.
I find that I’m being taken more seriously professionally here than ever in NYC. In the one month I’ve been in Melbourne, I’ve emailed about 15 publications and heard back about writing for 5 of them. In NYC, I spent two years pitching ideas and applying for jobs, and heard nothing positive, ever. I’m not sure if this is due to less competition by sheer numbers, the novelty of being an American/New Yorker all the way in Australia, or if I’m finally just getting the attention I deserve. I’d like to think it’s the latter, but I’m sure it’s a combination of the three. It’s great to have the reinforcement that comes from successful writers actually answering my emails. That’s definitely a confidence booster.
I do like it here. The people here are nicer. Besides the women in ANZ on Swanston Street, everyone I’ve approached or queried on the street or in a train station has been really helpful and friendly. Australians just seem like genuinely nice people. That’s definitely not a given in New York. I love Sydney Road with its odd collection of cheapo homewares stores and bars. I love getting a whole tray of fish for $10 at the end of the day at Vic Market, and the $3 spicy lamb and vegetable borek that I get with it. I love shopping at veg shops where fruits don’t look perfect and symmetrical like they’ve had drugs pumped through them, and I love talking to cab drivers from a totally different side of the world. There are little green parrots flitting around and olive trees on almost every property in my neighborhood. Despite the differences I’ve noticed from my home in New York, I can definitely see myself getting comfortable in Melbourne.
