To The Land of Oz

My initial impressions upon landing here in Australia were simultaneous and many.  After 6 months of rocketing overstimulation, my senses were decidedly underwhelmed upon debarking.  For the first time in recent memory I inhaled lungful after lungful of cool, crisp, clean air.  No longer was my throat burning from the pollution, no longer was my olfactory system overwhelmed by the scents of rotting garbage and exhaust and the raw sewage flowing along the footpath.  This place is clean, so much so that for the first time this year, I’m neither elevating my feet in restaurants to avoid the certain scurrying of begging rats, nor averting my eyes from their fat brothers racing on the rafters above.

As quickly as I realized the overt absence of so many environmental qualities I’ve grown accustomed to this year, I couldn’t help but notice the presence of others.  This place, or at least the parts of Sydney I’ve seen so far, is beautiful.  Really, really beautiful.  Despite arriving in the heart of winter, many of the trees still hold their leaves.  The grass is emerald green, and tropical flowers continue to bloom.  Parakeets and lorikeets continue to squawk and dive along the tree line, some even as bold as their homely pigeon cousins, coming closer than I’m comfortable with to pilfer crumbs. 

And the people.  There is a heterogeneity here that I find incredibly refreshing, a feature in many western cities that I’ve really missed, and don’t take for granted.  Despite being an urban setting, those I’ve met are decidedly more laid back and relaxed than the average Chicagoan.  And nice, they are so nice.  I don’t know that I’ve met a friendlier bunch anywhere, ever.  Their manners are impeccable, so much so that even on public transportation, everyone is given their turn to board and their personal space to relax while their magically efficient network gets them where they need to be.  And in my experience, on time.  Personal space on a sparklingly clean, relatively efficient mode of public transportation?  Good Lord, it’s been a long time.

Like anyplace though, this place isn’t perfect.  While they brew some of the best coffee I’ve ever had, I pay a small fortune for each cup.  Though at this point in my travels, quite willingly.  They make some tasty wine and beer, but alcohol seems to dominate the Aussie social scene.  While no different than home, it's become painfully obvious to me after so long away.  And while their winter temperatures are more comparable to a Chicago springtime, I realized after the first few nights of painstakingly shivering all of my thermals in a threadbare blanket that they rarely have heaters.  At least in the hostels.  Lucky for me though, this magical land of Oz is also the magical land of Target.

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