So. Being poor is amazing. It pushes you to be thrifty in ways you previously thought were impossible to maintain your lifestyle, but it honestly suits me quite well. This would be my polly pocket kitchen. It may look normal, but the top of the fridge comes up to about the middle chest. Being in the kitchen is now yet another activity requiring me on my knees. And yes if you can see right that is a bowl
of my secret sauce for everything I cook. Makes a great pasta sauce, chicken marinade, and an incredible egg omelet tbell surprise. Apparently the remnants of the greatest food chain ever to grace this planet still remain in this country under the alias of "Taco Bill". I still have yet to explore, even though it may be my biggest conquest to come. Regardless, meat and milk have become novelties, and heaven forbid if I splurge for a chocolate bar it's like 5 star dining. Trust me. Nothing gets your morning started like a glass of cold water and a bowl of dry oats.
Ahh the technological masterpiece known as the tram. This is the transportation gold in which I am chauffeured around Melbourne. I honestly say it's love. It is ALWAYS on time, doesn't drain my wallet, and even though I have to ride it for about 2 hours a day I can occupy myself with other activities during if I get bored...if only I could say that about some men. So speaking of these "other" activities. Since tv, advanced phones, restaurant dining, and movie theaters are out of the budget (although I hear Toy Story 3 is great, and I can't wait for it to open here...in a week), I find I now indulge myself in new areas.
I'm hesitant to admit I've joyfully discovered the massive romance novel collection of the local library. The eloquent pros and story lines cater to just about everything for which I look in a book. I never knew I could relate so well to a blond prostitute who falls in love with one of his clients, or a lonely college kid who finds magic in the locker room. I especially enjoy casually reading these books in plain sight of others while either on the tram or at Wash Wednesdays (half off the machines at the local laundromat). And I'll allow you to imagine how a certain tram conversation progressed that started with "Hey do you like that one? I've read it before...". But hey at least it's reading right?
However, my favorite pastime lies in Bikram Yoga. 26 pain staking postures done over the course of 90 minutes in a room heated to over 105 degrees. I am currently on my 7th consecutive day, and I am inching ever closer to my goal of looking like the man on the cover. But it now being Winter, I find it's a haven from the ice box where I live. I truly am proud of myself for doing it, and I've never been pushed in such a way. In the first 15 minutes I'm already shirtless, drenched( I mean we're talking somehow wetter than if I was swimming in a pool), and crying...kind of reminds me of drinking. But the real reason I do it is because of the first posture.
Who knew that a certain lesbian had been preparing me for this class for YEARS. Regarddddlesssssss. So one of my favorite aussie slangs (besides 'ranga', short for orangutans, being what they call gingers here), is the word bogan. It's what they call poor people in the country. It's basically your equivalent to a mullet loving hick, and boy did I get acquainted with it last weekend. Always being on the lookout for an adventure, I accompanied some mates up north to see a local band play at a pub. Now imagine if Precious had a family reunion, except it was the white trash version, and you weren't invited. My favorite moment was when I was approached by a group of young bogan males who looked fresh out of high school and asked if I
was a "lad". After further explaining, this meant they were asking if I was a hustler. Apparently me dressed in my typical polo getup meant that I was quite wealthy, and to the locals I was a pimp from the city. It was all truly intriguing and tragic at the same time. But I saw my first kangaroo, so it was all worth it. And side note this is what ALL the urinals here look like and bogan town was no exception. I feel like every time I pee I'm getting a golden shower...too much too soon? If you have to ask...you'll never know.
There really isn't that much to report on from the week. I went to the ACMI (Aussie Centre for the Moving Image(free)) which was more like a shrine to Heath Ledger and Cate Blanchett. It was perfect for my 8 year old self as I got to ride in Batman's car and play on every game system made in history. And I may have pushed an asian school group out of the way while running to the Godzilla exhibit...but really.
I'm currently awake because the Socceroos are playing, and I heard the faint cry of a vuvupaininmyass outside my window.
I watched last Friday's games in a gay bar...how out of character I know. The best moment was the answer I received from a girl I questioned on how she had no idea of the bar's orientation. "Did you not see the huge rainbow flag when you came in?!"..."I thought it was a country's flag for the World Cup or something"...definitely bogan.
As always. Missing you all dearly. Except Amar. But especially Alex who has yet to show himself in the Tropics...I blame BP. Cheers!
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