My Hunt For an Apartment, Some Australian Culture and Affordable Eggs

A great way to discover the suburbs of Brisbane and to orient myself in a completely new place is to search for a place to live.  I have been in many different areas of town and have enjoyed the opportunity to sit on buses, view what's around me and then to explore neighborhoods by foot.

Last week I went to The Gap (the neighborhood, not the store that tries to find a new color every year that hans't been made into a T-shirt) and saw a newly-remodeled, completely furnished studio--which is perfect for me and Hugo, considering we don't have any furniture or much kitchen stuff at all.  (We can make a pot of tea and drink it out of our two glasses.  We can filter some water, stir things with a wooden spoon we have and scrape something with my Noni's metal spatula that I brought with me from home.  That's pretty much it.)  The male owner of the house is from Mauritius and so he speaks French fluently and his wife is learning.  All of the utilities are included, which just makes things easier, and no bond/deposit would be required.  Sounds pretty perfect.  BUT...there were no windows in the place.  The house is built into a hill and so the first floor can only be accessed by the entry door.  Sigh... onto the next one.

The next day, I exited the bus in Jamboree Heights.  That would be so fun to say when someone asks me, "now, where do you live?"  "Jamboreeeeeeee Heights!" Everyday would be a party.  This place was pretty bad.  The landlord was sneaky and said there were two bedrooms on the floor.  He didn't tell me about the three on the other floor.  We would have been sharing the kitchen and bathroom with a lot more people than I understood.  And when I showed up to see the place, a young woman named Verona answered and told me that the landlord wasn't there and that she was staying home from work because she was so ill last night and she thinks that she got a bug from this kid she saw and how she's in pain and how she had nothing left in her system.  She told me details upon details that I didn't ask for and and she looked pale and held her belly the whole time she spoke.  All of a sudden, two things happened.  I knew I didn't want Hugo and I to live there-hell, I didn't even want to be there for three minutes- and Verona became a place I would never want to vacation.

These are just two stories to illustrate my adventures in the home-search.  While I haven't yet been successful in finding something, what I have found is this:  Queenslanders love flip flops, which they call thongs.  They are everywhere.  I have never understood the flip flop, I still don't understand the flip-flop  and I seem to be the only one here that wants to be able to run at any given moment.  They are a piece of wardrobe to have (but I'll stick with my Chacos, thank you.)  Trends are rampant here but so is a sense of "I'm putting this funny outfit together and you're not going to judge".  Another current trend is the shorter-mullet.  The hair is carefully tossled and there is a small section in back that is longer.  When someone is sitting in front of you on the bus with one of these, it's really hard not to take a little yank.

As I walk around and into stores, I am struck by the ambient music here.  Granted, I didn't know what to expect, but I had the experience with being bombarded in Germany and France with more electronic/disco music that I would have liked. To give you a sense...I heard Ben Folds Five in my bank.  Then, I heard Tegan and Sara in the grocery store followed by some Phoenix and then some Electric Blanket.  

Grocery stores.  Have I mentioned to you how expensive eggs are here?  $5.50 for a dozen.  Every time I go to the store, I look for eggs.  It's become just a habit now.  You all know how much I adore a good omelette, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs with cheese, etc.  I just keep picturing that I will go to the store and the price will be $2.69 or something.  Will it and it will happen.

While a same-sex marriage bill was voted down in February, Australia recognizes same-sex couples and awards them with the same rights as hetero-couples in regards to taxes, health, bereavement, etc.  There isn't a national registry of same-sex partnerships or unions, but we will have to wait and see what happens on this front.

What is it with 'love' and 'mate'?  If I'm not called 'mate' by someone, I'm normally called 'love'.  I find it ironic that both terms of endearment have something to do with procreation.  Does a thirty-something, fertile woman really need to be hearing that all day?  Subliminal messages every hour.  Maybe it has something to do with Australia trying to increase their population and production.

See ya later, mate.
See ya later...mate.
See ya later.  Mate.

Oh, I almost forgot.  On Friday, Hugo and I went to visit the Solomon family (the wonderful people who he stayed with when he arrived.  A professor at QUT-where Hugo is doing his PhD-- his wife and two kids)  Hugo ran there and so I was going to take the bus and meet him.  I hopped on a bus from the downtown Roma St Station and I recognized the bus driver from a couple days prior.  I sat in the first seat and we talked about her time in Vancouver and my experiences here.  I am not sure the odds of having seen her again so soon, on two completely different lines.  But, I was pleased to have so much time to talk to her as she drove me (well, us...it wasn't like it was my private bus) out to a suburb of Brisbane called Chapel Hill.  That night, I ate some spicy vindaloo, played blocks with Lohna, learned about Rugby and Rugby League, saw some enormous bats fly around and finally....finally....saw the starry sky.

Take care.  Mate.