Chicken, Chicken, Chicken!

Started with a free-range chicken, rubbed with vegetable oil (still haven't picked up any olive oil) coarse salt and fresh ground pepper. Then I shoved 1/3 a can of Guinness in it's butt.

(Side Note: Beer is ridiculously expensive. Maybe it's because I bought it from the bottle shop attached to a pub, but 4 cans of Guinness, $26. Today, a six-pack of a local brew, $18.50. Need to find cheaper beer sources.)

Since I set off the hotel's fire alarm last week making toast, forcing the fire department to come out, I've been flipping out every time I've had to cook anything. This chicken was no different. For whatever reason, the oven has a "create smoke like wet hair is on fire" setting. With all the windows open, the exhaust hood on, and me fanning the smoke away from the detectors, I was able to prevent another evacuation of the building. Can't wait to move out of here.

I had planned on cooking the asparagus and broccolini in the same roasting pan as the chicken as the juices ran, but no such luck as I was busy the entire time making sure I didn't alert Sydney's Bravest. Instead I sauteed them.


This meal also turned into Chicken Noodle Soup and my signature Holiday Chicken Salad, although I can't seem to find any green onion here. This is a problem; one because this caused the salad to be missing some zing, two because without green onion, I may lose all faith in food. I'll see if an Asian supermarket stocks it.

Cooking has been a good distraction as the weather has been bad and as I'm still trying to make friends.

New Blogger Handle

Beaty Dubs, I had to change my Blogger handle from '88' to 'Zed' because I learned Neo-Nazi's use '88' to signify 'Heil Hitler' (H is the 8th letter of the alphabet).

So I had that going for me. Hopefully you haven't spent the last 4+ years of my blogging history thinking I was a skinhead.

Strangest Thing to Happen to Me in Sydney

Getting a haircut from what I am 80% sure is a post-op transgender from Indonesia while the tiny, overcrowded salon was actively being flooded from a faulty air-conditioning system.

Did I mention my head smells like peppermint from the scalp treatment I got?

Well, that's just the strangest thing so far.

No Longer Homeless, Still Immature.

So I found myself walking down the streets of Sydney last night singing (very audibly) the Toys R Us jingle.



Now, I'm a grown ass man. Why would I be singing "I don't wanna grow up!"?

Well, probably because I'm really not a grown ass man at the moment.

Allow me to explain. I have been looking for long term accommodation the last couple of weeks in Sydney. My mind was set. Get a one bedroom. Close to work. Enough space and amenities to have nice things and begin building a home like an adult. Around $1400-$1500 a month.

Well, this plan fell apart at the seams in the five days spent seriously apartment hunting. I found out that in order to do that, I'd be paying at least $2000-$2100 a month for accommodations that were less than ideal. I was also struck by the idea that living alone might turn me into some kind of agoraphobic recluse. History has also proven that roommates often make fast friends.

So, I caved. The place I'm going to live in, for at least the next six months, I've already nicknamed The Real World House. Why? Because it's huge; something like 6 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms. As least 10 people living there. All either students or Yupsters like me. It's even got the bright Real World color scheme and comes complete with two MTV producers for landlords.

No, I'm serious. These two guys are like 40-ish, with leather jackets and designer jeans. They greet everyone with "Here comes those naughty boys/girls!" If it weren't for the fact I so desperately wanted this apartment, I would have run away screaming "Toucher!"

The pros of living in this house:
- I save some money on rent, at least $500 a month
- The room itself is really sweet. My own bathroom and a bedroom bigger than most apartments I've seen. Seriously, think one of those Real World bedrooms, but instead of sharing it with like 3 other bros, it's just me.
- I get to meet some randos

The cons:
- I won't be having anyone stay with me for at least the 6 months or so of my lease.
- I may have to meet some randos

So, in summation, I've delayed growing up. Again.

Dericious!

I've been making these baller fried egg sandwiches:



Ingredients:

- Bread: I forget how the Aussies call it, but it's basically whole wheat loaves from the supermarket bakery

- Bacon: What is basically Canadian Bacon, but here called "short cut bacon".

- Egg: Despite them being called "large", they are much smaller than US eggs. Probably 50% smaller

- Cheese: "Tasty Cheese". As far as I can discern, it's sharp cheddar. I don't know if "Tasty" is a description or a brand.

All made in the same pan with a tablespoon of butter. Just plop everything down (with the cheese on the bread, of course). Turn everything once. Assemble and enjoy with "Tomato Sauce" (which is just runny, sweeter ketchup).

The little things to remind me of home.

Lamb Chops and Veggies

My second attempt at a home cooked meal was much more successful than the first.

I pan seared some lamb chops that I had rubbed with oil, rosemary, oregano, salt, and fresh ground pepper. I really should finished it in the oven, one to avoid over-cooking the outside, but also because I nearly set off the entire hotel's fire alarm. That would have been embarrassing.

I also grilled some asparagus in the same pan, and coupled it with some boiled broccolini. I'm going to have to find out what produce is local to Australia and what isn't.

All in all, a pretty good effort. Really could have used some red wine to go along with it, but I thought a whole bottle of wine for myself would have been a bit much. This venture also had me buying black pepper, oregano, and rosemary. At this rate, I'll have a fully supplied kitchen by 2011.

Bike Cop

So my hatred for bicyclists when I was in San Francisco was well known and often contested. When I arrived in Sydney, I was not sure what to expect. I had been told Sydney is very accessible to bicycles and I have seen bike lines on many roads. On the other hand, there were fewer hipsters with fixes and a casual disregard for pedestrian safety.

This morning, as I was doing my normal commute to work, I noticed a man in an official uniform and traffic vest on the Pyrmont Bridge. I had seen him several times this week, but it only occurred to me today that this bridge does not serve auto traffic. Now what does a traffic cop do on a pedestrian bridge?

As I walked past, I heard a fellow tourist ask the same thing. To which he replied, "We try to keep the bicyclists in line. Tell them to slow down, give the right of way to pedestrians, etc."

I think I'm going to like this city.

Right (Left?) of Way

So I have had quite a conundrum going the last few days walking around Sydney: which side of the street do I actually walk on? Now, this is not as trivial as it sounds. I'm lanky and full of odd angles, going against the flow of traffic isn't just inconvenient, it's downright impolite to elbow someone on the sidewalk!

So as some of you know, Sydney, being part of the Commonwealth and a former British colony, has roads designed for driving on the left. This extends to other modes of transport as well; the bicycle lane is on the left, and they even signal with their right arm as opposed to left. As a natural extension, one would assume you would also walk to the left, pass to the right. For me, being a boorish American, this doesn't come naturally and often I find myself walking on the right side of the right hand sidewalk. However, when I notice this, or feel myself walking against the flow of pedestrian traffic, I immediately switch over.

So far though, this hasn't made me any less of an obstruction to the walkways of Sydney. Some of this is could be the fact Sydney is populated with many tourists and foreigners like myself. Some of this could be attributed to the numerous one-way streets and irregular roads of old Sydney (given it's an "Old World" city). Some of it could just be that people don't actually pay attention to this kind of mundane detail like I do.

There is this one bridge going from Darling Harbour, the part of town I'm currently living at the hotel, and Pyrmont, the part of town where Google's office is located. This is where the phenomenon is most acute. Each morning, I have found myself to be like a salmon going upstream, beset in a current of angry Sydney-siders. I walk on the right, notice I am doing so and begin walking on the left, but to no avail as it is equally against the flow. This bothered me to no end until today when I realized I was focusing on the wrong pattern entirely. You see, Pyrmont is a mostly residential neighborhood. Darling Harbour is around the Central Business District, where most of the south shore financial institutions are located. I am not going against traffic because I'm a foreigner, but instead it's because in the mornings and afternoons, I am doing a reverse commute.

QED.

Anyways, there's really no point to this post. Just felt like writing something.

Oh, and it sure does feel good to be working in a city again. Walking to work is pretty sweet. Walking to work and doing lots of people watching is even better.

First Home Cooked Dinner

...Well, sort of. I boiled some pasta, grilled some ground beef, and put it in some canned spaghetti sauce. Then I promptly salted the sauce to the point of toxicity. Hooray for me!



If I had prepared or planned on cooking that evening, something better might have resulted. Because I didn't, I ended up resorting to a college favorite, cheap, easy spaghetti.

Some initial observations of Down Under:

- Most food contains real sugar as opposed to HFCS. For this I am pleased. So pleased, I have decided to eat twice as much sugar.

- Within 48 hours of landing in Australia, I consumed 1.5 sleeves worth of Tim Tams and spent $200 on running shoes. I need to do some calibration.

Just a simple first blog post. I'll try and update at least once a week, letting you folks know how I'm doing. If I stop posting entirely, you can assume I've been eaten by any one of crocodile, shark, or kangaroo. Perhaps all three at once.

Love,


-Zhi