If there is one thing I’ve learned from my week of living in Australia, it’s that everything is harder abroad. I like to consider myself a “glass half full” kind of person, but when you are living overseas, it doesn’t matter how much water you think is in the glass. You will inevitably drop the glass and it will shatter across the floor into a million minuscule pieces. And just when you think you’ve swept up all the chards, you’ll step on a stray one and slice your toe open. I’m being a wee bit over dramatic, but ask anyone who has lived in a different country, and I’ll bet you my sliced toe that they’ve had something go array within their first week. And that’s precisely how it went with me.
When I touched ground in Sydney, it was 7:04 am on Monday. The 17 hour time difference had my internal clock all sorts of messed up, but I had plenty of energy due to my excitement of finally arriving in Australia. Prior to exiting the plane, I filled out the mandatory customs slip of paper that asked if had any items to declare. The list included your typical drugs, bombs, and stolen money, but it also asked about seeds and nuts. I am a humongous fan of food and make the same exact smoothie bowl with granola for every breakfast (which I’ll go into detail later), so I brought along some of its essential components. Amongst my protein powder and other random superfoods, I packed two jars of Trader Joe’s salted peanut butter, one jar of almond butter, and some Zella’s hazelnuts. I’m keen on all of these items, but I shuttered at the thought of losing those delicately roasted, melt-in-your-mouth hazelnuts. I was forced to weigh my odds, do I risk getting exported out of the country for the sake of my nuts or do I accept defeat and declare my nuts? I deeply pondered my dilemma for so long that by the time I came back to consciousness, I completely forgot about the nuts (wink wink), and thus checked the “no items to declare” box. A risky move, but I like to live on the edge.
After gathering all of my belongings, I got off the plane, took care of the passport business, piled my three bags onto a cart, and then headed to customs. At the entrance, a nice-looking plump lady was seated assessing people’s slips. I took three deep relaxation breaths and headed her way. I handed her my slip. She glanced at me, then at my bags, then back at me. She then placed the customs slip back into my sweaty palms and told me to proceed to line 2. I calmly rolled my bags on through the line until I got to another nice-looking plump lady. I handed her my customs slip and she piled my bags through an x-ray belt. This was the moment of truth. After what felt like 5 years, she piled my bags right back onto my cart and directed me towards the exit around the corner. Wahooo, I made it to Australia! I sang a little victory melody in my head as I rolled my bags past her. I wrapped around the bend and all of a sudden my heart dropped. The show wasn’t over yet. In front of me were four burly men holding dogs. Before crossing the final security point, everyone had to form an assembly line as the dogs sniffed each bag one by one. Holy nuts, I’m screwed! There is nothing dogs love more than peanut butter. Before I could collect my thoughts, the security guy called me over to the front of the line. He then pointed over to my bags and asked if they were mine. I confirmed that they were my bags. I was ready to get down on all fours and plead guilty, but then he asked me the most peculiar question, “do you have any dirty football boots in your bag?”
This really threw me off guard. How the heck did he know this? Did he already do a background check on me? Then I remembered I had to fill out my profession on the customs slip. He explained to me something about how grass in shoes can contain hazardous particles and be a felony if brought into another country. In my opinion, that’s about as nuts as not allowing nuts into the country, but to each their own. Thankfully, my soccer cleats were in a different bag than my nuts. I opened my bag up and handed him my shoes. He meticulously inspected them for grass remnants. Apparently, they were clean enough for his standards. He released me from the line and I was officially a free woman! I’m still perplexed as to how the dogs didn’t detect my peanut butter, but I’ve speculated that Australian breeds have different taste preferences than their American counterparts.
My next task was to find my new coach, Norm, and general manager, Rob. I did not have a working phone, but was informed to meet them right outside the security point. I assumed I’d have no problem spot them, but the place was a zoo. I felt like a lost cub trying to find her mother in the jungle. I scanned each person looking for Western Sydney Wanderers gear. After 20 minutes of searching, I finally spotted Norm and Rob in their red and black track suits.
Norm and Rob then drove me to my home a la bode where I’d be living with Hannah Beard from England, and Keelin Winters, my old college teammate. When I arrived at the house, Keelin was there to greet me. My bed hadn’t arrived yet, so I was told I’d be sleeping on the living room couch for the next few nights. At this point, I was thankful to have made it this far in the journey, and crashing on a couch was the least of my worries.
The couch looked quite cozy after my long day of travel, but Keelin said it’s best to force yourself to stay up all day to adjust to the time change. So we decided to walk to the bank and grocery store, which were a 20 minute hill-filled walk away. It felt nice to get my legs moving after such a long flight. When we made it to the bank, I walked in and informed the teller that I wanted to set up a bank account. The first thing she asked me for was my passport. And that happened to be the one thing I left back at the house…so we had to save this feat for tomorrow. We then decided to get some groceries. I have a strange admiration for grocery shopping and could spend hours investigating each aisle for hidden treasures and deals. On this particular trip, my stomach was extra grumbly, so I shoved all the delicious munchies I feasted my eyes upon into my cart. When we started checking out, I realized that we had to carry all these groceries 20 minutes back to our house. I strategically jammed all the food I bought into two plastic bags. The bags were overflowing, but I figured this was the best solution. It took a matter of two minutes of walking to realize that this in fact not a wise choice at all. My shoulder started cramping and every few seconds I had to adjust my positioning to relieve the pain. Another minute passed, and the weight of the food stretched the plastic handles until they were thinner than a piece of hair, thus cutting off the circulation of my fingers. What I anticipated would be a casual stroll home, turned out to be a full fledged upper body workout. A week has passed, and I still am experiencing shoulder pain. Lesson learned: don’t go to the store hungry, and if you do, bring a backpack.
When we got back to our place the couch looked even more comfortable than ever before, but we had a recovery session that night so I had to stay strong. The session turned into an eyelid workout. Everytime my eyes closed, I forced my 10lb eyelids back open. I got in at least 100 reps of this exercise, so I’d it was a pretty successful workout.
We finally made it back to our place by 9pm and I was wiped beyond belief. Keelin kindly adorned my couch with some sheets, and I passed out before she could sing me to sleep.
I slept like an angel. One of those sleeps where you wake up and have absolutely no idea where you are even though you hadn’t been drinking the night before. Then it hit me. Not only did I make my flight to Australia, but my peanut butter and nuts were safe and sound in the pantry! Yesterday was an extremely long and relatively unsuccessful day, but today was a new day. And there is no better way to start it off than with my custom made, self-proclaimed, somewhat-world famous chocolate peanut butter smoothie bowl. Over the years, I’ve tried several different ingredients, consistencies, and ratios, and am proud to profess that I’ve created the greatest smoothie unknown to mankind. I’ve had this smoothie bowl almost every morning for the past year and it never gets old. It’s gotten to the point, where I treat my breakfast as a spiritual experience. It’s my time of the day when nothing and no one can bring me down. Who cares if I almost missed my flight, forgot my passport, and tore my shoulder blade apart yesterday. This was the time that my smoothie and I become one. When all my troubles wash away in the midst of this heavenly creation.
My mouth started to water, signaling that it was time to gather the supplies from my bag. I grabbed my Nutribullet blender, as well as the the outlet convertor that Keelin graciously reminded me to pack for my electrical appliances. I then began the preparation. I added ice, 1/2 a frozen banana, some chocolate protein powder, Trader Joe’s peanut butter, almond milk, various superfoods, and a few other secret ingredients. I attached the convertor to the outlet, plugged the blender into the wall, and started the baby up. I turned around to assemble my granola garnish, but was quickly interrupted by the engine’s unusually loud grumbling. I crouched down to inspect the machine, when all of a sudden sparks rocketed out of the engine towards my face. Flames shot out left and right, just barely missing my eyeball. My blender was putting on a miraculous miniature firework show right in the confines of our kitchen. I was not entertained. I screamed, unplugging the blender as fast I could. Keelin hurried to the kitchen to check on what was causing this ruckus, only to to see aftermath. My blender was fuming with smoke and the kitchen reeked of burnt chemicals.
Evidently, I needed a particular special wattage convertor for these kind of appliances. I started having heart palpitations at the thought of a smoothie-less life for an entire 3 months. Keelin attempted to cheer me up, saying that we were going to have a successful day today. We were going to catch the bus into the city, get my phone working, set up a bank account, and get me a convertor. Her words of encouragement picked me right up. Today was going to be a great day, l couldn’t let this bring me down. On a positive note, my smoothie got in a solid 5 seconds of blending, so I decided to consume it anyways. A bit chunkier than usual, but beggars can’t be choosers.
