Today L and I were talking about travel and where we stand; our place in the world at this point in time. The visa talk is one that we have often, as we sit stuck between knowing what we can and can’t choose next. As I said in a previous post, I want to settle down a bit, and I’m okay with that because I know that I’ll never stop traveling. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t days that I feel envious and wonder if I’m hanging up my backpack prematurely. Australia is an infamous backpacker destination, where young gap years and thrill-seekers run around the East Coast crowding into backpacker bars and doing all they can to sleep two to a bed in giant dorm rooms. To be honest, I’ve seen the backpacker trail, although I didn’t do it quite by the standards (if you are even allowed to call them that) but I don’t have a huge desire to see those places again. The more I talked about the dilemma of the words ‘traveler’, and ‘backpacker’ the more I realized that I no longer believed that a dilemma existed.

When I think about the possibility of sticking around Sydney and working in my office job for another few years, the only thing that makes me seize up a tiny bit on the inside is that I might loose the freedom of a working holiday traveler. If my travels become spread along a string of annual leave days, suddenly I loose the freedom of choosing where I go and for how long when I’m already there. I may have to meticulously plan my holidays and I will loose the freedom to ever be ‘free’ as a traveler in this country again, as I’m here now. It sounds scary, and it did scare me for a while. And then I started telling L about my fears and realized that the feeling of fear was not accompanying the word fear.

Would you rather this be your local or a quick stop on your way through town?

I have no trips left that I feel like need to be done in a certain way, I know that the way I do them, is the way they were meant to be done. I never really felt limited by age, I can just as easily see myself as a 30-something toting a backpack through SE Asia as I can as a 20-something. I can just as easily walk by the backpacker bars in my 30s as I would in my 20s. And I think I’m quite capable of making friends of all ages with like-minded people and travelers.

I have a lot of trips left that I want to take, some of them I hope will take place over extended periods of time, but I no longer see any of them as trips that need to fit into certain years of my life, as long as they are within my life’s years, whatever those happen to be.

Is travel age-appropriate? is a post from: Wayward Traveller

I know that I complained a lot when I was living in Italy. I tried to keep it in, but I’ll indulge you with a little piece of shear honesty here, Italy is NOT perfect. Under the Tuscan Sun may be a true story but remember how frustrated she got in it, remember the faucets that didn’t work and the walls that crumbled down? It’s a lot of that. Plus, there’s the whole government and immigration system and not to mention the Italians that only speak to you in English regardless of which language you speak to them in and regardless of the fact that they don’t actually know English. Sure, I made plenty of mistakes and was ignorant. I’m human. But this post isn’t about life in Italy, that is just a preface to what I’m about to say.

I freaking miss Italian pizza.

I’ve written about it a few times, and I’m sure L is tired of hearing me talk about it. But seriously, I could use a bit of O’ Scugnizzo in my life. See, we were really spoiled because there was the best pizza place in all of Florence literally around the corner from our flat. I could eat there every single night, no problem. It’s been tough going living without my beloved Naplitano pizzamen (they even spoke Italian with me!) but I’ve had to make do here in Sydney. I’ve done my research fair and square and I’ve discovered some great and some mediocre.

A real Italian Pizza: photo credit

It’s the crust that has been getting me. It’s not that I can’t appreciate non-Italian pizza, see Hugo’s for example, lovely pizza, flavours and in no way do they seem to claim that they are authentic. And to be honest the pizza is good, for all different reasons.

Hugo’s 

As for flavor, Hugo’s gets my 100% approval. For authenticity, I won’t go there. It’s too good to compare it to something it’s not. Plus, to add to the lure, the Kings Cross (original) location is a popular spot to start an evening out.

Photo Credit: tacit requiem

The pizza won’t disappoint as long as you aren’t expected to be transported to Italy.

Hugo’s has locations at 33 Bayswater Rd, Kings Cross & Manly Wharf East Esplanade. 

Mad Pizza

My unplanned visit to Mad Pizza and my blasé French waiter were probably what intrigued me to go on the search for real Italian pizza in Sydney. The {relaxed, chilled out and friendly} attitude of the waitstaff reminded me of ‘home’ and the pizza held a hint of Italian charm. The large, thin slices of Italian salami were the first indication that I may have stumbled on something good here. The crust was too thin and crunchy for my liking but, if I’m honest, it is not to be considered non-Italian (maybe just non-Napolitano). It was my visit to this hole-in-the-wall location that sparked my memory of just what I was missing from Italy.

Mad Pizza has locations in 312 Victoria St. Darlinghurst, 23 Darlinghurst Rd Potts Point and 241 Crown St  Surry Hills (with a new location at Bondi Beach coming soon…). 

Gigi:

An old favorite this was one of the first places L and I went out on a date (I know, awww… right?). This is the place I used to compare American pizza to when I wanted to pretend I understood what authentic Italian was. The choices aren’t vast in number, but the pizza is tasty and although it is not an exact match, it’s definitely comparable to Italian standards. Besides, Gigi sells Menebrea, an Italian craft-style beer and it’s hard enough to come by in Italy, let alone abroad.

Gigi is located at 379 King St Newtown. 

Pizza e Birra

This is probably the winner, of all things Italian. Even the waiters are all 100% Italian, I mean like I wasn’t allowed to speak English, even though I wasn’t Italian.

The crust is almost as perfectly soft and floury as in Italy. The perfect combination of running mozzarella and herb-filled tomato sauce. Only not quite. Just close enough that my Italian told me we can’t visit too often if we want to stay around Sydney. As in he would get too homesick for the real Italy and want to return. Don’t even get my started on the Olive Ascolana, huge green olives stuffed with mince and then perfectly fried. Absolutely amazing. The best thing was that after living in Italy for 1.5 years, I thought I had discovered something new with these olives when Lorenzo informed me that Olive all’ Ascolana is actually quite a popular snack in Italy, but he doesn’t really fancy them. So of course, I’ve never tried them. Italians think they know everything! 

Pizza e Birra is located at 1/500 Crown St Surry Hills. 

I’m convinced that my twice postponed trip to Criniti’s will answer all my prayers. I visited the Paramatta location a few weeks ago and opted for grilled, stuffed portobello mushrooms before I knew what was good for me. Now, don’t get me wrong, the mushrooms were fantastic but when we put in a last minute order for a garlic pizza starter my mission was born. This was the spitting image of the real, Italian, brick-oven, soft and floury pizza crust. Now I just need to convince my friend Winnie to finally stop cancelling on me so I can find out if the starter stands alone of if the entire pizza menu will be the end-all of this mad search for the real Napolitano pizza.

What about you Sydney-siders, what is the best pizza place you have eaten at in the city?

Best Italian Pizza Places in Sydney is a post from: Wayward Traveller

Between pints of Guinness over the weekend*, hints of words of a blog post floated through my head. When it all came together on paper, it just wasn’t enough. I came up with a couple good lines and then was left with no idea how to finish the story.

The truth is that this time last year we were in Ireland, and it was amazing. I’ve told you all about the amazing Irish locals we met, the ones that now know our life story and are somewhere wandering the middle of Ireland remembering us just the same as we remember them**. We were in the homeland, celebrating the homeland’s holiday. Pure bliss.

The story goes that we met on St. Paddy’s Day in an Irish Pub in the Newtown suburb of Sydney. He followed me around the bar all night while I actively attempted to ignore him and he spilled his life story in Italian-tainted English. I politely listened but really didn’t pay that close of attention. The details I remembered late the next day was only that he was in a band.

That was three years ago. 

This year we celebrated our 3 year anniversary by taking a seat in one of the most Italian places in all of Sydney. Every waiter in the place was so Italian that I actually didn’t have the choice to speak in English when Lorenzo’s true identity was revealed to our waiter (a whole two words in).

So just to reiterate; we celebrated our 3 year anniversary as an Italian-American couple in the middle of Sydney on an Irish holiday in the most Italian restaurant in the city. This is my life. But it’s pretty good.

Without further ado, I give you, [one year and] two days late: A recap of my Ireland photos. Enjoy!

Cliffs of Moher

Ireland is the most photogenic country I’ve been to yet. Very little editing needed on these photos.

Galway, Ireland along the ‘Prom’.

The River Liffey.

Perfect lunch in our favorite spot in Dublin; St. Stephen’s Green.

It’s a secret.

Happy St. Paddy’s Day, I hope you drank green beer!

Disclaimer:

*That is a blatant lie.

**They do not remember us, surely.

St. Paddy’s Day, Ireland and Italian Pizza is a post from: Wayward Traveller

As a traveller, constantly in motion, sometimes you stop to catch your breath and you get a little too comfortable. Sometimes it may start to feel that you aren’t a traveller at all anymore. There is a balance, but it isn’t always the easiest thing to keep. The most important thing is to remember why you are here in the first place.

What is it that you love about here?

I love Sydney, first and foremost for the amazing memories it brought me and the immense life lessons learned. You never forget your first experience abroad. I had to decipher my first French accent here, I got on my first international flight alone, I traveled with someone I hardly knew and I got to choose exactly what life I wanted to live. My choices depended on no one but me.

Now, back after two long years, Sydney is a city that I get to discover all over again, every day. Back then I was so happy to go to exactly the same Irish pub ten minutes away from my house every single night out. I was happy to go out four nights a week (hey, I was still in Uni). Classes were secondary. Today I’m here, living a ‘real’ life. I have friends that want to go for after-work drinks. I commute with the city bus crowd. I have to wait for a second bus if the first one is too full.

How did I get here?

I love it here. 

I travel because I want to meet the world. There are so many people out there and they have so much to teach. I want to see the sights, the kind of history that my own countrymen could only dream they knew in their own backyards.

Most travelers will shun me for saying it, maybe it’s sacrilegious by means of some traveller’s code, but the truth is that I love my job. I love my 9-5. I love it.

Maybe I’ll change my mind, I’m still new to this world but the truth is that at 25-years old, it’s about time. I won’t say that I’ll be in this kind of position my whole life but for now it is exactly where I want to be. I have travel plans and I will realize them whether in the next three months or the next three years but right now, I want a home. Somewhere to buy furniture for and those giant round wine glasses from IKEA (even though I’ll immediately break them). I want a puppy, more than anything in the world. I want Lorenzo and I to be able to live in the same country without having to get married.

I’ll never stop traveling. It makes up such a huge part of who I am. But I can’t say that I’ll always be a constant traveller, a non-stop nomad; it’s probably not the life I want.

Sue me. 

Sure there are days that I envy the non-stop travellers, the fact that they have the freedom and talent to be full-time freelanceers and I can’t even string a consistent number of posts together. But in the end, at least for now, I want to settle a bit and to find a place in the world.

I’m still learning, discovering and I’ll never shun an experience. For me, it’s possible to be any and every kind of traveler if you want, and I intend to be all of them.

Confessions of a Wannabe Business Woman. is a post from: Wayward Traveller

Sydney, AUS

Lately, I’ve spent many an evening in my bed, relaxing and elevating my aching feet. Since one week after arriving in Sydney I have been a full-time working waitress at a hotel down on Sydney Harbour. At the job I’ve met some amazing people, some of my first new friends in Sydney, and some of whom I hope to stay friends with. But the problem is that I have been using my 4:20 am alarm clock as an excuse to do next-to-nothing. I come home from work, sometimes after working 9-10 hours and sometimes after just 7 and all I want to do is sit down. Plans of hopping on the bus to visit friends in Bondi are foiled when I realize that if I close my eyes at this moment I would be out cold and, anyway, I have to be up at the same time tomorrow and the 45 minute commute would get me home past my bedtime.

Where I should be.

The truth is that I have just been making excuses for myself. Sure, I’m tired. Sure, I have ridiculous working hours. But guess what? This is still my life.

When I was in Florence, I got scared. I had made a drastic life decision; uprooted myself and moved to a country I had barely given a second thought just for some guy. I got scared. I landed and realized I didn’t speak Italian, I didn’t know how the country or city ran and I had no idea what to expect. I was disappointed by what I found and I was thrown into a self-inflicted reclusiveness to save myself from embarrassment. Venturing out meant that I couldn’t get done what I wanted. Simple transactions at the supermarket or bank became a nightmarish debacle when I cut someone in line or was given the wrong change. The system was so different. Throw in my being jobless (and Lorenzo having a normal 8am-6pm work schedule) and I simply locked myself in. I made excuses like, the shopping can wait for Lorenzo so that we can decide together what to eat. I don’t really need to go out and get a new sweater because I have some here and I can’t afford it. The list went on.

Braving the city streets to explore Florence.

Things did get better in Florence but I still found myself to be more of a homebody than I ever had been before. Instead of meeting my friends for farewell drinks, I would make up some excuse because I was broke or it was cold, when the truth was that I didn’t want to be social and especially not if it meant the effort of speaking Italian. I always believed I didn’t really belong in Italy. It was never my plan and I was in the wrong state-of-mind to learn the language properly. My self-confidence was too shot. I told myself that when we moved back to Sydney that it would be so much easier because I knew Sydney, I loved Sydney and I spoke the language in Sydney. We’d both be happier there with no expectations to meet. Just freedom.

We arrived in Sydney and I threw myself into a job because I was scared to run out of money. A short supply my entire year and a half in Italy meant I was dead-set on earning immediately. It took a while for me to stop feeling like people at work were attacking me for being new and to start feeling like they were my friends. Then, they were my friends, and they were good ones. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still missing out.

I didn’t realize that my habit of staying in, of being a recluse, would stick. I thought that when the language barriers fell, so would the personal ones. Old habits die hard. I am still finding that I have to fight myself to get out and explore. I love the city, but the hint of a grey cloud or a lonely day with no one to share the sights means that I’m happy to choose my laptop over the great outdoors.

It only took me four months but I have decided to start from the bottom and work my way up. My last day at work will be this coming Sunday, January 22. I’ll miss the wonderful people I work with but the change in schedule and attitude will be a worthwhile improvement. Plus, I don’t plan on letting them go that easily! With a more manageable and ‘normal’ schedule, I won’t be able to use tiredness as an excuse, which means I’ll have no argument against myself.

The things is that I have been living with my nose pressed against the glass.

There is plenty more of this in store for me!

When I was in Europe a group of girls from the class below me in my sorority were traveling and studying abroad. I used to scour their pictures to see the beautiful places they were visiting and the beautiful people they were meeting. I wanted their life. And I was too jaded to realize that I was living it, like for real.

Now, that same group of girls is in Australia doing their Work & Holiday Visas. I caught myself looking through their photos the other day, and although I’m happy to keep up with their adventures (and get inspiration on places to travel), it made me realize that I have been living with my nose pressed against the glass. I wanted their lives. In reality, I am living one quite similar and quite spectacular. I don’t want to take it for granted and watch my WHV slip away. Things are going to change now, and Sydney has been kind enough to usher the change in with some real summer weather.

Do you ever feel like you are living with your nose pressed up against the glass? What kinds of things do you do to remind yourself to live in the moment?

Life with your nose pressed against the glass: lessons in gratitude is a post from: Wayward Traveller

Sydney, AUS

It all started one wintery Sunday in Florence. We had an invitation to one of the well-known expat restaurants in town to enjoy their famous Sunday brunch. It was a company thing actually, our little travel agency had been running the brunch for years and to be honest, the promotion wasn’t go too well that particular semester and as it was being put on by our boss, what better way to get the word out than invite all of the favorite tour guides along.

As I watched the beautifully bulbous glass filled with red tomato-y goodness arriving to my table and tasted the first sip of the deliciously spicy Bloody Mary, I was hooked. Of course, I won’t even speak of the hashbrowns. Some secrets are meant to be kept. Our Sunday meetings at that little restaurant became a tradition and brunch became an obsession. I may or may not have even waited in a three-hour line to try the famous eggs benedict and french toast platter at Mama’s on Washington Square in San Fran.

So what does that mean for Sydney? I welcome a new challenge willingly. It started with a couple of morning stops at the local cafe which sits on our street corner but from there, recommendation after recommendation means that I have been able to try some of the best places in Sydney. My work is far from over here but I wanted to share with you some of my favorites.

Cafe Ish: This was a recommendation from the lovely Heather as one of her favorite breakfast stops in the city and it did not disappoint. Christine and I chose this as our meeting spot on one of her sporadic weekend ventures to Sydney and we vowed to both try something delicious, no matter the price!

After a bit of debate I opted for the fabulous crab omelette, a recommendation from Heather, which included tempura crab and avocado. As someone who is typically not a fan of omelets, it was fabulous. The cuisine at Cafe Ish is classified as Australian/Japanese fusion and that is exactly what it is. This little Surry Hills spot reminded me what I love so much about the creativity of Australian chefs. The coffee was phenomenal as well!

Cafe Ish is located at 82 Campbell St., Surry Hills.

Cafe Giulia: This was a random hint from a former Chippo resident. Apparently, Giulia is a household name around these parts and I wanted in on the action. Famous for their extensive menu, freshly made juices and true-to-Aussie form coffees I will say that even with the $60 dent in my wallet, it was a great brekky. Worth $60? Maybe not. But seriously try the juices; I opted for the Pineapple, apple, ginger, mint and it lasted all of five minutes. I had banana french toast but next time around I would like to try the Tuscan Toast, or one of the other fabulous things on the menu. I preferred the coffee at Cafe Ish to be honest.

Cafe Giulia is located at 92 Abercrombie St., Chippendale.

Well Connected Cafe: Be seated in a cozy leather swivel chair around a tiny table and enjoy your massive cup of coffee with a local paper or magazine. In fact, stay all day if you like. Well Connected even has free wi-fi! Not generally one to diss service, as a worker in the industry myself, but I admit that in my experience these waitresses do tend to get easily confused, just don’t let it get to you, enjoy your lazy morning. I’ve liked what I tried but I hear the eggs benedict are amazing and I’ll be there soon to find out.

Well Co. Cafe is located at 35 Glebe Point Rd., Glebe.

Baffi & Mo: This one came up when I was discussing the awesomeness of brunch with my housemates and she mentioned Baffi & Mo, a little cafe in Redfern. She had never been but her workmates were raving about it. I began reading the reviews on eatability and urbanspoon so see what all the hype was about, and you know, decide what to order. Not all reviews were fantastic. A lot of people were saying that the service was horrible and it looked like the owner pretty much hated her life and everyone in it. They mentioned that, although creative, the chefs seemed to be taking a nosedive in the quality of their food. Then there were a couple of cheers for the Hash Stack. At the time I read the reviews, I was sick and didn’t want to venture too far from home so we opted to head somewhere a bit closer, Newtown, and sat down at Funky Brewsters (see below).

Then one rainy Wednesday with nothing to do we took the plunge and walked to Redfern. What a cute little part of town. Redfern gets a lot of crap for being the slum of the city. Parts of it may be, but Redfern Street is adorable and thanks to Christine’s reply to my foursquare tweet, I now know many other places to try in the area.

Now back to the food.

It was fabulous. The coffee was delicious and the barista/waitress was as sweet as can be! The owner did look a little rough but she didn’t seem unhappy or angry in the slightest. The Hash Stack lived up to the hype; a creative fried stack of has brown strips toped with avocado and a perfectly poached egg, all set on a fresh bed of greens. Lorenzo had the Eggs Benny and seriously… why have I opted for everything else on every menu other than my favorite? It’s time for a change.

Baffi & Mo is located at 94 Redfern St., Redfern.

I have also visted Funky Brewsters on King Street in Newtown but I have to admit that I was underwhelmed. My mission has just begun so please, please tell me: 

What is YOUR favorite brunch/brekky spot in Sydney?? I’ll meet you there and if it makes a mean Bloody Mary, I’ll even buy you one!

Best Brekky Spot in Sydney: my research so far is a post from: Wayward Traveller

Sydney, AUS

I was nominated twice (can we say populuuurr) by the amazing Miss Melly Boo herself of TheMellyBooProject and also by one of my favorite new blogging friends Bobbi of Heels and Wheels to participate in this fun little meme floating around the travel blogosphere these days. So, without further ado…

A: Age you went on your first international trip: That depends on if you want to count Canada. At the time I crossed the border for the first time you didn’t even need a passport to do it. Things have changed now and since then I hopped on my first ever international flight to Puerta Vallarta when I was 21, and not long after I took the trip to Sydney that changed everything. I didn’t even know I wanted to travel when I got on that plane!

B: Best (foreign) beer you’ve had and where: Hmmm, I have been testing out some of the tasty craft brews that Sydney has to offer in the past couple months, and shamelessly comparing them to the list of the Northwest at home. Otherwise, I’d venture to say that the beer in Munich is pretty delicious and Guinness really does taste better in Ireland and as a once avid hater, I have reformed.

C: Cuisine (favorite): Don’t make me choose please. The Italian in Italy is pretty much impossible to beat (or replicate), but I do prefer a little kick. I love Thai, Indian and Mexican but am always a fan of trying new things, especially when spice is involved.

D: Destinations, favorite, least favorite and why: Favorite is Sydney (obviously!) and Whistler definitely tops the list. Bars full of partying Aussie snowboarders, yes please! Least favorite would be Corfu in Greece. I’m sure that it had nothing to do with the careless and rude hostel workers or the “jizz-cuzzi” at the famous Pink Palace hostel.

Students wait to get on the famous Pink Palace Booze Cruise… oh the memories…

E: Event you experienced abroad that made you say “wow”: While I’m in the moment traveling, I can never quite grasp the magnitude of what is actually happening and it is always someone else’s life that looks like a fairytale. That said, I think that my Italian Christmas was one of the few times that I was able to smack myself in the middle of the moment and enjoy experiences another culture, one completely different from mine. A family whose words I could barely understand welcomed me into their home, into their age-old tradition and treated me like one of their own. Pretty insane!

F: Favorite mode of transportation: I love a nice easy train ride where you can relax and let the country pass you by. Buses are good for that too, but then I’ve never been on a long-haul bus ride in South America or Southeast Asia…

G: Greatest feeling while traveling: That’s tough. As I said above I think it’s hard for me to always grasp the moment but I really love both arriving at the airport to take-off and landing in a new city. Something about the city lights just gives me so much energy and excitement about what’s to come. It’s the anticipation of something special coming up.

H: Hottest place you’ve traveled to: Italian summers are seriously hot. Like walking around in a completely asphalt and stone built city in 100+ degrees hot. Like no AC anywhere hot. I have plenty left to learn.

I: Incredible service you’ve experienced and where: We had some particularly memorable service in a some of the places we stayed in California. Just the general niceness and helpfulness of people is refreshing.

J: Journey that took the longest: I haven’t had too many bad ones yet to be honest but our hop over to the States was a bit roundabout as we landed in London, had an overnight then flew out to Iceland. In Iceland we were delayed nearly 4 hours, until about 7pm but the biggest problem was that everything in the entire airport was closed and we were starving. On our budget Iceland Express flight we had to pay for food and since we’d been delayed the entire flight was ready for dinner and with all of the transactions… it was a while before we had anything to eat. Chasing the Iceland summer sun meant we were pretty confused when we landed in New York City finally at about ten o’clock at night, a couple of days later.

K: Keepsake from your travels: Besides my thousands of photos, a couple of fun accessories and pieces of clothing, I guess Lorenzo counts, doesn’t he?

Not exactly a pocket-sized souvenir.

L: Let-down sight, why and where: That’s tough. I wasn’t enthralled with Venice the first time I saw it, but then again I hear that a lot and I feel like that is one of the reasons that I wasn’t excited about seeing it. The second, third and fourth visits allowed me to see it from a different light. I haven’t been let down all that often by destinations thankfully!

M: Moment where you fell in love with travel: It was probably in a Sydney karaoke bar when I managed to stop and look around and notice a room filled with amazing people from all over the world whom I just met but somehow felt as if I’d known for years. That, and the feeling of running down a beach on some beautiful coastline.

That’s love.

N: Nicest hotel you’ve stayed in: That would be the Radisson Blu just outside of the the Vienna City Center. The biggest, warmest shower and softest beds ever! Lovely and all to myself!

O: Obsession—what are you obsessed with taking pictures of while traveling?: Beaches or any water, especially when it reflects the sun. And food.

P: Passport stamps, how many and from where? Five from Australia, one from New Zealand, two from Fiji, two from Paris (although I’ve never traveled to France just arrived and exited Europe via CDG), six from Italy (five or which are completely illegible), one from Iceland (passing through) one from Ireland and two from London.

Q: Quirkiest attraction you’ve visited and where: That’s tough… I’ll have to get back to you on that one. Isn’t there a giant banana somewhere around here in NSW?

R: Recommended sight, event or experience: Anything in Rome; never ceases to amaze me. Surfing in Australia.

S: Splurge; something you have no problem forking over money for while traveling: Plane tickets. That’s what the “savings” is for!

T: Touristy thing you’ve done: Plenty. I would say that spending St. Paddy’s Day in Dublin probably tops the list. And I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

U: Unforgettable travel memory: At the risk of sounding deathly uncreative, pretty much all of them!

V: Visas, how many and for where? One (student) from Italy, and two electronic ones from Australia (student and Working Holiday).

W: Wine, best glass of wine while traveling and where? I don’t discriminate when it comes to wine, especially when it’s shared with amazing people but a brand new bottle from a wine cellar somewhere in the hills of Tuscany is pretty incredible. I’m also a recent lover of Malbec.

X: eXcellent view and from where?: As much as it is (quite literally) killing me, starting work at the crack of dawn means that my workday mornings are filled with brilliant sunrises over the Sydney Opera House.

Y: Years spent traveling? Family trips to Canada started when I was about ten years old. They were followed by snowboard trips in high school and drinking trips in college. All-in-all I have been consistently traveling without realizing it for about five years. But my real love of travel sparked from the first solo journey across the Pacific when I was 21, only three years ago.

Z: Zealous sports fans and where?: I’d say that the most amazing show of home team pride was when I was in Vancouver during the Stanley Cup. Many of the other bloggers that were there as well can attest to the amazing scene that took over the city as we exited pubs everywhere when the Canucks came out with a win in Game 5. A-MAZING. I felt like one of them.

Wayward ABC’s: Travel Stories is a post from: Wayward Traveller

Sydney, AUS

This was the year I had been waiting for, after celebrating a less-than-exciting welcome into 2011 in Florence, Italy, I was going to have an amazing time in Sydney.

We found out that Lorenzo’s parents were coming for a visit around the New Year back in November but they had originally planned to be traveling at the time so Lorenzo and I were hard at work deciding what we’d do. As the time passed, we had less and less of an idea of where we’d ring in the new year. Originally, I had thougth it best that we just arrive bright and early around to Circular Quay and wait it out. Then the factor of bad weather, or weather too good to be true came, into play and we thought maybe we should have a back-up plan.

Eventually, my friend Joey mentioned that her office building, which sits just over Luna Park was open for the evening to employees and friends of employee with an open bar, a balcony and a BBQ. Lorenzo and I thought we’d found our heaven.

Then, Lorenzo’s parents decided they’d stay in Sydney for NYE and we were back to square one. 

As we trudged through Darling Harbour in mid-afternoon, I was getting angry and acting a little bit like a spoiled kid. You see, Lorenzo can have a very chilled out way of looking at things, often meaning that the planning is left to me and when I am confronted with too many ideas, nothing gets done. At 3 o’clock on the day, we still weren’t sure where we’d end up and I was not about to miss out on seeing the most famous fireworks in the world. 

We quickly made our way to Pirrama Park at the water’s edge in Pyrmont, all the way I was dead set that we wouldn’t even have a view of the Harbour Bridge and we’d be forced to run back to Circular Quay or hop on a ferry, any ferry, to the north shore. However, we arrived to a park pleasantly scattered with families and food stalls and a perfect view of the back side of the Coat Hanger. I was forced to hold back a smile and eat my words as Lorenzo said I told you so. That will teach me to act like a spoiled little kid.

We walked up to Harris Street in Pyrmont to get snacks, reading material and drinks for the day and settled in on the nice grass of Giba Park, directly above Pirrama Park.

Surrounded by a huge group of Irish bacpackers, a couple of drunk English girls and a smattering of families, it felt as though we’d found the perfect spot.

Sunbathing and reading Cosmo and Grazia passed the first hours leading to the nine o’clock family fireworks show rather quickly. It was the hours until midnight that seemed to drag on. Getting through a six-pack of Corona, and one bottle of champagne in five or so hours and sharing grass space with your boyfriend’s parents doesn’t exactly make room for the most action-packed hours of countdown but I did manage to sneak in a little nap as my usual bedtime passed.

Even though they were continually stumbling back closer and close into our tiny space, the huge group of Irish guys and gals enjoying their holiday in front of us did help to boost the mood a bit and it was easy to sit back and realize how lucky we were to be there.

When the clock finally started counting down I almost couldn’t believe I was actually there. At the stroke of midnight the first burst of fireworks came off the top of the bridge and we stood in awe, mesmerized for the next twelve minutes. When it was over, I had to take a moment to reflect.

My favorite part of New Year’s Eve is the moment when the fireworks end and everyone around is hugging and kissing. In that moment all over the world, everyone is so grateful for what every day of their lives has brought. New Year is a day of hope and new beginnings, a way to put away what’s happened in the past, good or bad, and move on. That moment, everyone is looking forward.

I couldn’t help but smile. 

I am so thankful that I had a chance to ring in the new year in Sydney, I wonder where in the world I’ll be next year!

All of these photos were taken with my iPhone4, pretty impressive!! 

2012: New Year’s in Sydney, Australia is a post from: Wayward Traveller

Sydney, AUS

In the past few years, I haven’t spent a single New Year’s at home. Since 2008 I have been always been somewhere else to welcome in all of the possibilities of a new year. I’ve never been one to look forward to a new year as a way of burying the past; never thought ahead in hopes that the coming year would hold more promise, because well in the end life is life. I do enjoy seeing how celebrations take place in different parts of the world and more importantly I see the closing of a year as a way to look back and be grateful for all the things that you’ve experienced. As cheesy as that sounds, trust me, I’m not immune to feeling sorry for myself, as you’ll come to find in my next few posts, but when all is said and done and you say goodbye to yet another year of your life, you have to realize how good you’ve got it. Here are the places that I’ve said hello|goodbye in the past:

2008: Whistler, British Columbia (Canada).

I still remember some of the hilarious conversations that accompanied us on this long drive up to our first ever New Year’s Eve celebration in the legendary cabin of our good friend J.J. He was the new “sooo-not-my-boyfriend” boyfriend of our sorority sister Katie and he and his frat brothers were planning a big snowboarding and legal drinking debacle in Whistler to ring in 2008. Naturally, a party isn’t a party without the girls, so we all tagged along. Those days were our glory days, having, of course, partied the night before we were on our way to more partying and after the short three hour ride to the border we were had a car stocked full of oversized and underpriced duty-free booze. The shots commenced as Katie desperately attempted to decode J.J.’s simple-minded directions. Think, go over a bridge and after that bridge turn right, you’ll come to a roundabout and turn left… sounds like it could be straight forward but honestly, is there only one bridge between Vancouver and Whistler? Possibly not. By the time we finally arrived, it was well-into party hours and a quick changeover from sweats to party tops and we were out to the village, walking down Blackcomb to get to the bars.

This was possibly one of the best New Years of my life but not all things can go without hitches. After enjoying one small bar it was time to move on and we headed out. Waiting in the doorway for the group to commence, I was paying little attention to the whereabouts of my friends and suddenly found myself standing alone in the doorway of a tiny bar, familiar faces nowhere to be seen in the sea of passing partyers. Long story short, I be-friended one of the clubs bouncers so that he would call me a cab and send me on my way as my phone was not only roaming but dead as well. Smart move. The rest of the weekend was a smashing success with us stumbling upon only the best bar in all of Whistler; Merlin’s. That amazing pub will forever hold a place in my heart. It is also where I met my first group of Australians and probably the experience that would ultimately lead me to study abroad in Australia.

2009: Whistler, British Columbia (Canada)

Round-two was only better in that I didn’t get lost, we knew exactly which bar to go to and we met a new group of even cooler Aussies. A couple of which I still catch up with on Facebook from time to time. Whistler is still and will always be one of my very favorite places in the entire world.

2010: Amsterdam, Netherlands 

It’s pretty amazing how much your life can change in one year’s time. I went from January, holding onto the notion that I might have an Aussie ‘mate’ in Sydney when I arrived, to finding not only someone else but an entire group of amazing friends whom continue to be some of my best friends to this day. My time in Sydney changed me in so many ways, but one of the most important parts of that experience was the people. Those are the same people that I hopped on a plane to Amsterdam for just one day after arriving in Italy. When Lorenzo and I decided that I would move to Italy, I already knew of the preconceived plan my friends had of meeting in Amsterdam for the New Year. And I knew that if I was going to be in Italy around that time, I had to be sure I made it to see them. So without telling them of my plans, Lorenzo and I boarded a very early RyanAir flight to Eindhoven. After a bus and train ride we finally arrived in the city and I’ll never forget the surprise on our friends’ faces when they turned to corner and saw me standing there. The rest of the weekend was absolutely perfect. We met up with a Dutch friend who lent us her Uncle’s house to make a lovely dinner before taking us to the ultimate house party in a very old, rickety house threatening to fall into the canal at any moment. We were warned to not all go on the top floor at once. Living on the edge! As sad as I was to say goodbye to my friends I’m always thankful that I had that special New Year with them.

2011: Florence, Italy

Not to sound ungrateful but this was probably my least favorite of all the New Year’s I spent abroad. New Year’s Eve in Italy is something completely different and unless you like pretending that you are in a war, it is not different in a fun way. All day long there were kids and young adults throwing ‘fireworks’ all over the streets of the city. The only difference was instead of being beautifully colored displays of light they were more similar to colorless, lightless bombs. As the loudest sound I’ve ever heard shook the windows of the old buildings around me, it felt less like celebrating and more like just trying to stay alive. We had dinner at a popular expat restaurant where we are well known and then headed into Piazza Signoria in hopes of seeing something fun while we watched to minutes countdown on the the clock tower of Palazzo Vecchio. As midnight rang in we all hugged and wished each other well and the hundreds of young Italians around us began throwing their glass beer, champagne and wine bottles into the center of the square, where there were hundreds of people standing… as you do.

Enough said really, there were some nice concerts going on around town but it was nothing to write home about as it was hard to get away from the glass smashing and bombs going off enough to enjoy yourself.

Florence definitely shouldn’t be going on anyone’s bucket list as a place to celebrate New Year.

2012: Sydney, Australia

This year, I’m in the ultimate New Year destination… Sydney! Although at the time of writing I have already experienced the awesomeness of a Sydney New Year, you’ll have to wait until January 1st in your part of the world to hear all about it!

Coming soon…

Ringing in Four Years of Travel — New Year’s Eve Abroad is a post from: Wayward Traveller

This year Christmas was a bit unorthodox for me, not only did I work nearly ten hours non-stop, but after finishing I boarded the Sydney ferry to Manly Beach to celebrate Aussie-style with a couple of other orphan Sydneysiders.

Back home, my family Christmases have wavered over the years between eventful and quiet. The last of which was a full party at my Aunt and Uncle’s house (where I was living at the time) complete with cousins and friends. It was food filled, wine filled and tons of fun. Then last year I was introduced to a whole new way to celebrate Christmas. The Italian way. A way that included eating traditional Italian Christmas meals like tongue and hoof. Even though I was lost in a sea of language mishaps and unfamiliar words, I was still there in a warm house, sitting around a Christmas tree with a family that had grown to be mine over the previous year, and I felt like home. Although I missed the laughing antics of my own family, I didn’t feel homesick.

This year things were a bit different. I know that anyone who has even visited Sydney in the last month might stone me for saying it but the rainy days these past few weeks have actually been my saving grace. The kind of thing that could transport me straight home to Washington State where I spent every Christmas prior. Sitting behind the coffee bar in the hotel where I work, looking out over angry water of the Sydney Harbour as it reflects the grey clouds, was… comfortable.

The warmth of a freshly made latte in my hands at a time of year when my most often reoccurring thought is a classic, red holiday cup from Starbucks. It just defines Christmas for me. Just as it did last year as I traipsed around the frozen cobblestones of Prague’s old city, feigning that I knew the history and winding streets of the city as not to alarm my unsuspecting students and in the meantime forgetting that I was aware from home.

But this year, it was supposed to be summer, this year it would all change. Then, out of nowhere, just in time for Santa to ride off into it’s raging orange light, the sun came out and it beat down on the city in honor of the day. And I reveled in it. Toting a bottle of Chandon, fresh from the depths of the hotel storage fridge (a gift for my hard work) and a Cole’s bag with my first ever (albeit Cole’s Brand) Pavlova I boarded the ferry that would take me to my Christmas celebration. The beach was surprisingly sparse of activity, especially based on the massive amount of backpacks and DSLR cameras sitting around me during the journey but as we branched off to the right toward Shelley Beach, I saw where the action was. Shelley Beach, a tiny beach which sits on a curve sheltering it from the strong sea winds is a prime spot to enjoy the sun in Manly. Complete with a grassy hill, BBQ spots and nearby bars and cafes it is a favorite place to set up for the day and enjoy what Sydney does best.

Lorenzo and I were late to the party so we had a beer, a glass of champagne and a couple of sausages and enjoyed getting to know our fellow orphans. A long day at work and a couple of hours in the sun meant we were on the 8:45p.m. ferry back to the city in time for bed, but the day was still a success in my book. Especially considering the alternative; sitting alone in a huge empty house staring at our tiny (although lovely) Christmas tree with presents that weren’t ours and eating leftover ragu. It was a great way to spend Christmas Eve night but for a second time in a row I think it would have been simply depressing.

I did envy the fabulous endless glasses of sparkling and the plump, fresh Sydney prawns, oysters and Balmain bugs that my customers were enjoying while I ran frantically from table to table refilling their glasses, but maybe Lorenzo and I will save that for our next Aussie Christmas, when we have real jobs and real money.

Until then, I successfully logged another cultural, away-from-home Christmas without my family, without my pumpkin spice lattes and halfway around the world. It’s easy to miss your family around the holidays, but then again it’s all part of the experience.

Another fantastic addition to spending Christmas in Australia? Boxing Day. Great holiday pay for me working and just another public holiday to chill out on the beach for those with real jobs.

What did you do this Christmas and Boxing Day?

Santa Wears a Speedo; Christmas in Oz is a post from: Wayward Traveller