Australia.

"G'day, mate. Throw some shrimp on the barbie. That's not a knife....THIS is a knife..."

Photocred: Definitely not me. The Internet?

Land of crocodiles and spiders and kangaroos and koalas and snakes. Also, kookaburras. (More on that later.)

Some vague, violent, dusty red contrivances of a hostile environment fabricated entirely out of the movies "Australia," "Mad Max," and "Crocodile Dundee."

And so, armed with these so very extremely incorrect views of a continent (the size of the contiguous US) I've never been to, you can see how I was slightly taken aback to be confronted with this:

Richmond, a suburb of Melbourne, or perhaps somewhere in Eastern Europe

I mean, of course, all of my expectations weren't based entirely around some horrible centrifuge of lame Australian stereotypes. I knew it would be winter and thus freaking cold when we arrived here. I knew that Melbourne is a huge, cultured, cosmopolitan city with a diverse population. I knew that I probably wasn't going to get punched in the face by a post-apocalyptical kangaroo. But knowing isn't the same as not kind of expecting.

And so Mark and I have been here for nearly a couple of months, and it really has been a painless and fairly stress-free transition. Of course, there is a small, select group of things that have been...perplexing or maybe mildly exasperating. I wrote a very short list.

List of Things in Melbourne That Sara Has Had a Hard Time Adjusting To (Mark Too, Probably):

Driving on the other side of the road - This has been less of a problem for me as someone in the passenger seat - because I'm not up to driving yet - and more of a problem as a pedestrian. See, when you grew up your whole life looking left first when you cross a street (if you look at all) and suddenly the game changes, and you have to look RIGHT first, you will almost die a lot. Especially since Australians don't really believe in yielding for pedestrians. Luckily for my family, (who I'm sure I've created a new, horrible source of fear for - hi dad!), I have compensated my already terrible street-crossing awareness skills by freezing at every crossing and looking left, right, forwards, backwards, and then right and left, again. And then waiting until someone else crosses first. On a similar note - also weird is continuously walking to the wrong side of the car to get in. I'll start towards the US passenger side (which is the Aussie driver's side) and then have to compensate by pretending like I really just wanted to take a good look at the car I'm about to be driving in. "Oh this? This is just my normal, checking all the parts of the car before I get in. I do this with all the cars. I really like to check tire pressure and make sure there aren't any obvious issues. You know, safety first." And then I look thoughtfully at the rear bumper, and pretend to be concerned with a scratch that doesn't exist.
The coffee - I know, I know. Don't freak out. Coffee in Melbourne is the best. It is a mecca of espresso culture and the baristas here are artists. It is delicious and I have yet to have a bad coffee anywhere (even in the mega-discount-grocery store). There is coffee everywhere, and everywhere it is good. Like, confusingly good. How does this city sustain a coffee shop every 7th retail space? And it is so beautiful, and so Instagrammable, with its adorable cafe vibes of hexagonal tiles, reclaimed wood benches, attractive baristas, and Chevron striped cushions. But I miss drip coffee. I miss waking up in the morning and doing the routine and walking away and smelling it as I get ready and then drinking it WITH HALF AND HALF (suck it, snobby third-wave baristas). Which you really have to do, because the stuff you put in those drip machines is generally not a gorgeous, subtle, extraordinary Ethiopian. It is usually sludge. But it is nostalgic sludge, and I still miss it.
The bacon - oooooh man, oh man, oh man. I have a real bone to pick with the entire Australian population. Don't go printing bacon on your menu, and then serve me ham. Sure, its delicious ham. I love ham. But when I order bacon, I want bacon, not ham. This whole situation is actually kind of disconcerting to me. There are pretty much two things that are happening - either Australians have never had real bacon before, or they have had it and they do not prefer it. I'm assuming the former. The latter is too horrifying to contemplate and would result in my immediate departure. If they've not been exposed to it, that's understandable. It's not their fault, just sad for them. But if they've had it, and they were like, "guys, this salty, crunchy pork perfection is crap, let's keep on serving our fatty ham" then they have exhibited the poorest judgement in the history of the world.
The Australian accent (but only on the phone) - This is one of the more perplexing things to me. I really, really like Australian accents. When we made the decision to move here, there was definitely a subliminal part of me that weighed in and was like "pssst...Sara...you get to listen to people with Australian accents ALL DAY, EVERY DAY. Do it. Do it. Do it. Move." And it is awesome. I don't even have to particularly enjoy a conversation. I just like hearing the words. However, weirdly, the same subliminal Sara that will sit in a restaurant and bask/eavesdrop in on every conversation nearby encounters a total and complete breakdown anytime anyone Australian calls me on the phone. And moving into a new apartment means a lot of phone calls (from the leasing department, from the appliance guys, from internet, from water, from electricity.) And it has been a nightmare. It literally feels like adults from Charlie Brown are speaking to me. My brain just shuts down. And after every sentence, I have to go, "I'm so sorry, can you repeat that?" or "I'm sorry, what did you say?" And the poor guy on the other end is like "I SAID MY NAME IS GEORGE. I AM CALLING TO HELP YOU SET UP YOUR PARKING IN YOUR NEW BUILDING." And I'm like " No, I'm so sorry, still didn't get that - one more time?" I actually almost wept with relief when the guy who called me about delivering our washing machine had an Indian accent. Finally, someone I could understand.
No Amazon - That's right, I'm including this. I went back and forth a little because it makes me seem like a shallow, instant gratification-y, entitled, spoiled millennial. But online shopping has become a haven for indecisive, unsure buyers who need the peer-reviewed verification of 15,000,000 other customers. Which is pretty much textbook me. If I just walk into a store, how do I know for sure that I'm buying the right kind of sandpaper? Not just that, I actually have to be physically present for the buying? What the hell? Amazon Prime got me next day delivery for 2am purchases of pillows shaped like dinosaurs, paint, vitamins, face wash, cat toys, coffee makers, vacuum cleaners, adorable desk accessories, cookbooks - basically the world was my oyster, and its been taken away, and I'm now I'm stuck with with a tiny, previously frozen, slightly past-its-time bay scallop. (That doesn't really make sense, but you get the idea.) Now when Mark and I go out to buy anything, it is either armed with hours upon hours of research done ahead of time (that's right $0.89 Ikea tea-towel, I definitely vetted you on the internet), OR it is so fraught with Sara-indecision that we end up not buying anything, and if we do, I immediately have buyers remorse. On second thought, this isn't Australia's fault. Clearly I have some issues that Amazon was only enabling...so I guess this Amazon-less land is actually probably healthier. Thank you, Australia.
Seasons - They're reversed here. If you don't understand why this is a major existential crisis for me, you've clearly never been around me during the months of October-January. I will be sure to document my entire holiday season meltdown.

And so ends my tiny list of culture shock (or maybe culture incredulity is more concise). But don't worry, Australia isn't only crappy bacon and reverse roads and buying things in stores! I have a much larger list of things that are awesome and unicorn rainbows in Australia which I plan to share with you soon. Oh, and I didn't get to the kookaburra anecdote this post, because I've decided its already too long, and if I don't post now, I'll probably doom this website to the graveyard of past creative endeavors.

Look at this sh*t:

Advance Australia Fair

List of Things in Melbourne That Sara Has Had a Hard Time Adjusting To (Mark Too, Probably):