Ramen Noodles and Lizards

We decided to come to Australia to do something different, to see how another part of the world lived. After being in Las Vegas for a while, we were ready for a change of pace. Yes - moving halfway across the globe was a bit extreme, but we were ready for something big. Besides, we concluded, living and working here would provide us with much more experience and insight than an extended holiday ever could. And it has, although in more ways than I ever dreamt.

Of course, we couldn’t have predicted Mouse’s ankle injury and subsequent three-week hospital stay. I was excited to experience the Australian healthcare system as a nurse, but never thought we would end up on the other side of things. It was good for me, being the family member, seeing patient care from a different point of view. And it was a lesson in patience and tolerance for Mouse, being on bed-rest for the entirety of his stay, in a ward-style room with three roommates, all over the age of eighty. He received great care, though, and is slowly on the mend, which is the best we could hope for.

But living in a foreign country and learning a new culture is less about the big events and more about everyday life. Things are just different here. I’m forever shaking my head either out of befuddlement or amusement. There are lizards everywhere - big lizards, little lizards all over the place; you see them hanging out on the sidewalk and scampering around doorways. All shops close early, even the grocery store. No one seems to know what brewed coffee is. Swiffer Sweepers don’t exist. There are no goldfish crackers or string cheese. No one, not even the specialty butcher, sells bone-in chicken breasts. I’m fairly certain there is a public holiday every other weekend. And everything is ridiculously expensive! ($20 for two six-inch Subway subs is just plain crazy!)

I expected things to be different, though. (Except for the astronomically high cost of things - that has taken me by surprise.) We wouldn’t have bothered coming here for more of the same. What I didn’t expect was how much our entire lifestyle would change; it has become much more simple and sparse. We traded our spacious two-bedroom townhouse for a very small, one-bedroom apartment. We have been scouring thrift stores and online classifieds for used furniture and other necessities. We actually have to budget. I feel like I’m in college again, eating ramen noodles for lunch and constantly worrying about being broke. This might not sound fun, but it is. It’s been unexpected, but it’s refreshing to be out of our comfort zone and is providing a new perspective on life. And isn’t that what I was looking for, after all?

Trekkies and Red Dots

Trekky… trekky… what in the world is a trekky? I had just been through my first patient rounds at the new hospital, which proved to be slightly more baffling than anticipated. I pretended to follow along, nodded my head when appropriate, even jotted down a few notes. I don’t think anyone suspected I was really silently compiling a mental list of slang I couldn’t decipher. What could a trekky be? I was absolutely confident it had nothing to do with Leonard Nimoy or outer space, but I couldn’t make the medical connection. Aghh! I had hoped speaking the same language would lessen the culture shock of nursing in a foreign country, not taking into account how different “Aussie-speak” could be. Throughout the day, I encountered a multitude of terms that made no sense. What were red dots? Enkephalopathy? Cannulation? My mind was reeling and I was feeling incredibly foolish. Finally, I had to swallow my pride and begin asking questions. These terms may have been second nature to my Aussie counterparts, but they were Greek to me. I got a few funny looks and some laughs, but I learned that red dots were ECG electrode patches, enkephalopathy was encephalopathy (en-sef-uh-lop-uh-thee), and cannulation referred to starting an IV (it is an IV cannula that rests in your vein, after all). And trekky… I guess that should have been obvious. If I had paused to remember how the Australian accent sounds to my American ear and that Aussies love to add a “y” to most words (i.e. brecky = breakfast), it wouldn’t have been such a mystery. They were referring to a patient with a tracheostomy (trey-kee-os-tuh-mee), which American nurses often shorten to trach (trey-k). Trach… trekky… It’s really not too much of a leap. Unscrambling this puzzle provided such a moment of clarity! I know this was a small thing, and actually quite silly, but it made me feel just a little closer to becoming less of an outsider.

First-Day Jitters and Uniform Blues

5:30am came much too early this morning, but I couldn’t ignore the alarm and burrow deeper into the blankets. After months of having no specific schedule and sleeping in as I saw fit, I actually had somewhere to be at this early hour. My vacation was over; my first day of work was finally here.

I don’t think it will ever matter how old I am, how experienced I become, or how many different jobs I have throughout my lifetime, I am doomed to forever suffer from first-day jitters. I woke up with a swarm of butterflies whirling around my stomach and was overwhelmed by the anxiety of all the “what-ifs” running through my head. “What if I say something dumb?” “What if I don’t know the medications?” “What if I don’t fit in?” The doubts were endless.

To top it off, I felt ridiculous in my new uniform. That’s right - Australian nurses don’t wear scrubs. Apparently, scrubs are too casual. So I donned my flower-print blouse and trouser pants (we can also wear dress shorts, culottes, or skirts), trying to muster up some sort of self-confidence.

My short stint as an agency nurse, before leaving the states, should have helped me become somewhat accustomed to working in new hospitals. But this was completely different. I was about to throw myself into an entirely foreign environment. Isn’t this what I wanted? Hadn’t I dreamt of broadening my horizons? As I pulled into the parking garage, I wasn’t so sure. Broad horizons seemed like the worst idea ever. It was too late, though. My shift was starting in a few minutes and I had to report for duty. So, I did the only thing I could… I took a deep breath, forced a smile, and faked as much confidence as possible as I walked onto my new ward.

False Alarm

It started around 4:00am this morning; a shrill, brain-piercing noise, jolting us from our sleep. We cleared the cobwebs from our brain, trying to comprehend what it was and where it was coming from. We briefly stumbled around in our early-morning confusion, finally realizing it was the fire alarm in the stairwell directly above us. We investigated, didn't see smoke or detect other evidence of fire, so we puttered with the alarm until it was silent. This was a short-lived victory; it didn’t stay off for long. We called the emergency maintenance number several times, without any result. (Apparently, an early-morning fire alarm is not enough of an emergency to elicit a response from our landlord.) Out of frustration, we called the fire brigade, assuring them it wasn’t a life-threatening emergency. They came howling onto our doorstep in full gear, axes in hand, ready to save lives. It would have been comical if we hadn’t been so tired. They looked at the faulty alarm and decided it was private system, thus out of their jurisdiction. They gave us their condolences and went on their way. We were on our own. Afraid to disconnect it from the system, we decided muffling it would be our best option. So we wrapped towels and plastic bags around it, securing them with medical tape, hoping to bring the decibel level down a few notches. It looked ridiculous, hanging from the ceiling like a piece of bad abstract art, but was somewhat effective. We were able to steal a couple more hours of restless sleep. It’s now early afternoon and the alarm is driving us mad, the sound permeating every thought. So we’re off to run errands, exiled from our own apartment by a fire alarm. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to go to a laundry mat. We can only hope that someone or something will silence it while we’re gone. I hope and pray we come back to peace and quiet.

Sweet Dreams

Lately, I’ve been dreaming of cake. As I sleep, I picture white cake, yellow cake, chocolate cake, buttercreams, and ganaches. And when I’m awake, I’m perfecting recipes in my head, concocting various flavor combinations. Anyone who knows me knows that I love to bake, but this is becoming ridiculous. I’m obsessed. I’m not sure where this is coming from. Maybe the recent rainy weather is affecting my brain. Or maybe, it’s my need to nest and make our new apartment feel more like a home. Whatever the reason, it’s slightly maddening. Under normal circumstance, I would cave and just bake a cake, promptly satisfying this urge. But doing so right now would be an extravagance. All of my baking supplies are packed neatly away in our storage unit in Las Vegas, awaiting our return to the states. In Australia, I don’t even own a whisk. So, I’ve had to settle for simple, comfort-food recipes. Last night was rhubarb crisp. This morning was strawberry shortcake pancakes. And while neither are the cake I so desperately wish to prepare, they have taken the edge off my obsession. And, in case anyone else is sharing in my sweet tooth, see below for the recipe:

Strawberry Shortcake Pancakes

Ingredients:

Pancakes: (Makes 6-8 medium pancakes)

· 1 and 1/3 cups flour

· 1 tablespoon baking powder

· 1 egg

· 2 tablespoons melted margarine or vegetable oil

· 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

· 2 tablespoons sugar

· 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon salt

· 1 and 1/4 cups milk

Strawberry Topping: (Makes 2, 3-pancake servings)

· 1 pint strawberries, finely diced and smashed

· 2 tablespoons white sugar

· 2-4 tablespoons orange juice

Vanilla Ice Cream

Instructions:

Combine the diced and smashed strawberries with the sugar and orange juice in a medium bowl. Let sit to draw out juices. Refrigerate until pancakes are ready.

Make pancakes. Depending upon the skillet size, you should be able to make three medium pancakes at one time. Pour batter into skillet heated to a medium temperature. Let pancakes cook until bubbles appear on the surface. Flip and finish cooking until golden brown.

Assemble the shortcake. Place one pancake on a plate and top with a denerous helping of the strawberry topping. Repeat twice. Top with one to two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Serve.

River Life

After so many years of living out West, first in Colorado then Nevada, I was accustomed to being land-locked. I loved the rugged landscape, rarely minding the lack of water; it was a small price to pay for the beauty of the mountains. But as much as I loved my surroundings, I was ready for change. And moving to Brisbane has certainly provided that.

Gone are the days of living in a dry, desert climate. Now I’m trying to adjust to the heat and humidity, inescapable in this sub-tropical environment, even as winter approaches. Most days, the air is so heavy with moisture, my skin has no hope of remaining dry. My daily runs are now along the river, which provides a beauty so different than that of the mountains. There was I time when I wondered if I could stand not having the Rockies or Sierras as my backdrop. Now I easily lose myself in the rhythm of the river. I watch the ferries and kayaks glide by. I marvel at the architecture of the various bridges. It’s such a foreign environment, so different from anything I’ve ever known; yet it’s comfortable and is slowly beginning to feel like home.

I try to soak up river life as much as possible. I wander the parklands lining the riverbanks, exploring the outdoor marketplaces that spring up along the way. I use my runs to discover new parts of the city. Today, I took a RiverCat into the city. For me, riding a ferry is such a novelty and feels like a rite-of-passage into becoming a true resident of Brisbane. I know I have a long way to go before anyone will consider me a local, but I don’t mind. Soon enough, all of this will become second nature and I will begin dreaming of my next adventure…

Finally!!!

Today, I was finally able to breathe a long sigh of relief. In my email inbox was a message informing me that my Australian work visa had been approved. After months of scrambling around, jumping through hoops, and feeling just plain stressed out, I have my visa. I cannot even begin to explain how ecstatic I am today. I feel like I’ve completed a marathon or reached the summit of a ridiculously difficult mountain. (And I’ve done both, so I know exactly how much satisfaction one can derive from said accomplishments.)

When I first began formulating my plan to move to Australia, I had no idea how long or arduous the process would actually be. It’s been an epic battle to get my nursing license, find a job, and obtain my work visa. If I had known how exhausting and frustrating the entire process was going to become, I doubt I would have attempted it. Luckily, I was blissfully unaware of the time and effort this adventure would entail, so I threw myself into it. I have doubted myself on numerous occasions, and frequently questioned my sanity, but everything is finally falling into place. Soon, I will start my new job on the neuroscience unit at a hospital in Brisbane, Australia. I’ve been hoping and planning for this day for a long time. I think it’s finally time to celebrate!