Baking in a Man's World.

There are perks to living with two guys in their thirties - the house is neat, I never wait for the bathroom, and there is always someone to help me fix my bike or move my mattress. However, our kitchen is a little bit bare. There is no whisk, rounded wooden spoon, rolling pin, nor sifter. Baking in it requires a bit of creativity, time, and a lot of muscle.

It was Will the Botanist's birthday this weekend and I thought I would bake him a cake, never having once succeeded in making a cake. Some of you may recall my very first cake for my dad's birthday that was nicknamed "The Swamp Cake". It was a chocolate avocado cake. It was a disaster.

The Swamp Cake

Nothing makes me miss my house more than whipping cream with a fork. It took almost three episodes of Community before I started seeing soft peaks. I woke up the next morning with a preeeetty sore shoulder.

I also thought it would be a great idea to make marshmallow fondant from scratch for the very first time. I had to dye it from white to black.

And since I didn't have a  rolling pin, I used the pestle from my housemate's mortar and pestle set.

This is my X-files cake :) Vanilla pound cake with rose-flavoured marshmallow fondant and rose-flavoured whipped cream and slices of strawberries and kiwi.

The finished product had Scully and Mulder's floating heads as well.

Special Agent Scully 

I've been a bit frantic this weekend, making the cake, preparing for Will's party, finding someone to rent my room, and planning for my trip to Japan. But it's all done now! I have managed to pack three weeks of stuff in under 7kg of carry-on (that's 15.4 pounds for you Canucks)! My flight is in 2.5 hours, with a 8 hour layover in Kuala Lumpur before Osaka. Any tips and restaurant names welcomed!

Stay tuned for my updates and loads of foodporn!
xoxoxoxoxoxo

How much should happiness cost?

Just before the long weekend, I quit my job.

The cafe I worked at is located in the same building as a big bank. It's a terrible building that drains the energy out of everyone in it. By the bottom of the wide staircase, there's a sign that says the entire facility is smoke-free. To the left, the cafe's patio is filled with a cloud of smoke. Five days a week I get off at my tram stop, dressed head to toe in black and walk among suits and pencil skirts. The sky is just beginning to glow.

The zombies line up with their loyalty cards in hand. I greet them by their first name and ask if they want their usual. They hand over some money and immediately hold out their palm for the change. Everyone is in a hurry. They stand, they sigh, they look away, they fidget on their phones while they wait for me to drop the change in their hands. They don't bother to ask for my name. Sometimes they don't even smile.

At first I felt extremely grateful to be in my position. Here I was, earning a fraction of what they did with not a single penny going into my pension, yet I could hold a smile for longer than two seconds. But then my shoes began to feel uncomfortable and my all-black outfits started looking a bit drab. I was having the exact same conversations with customers 4 times a day. "Hi, how are you today? Any sugar with that? Sorry, was that a regular latte?" I stopped enjoying coffee and started needing it. Full cream cappuccinos with 2 sugars became sugar-free flat whites and then eventually became a small double-shot latte. I was turning into one of the people in suits with red take-away coffee cups. Except I was still earning a fraction of what they did.

Then there's Rod. He's maybe in his 40s, is in a band, and has a couple of piercings. When Rod lines up, he dances to whatever music is playing. On this particular day he practically skipped into the cafe.
"Hey Rod, why are you always so happy? What's your secret?"
Rod paused, with his coffee loyalty card in hand and thought for a second.
"I work on it."

It was such an honest and simple response. It wasn't much of a secret really but it seemed a huge chunk of people in the building hadn't come across it. The more I tossed his words around in my head, the more I realized I had better things to work on than the profits of a business where my position was being threatened daily by the crazy manager. Sometimes it sucks to have backpacker status. That day I went home and had a cold beer in the shower. It was amazing.

On Monday I decided that I would hand my 2-weeks notice before the Easter weekend. At 3:45pm on Wednesday, after enduring a day of verbal abuse from my manager, I decided that the next day would be my last. I walked into work on Thursday knowing it was my final day and feeling like a million bucks. All day I pulled customers aside to say goodbye. The chef and the kitchen hand hugged and kissed me goodbye. I danced across the cafe and drummed on all surfaces. I was ecstatic, but I was also dreading the conversation with my boss. I had never quit without writing a letter and had always given 2 weeks notice.

Just before 4pm, she packed up her stuff and handed over my last paycheque in a form of wad of bills. I caught her as she was walking out.
"Hey, before you leave I just wanted to tell you that today is my last day."
She turned, looked at me and said, "that's just not good enough."
I wanted to tell her no, YOU'RE not good enough. But instead looked her in the eye, steadied my breathing and said "well, I was going to give you 2 weeks notice but I've already decided that today is my last day."
"Ok", she responded, turned and walked away.

My hands were still shaking 5 minutes later. I called my dad to tell him that the deed had been done. He told me to sue her ass (always good to have your daddy on your side). But not before he told me for the 100th time that no job, no matter how well it pays, is worth my happiness. I didn't exactly earn a lot of money at this place, nor did I actually learn how to make good coffee. I did learn what kind of person I didn't want to become though. I'm just now getting used to watching my bank balance drop and not cringing too much. I only have four more months before I go home and want to enjoy my time as much as I can.

Once upon a time I discovered what my happiness was worth to me. In the past couple of months I seem to have forgotten just how much. Happiness should never cost anything. As I sit in my room now eating a block of double-cream brie, I think that I'm starting to get a better picture of what happiness tastes like looks like.

Lake Cobbler / I'm no longer a bum

I meant to make this post over a month ago but we all know how terrible I am on giving updates. Just had to say a blurb because my papa checks my blog once in a while to make sure I'm alive ;) These photos were from a weekend camping trip at Lake Cobbler in the Alpine National Park. 

More importantly, I wanted to say that finally have my own room after five months of bumming around. Write me a letter and I'll respond. Would love to hear from you peeps.

Princess Fiona

244 Albert Street
Brunswick, Victoria, Australia

3056

Toodles!

I'm blogging from a mountain!

I've already been in Australia for 7 months now- 4 months in Perth and 3 in Melbourne. I think I've pretty much lost my status as a traveller. I recently got a full time job as a barista in this ridiculously busy cafe. It's my first full time job! I make terrible coffee for people in suits and get away with it because no one wants to make a 17 year old cry. Yay!

But there are days when I think to myself, "I gotta get the fuck out of here". And when the opportunity presents itself, it's pretty hard to say no.

What I'm trying to say is...
I'm going to Japan in May!

2.5 weeks to work my way from Osaka to Tokyo and catch my flight there back to Melbourne. Oh good Japanese food how I've missed you!

However, the biggest news I have to share is probably the confirmation of my next flight. On September 8 I fly from Melbourne to Manila where I'll get 19 hours to explore the city. From there, I'll board my flight straight to Vancouver.

That's right, kids, I get back to Vancouver on a Tuesday evening.

And we all know what Tuesday nights mean in Vancouver...

See you all at the club ;)

Sitting on guns and stepping over snakes

I can't quite remember how many resumes I've handed out and emailed in the past couple of weeks. It must be something like 25 or 2 million. I was feeling pretty helpless (not to mention extremely poor) and was about to give up and go work on a farm when one day I receive an offer for an interview. One call-back was all I needed. I would be starting 4 days later. 

Will the Botanist read my mind when he suggested that we should go for a short trip. With absolutely no planning and only the name of a remote campsite we googled the morning of, we packed our bags and kissed his cat and dog goodbye. We boarded the train at Southern Cross to Geelong, where we would start hitching. At one point, we had to stop because we saw a police car turn its sirens on (hitch hiking is illegal here) and tried to act casual on the side of the highway.

About 45 minutes later we were picked up by Brian who was on his way to Winchelsea where he lived. He worked for the marketing department for a local radio station. Having just camped at Lake Elizabeth a few days ago, he dropped us off at an intersection where he thought would have the most cars driving towards that direction. Unfortunately, it was already 6:30pm by this time and chances of someone passing by would be slim. Even worse, we were headed to a small remote township that probably wasn't of much interest to most people.

Just when we gave up and started walking towards a golf course that we decided that we would camp at for the night, a man spotted us from his pick-up and says "where you guys headed?". John was going to pick up a few truck tires and could drop us off 18km away from the campsite. Thinking that we could hike the rest of the way, we hopped in.

Halfway into our trip I realized I sitting on something really hard enclosed in a leather case. I moved my hands down its length and the moment I felt the trigger, I retracted my hand. I was in the back seat of a stranger's car that was filled with beer cans, sitting on his rifle. Better under my ass than in his hands.

John offered to drive us to Forrest in exchange for a bit of petrol money. We didn't even hesitate in accepting his offer. It was getting late and there wouldn't be any cars on the road.

From Forrest, there was 7km of uphill hiking to the campsite. My ass was sore, our path was becoming darker and there was no moon to light the way. We set our tent up in the dark.

The next morning after we had made breakfast, we hiked down to the lake for a swim. All of a sudden, from behind me I hear Will cuss loudly. I turned my head just in time to see a black snaked slithering off to the side. We had been too busy looking at the trees to mind the snakes sunbathing in the footpath.

Our water supply was running low and the closest place to get water would be in Forrest. We took a couple of trips to a stream, filled up our bottles and brought it back to our campsite and boiled the water.

Dinner!

Eating spaghetti with a wooden spoon

Lake Elizabeth is known for platypus appearances but we were both too sick and tired to hike to the river at sunset. Will went to get more water while I collected more wood to make a fire. "High-five for reversing gender roles," he said. I make a damn good fire.

On our hike back to Forrest the next morning, we got picked up by a couple that had camped beside us for just one night. The woman was from Vancouver Island! They took us all the way to the train station and we were able to relax the entire way back to Melbourne.

Time to start earning monneyyyyyyyyy

Day 1 - Goodbye Melbourne

I spent the majority of today planning my travels for the next couple of days. It was a beautiful Melbourne summer day but I found myself in the library scribbling feverishly on scrap pieces of paper and drawing landmarks on maps. I was planning a 9-day hitchhiking/camping trip with nothing but 10kg of carry-on. I had the camping basics, about 3 outfits, and a small bar of soap.

I arrived at the airport expecting the worst - missing my flight, having overweight baggage, facing immigration issues, being lectured about allowing my visa to expire, etc. While queueing for check-in, I saw that they were weighing carry-on and started imagining the ridiculous fees I would have to pay. After presenting my passport, the guy at the counter took a long look at his screen and told me that I didn't have a valid visa to reenter Australia. We walked over to the service counter to sort my shit out and they were able to move my return flight up 5days so I would come back on the 13th, the very last day that my visa would be valid. I paid my charges and walked right through the gates to security without having my baggage weighed. My entire travel itinerary was now irrelevant but hey, I was safe!

Or so I thought.
My pulse quickened when I saw the big immigration sign. There was still one more stage to clear before I could get on the plane. I felt the surveillance cameras could see me nervously biting my lip.

The woman at the counter must have pressed some silent button because within moments of handing her my documents, another woman in an even more legit immigration uniform walked over. I heard one say to the other, "...they gave her this ticket at check-in and she was just going to walk through!" And they both made a face and laughed. I felt like I was the subject of some terrible inside joke.

Remember how I said my visa expires on the 13th? Well, it does... But it also becomes invalid the moment I leave the country. Fortunately she only clicked a few keys on her computer and sent me on my way. It surprised me so much that I stood there for a couple of seconds before asking, "that's it?"

I sat down by the boarding gates to eat the Kit Kat that I had purchased out of anxiety. Just as I got to the last bar I heard my name being called to the boarding gates. Oh man I'm going back to Canada, I thought. But it was only to tell me that my credit card payment didn't go through.

It wasn't until the pilot had announced that the cabin doors were all closed and we were ready for take off that I finally found the strength to breathe again.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman. On behalf of the flight crew I would like to welcome you on Jetstar flight 171 to Christchurch."

See you later, Melbourne.

Or so I hope.

(And hey dad if you're reading this, please don't freak out. I'll call you later :))

NEW ZEALANNDDDDD!

I started the year off by turning myself in

The day Chak left for Vancouver, I left for Torquay, home of Quicksilver and Ripcurl, a surfer's paradise located 97km from Melbourne. A little while after we dropped him off at the airport, we started the drive towards Will the Botanist's beach house. It was windy and the trees along the coast of the ocean were all slanted. Caution: if you have sensitive eyes, shield them now because this post contains pictures of very white men.

This was no Western Australia but it was sufficient.

Warm baths on the beach

This year's NYE celebrations were probably the tamest I've had since I was 16. Minimal drinking with no one puking (just an indication of the fact that I am indeed ageing). Most of the party went to bed by 12:30 but the cool cats stayed up to take what could potentially be considered as the world's ugliest series of pictures. 

 

Gus

Lachy picking up the phone

I woke up on the first day of the year ready to surf in pouring rain. No wetsuit? No problem. I'm Canadian after all.

Chihiro and Masa

Martin, Gus, Lachy

So how does the title of this post fit into my tame new years?
Turns out, my student visa expired on the 23rd of December. I was in Australia illegally. I spent the holidays as an "unlawful". (This isn't the first time I've gotten into trouble with the law in the state of Victoria but I'll save the other 3 times for another post ;))

I went into the immigration office to explain to them my situation, that I had one more semester of school in Australia to go and that the university had already given me an acceptance letter. The lady at reception gave me a contact and told me that if it was crucial for me to have a valid visa before I could leave the office. This was the day that I was leaving for Torquay. I couldn't be fucked. CBF. Ceebs. So I slipped out of the office to roam the streets of Melbourne as an unlawful.

Today I went back to the immigration office again to turn myself in. I had to get a bridging visa that would allow me to stay in Australia until I either obtained another visa or departed the country. The guy who processed and approved my visa was a total angel. He gave me the application form which I struggled with because I had 2 choices, both equally appealing. I called the only man in my life who I could trust to give me the best advice - my papa. With his approval, I checked all the appropriate boxes, handed my application back to the guy at the counter, and awaited his decision.

While I was waiting, I eavesdropped on the conversation that was happening beside me. A young man had allowed his student visa to expire, dropped his studies, and decided to remain in Australia for 9 months as an illegal resident. He was told that he would be barred from obtaining any sort of temporary visa from Australia for the next 3 years.
"Did you try to apply for a visitor's visa at all?"
"No."
"Well, that was honest. What do your parents think about you dropping out of your studies?"
"I don't know."
At least I'm not that guy, I thought to myself.

"Miss Tsun?"
At the sound of my name, I approached the counter hoping they had come to a decision in my favour.
"Normally we give people one week, but I wanted you to take advantage of the weekend. You have until January 13."

As I thanked him and collected my documents, which included my new approved visa, he said "have a nice flight" and I responded with "you too... wait no, I mean have a great day!"

In summary, I've decided that I no longer want to extend my student visa. I'm taking next semester off to live and travel in Australia. To apply for a working holiday visa, I will need to be offshore. I have 10 days to book a flight and leave the country. The biggest question now is... which country should I apply from?

Fuck, I love my life.