Woke up today at 8am. Waited 30 minutes for Cherry and her son to get out of the house before getting out of bed. First thing I did was open the blinds in the dining area. Beautiful, warm sunshine filled the cold room. Aside from the sound of cars occasionally passing by, it was quiet. I went in the kitchen, took two spoons and ran cold water on them from the sink. Flipping the spoons over, I put their backs on my eyes, one for each. Of course, I realized as soon as I did that I couldn’t see where I was going. I went to the bathroom to check how bad the condition was. My eyelids were still puffy, and there were mascara stains on my lower lash line.
I went to the living room, discarded the spoons and turned on the TV. A news anchor was saying an airline is thinking of implementing standing passengers at a cheaper airfare as a way of cutting costs. I went to my room, got an specially absorbent face towel, wet it and placed it on one eye. In the kitchen, I put the electric kettle on and prepared my cappuccino.
When my coffee was ready, I got a plate from the sink that was left to dry from last night, and padded back to the dining table. I love the multi-grain bread in Australia. When my parents were here, we bought an eight-seed bread which was so good we’d eat it without anything else. I got a slice of 4-seed multi-grain bread and a banana. With the teaspoon I used to stir my coffee, I made half-inch thick slices of banana, arranged the circular pieces on the bread: three on top and three at the bottom, and folded the bread in half. Bananas grown in Australia are so huge there was still half a banana left. Carefully, I dunked the bread into my coffee, and enjoyed breakfast. I capped it with a glass of water and 2 types of vitamins: one to aid red blood cell production, and one for strengthening the immune system. I don’t believe in vitamins, but I’m doing it in Sydney for my mother.
About that time, my thoughts were on the broadcasting companies in Australia; whether they’re all headquartered in Sydney or did each city have their own. If it was the former, I wondered if it was fair to the other cities. I left the TV on as I cleaned up and took a shower.
I almost forgot the papers I needed to bring when I got out of the house at five before 10. The weather this morning was colder than yesterday. Good thing I brought a scarf. When I reached the train station, I was surprised that 15 minutes had passed. I thought I did better because I was practically out of breath and the scarf was suffocating me with heat. The fare to North Sydney cost $5.20. Today there was a different Aussie man selling tickets. He’s nicer than the other one; he smiles.
The PA system announced that my train would be delayed 4 minutes. Of all the times, I thought. There was a scary man asking $2 from strangers for coffee, and there was a Chinese guy who was making me uncomfortable. At Redfern station where I have to switch trains to North Sydney, I had to wait 10 minutes for the train and 1 minute in, the PA system announced my train was going to depart from Platform 3 instead of 5 where we were expecting it. There was a mad dash to the correct platform, and I was only glad I ate breakfast.
I assumed my travel time is 40 minutes maximum, but I got to school at exactly 11am. Next time I’ll have to give a thirty minute allowance for train delays. The first thing they made me do at school was fill up a form which came with some orientation materials. There were only 2 people ahead of me in the line for tuition fee payment. I was directed to a room where my picture was taken for my student card, which I received instantly. I was told to have lunch and come back at 2pm for the orientation, which I found was three hours long. And all the way to school I was pondering how to get to the city library where I hoped I would spend my afternoon today.
The N.Sydney train station runs under a mall called Greenwood Plaza. Not finding anything I liked and could afford, I heeded my rumbling stomach and went to the foodcourt. The mall actually has sentimental value for me, because it was where I ate with my parents the first time we visited my school the day after we arrived. She loved the salad sandwich from Pan & Olive so much that she told she still thought about it the next day. I wasn’t feeling adventurous, and I wanted to save money, so I got that sandwich again for $5.90 ($6.10 because I asked for pesto spread). I realized my mistake when I decided to eat it there instead of having it as takeaway when I was looking for a place to sit. In the end, I sat at those bar stools where solo people ate. The thing about Australia is you don’t get drinks for free. I miss foodcourts in the Philippines that have water stations. Of course, I could drink water from the toilet tap, but I doubt it’s a normal practice even for Australians.
I had half my sandwich packed and returned to school. With still an hour to spare, I roamed around the foodcourt at my building’s bottom level. It seems foodcourts here are composed of the following staples: coffee shop, sandwiches, salads and wraps, Japanese food, Thai food, and a convenience store. I decided to get a small cappuccino.
“Where are you from?” the oriental lady asked while making my coffee.
“Philippines,” I replied.
“Oh,” she said, surprised. She gestured at her face. “You must have some Chinese blood?”
“I actually am Chinese.”
“Yeah, I thought so. You have very good skin.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
The coffee is $2 plus $0.30 for skim milk. The lady only asked for $2. Sometimes, it pays to meet kin,
I found out that I am the only Filipino in my class. Most international students are Chinese and European. I met a French girl who was as lost as I was in finding the orientation room. I learned from her that she’s staying at a homestay, which costs a minimum of $220 per week. She said, “But I might transfer. I’m living there because it’s cheap. But it’s ok. I’m lucky that my family is good, so I can stay in a better place.” She asked how old I was and when I told her, she was shocked. She told me she’s 18 and had just finished high school.
I asked her why she chose Australia. She said, “We had to live in Caledonia from Paris because of my parents’ work. And when I graduated I had a choice whether to go back to Paris, you know, to normal life, and explore a new country. I chose Australia. And you?”
I told her the Australian embassy was promoting education in Australia back home. I don’t know if that’s true. She was actually about to ask me how long I’ve known how to speak English. Fortunately the orientation cut us off.
At the end of the orientation, I’ve toured the building, known the people I should know, got a good look at my would be classmates, and received my art kit. The art kit is pretty decent and must’ve taken a chunk of my tuition fee. Upon receiving it, I was appalled that I have to lug the large, heavy paper bag home. My first paper bag gave at the weight, so I had to get another one, which ripped again when I got to the train station. As I was coming down the escalator, I caught a glimpse of my French friend exiting the building. A Filipino looking guy I saw her talking to earlier was carrying her stuff. I must have turned green then. I wonder if that girl knows how blessed she is. Of all the things she has though, I probably envy her long, golden, curly locks the most.
When I reached the house, I was cold, my left shoulder which I used to carry the paper bag was sore and my left hip felt like it had paper bag burn (it was that big), and my bag smelled of salad inside. Wow, at home by 6pm on a Friday night. The only thing about the weekend I’m looking forward to is doing the laundry.
