Misinformation

I am willing to bet a decent chunk of my paycheck – actually, only about ten dollars, which is sadly a rather large percentage of my salary – that most of my friends who I am acquainted with outside of the CIA have the following vision of my daily routine:

French chefs gliding around the kitchen in pristinely white coats with large toques adorned with a silly poof tilted slightly off-center, holding a skillet in one hand and a wooden spoon in another, ever so gently stirring a sauce and sprinkling a little salt and pepper. They taste the sauce and, Parfait! , They announce to the wait staff, which is patiently waiting with a smile to pick up their order for you, the customer. Your steak is now being seared and cooked to order by a master butcher. The kitchen is filled with elegance and professionalism- a calm mystique engulfs the room as each masterpiece is artistically plated with the precision of a surgeon. Each detail meticulously calculated without error. Afterwards the kitchen staff gathers around for a grand dinner; fantastic wine, delicate cheese and fruits, crisp baguettes with a delectably soft center and perhaps a cake for dessert. They laugh and applaud each other for the wonderful service that they all put together almost as if they were an orchestra and the plates were their composition.

Well I’m here to call it: bullshit. (For many kitchens, anyway.)

Your vision of my life is not completely your fault, however! TV shows and movies have glamorized the industry that I have now sucked in to. But of course they want you to believe that each and every person in the back of each and every kitchen across the globe is specially trained and a master chef who can stand side by side with the likes of Gordon Ramsey, Bobby Flay, Cat Cora and all the other “Televsion Chefs” you can name. The reality is that the restaurant business is filled to the brim of regular everyday people who just know how to work- and work hard, at that. The days start early, the nights run late and it’s a pretty thankless job with next to no glamour for the large percentage of us. We work holidays (all of them) and earn a lot less money than those who’s weekly hours exceed no more than 40 while we hardly ever work less than 80.

So why does the majority of the service industry-employed army do what they do every day? For some, the answer is simply that it is a job that can be found in every corner of the globe from Albuquerque to Zimbabwe. For others, the passion for food far exceeds the rational-man’s thought processes to the point of obsession with flavors, textures and the manipulation of ingredients to create something from seemingly nothing. And for others still, it’s the ability to connect with the masses; feeding the drunk, the hungry, the bored, the rich and poor, the depressed, the joyous, the morose, the single-man and the married couple, the president and the average Joe alike is a wonderful feeling.

And for some, it’s to get on Kitchen Nightmares to be screamed at mercilessly by an angry British man.

Australia, How I love thee..

It is difficult to explain what is inherently intangible, so trying to describe what I felt in Australia is going to be nearly impossible. Here goes nothing.

There’s a sensation one feels the moment that foot touches land after being on the ship for so long- and no, I am not talking about the kind of feeling you get after being on a trampoline for an extended period of time and the Earth feels like it is bending and shaking underneath you. I am talking about the feeling you get when you arrive somewhere and you just know whether or not you will like it; whether or not you feel safe, happy or even if you know you will hate where you are. It is almost as if every location has its own energy coursing through its pavement.

In Dubai, the energy was unreal. And that is probably because it was just that; unreal. It was a lot of bright lights, lots of fireworks and razzmatazz without a whole lot of substance. It was a show without heart. But that is not a bad thing. Dubai is a place where the super-rich go to escape from reality. They are not paying through the nose to have to face whatever had already been left behind, so the un-realness is exactly what Dubai needs.

On the other end of the spectrum, Alexandria was almost too real. The city unapologetically stayed the same and did not alter itself and put on a façade to appease the thousands of guests who trampled the city littered in trash and debris every year. It is almost as if it said, Here I am, this is me. Take it or leave it. In its own way, that was pretty beautiful and brave to be so genuine with reckless abandon and without compromise.

Australia, however… Australia was something unique. The night before docking in our first port, Darwin, I was so excited I literally didn’t go to sleep. I had to find ways to occupy my time before docking at 6 in the morning other than pacing back and forth because my roommate started to think I had issues. It has always been my dream to go to Australia and I was finally here. I was like a kid on Christmas who had been given a thousand dollars to go to a candy store and then told I was going to Disney world. Yes that excited.

Once daylight broke I ran to the porthole closest to my room and pressed my nose up to the glass to watch the shores come in closer and closer. Once we finally laid down our anchor, my heartbeat spiked and I got even antsier.  Around 10 o’clock I met up with some Americans and we set off to explore Darwin, our first stop in Queensland, Australia. After swiping our cards to leave the ship, I stepped out into the Australian sun- which, by the way, I feel like was a heat lamp that God forgot to turn off over top the country- and took a deep breath. I immediately felt at home.

Walking around the city the energy felt electric and inviting but somehow still very relaxed, but not lazy. It is almost as if the people of Australia do everything the rest of the world does, but does not find the need to stress out about when it gets done. It is a very calming feeling.

We wandered to the Crocosaurus Zoo, which, unsurprisingly, was home to crocodiles. Terrifying, monstrous, ugly, gnarly crocodiles. You remember Steve Irwin? Remember how he used to wrestle these things? Well now I know why he was famous for doing it- these things have jaws that are so powerful they have the bite force of 44k. And they live in the water here- both salt and fresh. However, baby ones are actually kind of cute and cuddly! We met one named fluffy and did the normal tourist “oo-ing” and “ahh-ing” that we are expected to do. We took many photos and pointed at things that probably don’t even faze the typical Aussie. One should note: they drive on the left side of the road and the toilets do flush the opposite way.

Getting back on the boat was sad for me; I didn’t want to leave so soon. But I was even more excited for the next port of call, Brisbane, to meet up with my dear friend Ash who graciously agreed to show me around his city while I was there!

Ash has been a good friend of mine for a couple of years now. I met him in New York City while hanging around and lollygagging with Matt. Ash back then did what Aussies do best; talk to strangers. He came up to Matt and I and asked if we were local and was wondering if we could show him around the city a bit. We have been friends ever since. Ash has been back to New York City since then and kept telling me to come to Brisbane ASAP because I would love it. I constantly told him I would get there eventually, never really believing it myself. All of a sudden, here I am on the Solstice traveling 22 knots and hour, barreling towards his home city. It’s all very surreal.

Brisbane is part of the Gold Coast, which is famous for its rum, its beautiful beaches and Steve Irwin’s zoo, among other things. I can attest to the fantastic rum and its absolutely astounding beaches. We took a trip from the port of Brisbane to a place called Surfer’s Paradise, which is the most beautiful beach I have ever seen in my life. The beach had crystal clear waters, the air smelled only of salt, the sand was free of trash and the people were friendly and slightly less obese than I am used to on New Jersey shores.

We enjoyed a nice lunch by the beach and caught up. Having an extensive conversation with an Aussie always plants an idiotic smile on my face because I love the accent and the lingo. My favorite of their colloquialisms is I think what perfectly exemplifies the Australian spirit; No worries. There is no single phrase that could characterize them better No worries, what a perfect saying.

After spending my day in Brisbane, all I can think dream about is going back to the city on a slightly more permanent basis. Till we meet again, my dear city.