I felt lucky to be in Australia the day that its first female prime minister was sworn in. I had no idea it was going to happen, most people didn't. I found out when I turned on the TV on Thursday. It was all abuzz talking about it. Apparently the night before a vote had been taken within Julia Gillard's party - the Labor Party. They voted her the new leader of the party, which I guess automatically made her prime minister since the Labor Party is in power, replacing Kevin Rudd. Not knowing much about parliamentary democracies, I found it quite odd and I'm still getting up to speed. (So if anyone knows this story better than me, feel free to correct me) I think it's an interesting political process. Some say it's a tactic being used because Rudd is slipping in popularity polls. So if Gillard uses this time to prove she is a worthy PM, the Labor Party is more likely to win the next election. But whatever the motives or strategies involved, it was an historic moment and encouraging for women around the world that yet another barrier was broken for women somewhere in the world. I really found it inspirational to see her being sworn in.
Also, on the heels of a good job meeting in Gladstone, I was invited for another job interview, this time in Mackay, another small Northern Queensland beach town. It's with the same organization, but would be a higher ranking position. So I did another one-day fly up and back. I thought it was a successful meeting, so I hope they thought the same. In the next week or two, I will hopefully have made a decision and be officially employed!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
some didjeridoo for you
This is a postscript to our Sydney trip. We saw this didjeridoo musician at the Circular Quay. I feel bad that I didn't get his name. It was interesting, though. He played the didjeridoo live with a pre-recorded background track. It's not something I'd probably listen to in my car so I didn't buy his CD, but it was cool to sit and listen to for a while...
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Gladstone Visit
It's been a really long week in my world. It started off slow, with Monday being a holiday - the queen's birthday. Funny holiday. I'd do it if I were queen, I guess.
The weather was really nice over the long weekend and there was a strange little festival going on in neighboring Coolangatta. It was a "Rock N Roll" festival. I wish I would have gotten some photos, because I was amazed at the coming together of social groups. First there were the 50's baby boomer rockers dressed in poodle skirts and black jackets, who came to see 50's cover bands and Elvis lookalikes. Then there were the 50's car aficionados who came to show off their mint condition '57 Chevys and the like. That was kind of cool. But then there were also the '50s goth subset that (I don't know the proper term for them), the type who like to look like Betty Page and probably have a roller derby team. One of these types even had a hair styling booth, so you could get your very own '50s updo. There were also the Harley biker types, who caused a ruckus one night, I heard, resulting in a shooting or stabbing or something. I found it a really interesting mix of personality types.
The week really ramped up fast for a 2nd interview-type chat up in Gladstone on Wednesday. They booked my one-hour flight out of Brisbane at 9am and back at 4:30 the same day. I was nervous about missing my outgoing flight because you never know what the traffic is going to do here, so we spent the night in Brisbane Tuesday, so Wednesday wouldn't be as hellish. It was a good call, I think, since I had never been inside the Brisbane airport before, and was utterly confused by it. It would have been completely simple if I knew that:
A: the number listed on your boarding pass under "Gate" really isn't your gate number and
B: each airline has its own gate numbering system.
This confusion meant that I would end up walking the entire length of the Brisbane airport trying to find a non-existent Gate 60. At one point, I thought I'd never see the inside of an airplane. But with the help of random airport workers, I figured it out and made it on to the little plane on time.
The other odd thing about Australian airports is the security. I'm so used to flying in the US or internationally, that I didn't think it was possible to get on airplanes without showing ID to someone, but alas, it is. I wasn't checking baggage and I used the self service kiosk, so that makes some difference. But there is no ID check at the security gate, either. On the flight back, I didn't even go through a security gate at all, which I thought was completely unsettling, even though Gladstone (pronounced GLADstun, if you want to fit in) is a tiny town (around 30,000 population, I hear), with a grand total of 3 gates in the entire airport. At least pretend you're concerned about security... please!?
So it was a long day of talking (er... chatting) to people... this was not an interview I was told. I got a little tour of the area and the facilities that this regulatory agency regulates. Everyone seemed really lovely and friendly and I could definitely see myself working there, despite the small town environment... I've lived in Rolla, remember... I can do this! The next step for them is to double check my visa status with immigration. So that is great news.
I returned pretty exhausted, but had to keep up the momentum for a dinner date we had with Theo's Auntie and her partner. It was really good to get some hot sake into me after a long long day.
Since then, it's pretty much been recovery time and hopeful planning :) I'll keep you updated :)
The weather was really nice over the long weekend and there was a strange little festival going on in neighboring Coolangatta. It was a "Rock N Roll" festival. I wish I would have gotten some photos, because I was amazed at the coming together of social groups. First there were the 50's baby boomer rockers dressed in poodle skirts and black jackets, who came to see 50's cover bands and Elvis lookalikes. Then there were the 50's car aficionados who came to show off their mint condition '57 Chevys and the like. That was kind of cool. But then there were also the '50s goth subset that (I don't know the proper term for them), the type who like to look like Betty Page and probably have a roller derby team. One of these types even had a hair styling booth, so you could get your very own '50s updo. There were also the Harley biker types, who caused a ruckus one night, I heard, resulting in a shooting or stabbing or something. I found it a really interesting mix of personality types.
The week really ramped up fast for a 2nd interview-type chat up in Gladstone on Wednesday. They booked my one-hour flight out of Brisbane at 9am and back at 4:30 the same day. I was nervous about missing my outgoing flight because you never know what the traffic is going to do here, so we spent the night in Brisbane Tuesday, so Wednesday wouldn't be as hellish. It was a good call, I think, since I had never been inside the Brisbane airport before, and was utterly confused by it. It would have been completely simple if I knew that:
A: the number listed on your boarding pass under "Gate" really isn't your gate number and
B: each airline has its own gate numbering system.
This confusion meant that I would end up walking the entire length of the Brisbane airport trying to find a non-existent Gate 60. At one point, I thought I'd never see the inside of an airplane. But with the help of random airport workers, I figured it out and made it on to the little plane on time.
The other odd thing about Australian airports is the security. I'm so used to flying in the US or internationally, that I didn't think it was possible to get on airplanes without showing ID to someone, but alas, it is. I wasn't checking baggage and I used the self service kiosk, so that makes some difference. But there is no ID check at the security gate, either. On the flight back, I didn't even go through a security gate at all, which I thought was completely unsettling, even though Gladstone (pronounced GLADstun, if you want to fit in) is a tiny town (around 30,000 population, I hear), with a grand total of 3 gates in the entire airport. At least pretend you're concerned about security... please!?
So it was a long day of talking (er... chatting) to people... this was not an interview I was told. I got a little tour of the area and the facilities that this regulatory agency regulates. Everyone seemed really lovely and friendly and I could definitely see myself working there, despite the small town environment... I've lived in Rolla, remember... I can do this! The next step for them is to double check my visa status with immigration. So that is great news.
I returned pretty exhausted, but had to keep up the momentum for a dinner date we had with Theo's Auntie and her partner. It was really good to get some hot sake into me after a long long day.
Since then, it's pretty much been recovery time and hopeful planning :) I'll keep you updated :)
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Cleaning House
While I wait for the career fairy to come back out of hibernation, I continue to look for employment opportunities outside my field. Before we moved here, I had fantasized about doing something completely different with myself for awhile, maybe working in a coffee shop or a plant nursery or something kind of fun like that.
I had no idea that “something completely different” would end up being sitting on my butt all day playing Farmville, which (surprise, surprise) turns out to not exactly be emotionally or financially fulfilling. (But it is indeed very different for me) So needless to say, I’m ready to return to my career. Due to the state of the economy in Australia – and probably our neighborhood, which thrives on tourism – and probably my immigrant status, I’ve had trouble even finding work at a coffee shop. Or at a grocery store. Or anywhere. Somehow I'm simultaneous under- and overqualified for such positions, as the only non-geology/environmental experience I have is:
a short stint at Subway - I mean really short
a short stint at Chucky Cheese - only a summer
a much longer stint as the Queen of Blockbuster Video in Rolla! yay! (my high point)
So when a friend of Theo’s who owns a cleaning company offered us a chance to work on a job of his, we jumped at it, even though cleaning has got to be my least favorite thing to do in the whole wide world. It was what’s called a “commercial clean” meaning we would be cleaning up after the builders on a new construction. This one happened to be a ginormous home situated on a hill, with views of the Gold Coast all the way down to our area in the very south, up to the north end. The first word that comes to mind is mansion. I'm not sure what stats you have to have to qualify for this, but I think this was close enough. Eight bathrooms - including one with a double shower and double toilet. A movie/media room. A pool, spa, and sauna. Two kitchens on the first floor - the second is actually for BBQ'ing and the windows open up onto the patio/pool area. A kitchenette upstairs in case you don't feel like walking downstairs. Marble floors. Enough square footage to house every person I've ever known. It was a very modern floor plan, very open. The only odd thing about it was the choice of cabinetry. It all looked like it was from Wal-mart... actually Wal-mart of the '60s or '70s. I'm sure they were going for a retro look, but it was cheap and ugly. I was not impressed.
Theo went without me the first day, so I didn't see what a horrible mess the builders left, but on the second day our 4 person team did a lot of scraping paint off of everything, dusting, cleaning windows and frames, and cleaning floors. My lack of discipline in the area of physical exercise lately really showed itself after 10 hours and bending, reaching, and scrubbing. I was completely smashed by the end of the day.
By the time we caught our bus home, it was dark, like it had been on our way there, and we had little energy to do anything but sit and veg out. All I could think about was the people who do this every day. Especially the ones in the States, who would be doing work like this for minimum wage - or less if undocumented. How do they live like this? I remember years ago seeing a TV program about the Clinton era efforts to get welfare moms back to work. I remember the reporter going with one woman to see what a day in her life was like. She got up at the crack of dawn, left her kids at a subsidized/discounted daycare, boarded a bus that took an hour or two to get to her job, she worked all day for minimum wage, and by the time she got back it was time to put her kids to bed. And what did she have to show for it? Not much more than what daycare costs. I'm lucky to not be in that situation. I can only guess at how awful that kind of life is. In Australia, I'll probably get paid $20/hour for what I did (the regular worker gets $30). At the time of that show, she probably got $5.
I had no idea that “something completely different” would end up being sitting on my butt all day playing Farmville, which (surprise, surprise) turns out to not exactly be emotionally or financially fulfilling. (But it is indeed very different for me) So needless to say, I’m ready to return to my career. Due to the state of the economy in Australia – and probably our neighborhood, which thrives on tourism – and probably my immigrant status, I’ve had trouble even finding work at a coffee shop. Or at a grocery store. Or anywhere. Somehow I'm simultaneous under- and overqualified for such positions, as the only non-geology/environmental experience I have is:
a short stint at Subway - I mean really short
a short stint at Chucky Cheese - only a summer
a much longer stint as the Queen of Blockbuster Video in Rolla! yay! (my high point)
So when a friend of Theo’s who owns a cleaning company offered us a chance to work on a job of his, we jumped at it, even though cleaning has got to be my least favorite thing to do in the whole wide world. It was what’s called a “commercial clean” meaning we would be cleaning up after the builders on a new construction. This one happened to be a ginormous home situated on a hill, with views of the Gold Coast all the way down to our area in the very south, up to the north end. The first word that comes to mind is mansion. I'm not sure what stats you have to have to qualify for this, but I think this was close enough. Eight bathrooms - including one with a double shower and double toilet. A movie/media room. A pool, spa, and sauna. Two kitchens on the first floor - the second is actually for BBQ'ing and the windows open up onto the patio/pool area. A kitchenette upstairs in case you don't feel like walking downstairs. Marble floors. Enough square footage to house every person I've ever known. It was a very modern floor plan, very open. The only odd thing about it was the choice of cabinetry. It all looked like it was from Wal-mart... actually Wal-mart of the '60s or '70s. I'm sure they were going for a retro look, but it was cheap and ugly. I was not impressed.
Theo went without me the first day, so I didn't see what a horrible mess the builders left, but on the second day our 4 person team did a lot of scraping paint off of everything, dusting, cleaning windows and frames, and cleaning floors. My lack of discipline in the area of physical exercise lately really showed itself after 10 hours and bending, reaching, and scrubbing. I was completely smashed by the end of the day.
By the time we caught our bus home, it was dark, like it had been on our way there, and we had little energy to do anything but sit and veg out. All I could think about was the people who do this every day. Especially the ones in the States, who would be doing work like this for minimum wage - or less if undocumented. How do they live like this? I remember years ago seeing a TV program about the Clinton era efforts to get welfare moms back to work. I remember the reporter going with one woman to see what a day in her life was like. She got up at the crack of dawn, left her kids at a subsidized/discounted daycare, boarded a bus that took an hour or two to get to her job, she worked all day for minimum wage, and by the time she got back it was time to put her kids to bed. And what did she have to show for it? Not much more than what daycare costs. I'm lucky to not be in that situation. I can only guess at how awful that kind of life is. In Australia, I'll probably get paid $20/hour for what I did (the regular worker gets $30). At the time of that show, she probably got $5.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Bennett Spectacular
This past week or so, a very large portion of Theo's immediate family was in town on vacation. It was nice to see them all, but kinda exhausting for someone who grew up with an immediate family that ranged from 3 (including me) to 5 (when the grandparents were in town). Most activities this week counted almost 20 in attendance. Thankfully, mostly we just hung out at the family's resort, which was really nice... it had beautiful pools and spas and all their units were bigger than our apartment. We also got some down time when the family went to the local theme parks - we're too old and broke for that...
The highlights of the visit were definitely the night we went to a yummy Italian restaurant and the night we went to the tourist attraction "The Outback Spectacular". It had all the requisite cheesiness you'd expect from a dinner show (I assume, since I've never been to one before). Of course, there was live country music, outback homesteads, cowboys on horses, and lots of Australian flags flying. I actually learned some interesting history, though, about one the last cavalry campaigns made up of Australian Outback soldiers and their horses.
I'm sure someday, maybe even someday real soon, I'm going to regret posting this, but here's a photo of us Bennetts in the cowboy hats issued to us at the show. I don't think I'm much of a cowgirl. Somehow I made it 32 years in the US without wearing a cowboy hat and now I've been in Australia for 6 months and look at me!!??
The highlights of the visit were definitely the night we went to a yummy Italian restaurant and the night we went to the tourist attraction "The Outback Spectacular". It had all the requisite cheesiness you'd expect from a dinner show (I assume, since I've never been to one before). Of course, there was live country music, outback homesteads, cowboys on horses, and lots of Australian flags flying. I actually learned some interesting history, though, about one the last cavalry campaigns made up of Australian Outback soldiers and their horses.
I'm sure someday, maybe even someday real soon, I'm going to regret posting this, but here's a photo of us Bennetts in the cowboy hats issued to us at the show. I don't think I'm much of a cowgirl. Somehow I made it 32 years in the US without wearing a cowboy hat and now I've been in Australia for 6 months and look at me!!??
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