Since touching down in Sydney and starting this new job and journey a month ago, I feel a significant turning point coming toward me. I feel… somewhat cozy. I jogged home tonight as the sun went down and spring approached, noticing that the days are getting ever-so-slightly longer. I skipped to the tune of a thought-provoking podcast, perusing Facebook notifications and thinking of my dearly beloveds while they snoozed. I knew the route without looking, the turns without reading Maps or street signs. My landmarks tend to bring me reassuring joy along the walk home: my $20 all-you-can-eat pizzeria and the towering monument out of another century overlooking our reflecting pool in Sydney’s Hyde Park. I come home, snuggle into my [flatmate’s] couch in my ski socks and Iceland leggings and realise that I’m savouring the season (teacup in hand) because a new season is upon us -- in more ways than one. It’s my second springtime this year; the close of my second winter. Perched under the giant wall map courtesy of the roomie, I’m reminiscent of journaling in dorm room beds (from SC to Singapore to Hong Kong), our Vik apartment in the south of Iceland, my soft brown couch in Lower Pac, and evenings multitasking on the couch in North Beach with various roommates, Bachelorettes and Simba. The things I miss most: the traditions that felt so much like home I didn’t have to think or blink about what I looked like or the expressions I emoted (most in response to the Bachelor); also, the establishments so comfortable that I knew my order without glancing at a menu, the taste to expect in my coffee mug, and the friends and SF neighbours with whom I ordered. 

As I reflect on my first thirty-one days here, I recall the many highlights throughout my first four weeks. There was my first walk along the Sydney side of the Pacific, my stellar 360-degree view of this city, the nearly 100 meals (not to mention 100 dumplings) enjoyed thus far, and my perfect tourist-tours across my new home. There were the hills and valleys of my first ~14 kilometres across Sydney on foot (weekend 1!), my favourite discoveries in the form of parks, storefronts and office hallways, and the most inspiring anecdotes or people I’ve stumbled across since 6 August. Finally, there’s the opportunity that helped bring me Down Under: my company, our badass global vision, and my werk. It’s a new side of "LinkedIn life” and already contains its share of milestones.  

Sydney — the city and the workplace — are equally novel and easy. I love Phil, the barista at [downstairs cafe] Soho who says hi with a pleasantly-surprised smile and big eyes twice daily when I order my flat white. I love the office, that greets me with its harrowing ol’ clock tower and a pillar of blue flip flops that resembles a pile of overstock at Locals in LinkedIn-theme (see below). I love my commute: past museums and churches, malls and bank buildings, I practically apparate from hip and flavourful suburb (past quaint European and fountain-filled park) to packed metropolis filled with diverse faces. I even love our office kitchen, more like a dining room complete with restaurant tables, hanging plants and shelves for a new bedroom like mine to envy. My desk area, not unlike SF with its green leaves a la A-Bugs-Life and LinkedIn swag, hosts both sales people and quieter work horses in customer success, ad ops etc. Not that I’m quieter. Much to my satisfaction, we sit adjacent to both the kitchen and the dedicated workplace team: this means that anything and everything I could have possibly needed throughout the first four weeks of a new job was within approximately fifteen steps. I can jet out for water or a new and native snack (yes, Vegemite), or I can pop over to our resident tech whiz (my first unofficial #workbff simply due to pure proximity-meets-frequency) and ask him for the fifth time to activate my new Aussie SIM card, troubleshoot my browser issues and adjust my standing desk that won’t stay standing.  

While a regional office like this one does not house the same perks to the same extent as HQ, there is an amazing amount of hospitality and home between our two cozy floors. The two kitchens and entire workspace for 225 souls is kept up by a married couple; they host breakfast and lunch, manage our common prep space for countless snacks and amenities [including but not limited to local Australian teas, candies and aforementioned local delicacies like Veg] and stock fridges full of snacks you’d find in your fridge at home: cheese squares (that are not individually wrapped), tortillas and fresh fruit slices cut and and ready for smoothie-blending. When lunch time comes, the Sydney staff (most of whom are not local) take time out of their day to sit, prep their own meal and enjoy restaurant-style luxury like shared water jugs and silverware at the tables over relaxed conversation. Finally, a single ping pong table and FiFA setup with cushy couches are constantly occupied, emitting the illusion of a start-up and that same comfort of a home-away-from-home. 

Each day, I fill my new LinkedIn Learning water jug and assemble my breakfast bowl with cool poached eggs, pre-sliced avo and fresh ground s&p. Aussies love their abbrevs and I lean in to hear the goss on the reg while I munch. I am routinely asked if I’m up for a jaunt downstairs to get coffee, which most people indulge in at least twice daily. I meander awkwardly to the bathroom on my floor, walking one of two ways since it is equidistant from my own desk I think (and since I still don’t know which way to turn instinctually when nature calls). My teammates are from everywhere, both in professional background and country of origin; there are hunters and farmers in the sales realm, customer champions who manage post-sales implementation (that’s me!) and managers who span from team leads to office-wide business heads. My first friends that surround my desk include two homegrown Aussies, a British gal, an American Girl, an Irish lass and a Chilean-Australian with a huge variety sprinkled in on either side of me. All the males are charming, three of whom are named Tim, and all have already offered up their favourite bars, restaurants and retailers for my reference. The American who preceded me to Oz most recently is a dashing twenty-six year old who is part jock, part boy-next-door. Let’s hope my coworkers don’t read this anytime soon. Everyone is nice and everyone has opened up in their own time.  

In Australia, any and all business conversations are built upon a foundation of rapport and relationship. I was told this from day one of my exploratory discussions, but it’s been a treat to witness it first-hand time and time again. Small talk, combined with the type of punny humour I was born for, are so abundant here that my first-ever mock customer pitch — delivered to no less than my country director in front of a class of thirty sales people — started with a fictional exchange about [her] five cats… since my male Director was playing Taylor Swift, of course. That put me at ease. My first day of work and twelve hours after landing in Sydney, I was invited to join an in-the-office first-meeting with a client who’s introducing our product into her government department. That same gal? Brought “lollies” (that means candy) to share to our most recent meeting and I’m working with her to promote and launch Linkedin, four weeks later. Since most enterprise clients prefer meeting and planning in person, exposure to Australian customers has served as the perfect method to learning the suburban landscape around Sydney. Traveling to inner 'burbs with names like Liverpool and Paramatta introduced me to motorways, more bridges and sparkling waterways than I knew were here, and driving (or rather, passenger-ing) on the “wrong side of the road.” This was also invaluable in granting me line of sight to the working world — public and private sector — outside of international tech. My customers have strong corporate cultures, value-driven missions and inquisitive people… all of whom are still human and love cupcakes.  

​Work has already brought great routines, amazing friends and an endless wealth of knowledge of things I didn’t know I love. In adopting our own value prop of blended and micro-learning, I’m listening to podcasts (have I mentioned that yet?) and watching Lynda courses both informative and inspiring in nature. I’ve taken to our in-office yoga instructor, powerful and nurturing, and tried other wellness classes offered mid-day like “Restore” and “Ab Lab.” Great breaks; better workouts for the mind body and spirit. Having two relatively new teammates and the most international team I’ve worked on has lent to amazing time for practice, mock scenarios, demo races and contests all to help us each demand excellence. On my one-month anniversary of landing in Sydney, I was certified by my new leader and already-thought-provoking mentor to demo our technology to clients (yes!). Finally, I’ve met so many cross-functional counterparts and ambitious women across different products Linkedin offers that my heart is bursting. My first month included a peer-mentor gathering of “Women at LinkedIn” (over wine), one women-in-industry networking event, an inaugural LGBTQ+ community event, and a celebratory evening party for LinkedIn and plus-ones because of our company’s global emphasis on the fact that “relationships matter.” It’s a value tenet but also a thing. I met partners, wives, sisters and roommates. I danced like I had known these people for years.  

​Finally, in my thirty and thirty-first day on this island, I checked off a few other bucket-list items — most were cheesy. My company has a ritual from the start-up days in which we stand up, introduce ourselves and share a “special talent” (uh-oh) in front of all our peers. Who knew that our Aussie offices combined contain close to 300 people… or that our Director of Asia-Pacific would be in town during my turn?! I decided to go for the only [not talent but ] tendency I’m known for and share my knack for jumping photos in both scenic and totally-average-and-everyday moments in time. Not only did I get a few laughs; my newly acquainted Head of Oz and a few strangers gave me kudos for sharing, being brave etc. That night I rep’d LinkedIn at a recruitment and networking event in-house for the first time in my tenure; wearing my LI letters and illustrating my company’s commitment to personal transformation (not to mention that of the world) made me quite proud. 

I couldn’t be doing this without my desk-mate, my dance partners, teammates, or new boss. There are my yoga girls, my barista buddies, the local concierges and the passerby who tend to smile more here than in my former cities. My flatmate, first Australia mentor and unconditional listening ear is a laid-back bachelor at first glance; at the second, he’s a world traveler and videographer capturing every experience he can get his hands and feet around. He cooked dinner for us the past two Mondays and recently asked if I wanted to watch Despicable Me 3. Obviously. Moana is now in our queue, and I can’t wait to learn from the rituals I detected from our first meeting: he cooks, he explores, and he travels to both local and remote destinations for adventure, good friends, good laughs and novel excursions. I think I’ll learn a lot from him!  

​
I’ve taken my time to reflect on my new LinkedIn life, and consider work to be a major channel and vessel for this journey away from home. It was not, however, necessarily the impetus or core fuel-engine of my transformation. Why is this a dichotomy I struggle with, I wonder? Often, I lead with the professional experience when asked why I wanted to move to Australia: I always dreamed of working overseas, experiencing an international market and, as it turned out, serving a customer from different backgrounds with new perspectives to broaden my expertise and understanding of our ecosystems, making me a more well-rounded potential leader at our company. Phew — exhausting. I know in my heart that this was not the first nor only reason for dreaming of what was past the line where sky meets sea. It’s been a powerful vessel and guiding light, however.

The dream actually began during one of my first vocations, with my realisation of our vast uniqueness and simultaneous, common humanity while running down a soccer field in Manchester, England. I wrote in my 2007 essay to USC about hearing a coach that summer — yelling from the sideline — in a language I couldn’t understand but a tone I knew only too well during an early-in-the-tourney match. The passion, the direction? All the same, as both were when we stood on the winner’s podium later that week, too. I knew from that moment on that I wanted to better understand people’s common aspirations and the lenses through which they pursue and fight for them. Fast forward ten years and, as it turns out: my company strives to do the same, all the while empowering users, learners and seekers from all walks of life to fulfil those dreams. What better way to contribute to this than by broaching this lofty mission from a different geographic angle? 

​
After years of thinking, reading and talking about it, the dream felt more driven by a need for personal transformation. I told one of my early LinkedIn mentors that I also wanted a simple fresh start: the chance to experience a new [array of] cultures, build a community amidst new perspectives and scenery, and do so upon a blank white canvas. I grew to see that this meant a new level of independence, the essence of exploration and an exercise in resilience; as a prototype family-girl and extrovert with a knack for nostalgia and HUGE capacity for love, I realised later down the road that this would lead to extra-juicy pain, unavoidable longing and good practice in letting go. 

Here I am, countless iterations of this dream later. It’s been 3 years since embarking on this path at LinkedIn, 8 since visiting Sydney and 10 since meeting the friend who would change it all: Jill, destined collegiate soulmate and studier-abroad who inspired my trip to Australia circa 2009. Before that, it was both my first love who modelled how to adventure abroad and my Mom, who — back at my current age — trekked across Europe solo with her dream of seeing, eating and falling in love in foreign lands just the same. 

Thanks to Mom, my high-school superlative co-star, my inspirational friends and generous encouragers of the dream above — I’m making it werk at LinkedIn and across Oz (I even have my first interstate work trip coming up!). I know that I’m helping customers, learning new technology, building new relationships, and helping fulfil LinkedIn's vision of economic opportunity, everywhere. All the while, I’m refining and living my own vision. While I’m still meandering down the road that some call a career path, these factors make me certain that not all who wander are lost. 

To my new LinkedIn life and my first nerd— I mean, thirty days!

xoxo,
A broad down under  

When I opened my eyes this morning, the true first in which I had set no alarm and allowed myself to succumb to my black out curtains instead, I woke up to a new view and vast ocean... of covers, thanks to my wall-canvas turned bedspread. It was also marked the first morning I woke to the stark realisation that I was a vast ocean away:  from “home,” my old life and the people I consider family.  

While this may sound quite somber, it’s not a bad thing. This early-morning epiphany could have struck because I’m beginning to feel more settled in the fine city of Sydney. The mattress I rest my tired limbs upon is starting to meld to my shape; I’m doing adult things, like commuting home through a park daily while listening to podcasts and flossing every night. I have exercised every day for the past week if you include scenic treks along the coast of my new continent. Mind you, I’m also doing teenage things: collaging pictures of my friends and family, staying up late reading, and text-flirting with my SF-crush on the reg.  

Despite having views like this one to spark inspiration in its glimmering reflections off the water, my own reflections haven’t been flowing with the abundance I’d like. While pondering the question of: How could I possibly have writers’ block when I am living the epitome of what I once envisioned to be “a life worth writing about”?! the bestie put it perfectly. She assured me that it wasn’t a block; I’m busy LIVING! "Living and experiencing and making memories, and once things calm down a bit the writing will flow like wine,” she said. I feel drunk, alright. Throughout my first four weeks, I’ve felt so saturated with love and awe that I’m fatigued on the daily. My brain gets sore, my heart is bursting, and my hands are often too tired to write from typing away at work, shaking furiously among new friends, snap(chat)ing glimpses of my new city and unpacking final items from my suitcases.  

My latest and ideal ritual, for which I've decided not to apologise, is as follows: settle into a bubble bath after a long day of learning, trying, meeting people and exploring a new sight/path/eatery in Sydney. Whilst bubbling, I'll perhaps read a chapter of All Over the Place and hear a great new song or podcast that reminds me of home but opens my mind to something new. Climb into bed and read an email from a friend, write one to a family member, jot down thoughts for my blog and journal in my green leather-bound that reads "On to the Next Adventure." For writing's sake, I need to default to my purist exercise more often: writing not for an audience but simply for the sake of processing my thoughts. There are almost too many things, there are so many. On the fullest of days, I’m perfectly content getting in bed between 8 and 9p, using my downtime to catch up on my entire family and network via social while they sleep, and then drifting off to memories of my new town and savoury nostalgic flashbacks to my favourite people. Am I savouring enough? 

Note: an insecurity of mine stems from a blogger and LinkedInner years ago who wrote that no one should ever watch a drop of Netflix in their first year in a new city let alone country. Maybe it’s lazy to find connection or stimulus in the ladies of Litchfield, the lovebirds of tragedies like 500 Days or the comforting ocean of Moana's and Maui’s. The question is: how should I balance the expenditure of my energy across work, well-being, social connection-building and the need to reflect and update? I’m still working toward mastery on that one, still adjusting to this new time zone.

Signs that I live here: 
I have a bank account. And a nail salon. 
I know my own phone number. 
I have a yoga teacher and a Spotify playlist titled DOWN UNDER.

Milestones reached:
Went grocery shopping;
Paid my first month’s rent;
Zipped and finally stored my suitcases in the closet under the stairs.

Signs that I belong here: 
The line where the sky meets the sea and the electric pulse it sends through me
The retro & quaint Hyde Park nearby which feels like Central Park, another planet AND home
The warmth and instant-friendship offered by most around me

Highlights to date: 
Panorama views from the Westfield tower and its 360 restaurant bar
Mini-yacht cruise around Sydney Harbour and the O House
Bondi-to-Coogee Beach walk and sneak peeks of pools with names like "Icebergs"
Prosecco on the roof-deck of Coogee Pavilion with my first "visitors" (see: next post on My Touristy Trek around Oz )

Brunch items that are totally novel and delicious:
Breakfast bruschetta with haloumi and poached eggs what?
Soft baked eggs on pickly pork hash
Seaweed-y Avocado toast on Saturday #1

My current, rotating coffee orders:
Skim flat white - who calls it that?
Latte over ice
The "Cory," as my barista Phil calls my cappuccino with chocolaty cocoa powder

As the brekkie above clearly reveals, good omens seem to pop out at me everywhere I go. If I balked at the late winter chill here in Sydney, I was pleasantly surprised when met by the first day of Spring this weekend! The worst travesties to have struck include a long-overdue sore throat after weeks of over-doing it, and recently a night of walking steadfast [unbeknownst-to-me] circles home only to end up at the same train station exit at which I started. 

Each morning, I walk a spritely eighteen minutes through a park to get to work. En route home, I take Oxford Street east (which makes me feel certain I'm bloody proper) and turn right on Brisbane Street to get home (whose name just makes me confused again). I jog through a line of bulbous lanterns that are reminiscent of Central Park, while sipping from public fountains that are oh-so-European lined with plants that could be found anywhere. As I gaze upon the ancient-seeming churches that can't be more than a few hundred years old, passing statues seemingly of another time and world, I can simply look up to recall that I'm beneath the same sky I've always been, shooting for the same stars.

My first Saturday in Sydney became my favourite day thus far, nearly most accomplished and the most rich with meaningful conversation (per cousin Jill’s inspirational quote from my Daily Dose box). The Universe gave me signs, beautiful sunshine, kind potential flatmates and every blessing there is except strong internet. 

I woke that morning with butterflies humming in my stomach with anticipation to find a place I could call home. I dressed in athleisure, put on my lucky Sydney necklace and dreamcatcher bracelet from Chels, making sure to pack my hat and water bottle so that I’d have no excuse to give up. The night prior, I stayed up searching and filtering flatmates.com.au so that I could line up plenty of places, ranging from 4-bedroom houses to beach-facing flats shared with 1 or 2. As I whored myself out to strangers both Aussie and expat, I listened to New Music Friday on Spotify. Perks of being in the world’s first time zone: I’m hip to the new trends. 

First stroke of luck: Carolyn introduced me to a lovely friend (with whom she shares a lifelong bestie back in LA) named Marissa. She’s lived in Sydney for about 12 months with six to go, and originally studied abroad the same semester as Jill at UNSW! Not only is she so kind for offering to welcome me immediately; she offered to meet me for coffee or brekkie by the beach to kick off my day of apartment searching. Her and her fiancé Johnny recommended a cafe called the Nine, to which I Ubered while catching up with Carisa via FaceTime. Lovely but roundabout drive. I can’t wait to learn the bus system!  

After an iced latte and delicious avocado toast slightly tainted with “seaweed salt,” they ushered me off to the first spot with good luck and invites to friends’ couches and Facebook housing groups. I walked uphill to Home #1: Anna’s four-suite tri-level which houses her, two expats and two rag dolls named Meeko and Rocky! She was direct, kind, seasoned with an independence and warmth that made want to keep her as an auntie and mentor. Room was street-facing, huge with two large closets, private modern bath and brightly lit. Liked it. 

Home #2 was slightly further uphill, only a few more blocks from the beach (which I could see on my walk from the cafe). The two-bedroom sanctuary with an unreal view of the Eastern sea is home to Pete and Rui, an older couple who work in sales downtown; seemingly the nicest, most hospitable couple in all of Oz. Have a private room with own bath and bed provided. Living space was airy but would have been tight! Very tempting option.  

Home #3 was a short walk North of 2 on the main thoroughfare that is Bondi Road. Neighbouring the chicken cafe I ate at Wednesday night, it was quaint and tucked down a strange alley… but located above a florist, which I loved. The girl was lovely and 3-beds looked like they would have made a fine hub. But the room was too tiny and Bondi is feeling increasingly far from the city by this point! Home #4 was a third-floor share with a charming Irish guy, with a perfect balcony and sunset views from the glass shower. Wanted him as a friend and loved the warm vibe, but couch was weird leather and sharing with a boy is still meh on my scale of preference at this point. Sad to tell him!

Home #5 was an Uber ride from Bondi, back toward my current interim neighbourhood on the border of Surry Hills and paddington. Spoiler alert: I thought this might be the one. I unexpectedly received a lovely tour from 61-year old Uber driver named Marissa (two in one day?!) through Paddington, down Oxford Street en route to Surry and was drawn to the quaint shops, churches, markets and storefronts we were passing. I knew I was getting progressively closer to my office and current hood, so that felt good! We turned onto a diagonal street not far off the main thoroughfare, also near the heart of the “gay-borhood” and neighbouring a cool, edgy fountain next to a pink and purple hotel that looked like my gate to heaven. I crossed the street to find 148 (on Goulburn), a modern gray complex with a buzzer and neat-looking foyer. 

Rupert, who had reached out to me on Flatmates.com boasting an en-suite bath and nice room, buzzed me up and always seemed lax and flexible on time. He looked younger than I had assumed (at 38!) and had blonde Jimmy Neutron hair, cool wardrobe. He blew me away with a step-down master suite right by the door (convenient), private bathroom with huge tub, built-in shelving and a separate glass shower that’s pretty and sleek. Jaunt up the stairs led to this giant, airy common room with floor-to-ceiling windows (like the master!) that were fully open onto a large patio. His wooden table and giant deep couch begged imagery of small dinner parties, cozy nights in and great TV access, if I’m honest. He had Spotify on, I felt comfortable and then: TWO major good omens jumped out at me. 

Not only did Rupert have a giant world map on the wall — that I found out used to have pins on all his destinations —he also had not one, but two wooden hippo figurines on his frontmost side table next to the couch. Bayan, the bestie [and hippo-obsessed screenwriter] who I had chatted with earlier that morning, jumped back into my mind and heart! Would he tell me that this was a good brave choice, that my gut was screaming at me only good things?! Rupert loves to travel, used to recruit, and saves his money for adventures he’ll remember. An upcoming dive trip with local fur seals and a GoPro? Designed his own outdoor deck-lounge with a movie projector over Surry? Yes, I thought: I could get used to this.  

This was only the start to my day; after charging my phone next to his couch, I walked a mile or two back to Paddington and explored shops, murals, and cafes — constantly looking for more signs. The street and neighbourhood in the running for first were quickly cornered by a smoothie shop (that yelled Love Life! on its mural), book-share shelf and coffee stops galore. I crossed for more storefronts and noticed pleasantly a park, bookstore and acaí bowls in proximity. Fatigued by delight, I then grabbed a bus and felt proud that I trusted the routes and my Opal card. 

When I made it to Paddington markets, I reminisced the Melrose Trading Post and marvelled at local art, savoury food trucks (how is my Mac auto-correcting to English spelling of words like “favour” and savour”?!) and Made in Australia signage (see: Saturday’s Snap story). I bought my first souven— I mean, purchase; a friend asked over Snap whether I was already engaged and I realised that yes: Sydney had proposed a home, a flatmate and a leap of faith. I said YES. My new ring is sterling silver and comprised of a small infinity loop that forms a heart beneath it!  

In Paddington I met up with Daryl: a three-year-local who hails from Atlanta and #transformed from a different state-side LinkedIn office. She previously worked with (my first SF roommate) Britt at Groupon and seems to have so much in common when it comes to [our] path to Sydney. She showed me around, introduced me to the cutest shops like Opus (picture: Picnic meets Papyrus in quirky Oz fashion) and led me to maybe my next fave cafe called NotJustCoffee. We sat upstairs, gazing at bougainvillea and local birds and a cute lazy Bulldog below. While sharing a delish rice bowl and kale salad, we told each other our inspirations, feelings on work and life, dating histories and insights on living. I was overjoyed and relieved to have her insight on neighbourhoods that are fun versus home. We wrapped the afternoon and wound down as the sun did, heading back to her brownstone-like haven so I could re-charge.

I took the bus again and found my direct route to Sydney Town Hall or Darling Harbor in the near future. As I walked to my hotel, humming to Tulou Tagalog and relishing in my day’s accomplishments, I realised once again that I am literally living my once-upon-a-dream. The sun was approaching eye-level and, unbeknownst to the tourists and visitors beside me, I was approaching what felt like home.   

The next weekend... 

Sunday, after packing up my interim home and sipping my beloved instant java, I ventured out in an Uber to move my things exactly 1.5 more kilometres. I realised nostalgically that these three cases had traveled from North Beach to Lower Haight, then Lower Nob to SFO. Next? SF to Maui, Maui to Honolulu and (thanks to Quantas) directly across five thousand miles of Pacific to my new home of Sydney... from the Mantra to Surry. 

Upon arriving at my newly decided-upon mid-rise in my recently-christened-with-a-coffee neighbourhood, I felt a tingle and surge of anticipation run through my body... and all the way down my arms hands and suitcases. I was almost there, with only twelve steep stairs and a minimum of three IKEA trips to go! The beep that accompanied the swipe of my key at the front door panel brought me straight to reality: I was officially a resident of Sydney, Oz.

In the arvo, sitting in the coziest corner of my new room — exposed brick on one side and my very own pillow on the other — I sipped borrowed chamomile while Kelly from Airtasker helped me assemble my new Malm IKEA bed. I could not have felt more grateful nor productive (well, maybe if I had assembled every last bit myself) after a half-day trip around the home-in-a-warehouse, in which I solo explored all of the [Swedish] possibilities of my new space and downstairs oasis. It was a sentimental journey. 

As I strolled alongside couples, newlyweds, dumbstruck parents and their toddlers that Saturday, I couldn’t help but acknowledge them with sweet appreciation, only a touch of yearning and mostly good riddance. I envisioned the independence and freedom before me. I thought of JGL and Zoey in 500 Days; I thought of my first apartment with Jill, and my first roommates in life (the sea-stars, of course). Realising the start of my creative process with a giant, blank slate at my fingertips, there were endless combinations of solo sanctuary meets work-space, think-place and more in the aisles ahead. I grazed my fingers over desktops, bounced youthfully on the mattresses, and wiggled bed frames to test for both comfort and durability. I let my imagination run wild. 

After sticking to the essentials and only indulging in one, pinnable world map for my new room, I made it back to the city just in time for a walk and nice meal. This would be my last night of nomadic limbo. I planned to soak it up wholeheartedly — with sake and sushi — because my stay symbolised the grace of my company, the ease of my new city and my transition to a new stage of self. Name: Coraline. Age: 28. Location: Sydney! As I strolled home through the narrow streets and damp winter air, I felt both safe and saturated with wonder and awe. Who knew such a dichotomy of happy-sad, nostalgic-excited could not just exist, but persist and deepen so quickly! 

Fast-forward to sitting in my bare-walled basement-loft with my first-ever bought-brand-new queen-sized bed. With a lamp on the floor and my life-blood beside it — a short stack of current reads, my journals and Daily Dose box — I’m acknowledging another dichotomy. Life and its collections, its findings and its purchases are all simply comprised of a set of “things.” While I know that none of these things will go on, their meaning and the pleasure we derive from them are no small thing. I'll savour my trinkets, gaze upon their symbolism and cherish their emblematic comfort in my cheeriest and loneliest of times. Being in a new world, I can appreciate the memories of my last one and love seeing glimpses of “home” or my friends in the corners of my new sunken sanctuary. 

What thrill and comfort me even more, however, are the blank walls and light-strewn haven that surround me. They’re illustrative of the endless new discoveries and learnings still to come. I’m home, Sydney. Bring me that blank space and I’ll write your name.  

Xoxo,
A broad down under

Seven days have come and gone and I already feel incrementally more brave while navigating the streets of Sydney. An hour after arriving in Oz, I dove in headfirst toward a friendship via intro from a San-Francquaintance to check out a potential living space... then began the 9-5 grind on my first morning down under (after a quick, jet lag-inspired jog around Darling Harbour - see above). My mind, body and internal clock were in a tailspin. After a full weekend to debrief, reflect, apartment-hunt and meander leisurely, I felt both space emerge and emotions flow within my near-to-bursting brain and heart.

From the moment I boarded the plane in Honolulu, everything seemed (dare I say) almost too easy. I’ve had blessings, flukes and guardian angels accompanying me literally every step of the way. From Ali in my first ever cab from Sydney International and Pete the cold-calling flatmate candidate to the staff at my serviced apartment and Yvone at the local bank (yes! I have a bank!), every local I’ve encountered has welcomed me and/or extended more assistance than I could have thought to request. 

Sydney is eclectic, comfortable and familiar but also novel. There are tastes of Europe in its buildings and flavours of Asia on its many storefronts, balanced atop a San Francisco-esque wharf on water. Each of my first mornings, I ventured out in coat and scarf (it’s winter here!) expecting a chill while met with a damp, warm breeze from the harbour nearby. I take an approximately 13-minute zig zag to our office through the “CBD,” or Central Business District, each time choosing a different side of the street so that I can observe coffee stands, signage for pub events and unique calls-to-action in the Aussies' local advertisements.  

Preparing for my day feels nomadic and scattered, as I prepare my instant coffee (thinking of my tiny Hong Kong apartment with Em) and text my family in our iMessage convo; by then, they’re well into both afternoon and conversation. I catch up on the day’s social media while blowdrying, and realise that I’m reading the prior day’s news after I’ve finished experiencing it. 

The notion of waking each day knowing that I am precisely seventeen hours ahead of my dearest loved ones is only a teeny bit lonely. It’s not unlike being the first off the high-dive or the sucker at the front of the queue for a haunted house: You tip-toe timidly, your friends egging you on with certainty that you’ll all survive but — if not — conviction that you’re the best candidate to be eaten first. I’m inching on in anticipation, terror, and solitary self-mustered courage (since there’s no one here to pep-talk me into it), and the same sensation greets me at the finish line too as my day winds to a close. 

The exact hour I am wrapping up work, the clock is striking 12 back on the West Coast of the States. This means that as soon as I’m ready to unplug and unglue from screens, debrief my day and reconnect with my family, they’re most often asleep. As the days go on, I am finding this obliged independence increasingly positive. My second Monday for example, an aforementioned mishap in reading the train schedules led me to enjoy an unexpected Italian dinner while reading the local Sydney Herald; I also met a local business owner and enjoyed a home-made limoncello at Jet Bar, a spot I'd been eyeing daily during my walks home.

Geraldine of The Everywhereist is quite literally keeping me company on the nights that I lie awake, jet lagged and sleepless (thanks, Jill). My other best friends include but aren’t limited to: the nice Indian girl at the front desk (who studies hospitality and lives onsite at the Mantra!), the instructors from my LinkedIn Learning courses (Britt Andreatta in particular), the sexy-ish doorman at 1 Martin Place, and the bellhop with the giant smile outside the Westin Sydney. I wouldn't have made it this far if it weren’t for the check-ins and weather-forecasts from my BFF Chels, good-luck texts and stateside Snaps… not to mention my Daily Dose from the unrivalled love box by my bedside. 

Next stop: the turbulent taxi process along my hunt for "home."

Until then,
A broad down under 

A little over three months ago, I finished virtual discussions and in-person interviews for what felt like the dream job meant-to-be all along. Three months ago, I received a job offer that represents the manifestation of a pipe dream; an eight-year-old fantasy. After a near-decade of romanticizing it, years of talking about it, months of exploring it through conversation and research… Sydney became my destination: My next home, and my “next play.” 

Three weeks ago, I was wrapping up the creation of my first “new life” after college in San Francisco. I had had ample time to plan, make a lasting impact on my recruiting customers of LinkedIn and enjoy all of the must-do items in my first city by the Bay. Then, it was time to create closure: sell my more material things, begin to bid farewells and downsize my existence to the most essential symbols — gifting what I could share or pass on and preparing my most drastic and indefinite relocation to date. I’m a procrastinator, too. I said goodbye for a beautiful yet solid month. 

Countless friends, colleagues, fam and new acquaintances ask me why: why Australia, why this job, why now? There are too many reasons to list, but I’ll try here — below. One of my first realizations after this dream became a reality was that I didn’t always know for certain where or how I’d ultimately get abroad. A fickle broad I am, but one that’s also determined and persistent. 

I itched for travel, longed for foreign lands and seas, and dreamed of living and working in a diverse, international market beyond my own since I glimpsed a taste in undergrad. Comparative Media in Europe, the course name of my summer 2009 eurotrip with USC, and a PR internship in Hong Kong both introduced me to the vast, sensitive and versatile nature of communication across physical and cultural boundaries. I knew I wanted more of it; to immerse myself, live in it rather than glimpse from the outside or during a fleeting visit. 

The idea was born much earlier (see: MY STORY at the top of this page). My Mother first exposed me to the rampant travel itch when I was a mere and clumsy seven-year-old; as sad as she is now to see me go, I blame her for dressing me in stylish European outfits and revealing the common humanity found across thousands of unfathomable miles, which I somehow uncovered in an uncanny number of buttons: clothing buttons, strewn across Parisian streets and Metro platforms that proved to me that I could grasp or get my hands on something I understood anywhere I went in the world. The rest was history. I still collect buttons. 

As I surpass the halfway point of my transPacific flight and slowly approach the proverbial “hump” of what is bound to be a thrilling coaster of experience and adventure, I can’t help but anticipate with nervousness — the uncertainty! The novelty! Back on a practical level, I know that nearly every question, each fear is answerable though. 

My Fears: Missing out, missing my family, missing Simba and missing people at home and in SF. Being forgotten, starting over, knowing nothing, learning slowly. Being discovered, deemed an imposter, judged for leaping, snubbed for leaving. Being alone, flailing often, failing at all, daring to fall. These are just a few. 

My Hopes, Dreams and Anticipations [which are much more abundant and feel truer to me]: Flying solo, discovering new paths, trekking along urban hikes, learning new hobbies! Making new friends, living at the beach, practicing balance, slowing it down. Connecting over FaceTime, embracing technology, mastering a new industry, discovering L&D. Learning a new product, evangelizing LinkedIn, mentoring others, and finding new mentors. Spreading my wings, celebrating new findings, sharing my experience, and [hopefully] inspiring others. Traveling new lands, breathing in new smells, surrendering to the sea, and even holding a koala. Savoring what I miss. Daring greatly! 

My Intentions and my Why: to savor my experiences, dare greatly and lean into the discomfort. To write down as much as I can, and share with those closest to me (that’s you, if you’re reading this). Of many reasons, I write to taste life twice. I also write to embolden others to tell stories of their own, and to perhaps help one person bypass the learning lessons I lived to get to this moment. As my best friend CH says so poignantly, we can write to ensure others with common experiences that they are not alone. Finally, I write to savor and explore the moments that comprise my being — to assign and cultivate meaning amidst the chaos. 

Upon hearing my news back in June, my Gramz told me that she thinks this is great - this being moving to Australia. She is so proud of me, and has surprised me more than anyone in her words and gestures of support (including but not limited do colored pictures, motivational quotes, travel tokens and simple emoji-texts). What she said that was both the wittiest and most profound? That this adventure will not only broaden my horizons, but that it will make me a better BROAD! 

Thus was born: A Broad Down Under. Prepare for landing: It’s go-time.