Two years in La La Land

It seems that only six months ago, I wrote about it being a whole year since we'd moved to Los Angeles, but guess what? That wasn't six months ago.

It was a year ago.

Meaning? We've actually been here for two years now.

Holy crap. I have no idea where that time went - none at all. It's flown even faster than our first year here. I suspect the fact that the Faery is in school five days a week may be somewhat responsible. Days are filled with more purpose now, and our social calendar looks much busier.

Not only has the Faery been busy with making new friends from school, so have I. This is good. Maybe it's just me, but as I get older, I get lazier and less motivated to make new friends. I like the ones I already have, thank you very much. Unfortunately, they happen to mostly live on the other side of the Pacific Ocean - a little tricky for hanging out together.

So, I've put on my cheerful face during school drop-offs and pick-ups, and made an effort to get to know other parents. I'd been secretly dreading the whole school mum/mom scene for a while, imagining snooty cliques of soccer mums.

Thankfully, I've been proven very wrong. Kids are great as a tool for meeting other people, right? Perhaps it's down to the nature of the programme that the Faery is enrolled in - dual language and heavy exposure to Korean culture - but the parents are far more open-minded, knowledgable, and embracing of other cultures than what I'd imagined (stupidly based on stereotypes of American adults).

Don't I feel foolish? But this is the sort of situation where I'm happy to be wrong.

Not only am I meeting more people - lovely, friendly people - but many of them are connected to this city in a way that's just so... well... L.A. baby. 

Three of the dads are musicians (one of whom spent over a decade in a band which even had a number one song in Australia, strangely enough, so he's been on many tours there). Several other dads work for the same animation company as J. One of the mums is involved high up the chain at Nickelodean Jnr, and I've seen her name in the credits of the Faery's current favourite show. Another mum is an in-demand hairdresser based in Hollywood, and modest to boot about it. It's only over time that I've coaxed from her the names of celebrities she's worked on - Katy Perry, Florence Welch, Kylie Minogue, and Britney Spears, to name a few.

I feel pretty uncool next to some of these parents, but I'm okay with that. It's purely my own perception of where I stand in the grand scheme of social pecking order - thanks to high school all those years ago. I know that I have a few things going in my favour, too. Being the "tall Australian mom" curries a certain amount of curiosity. I don't mind that.

I'm not even sure where this ramble is going right now. Mostly, I just wanted to acknowledge this two-year L.A. anniversary, along with how quickly time has passed. That mostly, my social circle here is expanding, and that's cause for a happy dance. That loneliness that expats feel at some point, impatient to know more people? That's quickly becoming a distant memory here.

A year ago, I don't think there are many people I would have missed if we were to pack up and head back home. Things are feeling more entwined now and I know with certainty that when the time comes to leave L.A. - whether it's two years from now, or in five years - there are people I'll be very sad to say goodbye to.

Still, what's that saying? It's better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all. I think it's the same with moving far away. Let new people in, even if the sadness of parting ways is inevitable. Otherwise, what's the point? To live life properly, it needs to be shared with friends - whether old or new.

Going Native

Last weekend, we went out to dinner for J's birthday, along with some of his workmates and their partners. He was feeling carnivorous, and thought it would be hilarious if we ate at the Outback Steakhouse. Neither of us is a fan of chain restaurants - which seem so popular here - and I had my misgivings, but him being the birthday boy, I acquiesced.

I knew that once we were there, I'd be talking far too much to spend any time looking at the menu, so decided to look online and choose ahead of time. The only problem with that plan was that once I began reading it, I couldn't stop laughing.

For further giggles, I shared a link to the menu on Facebook and let the comments fly from friends and family back home. Some of the thoughts offered were:

- Toowoomba Pasta (with seafood)? The town after which this was named happens to be two hours inland from the coast. Hardly a place that's associated with seafood.

- Aussie Cheese Fries? Well, the Monterey Jack cheese which tops the fries is very much American. Still can't figure out the 'Aussie' element of this dish.

- Californian Chicken Salad? Perhaps this is for anyone who's outside their comfort zone when ordering 'foreign' or 'ethnic' food. Especially given the exotic nature of this particular restaurant.

- Tassie's Buffalo Strips? Because Tasmania is known for their buffalo wings - a fact which has escaped my attention all these years.

- Walkabout Soup of the Day? Sounds messy.

- Coconut Shrimp (with Creole marmalade)? Two thoughts here. The first: that nobody in Australia says 'shrimp'; the second: 'Creole'? Yeah, that's authentic Australian right there... via New Orleans.

- Bloomin' Onion? Never heard of this dish, and according to Wikipedia, it was created in the 1970s in - wait for it - New Jersey. The recipe was then acquired by the (American owned) Outback company and rebranded as an 'Aussie' dish. Turns out these are nothing more than glorified onion rings... but without the ring shape.

- Alice Springs Chicken Quesadillas? We all know quesadillas are actually Australian, and not Mexican. The sooner people acknowledge this truth, the better. Yo.

- New Zealand Rack of Lamb? Because New Zealand is part of the Australian outback. Didn't you know that?

- Chocolate Thunder from Down Under? Okay, I give them credit here for that dish's name. It sounds delicious, and is something I planned to order... but by that point, I was full after imbibing one too many sangria margaritas.

- The number of times that barbie was used in reference to barbecued food? Too many. I also hate to shatter illusions here, but nobody I know in Australia says 'barbie' unless they're talking about Mattel's plastic doll. We are a lazy bunch with language, and shorten many words, but we somehow manage to get out the three syllables required for 'barbecue'. Bar-be-cue. See? Easy.

I rang up to reserve a table for fifteen, and was laughing even harder by the time I got off the phone. There was an initial recording that I had to sit through, voiced by - I'm guessing - an out of work Australian actor, instructed to do his best Paul Hogan impersonation. When the recording was over, I was greeted by an American girl: "Gidday!..." The snob in me cringed.

* * *

The food itself was okay. Nothing amazing, but it wasn't bad. J was more than happy with his steak, so if the birthday boy enjoyed himself, then the objective was achieved, right?

After dinner, a handful of us continued on to a bar called The Bigfoot Lodge. Instead of American-dressed-up-as-Australian-themed, we got North American camping-themed. Much more of a novelty for me, then. The crowd of hipsters did their best to make me feel old, but I went ahead and had another cocktail - complete with toasted marshmallow on a stick. My sophistication astounds me at times.

Eventually, the cocktails caught up with me, and - in need of fresh air and water - I found myself standing outside the doors of a nearby petrol station. The large store was completely lit up, and an attendant was inside... but he'd locked the doors and refused to let me in. I had to go over to his window and the charade for a bottle of water was on. I had to pass the money through one of those security drawers, and felt ridiculous. He served me most grudgingly, and I'm not sure why he even bothered. Dude, you don't feel safe in there? I'm standing out here, freezing my tits off, purse open, with over $100 cash on me for the babysitter. 

My lesson for the night? I can't down cocktails the way I used to. My limit is lower, and the recovery time far longer - let's just say I'm grateful for a husband who makes good bacon and egg sandwiches the morning after.