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The first time I rode public transport in Sydney was a train wreck. High off of our orientation in Cairns, my new friends and I decided we needed to get room supplies at K-mart (Australia’s subpar version of Target) ASAP. As in many of my friend groups, I took on the dad role: insisting on navigating when I had no clue where I was going. I had to be in control - grab Sydney by its collar and make it my own.
But as the story always ends when dad’s stubbornness takes precedence over efficiency, a 20 minute bus ride was turned into 2 hours. The only landmark from that trip I remember was Flower Street, where we not so patiently waited to get on our final bus by dancing to absurd Tik tok sounds and playing peek-a-boo with some kids spying on us from their balcony across the street. Who knew 7 lost American girls could be so amusing to locals? After successfully making it to the mall and buying way too much unnecessary room decor, we decided to take the road most traveled and Uber home.
One of my favorite questions these girls and I talk about is “what’s one cheesy quote that you actually live by and love?” From this story alone, I’d say not all who wander are lost. While we were very much lost on our three bus transfers and 20 minute walk, we found joy in the wandering that has carried us through our entire time here. We’ve turned that 2 hour bus ride into weeks long trips to Bali, Thailand, and New Zealand, essentially wandering our way through it all. At this very moment, I’m on a hike in the middle of nowhere bushland with the girls I called strangers 4 months ago, contentedly wandering.
390x to Bondi Junction -> 333 to Bondi Beach
The infamous Bondi Beach. White sand, beautiful cliffs, perfect waves. Home of the red and yellow Bondi rescue lifeguards with their way too tight head caps and budgie smugglers. The first and one of the only times I went to Bondi was for a surf lesson with my abroad program. I was terrified. Don’t get me wrong, I can swim. But when a wave comes crashing over my head, I think the panic of tumbling around affects me more than most. And more than this, I’ve always had a chronic fear of embarrassing myself. It’s stopped me my whole life, especially in sports. From not competing in free ride ski competitions to putting in minimal effort on my high school tennis team, my athletics career has been plagued with the fear of trying hard and failing.
Right before I came abroad, I decided I was over it. So when the time came to take the 45 minute bus ride to Bondi, I marched my way onto the bus, my stomachs in knots the entire time. The surf lesson went well enough; I stood up a few times in the white water and got tossed around a few times more (at which my Australian surf instructor with a mullet died laughing at). But I did it. And when the time came again to surf in Byron Bay at the very end of my time in Australia, I apprehensively carried a board to the beach and went. Did I catch a wave? Definitely not. Did I get absolutely rocked, hit a girl with my board, and make another girl fall mid wave? Definitely. But I went out and tried to prove to myself not that I could surf, because I can’t, but that I’m not afraid to fail anymore. The dignity in trying far outweighs the shame of giving up before I’d even started.
Honestly, Bondi beach isn’t my favorite. It’s overcrowded and pretty far away (a 45 minute, two-bus transfer trek), but it’ll always be special to me. Right now, I’m riding the 390x in the pouring rain on my way to the Bondi markets. And when I see the surfers in the water, I’m sure I’ll think to myself “wow I’m bad at surfing.”
L3 Junior Kingsford
Ah, the light rail. My tried and true. The easiest and most efficient way to get home from pretty much anywhere in downtown Sydney. After nights out, days spent at The Rocks, or morning tours of the Opera house, the L3 remains reliable (not to be confused with the L2 that goes to essentially the same place, but the walk is ever so slightly further and therefore avoided at all costs). Many of my favorite memories have been spent on the L3, and much like its consistency in timing, the friendships that deepened on the 40 minute ride back to UNSW Anzac Parade were an unexpected constant I didn’t know I needed. They’re what made Sydney home. Every small moment together was a happy one. In my mind, nothing embodies those small moments better than a light rail ride home to our dirty apartment full of joy and laughter and cuddling and shared meals and movies.
The L3 holds many of my precious memories, like Alex talking me down from utter embarrassment after an awkward encounter with a guy. Or Katie spilling her entire iced coffee seconds after getting on. Giuliana and I reading in silence on the way home from Manly beach. Jack finishing an entire baguette on the way back from the Taylor Swift concert. Molly filming a Tik tok fit check of Anja and me. Athlyn saying something hilarious to add to her ongoing quote list. Annaliesse and I uncontrollably laughing as we stretch our legs across the seats facing each other. Eagerly leaving the city to visit Kevin while he bartends at Kalyx. I’m so grateful for the friendships formed and deepened in my time abroad. So here, I want to say thank you to the people that made the journey just as good as the destination. I couldn’t have imagined a better group to see the world with.
L3 Circular Quay
Next stop: Surry Hills, Moore Park, then all stops to Circular Quay. The Australian woman’s voice rings in my head as my friends and I run to catch the light rail for what feels like the millionth time. Google maps says it takes 7 minutes to walk there, and it leaves in 4. Classic.
I can’t remember a time we’ve been on time to the light rail. I really don’t know what it is. Whether we’re getting ready or just laying in each other’s beds, we never time correctly when we actually need to leave the apartment. We always just make it or just miss it, no in between. In a word, we are consistently inconsistent. One time Annaliesse and I were so late we didn’t have time to tap on, and we almost got caught by the transit officers the one time they were checking people’s Opal cards. The mini lesson: always tap on kids.
The larger lesson: there’s no rush. I laugh picturing us running to the light rail for the hundredth time, knowing full well another one would come in 8 minutes if we missed this one. I question why we were in a rush with nowhere urgent to be. The museum or jazz bar would still be there.
I think I’ve spent most of my life this way. Rushing to class, or the party that started 10 minutes ago. Rushing to the next big trip, the next big milestone. Even rushing through study abroad, preparing for the summer and the school year beyond it. It’s cheesy, I know, but what’s the rush? To finish the accomplishment, graduate college, start the big job. There’s very few times in life where freedom outweighs responsibility, and I plan to enjoy this blissful in between for as long as I can. Though I am now leaving Sydney, I don’t regret the light rails missed and the plans we showed up to late. So I think the next time I’m running late for the L3 into the city, I’ll just let it go by. There’s always another.
370 to Coogee via Randwick
Before coming to Australia, I was scared I wouldn’t find my people. That I would be across the world from everyone and everything I’ve ever known without a support system that I connected with. Honestly, it was a rational fear. I mean, I’d already found the best people in high school and college, so how could my luck possibly continue? I vocalized some of these fears with my therapist at W&M, and in our last session before I left she said to me “Sammie, I think a lot of your problems would be solved if you were comfortable being alone with yourself.” Yeesh. There’s an insight into my mind you didn’t ask to know. But it was true. I didn’t even think about the possibility of being alone when abroad because I was never alone at home or school. It was this moment that I decided I wouldn’t talk myself out of my fears by saying “of course you’ll make friends you’re a good friend” but by saying “I’m going abroad to get to know and love myself better.”
It was on the 370 bus to Coogee, looking out the window at Randwick and Happy Jacks and Chish and Fips, that I discovered what it truly meant to love being alone. To cherish the moments that you alone hold. To relish in the thoughts no one else has access to. The deeply human thoughts that think kindly of strangers and reminisce on best friends and pray for hurting family members. And the more simple thoughts like which smoothie to order and where to lay my towel on the beach. Not every thought that went through my head was good, but it was mine and I appreciated it as such.
It seems silly now, picturing myself looking out the bus window like I’m in a coming of age film when in reality I’m a broke college student taking the bus to the beach for the 3rd time that week. But another aspect of getting to know yourself is not judging yourself for the things you enjoy that others may not. I love Sydney public transport. I love introspective thinking. I love praying in my head. And I can finally say now, that I love being alone. Thanks 370.
F1 to Manly
The first time I rode the ferry back from Manly beach with my friends, the transport attendant said “there are two different ferries back to the wharf; the only difference is one is much faster than the other.” I nodded my head and confidently marched to the right. We would take the slow one. We walked onto the boat and up to the bow, taking over all the benches.
The ferry pulled away from the Manly Wharf and it took a bit to see what the famous “many ferry at sunset” was all about, but we eventually saw it. As we rounded the corner towards the opera house, the entire sky above the opera house turned pink even though there were clouds covering our view moments before. I couldn’t tell you what song we decided to play, but soon we were dancing making fools of ourselves as we passed marinas, bays, and all of Sydney’s iconic landmarks. It felt like we were on the ferry for seconds and hours simultaneously.
On my last night in Sydney, I took this ferry back to the harbor, long past sunset, with my family. I reminisced on this memory the most, thinking about all of us falling in love with our new home together. We spent more time outside than not, and more time together than not, which made for a great 4 months. I don’t have a crazy, life-altering lesson from this one, other than I’m so grateful I had the opportunity to travel the world and meet new people for a semester.
Bye Sydney. I’ll love you and your public transport forever. Thanks for giving me the best journey of my life. I’ll see you soon.
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