Of all the gin joints.

So we made kind of a splash when we first arrived to our backpackers (read: hostel) because we were not only American but because we were from Texas. This hostel is somewhat off the beaten path because it's not downtown and it's a bit...local. Everyone fortunately knows Texas because of the presidents coming out of it, so there is no need to say we're American anymore because for one, our accents give that away, and for another, saying Texas is enough.

Anyway, it was very disconcerting to walk over to the kitchen for breakfast, bleary-eyed and scrounging together the free toast and cereal, to hear our accents in other people. Turns out there is a group of about 30 Americans who are touring around Australasia that are from several different states and they have stolen our thunder. Of course, we're hostel regulars now, so the shine has worn off a bit, but still.

Also, funnily enough, they are annoying to us, with their loud, American ways. I'm not saying we're typical Australians now, but this place has become home and they are like raucous house guests that won't leave us alone. Of course, as soon as they caught on that we were Americans too, they flipped and really bugged us. We told them a bit about ourselves, as you do in the kitchen, warned them that the "cinnamon" they're putting on their toast is instant coffee and booked it out of there with our breakfast.

Of course, we are obviously still tourists. When we went to Bondi, which is indescribably beautiful, what pictures I took do not do it justice, we were the only ones on the beach. Of course, it was pouring down rain and it's winter here, but still.

We have favorites here, cafes that we frequent. We have become regulars at coffee shops and gelato cafes near the hostel. Granted, they mostly remember us because of our Texas origins, but it feels nice to walk in to a foreign place and get a smile, perhaps a free croissant if we're lucky. We have taken this week and made Sydney what we need it to be: home. Well, some of us. Others still stubbornly refuse. Their loss.

So when we see tourists, bold enough to be American, we get our feathers ruffled despite the irony there. Sydney is ours now and having a big group of people remind us of our true home, it's too jarring to deal with. Perhaps it's dramatic (yes, it's terribly dramatic) but at least for me, I'll duck my head and play along with the foreigners, but know I have a slightly superior air to uphold.