In July 2024, we moved from Arizona to Sydney. People ask what it's like constantly, usually expecting either "paradise" or "spiders." The real answer is somewhere in the middle and a lot more specific.

This isn't a how-to-move-to-Australia post. I'm not an immigration expert and I'd rather not pretend to be. It's just what I've noticed, as an American mom living here, a little over two years in.

If I had to sum it up: Australia is a rainbow. The US is a full color wheel. There's more than enough here to have a really good life. But when you're used to every option existing, you notice the shades that are missing. (Yes, I know missing 50 kinds of everything is a very American, very consumer-brained complaint. I'm aware, and I'm at peace with it.)

What Australia gets right

• The coffee is second to none. It doesn't matter if it's a tiny family café or a big chain. It's consistent, it's delicious, and the baristas take real pride in it. Every time I fly home to visit, I grab one last coffee at the airport before I board, because I know it's my last good one for a month.
• Day to day, it's a friendlier place. People are easygoing, polite, and generally not in a rush to make your day worse.
• Public transport actually goes places. In Phoenix, there are buses and light rail, and the light rail doesn't even take you all the way to the airport. You have to change to a separate airport train. In Sydney, you can take the train almost anywhere you want to go, including the airport. You just get off, or you keep going. And my train into work pulls into Circular Quay, so most mornings I watch the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House slide into view through the window. On any workday, I can walk over to the Opera House on a break. I don't think that will ever stop feeling lucky.
• The words. Australians shorten almost everything, and I love it. Arvo (afternoon). Servo (gas station). Brekkie. Avo. Ambo (ambulance). Doco (documentary). Footy. Macca's. It is extremely endearing and I am slowly being converted. Then there's "I reckon," "far out," and my favorite: when you say thank you, people say "that's okay." For a long time that sounded like a total blow-off to me. Now I hear it for what it is, which is just a friendly "you're welcome," more of a "don't mention it." The funny part is that it goes both ways. When an American answers a thank you with "yep!" or "yeah!", Australians hear the blow-off. I get why. I'm still not breaking the habit.
• School uniforms. I didn't expect to have an opinion on this. I love them. Nobody negotiates an outfit at 7:45am, and getting out the door is so much easier.
• The school year. It runs January to December in four terms of about ten weeks, with a two-week break between each one and a longer break over summer. No three-month summer to fill. As a working parent, I think it's genuinely cool.
• Kids get to be independent. My daughter walks to school on her own. I would never have felt safe letting her do that in the US. Here, seeing kids out and about by themselves, even younger ones, is the norm, not the exception. Bad things happen here too, and it isn't some perfect safe haven. But the default feels different. (And yes, I still track her on Life360.)

What I miss about the US

• Drink culture. Outside of pubs, there really isn't one here. I miss Dutch Bros. I miss Sonic. I miss standing in front of the 50 fountain drink options at QT like it's a spiritual experience.
• Chick-fil-A. Australia is obsessed with chicken. Portuguese chicken, KFC, Oporto, Red Rooster, Nando's, El Jannah. It's everywhere, in every form. And still, nothing touches Chick-fil-A.
• Being where everything happens. Want to see a big concert tour? It's probably playing in the US. A major sporting event that isn't rugby league? Probably the US too. There's plenty to do here, but I miss that blockbuster feeling of everything coming to you. Also, I'm a huge Denver Broncos fan, and here most games start at 6 or 7am on a Monday. So I end up watching replays, carefully avoiding my phone like it's a crime scene. I hate it.
• Options, in general. That's the color wheel thing. Here, there's enough. There, there's everything.

What still throws me

• The cost of living. Houses in suburbs nobody brags about cost over a million dollars. A six-pack of beer is around $20. A case of Coke is around $50. (Those are Australian dollars, but still.) Some things are comparable. Most things aren't.
• Summer Christmas. I can't get used to it, and I don't want to. Christmas should be cold, or at least pretending to be. A 95-degree Christmas at the beach is lovely for about an hour and then it just feels wrong.
• Rent is paid weekly. Every week. It's fucking weird, and I don't think I'll ever stop doing the monthly math in my head.
• Driving. It wasn't the side of the road that got me. It was the side of the car. Judging where the car ends from the other seat is a whole new skill, and I white-knuckled my first few drives.
• The café menu. Australians take café culture seriously, which I respect. But everywhere you turn, there's eggs Benedict and a chicken schnitzel. Delicious. Also, every single menu.
• Making friends. Friendly isn't the same as open. People are lovely, but it's hard to get past lovely into actual friendship. Most of the people I've really connected with, I met through work, and the person I'm closest to here isn't Australian either. She's lived here for years and still agrees with me.
• The flight. It's a test of mental strength. Nothing makes you feel how far away you live like flying at 550 miles an hour for ten hours and still being hours from landing. The Pacific is enormous, and you feel every bit of it.

The harder ones

A few things I wanted to love, or wanted to be wrong about.

Healthcare. Everyone back home says "but the healthcare is free." It's more complicated than that. Not paying a premium every month is genuinely great. But taxes are high, and I still pay gap fees: around $40 at my doctor, depending on how long the appointment is, and about $400 for most of my ultrasounds when I was pregnant. And in the public system, it doesn't feel personal. It's a lot of shared care and moving between whoever is available, unless you have private insurance. That's my experience, not a study, and I'm sure it varies. But it isn't the free, easy system it's advertised as.

Giving birth. I've had a baby in both countries, and I prefer how it went in the US. Here, I had nitrous oxide, which was great, and no bill at the end, which was also great. But I went through the public system and never built a relationship with one doctor. My induction took a week, and when I was finally ready for the next step, I had to wait another day because the labor ward was full.

Work, as a woman. I'd love for this one to be in my head. In a lot of the rooms I've been in here, women get talked over more than men do. Not by everyone, and not everywhere, but often enough that I've stopped thinking it's a coincidence. It feels a few years behind what I was used to.

So, which is better?

Neither. That's the honest answer, and it's the one nobody wants at a barbecue. Some days Sydney feels like the easier, calmer, better-coffee version of life. Other days I'd trade a lot for a Chick-fil-A and a concert I didn't have to cross an ocean for.

For a long time, I felt like I had to decide which one was better. I don't. I get to love both and miss both.

Which is kind of the point of everything I write here: you can want more without hating what you have.

And the biggest thing Sydney gave me isn't on any of these lists. I met my husband here, and we had my son. Neither would be in my life if I hadn't moved. But that's a story for another time.

Have you lived in both? Tell me what I missed. I know there's more.