just like to point out

Sorry- didn't mean to load this one on.... and now i can't delete it! But try to find the humor in knowing they patrol the toilets. ("Excuse me! You've been in here quite a while...", "Security, coming through!"; "Oh, and what do you do for a living? You work toilet securty. Seriously?")


that even thought it says i posted my last entry on sunday, it's monday here and sunday in the u.s. I'm not incompitent or confused as to the day. it's the stupid international date line!





Cheers guys. God bless!





Oh, and here are a couople of pics from visting Sydney's Chinatown. The food's amazing!

August 19

Whoa. It's already Monday. Granted it's only 12:12 a.m., but i'm feeling a bit inclinded to start freaking out about uni work and how much i need to get done this week. See, the problem is that i work best under mass amounts of pressure. This means I usually find it necessary (although usually by accident) to leave any important projects until two or three days before they are due, not sleep, come out of my room, or eat until they are finished. Needless to say, this may not be the best method. But it works.

So my friend Jenny is visitng from Montana, and has been here since Tuesday. she leaves Saturday, which seems very soon> We spent the weekend at my friend's beach house on the south coast, in a place called Malua Bay (just south of Bateman's Bay.) Her parents have sold the house, adn she wanted to say good-bye to it.Some of her mates from Canberra came up and we had a good time drinking, just relaxing.

I spent a fair bit of time on the beach, not because it was warm and sunny, quite the contrary, it was rainy and cold, but because I could. it's a novelty to have the ocea there, to be able to sit and watch the waves come in, watch surfer's get pummelled, and kids skip around in the surf.

Something about the ocean makes me think deeply, consider areas of myself and my life that i've put on hold, pushed to the back of my mind. There's something about its vastness, darkness, and rhythm that stops everything else.

My friends Jenny and Kim walked down to the beach with me late saturday night. It was still rianing, the clouds making the sky dark and impossible to separate from the ocean on the horizon. A large black world, broken only by strips of white, the incoming waves, offered a new perspective, the one people are always looking for. You see, last night, the world was black and white. The waves broke out of the blackness, rolling in white until they splintered along the sand, and leave no trace. There were no shades of gray.

The largest, most complicated issues of this world are those that are not black and white, but are colored by shades of gray. Matters of the heart, of the sould, of the mind, we keep hoping one day we'll wake up and find there was a right and wrong all along. That the waves on teh horizon always emerged white from a black night.

But the world's not like that. We won't ever be able to erase the gray, replace it with a solid.

THE FAUX MULO-HAWK

THE FAUX MULOHAWK AND WHY IT SHOULD BE OUTLAWED

The Faux Mulohawk: A Definition

The faux mulohawk is a haircut currently popular among males in Australia. It is not a mohawk, a faux-hawk, or a mullet, but a nasty combination of the three. Essentially, the wearer has a fake mohawk with longish hair covering the back of his neck.

It is this

PLUS THIS

Which equals something awful between the two. Unfortunately, the only picture i could find (on such short notice) was this one:

The photo gives a fairly accurate, if mild, representation of the faux mulohawk> The problem is getting past the ridiculously SHORT SHORTS to the hair. On the plus side, it's an excellent introduction to Australia's favorite sport, rugby, and their uniforms, including knickers/shorts.

THE FAUX MULOHAWK IS NEGATIVELY IMPACTING SOCIETY

This particular hairstyle is causing an animalistic regression of the human species. The men of Australia who sport this style greatly resemble overgrown birds. That's right, birds. In particular, the rooster and casuary birds. These are birds who possess either a comb or a casque. In either case, the protrusion is located in hearly the same area as the faux mulohawk (FMH).

The comb is used by roosters to scare away other males and attrack females. We are all aware chickens are not particularly bright birds, which is probably why this works at all. Although the male looks utterly ridiculous strutting about with that thing stuck to his head, the female refrains from mocking laughter and ostracizing the bird from the flock, eventually embracing and even mating with it.

I am afraid this will happen to Australian society. The women will cease to recognize the FMH as an indication of stupidity, blindness, a manifestation of a weaker, less deseriable characterisitc, and reproduce with him. Thus causing natural selection to fail miserably. Fall flat on its face. Die in the arms of a cock-combed FMH-ing idiot of a man who was too weak to stand against society's joke.

Because yes, the FMH must be a joke. The fashion industry was bored, busy overlaying computer images when they created the FMH. You know they are all sitting in their offices, cracking up, and the guy who bet $20 it would never catch on is walking to work becuase that was his bus money.

Ramblings...

I am currently unable to sleep due to a combination of over-caffeination (I had a cup of coffee about three hours ago) and over-tiredness, which my body seems to think means "Keep going until clinical fatigue sets in, then go ahead and sleep". In the meantime, I'm awake, but unable to do anything productive. I could be researching one of the many topics i have papers due on this semester, or perhaps preparing for class on friday (no class tomorrow, thursday, thank goodness), but my body seems to have commanded my brain to cease all non-vital function> That is, I am breathign and that's about it... no cognitive function about the drivel I am writing here.
So things have been good since i got back. It was good to have madeline here- I hope she enjoyed herself. I felt bad a couple of days because I had class and we couldnt' really do anything. And although sydney is big and lovely, it's entertainment is limited. Or at least it is if youd on't konw what there is to do. Anyway, selfishly, i am enjoying have my room back to myself for a few more days. Jenny Kossler arrives on Monday. We'll see how that goes... I relaly do have to do uni work at some point (like before the night before it's due) and company can be distracting. Especially because company over the age of 18 means "party!" in Aussie.
By the way, i am proficient in Australian, but not fluent. Ben (housemate) said something tonight and I swore he was speaking goblin. But no, apparently it was his particular brand of english.
So the next coupel of weeks/ months are a bit busy. Still havent' turned in my paperwork to stay for next semester, but I am working on it. I've been a bit overwhelmed by the amount of work i have to do. I am still feeling pressured to find a job... mostly because I realize how much i miss working. It's nice to interact with strangers on a regular basis. Not sure why, but it is.
I am thinking about heading to new zealand in october... we'll see how that goes. I would really love to go to uluru or perth, but both are fairly expensive to get to, much moreso than NZ. We'll see how that goes. The way things look, i will need my weeks off to recover from not sleeping!
Uni is okay... my classes thus far are intermittently interesting, with boring patches and a chance of complete frustration. Im only ever frustrated with teachers who can't teach... they must not have to take any courses whatsoever in effective communication. There's this one lady who demonstrated how to do a differential stain (microbiology, not laundry) with her back to the class, completely obscuring plate... then told us all to "Shush!" whenever we talked. Labs, apparently, are silent places. It makes for a long couple of hours, especially when you have questions.
In another, we discussed how the NSW (New South Wales) government pays for methadone (prescription narcotic) for heroin addicts to prevent them from using heroin. Essentially, the addicts can recieve FREE narcotics (paid for by the taxpayers). They are not required to reduce their dose or eventually go off of methadone. The idea, as I understand it, is to simply prevent hte use of heroin. So they give them legal drugs instead.
I'm not sure how i feel about this. On one hand, it's an effective mechanism to reduce the spread of infections associated with intravenous drug use while negatively impacting the illegal drug trade and providing the addict with a safe (r) alternative to heroin. On the other, the taxpayers are supporting druggies. You see the conflict.
I wish I could say I'm tired, but I'm not. Perhaps I'll lay in bed and try to detatch the ugly glow-in-the-dark stickers from my ceiling using telekinesis. hey, it's worth a shot.

Cairns cont'd

Well, guys, as usual, i've done a horrible job of continuously posting updates here. BUT I will try to make it up to you by putting up pics from when I was in Cairns. Naturally, most of them are form the reef.
The amazing thing about the reef is that it really is an incredible as every picture makes it look. I thought maybe it was one of those natural wonders where all the pictures they take to advertise for it are taken within like, six square meters of ONE part of the reef. But no, all of it is absolutely amazing! We visited four different sections of the Outer Reef. I got to try scuba diving (WOW) and did a lot of snorkeling.
I also consumed a massive amount of seawater and managed to bruise my forehead with the goggles. I know, how impressive is that??? I've decided SCUBA and snorkeling equipment is ridiculous looking (i can't be the only one who thinks this), especially wet suits. Wetsuits, by the way, were apparently created to embarass me. Had a bit of trouble getting into one on the first day, had to have the guy help me, where he promptly had to be waaaaaay too close to um, my parts and staring directly at my cleavage. Wetsuits were clearly created by men as another way to give women cleavage. Seriously.
So enjoy the photos! Be jealous. I can't blame you!

CAIRNS

Sexy Suits, yeah?

Tuesday, July 24

We had just enough time to drop our things off at my room in Campbelltown, get something to eat, say hello to a few people, and fall asleep before 9:00 p.m. before we got on a plane to fly to Cairns.

Oh. The "WE" I keep referring to is my sister Madeline and I. Madeline is here for about two weeks visiting, which really isn't enough time to visit Australia properly, but is an awesome experience anyway.

So we flew into Cairns and arrived at our hostel, a place called Gilligan's. As far as hostels go, this is the Ritz. Large rooms with three way bathrooms and balconies, the beds are wide and comfortable and only squeak a little. The bunk beds are NOT in danger of collapsing... and it was clean. Except for the boys. The boys were not so clean.

THe first few nights we had a full room, with a couple of Germans and a couple of mutes. I'm assuming they were mutes because they didn't talk. I passed out almost immediately after finding food. I think my body was violently confused at to what time zone I was in and what appropriate sleeping hours were.

DAY TWO

We spent the day wandering around Cairns, checking out the main shopping areas and the tourist shops. Cairns is a small city, only about 150,000 people, but is the main port onto the Great Barrier Reef. Located on the coast of north Queensland, the lands surrounding cairns are diverse in nature. Coastal moutain ranges house some of the world's oldest rainforests (see Day Four for more details) and some of the world's craziest people. Oh wait. They all work in teh city, mostly on tourist boats. The main source of income in Cairns probably stems from tourism, but the area is fairly agricultural, with crops like sugarcane, bananas and tea.

Back to me.

and madeline..............

We began the day by walking down to the Lagoon. The lagoon is a swimming pool on the ocean's edge frequented by locals and tourists alike. unfortuantely, it was closed when we got there, so we didn't go swimming, Why would anyone want to go swimming in a swimming poool when the ocean is right there? Well, for aobut five to six months of the year, over the summer, the oceans become slightly inhospitable as the Box Jellyfish mature. The jellyfish is only a couple of inches long, but its sting can be fatal. So people tend to avoid swimming when the "stingers" are out and about.

Along the Lagoon are shops and restaurants, as well as large picnicing gardens. Naturally, this held our attention for about thirty minutes. We're a distractable sort, and all the brightly colored shops called to us.

Madeline's search was for a didgereedoo. They sell them everywhere, really, so it's easy enough to find one for under $50. However, these didge's are not authentic; that is, they have been mass-produced, and not carved out by termites and painted by the indiginous people. We did find reasonably priced authentic ones though, and relatively early, so we had the rest of the day to frequent every single tourist shop we came across.

Yep. We went into almost every single tourist shop located on the Esplanade, or downtown Cairns. Every single one....

I walked into our room at Gilligan's and thought someone had stolen a baby giraffe from the zoo and stuck it in there. All i could see was the LONGEST SET OF LEGS i had ever seen! And then I realized they belonged to our roommate, Nick, who clearly had issues wearing clothes. He didn't seem to be bothered that he was only in his boxers; he stayed that way.

We re-named him Nearly Naked Nick, in honor of his affinity for near-nudity.

It wasn't until that night I remembered we were supposed to have spent the day snorkeling... and we'd missed the boat completely. Fortunately, we were able to re-book and headed out to the Reef on Day 3.

Staying in Sydney

So here is where I stand right now. I've been living in Australia for about six months. And then I came home for a month on winter holidays. Just for the record, I am home for winter holiday from Australia means I left at the end of June and ended up back in Montana just in time for 100 degree weather and a hell of a good time.
But here's the thing. I initially headed to Australia for a year to study nursing. Basically, I decided to take a year off from actually working toward my degree while still going to school and go to Australia. If you can't figure out WHY I would want to do this, I can't help you out. Well, I could. But my fingers would get tired (all the typing) and you might get bored. Or distracted. My point is, it's something I've always wanted to do, so I did it. Consequences be damned! Theoretically, of course.
The consequence was a bit larger than expected.
No, I'm not pregnant.
No, I haven't lost half a leg, an arm, and an eye to a crocadile.
Yes, I've seen a kangaroo, but I'm not so sure what the major consequences of seeing one would be.
I've decided to stay in Australia to finish my degree. Not so sure what the consequences of THAT will be, but i guess I'll just have to wait and find out. Turns out life is a little like that. You have to live life to find out what's going to happen. That's a whole different story, unfortunately.

Brief Break from Tasmania Memories/Blogs

URGENT NEWS

Eh, it's not urgent. It's probably not even interesting. It's my love life. By the way, this is being posted about two weeks post-Tas. I'm just late in writing about my little trip.

So Tim and I are officially a couple. I think he must really like me, because the night before we made it official, I kissed another guy (Random #5) and the next day, even after I told Tim about it, he still wanted to be my boyfriend. So yeah. Maybe I caught myself a keeper, eh?

Right Moving on.

It's great. It really is a good thing, this whole relationship thing. I just, I dont know. I still want my unobtainable. Which is the point of an Unobtainable, isn't it? But sometimes i think I'm holding back in my relationship with Tim because i'm harbouring this childish, completely un-based idea that maybe Unobtainable will suddnely become obtainable or something. God, I wish my life were Cinderella's! Lol.

That's really about it. I got rid of the other randoms. Just Tim and Unobtainable. And me mourning the loss of my singleness! Riiiiiiiiiight. Hope you guys caught the sarcasm! More on TAsmania to come, including the actual interesting stories!

God Bless and Love!

Tassie- Day Two

Day 2

Day Two began early with the express intention of getting as far away from the Picked Frog as possible. Unfortunately, I had to order coffee, then there were no take away cups... so I had to chug my latte after it took the guy/hippie half an hour to make it... Anyway, I was just excited to be able to get coffee in the morning. Not having it would not have been good for my traveling companions.
Day Two... what did we do on day two? Oh yes. We had grand plans to drive to Lake St. Claire and the Cradle Mountains. Well, someone (might have been me...) misread the map, and was unable to read the travel guide (because I don't speak or read French) so we ended up at the Cradle Mountains and Lake St. Claire, but not at THE cradle mountain.
Things worked out fine, however, as we walked along some of the trains and observed the trees and various garbage birds who had eaten too much to fly. We then decided to go to Stahan to stay the night. Stahan appeared to be (on the map and in the travel guide) a good-sized town, which was good, because it was a Friday night, and hey, Friday nights in Australia mean drinking. Who am I kidding? Any night in Australia means drinking!
So we arrived to find Strahan, blinked, and lost it again. Yup, the map lied. Apparently, in Tasmania, towns with big dots on the map mean places where more than 500 people live. Stahan: Population 800. Not much for a night life, that's for sure.
We arrived in Stahan early, probably around two o'clock in the afternoon and headed to the beach. I was a bit hesitant to go to the beach, as the temperature was about, oh, maybe FREEZING! But Baptiste wanted to go. And I still felt extremely bad about the whole Cradle Mountain mis-reading thing, that I was like "okay". Besides, what else were we going to do in Stahan? Really.
So we went to Ocean Beach, a 33 km. beach along the west coast of Tasmania, and the most perfect beach in the entire world, I'm convinced of it. I don't know how to describe it... it was just peaceful. Quiet. Fairly un-touched and un-commercialized. It was the kind of place where one could just exist and not have to be anything beyond what they were just then. At that moment. No future. No past.
Perhaps I'm romanticizing it just a little bit. We went and got beer, which was the next logical step and drove back to the beach to watch the sunset. So we sat for a few hours, just drinking beer, not really talking, watching the waves roll in and just... being, I guess.
Dinner was at a fish place on the bay. The great thing about Tas is that no matter where you are, the seafood is fresh. I ordered Fish and Chips, as I was starving for a large quantity of grease and had a hankering for a clogged artery. Anyway, we're sitting there, talking about something, completely exhausted, and suddenly there's a bit of a disturbance at the next table. An elderly gentleman has suddenly lost consciousness and vomitted everywhere. I felt obligated, as there was no one else, to go and see if I could assist the man's wife and cousin (found that out later). I reasoned if it were a true emergency, I was competent enough to manage the situation. Or at least help. Put the man in the recovery position, or whatever needed to be done. Fortunately, such measures were unnecessary, as he regained consciousness, was mentally coherent, etc. and the ambulance showed up.
After that bit of excitement, we went back to our cabin, a small two room sort of trailer behind the local grocery store/petrol station/restaurant/hotel. Seriously, it was that kind of a place. Complete with the woman without three teeth working and air that smelled faintly of old grease and tobacco. The kind of place that was depressing in every way, that artists and extreme optimists would say had "character".
Baptiste and I were just glad to have TV (something to do after it got dark outside) and Loriane wanted to do schoolwork, clearly defeating the purpose of vacation. So Baptiste and I watched "I am Sam"; I made it through without crying. How proud are you? And then we crashed for the night, planning to get up and go early the next morning to the ACTUAL Cradle Mountain, then head to Launceston.

I can't upload any of the pics of the Perfect Beach, but I will work on it!
Cheers!

Tassie- Day 1 (finally)

Tasmania
The Wilderness State

Photo disclaimer: I did NOT wear the exact same thing every day. The weather was slightly colder than anticipated, which is why I am always wearing my "jumper" (sweatshirt). I did, in fact, change my clothes.
Background Info:
I decided about a month ago I wanted to travel somewhere during intersession break. I was not particular about Where I wanted to go, the main criteria for determining the location of my travel being the cost of the plane ticket. My friend, Baptiste, is as addicted to traveling as I am, found plane tickets to Hobart, Tasmania, for $138.00 round trip... so I said, "Hell, why not?"
We later invited our friend, Loriane (also French) to accompany us. I think we invited other people to discount the cost of the car (more people=less money for each) and to dispel any awkwardness that may arise from being a single guy traveling with a girl. But anyway. I'm getting off track...

Day 1
Our plane left at an ungodly hour, which is probably why the tickets were so inexpensive. To put it into perspective, i think that any hour before noon can be considered ungodly. Thus, even if the flight was supposed to depart at 11:59 a.m., I would have considered it too early. On the plus side, we decided to fly out early so we could have more time in Tas to explore before flying home. I live an hour outside the city and we had to be at the airport and check in half an hour prior to departure; therefore, I was up at 5:30 a.m. (!!!!) in order to meet Baptiste adn Loriane for the 20 minute walk to the train station at 6:30, catch the train at 7:00, and arrive at the airport at eight, check-in and fly out at 8:40 a.m. So it was a bit of an early morning.
The flight was uneventful. Shocking, I know. You'd expect a two hour flight from Sydney to Hobart to contain something wonderful... but it didn't.
We arrived in Hobart, claimed our luggage and picked up our rental car, a new-ish Hyundai Accent. We would eventually name him Henry and he would become our constant companion and friend. *Sigh* how I miss him!
We drove immediately to Hasting Cave, just south of Hobart. Hastings Cave is one of several large caves located in Tasmania,reputed to among the largest and best in the world. Unfortunately, they failed to impress me. Although the cave formations were beautiful and amazing, the tour was less than stellar. Instead of providing useful information about anything, the woman just walked us up and down slick stairs. I took pictures anyway, like a good tourist.
We drove back to Hobart to find a place to stay. It's been getting dark earlier and earlier, so by 5:30 p.m., we were driving in the dark. I was in the backseat, completely and happily oblivious to what was going on in the front seat. My apathy was spurred along by the fact they were speaking French. Turns out Loriane is not the best at giving directions. Every time I looked out the window, we were on the same street, but I could ahve sworn we'd been driving, making turns, etc. Ah well.
We finally found a hostel. But being so ridiculously tired, we took the room without seeing them first. THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA!!!! The Pickled Frog (we didn't get a clue from the name) was a little on the old and dirty side. The floors slanted, the showers were beyond scary (internal shudder.) And we shared a room with three people we didn't know. Not such a big deal, except when someone snores. Loudly. All night.

Going to Tasmania

Hey everyone!

Just a quick note, as it is late and I have to be up in about four hours so I can get ready to go!

I am going to Tasmania for five days to do a bit of touring. More on that when I have time and get back! (Monday, April 30)

Cheers!

Virginia Tech

VIRGINIA TECH SHOOTINGS AND (A BIT) ON AUSTRALIAN FIREARM POLICY
The recent shootings at Virginia Tech have caused at of questions to be raised as to the prudency and wisdom of America’s gun laws, as well as questions regarding previous shootings, especially Columbine. Australian gun laws are very strict compared to those of the United States. Basically, it’s extremely difficult to get a gun; the general populous does not have access to firearms and most Australians do not view this as an infringement on their rights. As I understand it, Australians believe that their gun laws make Australia a safer place to live, decreasing crime rates and incidences of violent crimes, including murder and robbery. The overall safety of their nation is more important than their right to bear arms.

However, it is important to understand that the right to bear arms is NOT part of their constitution. The ability to purchase, own, and carry firearms is NOT an ingrained part of their culture, constitution and way of life, as it is in America. Despite all of the evidence supporting stricter gun laws in the States, the basic argument is that people are concerned that removing or limiting their 2nd Amendment rights will lead to restrictions of other rights. Whether this is the case, or if America truly has an addiction to violence and the need for control in the form of guns, is unclear.

According to my Calfiornian friend, if no one (with the exception of law enforcement and the military) had guns, it would be a good thing. Her opinions differs greatly from mine due largely to our cultural backgrounds. In Montana, guns are an ingrained part of our heritage and lifestyle. Taking them away would destroy a large part of our culture. Theoretically, anyway. Without guns, we would lose one of our largest outdoor activities, hunting. If you want to look at it from an economic point of view, removing guns and therefore hunting would also decrease the amount of money the state makes annually in tourism and hunting fees. Because (most) Montanans have been raised around guns, gun safety is a large part of our education. We are well-equipped to handle and use guns in a safe and competent manner. Accidents happen when people do not follow basic gun safety guidelines, like pointing the gun at someone or failing to make sure the gun is unloaded before transporting.

However, as previously stated, the major issue surrounding gun control is infringement of our Second Amendment rights. Should anyone be able to get a gun? Does everyone really have that right? Clearly, due to current gun laws, there are limitations on who can own firearms and what kin of firearms they can own. Unfortunately, it’s difficult for the Federal Government to pass laws governing firearms because the need and use of firearms is so varied across the United States. Alaska and California both have a “need” for guns for protection; in Alasksa, the protection is from animals and in California, the protection is needed from other people.

It’s interesting to attempt to research how violent crime rates in the United States and Australia compare. Although it’s apparent crimes involving guns are hugely more frequent in the U.S., it is not clear what the differences in violent crimes actually are. Does having no guns actually decrease the probability of being a victim of a violent crime? So Australians don’t have guns. Does this mean the chances of getting stabbed or mugged increase or decrease? Is there no direct correlation?

Although I am from an area of the U.S. where gun use and ownership is common, events like the Virginia Tech shooting bring to light the dangers and possible lack of prudence in allowing civilians to own guns. I am of the opinion that if the government were to impose stricter gun laws, it may decrease the incidence rate of spontaneous acts of violence involving guns, but would have little to no effect on the rates related to premeditated crime (including murder, armed robbery, etc.) If someone really wants to get a gun, they will find a way. I am willing to assume significant proportion of guns are obtained illegally anyway. What would stricter guns laws change?

Group Work

G'day everyone!
Technically, it's morning here...which means I should be in bed. But seeing as I have a HUGE project due tomorrow (worth 40% of my final grade) and one partner in the group decided to wank off and not do her part... I am still awake, trying to fix things so I don't fail. That's the worst part about group work. There's always that one person who doesn't do their part, creating more stress and work for the other group members.

Anyway.

A quick update on my life from the last week. xa

I haven't done anything but study. naturally, that's an exaggerated statement meant to make me sound studious and motivated. It's mostly true. I have been doing a lot of uni work (homework) because this week is midterms. Essentially. Of course, all the test and projects aren't actually called midterms, but that's what it amounts to. So I'm totally stressing. It's okay tho.

This week I plan to look for a job. There is a shopping center about fifteen minutes walk away, so I'm thinking I wil apply to several stores there. It's hard to say who is hiring right now, especially since I'm only allowed (by teh Australian government) to work 20 hours a week, and I have no experience in healthcare. There are a few semi-local hospitals hiring, but it is very difficult for me to get places, as I don't have a car and public transportation kinda sucks. It's nice that there IS public trans. but it is unreliable and often only gets you part way to your destination; the trains are very slow. So it's impractical for me to continue working in healthcare when I can work somewhere closer.

Wages for working here are significantly higher than in the U.S., as is the cost of living. Assumably, they are porportional. For example, I pay $149 AUD per week in rent, while in the U.S. I paid $180 a month. However, I was only making $11.00/hr, where the base wage for most jobs here is somewhere around $14.00/hr. The "base wage" for jobs includes jobs like McDOnalds, or retail at one of the shops. I would really like to work at a coffee shop, as there are several at Macarthur Square, including the very American Starbucks, but as is the case with most college towns, many positions are filled immediately following the commencement of university in the autumn.

As an interesting note, the term "Fall" used in reference to a season is very American. The rest of the English-speaking world refers to the season following summer as "Autumn."

I will detail my fun-filled weekend at some later point, probably when I am not supposed to be preparing a massive presentation. Last weekend invovled the World's Scariest Club and a trip to the beach. Actually, that's all there is to the beach story, but the world's sketch-iest club, 209, deserves a blog of it's own!

Good on ya, mates!

Where I live!

This is where I live! This is my room, from the doorway. there is a bathroom directly to the right... Actually, it's the biggest room on residence. Probably because it's totally wheelchair accessible.

And this is the living room... where we all hang out and watch really fun Aussie TV. Big on game shows here. And swimming. I've had to watch a lot of swimming...and Pirates of the Carribbean (They're watching it right now- again)

And the kitchen. Can't be bothered to figure out how to get the image rotated, so I guess you'll just have to move your necks around a bit to have a look!

I'm Done with Randoms

Sure, it's fun to have guys around... to feel attractive because there is more than one guy interested... but I'm not really that girl. I can't just flit from guy to guy and "have fun." Let's face it: If I weren't so relationship phobic, I would be a relationship-only girl. In fact, I'm thinking about taking that leap anyway.

Tim wants to date me. And to be honest, I kind of want to date him. As in "bf/gf". I know. Weird. Amber, if you're reading this you should be solidly freaked out. What the hell is happening to me?!!! Relationships? You must be joking... but I'm not.

I also can't get past the idea of feeling like it's not fair to any of the guys to be seeing or dating or whatever you want to call it all of them at the same time. They really all are very nice buys, and I don't believe anyone deserves to be played. Which is wehre I'm heading, if I continue to see all of them. So I've decided I'm going to jump and give Tim a chance. If it doesn't work out, i will be hurt and it will suck, but it's a risk I (eventually) have to be willing to take.

So we'll see how it goes. I'm really dreading having to tell Brett that I can't see him anymore as anything other than friends (yes, I probably will use this line). And, unfortunately, I have to do it today, because he wants me to meet up with him in the city, something I can't afford to do, monetarily and I won't risk losing Tim. If Tim found out I was "dating' other guys, he would be gone, I have no doubt about it. And I don't want him to go.

So there it is. My confession. I'm letting go of Randoms and sticking with a Particular. FYI- if people are not randoms, they are particulars. And Tim is becoming a Particular.

No worries, though! I won't fall in love. I don't fall in love. Love is like a four-letter word. It just shouldn't be said unless you really really mean it. And I'm not sure I'll ever mean it. But that's a whole different story/psychological self-evaluation through blogging!

Hope everyone is well and thanks for stopping by!

Harbour Cruise and Random Key

Last night I went on the Harbour Cruise, an event planned by the University. Basically, a ton of people got on a boat, drank a ton of alcohol and danced as the boat moved around the Harbout. Honestly, I forgot to look out the window, so I'm not sure if it was even a good view. But it was fun... I keep spending way too much money, especially on taxis to get home... although last night it wasn't my fault. Really. I trusted a friend to help me get home, and he did, but it ended up costing me about $100 (AUD) to catch a cab from where the last train stopped.

Anyway, as usual, things got interesting due to a Random. And, Madeline, no, they do actually have names; I'm just writing them to try and protect their identities. And in case anyone who knows them might actually be reading this! (Check the end of this blog- I'll put in a key.) The Random from last night was actually a reoccurring random. Two (or three?) weeks ago I went to the Roxy in Parramatta, where i met two randoms, Randoms #2 and #3. Random #2 I've seen since then... and Random #3 turned up last night. Weird huh? Well, nothing happened, as far as I'm concerned. We danced (he's a good dancer.) and then he rode the train part way with me and called a cab.

I wasn't originally supposed to take train home, but the boat had to dock early due to a medical emergency, so the bus that was supposed to take us home wasn't due to arrive for another hour. So, given that, I decided to take a train as far as i could before I called a cab. In retrospect, I should have taken the Night Rider and saved myself heaps of money. I know what to do now, I guess. Life goes on. Anyway, Random #3 was very helpful and it's always nice to have someone who knows the city a bit better than I.

Here it goes... the Key to Randoms (with statistics):

Random #1

Brett Hughes, 26 years old. 6'1", about 90 kg. He is a financial analyst for a firm in Sydney. Originally from a farm north and west of here, he has a brother and a sister. He currently lives in Epping, a suburb of Sydney with two roommates.

Random #2

Tom Reid, 19 years old, 6'0", in his second year apprenticeship as a carpenter. He lives near Parramatta, which is about an hour north of Campbelltown. Blonde hair, blue eyes.

Random #3

Robert. About 5'10", brown hair, blue eyes. Obviously, I don't know a lot about him. He's an engineering student at the Penrith campus and in his first year, which means he's probably a bit young... but he's a good dancer. He enjoys playing water polo and drinking.

Random #4

Tim Parker, 22 years old, 6'3" 85 kg. Tim has a degree in Physical Education and will graduate with his second degree (Bachelor of Education) in July. He currently plays soccer for a local club teams, but hopes to pursue a career in soccer. Blonde hair, blue eyes.

HOT AUSSIE OF THE WEEK

Eamon Sullivan

Swimmer

D.O.B. August 30, 1985

Single (?)

March 30

Today is Friday- finally! It's been a bit of a long week, between getting on the wrong train and going an hour out of my way, to almost fainting in Anatomy Lab (not because the cadavers were disturbing, just so you know) to going out with Random #2 and Random #4, and the TOGA PARTY on Wednesday night... I think I will take the weekend to sleep. Turn my phone off and sit in front of the TV eating Mackers and drinking Corona. Maybe not at the same time. Do you suppose a cheeseburger, fries, etc would taste good with beer?
But, i think i am done drinking for a while. The toga party got a bit insane, and although I did behave myself, the night could have very easily hit out of control status. I mean, a bunch of people in sheets drinking res punch (basically Jungle Juice)... it's a recipe for disaster. I think Con was actually dancing on the pool table at one point, and what's worse, I almost got up there with him. Yes, I think i'd best lay off the sauce!

AUSTRALIANISMS:

"Reckon"- used an mazing amount. as in "I reckon it'll be okay if..." or "I reckon I should..."
sunnies- sunglasses
swimmers- swimming suit
fireies- firefighters
"Good on ya"- NOT as in "That looks good on ya". Actually, I'm not sure what this means...

No big plans for this weekend. Random #4 wants to go out tonight, and a group is going to the local club, 209, which i have yet to go to. Random #1 wants to get together as well, but I don't know if I can be bothered to take the train all the way to Epping to see him. I won't make him come to C'town, as it is the ghetto and totally not okay to visit.

Campbelltown is actually one of the poorer Sydney suburbs, with a fairly high crime rate and increasing rates of drug use and teen pregnancy. By the way, they did not put this in the brochure for the school.

Right. I have to go do research for a group project that's due in two weeks. Best get crackin' if I'm planning on passing! Good on ya, mate! (This is how they use this phrase. Sometimes. Apparently, it's appropriate in a variety of situations, but no clear rules have been established for its use.)

Voting

Saturday was voting day. In Australia, elections are always held on weekends to ensure people do not have to take time off of work to vote. Voting is also compulsory; should an individual decide not to vote, they are fined massive amounts; voting is also preferential.

I am not entirely sure how I feel about this system of voting. You have to vote, which ensures you get a fair number of people who have no clue about anything casting votes. It also ensures that many people will become educated on important issues in order to ensure that they are educated voters.

Preferential voting is also a different concept. On the ballot, you number the candidates from one to five (let's say there are five) in order of preference. It is unclear how come this is form of voting was adopted over a majority or straight vote, or over a system like the one in place in America.

Note:
Smear campaigns are everywhere, not just the United States. Massive amounts of money are spent telling you who NOT to vote for.

Last Weekend- Circumstances

Last weekend I went into the city with a bunch of internationals. This is the nice way of saying I was pretty much the only one whose first language is English, and the only one with a rough idea around the city. I say "rough" because anyone who knows me knows my sense of direction is fairly non-existant. My Internal GPS is permanently disabled. However, my incompitency is not the point of this story.

My friends and I decided to head to a German pub in Sydney called the Lauenbrau, which is quite popular and located just of Circular Quay in an area of town called the Rocks. The Rocks, by the way, is a fabulous historical district popular with tourists; it also has a fun street market on Saturdays.

I hit the pre-drinks fairly heavy because it is heaps expensive to buy alcohol when you go out in the city. It's just common sense that you get a bit drunk before you leave, then buy only enough to keep you riding the buzz. In any case, we arrived at the Lauenbrau safely and all of us together.

Once there, I recieved a text from Random #1 seeing if I was out that night. Naturally, I replied immediately with an invitiation to meet us at the German pub, if he could. He did, much to my delight. Being at the bar with a guy not only ensures you will not be hit on by creepers, but allows for the possiblity that he will buy you drinks and you will spend a minimal amount of money. God, I know that makes me sound like such a bad person, but really, I'm not! Try to see things from my perspective. I really was happy to see Random #1; he's super sweet and very fun to be around, if a bit on the shy side.

It wasn't very late when everyone started dancing, and because I now love to dance(!), we joined in. Shortly thereafter, I noticed my friends were nowhere to be found. Hmmm.... it was a bit sus, seeing as I'd met up with a guy at the bar and my mates disappeared. I'm sure Random #1 was a bit confused by this turn of events. See, if I had been him, i would have thought this girl (me) was an American trying to take advantage of him, which I totally was not. I mean, look at it from this perspective. Guy mets girl at bar. Guy buys girl drinks. Guy doesn't necessarily expect anything. Guy is aware girl lives about an hour away and will not be going home if she doesn't leave by the time the trains stop running. Girl's friends disappear.... you see where I'm going?
I don't know. Maybe he just thought it was his lucky night. But it wasn't. But now I'm gettin gahead of myself.

I called my friends amd yup, they'd left and were on the train. I guess I couldn't be too mad. They were very drunk and drunk people do stupid things all the time. Basically, they had gone to Mackers (McDonald's) and then forgotten I wasn't there, and caught a train home. Impressive, huh? Nice friends...

Random #1 was incredibly nice about it. I was all set to just catch the Night Rider home, but he wasn't comfortable letting me, a single, slightly intox girl ride alone. And he certainly didn't want to ride with me and then back to the city so....

I ended up back at his house. I want everyone to know I NEVER would have done this had I not be completely comfortable with him. HE ASSURED ME SHOUDL I BECOME UNCOMFORTABLE, HE WOULD PAY FOR A CAB TO TAKE ME HOME. For those of you who do not take cabs on a regular basis, that's about $150. And he assured me there was nothing implied.

Random #1 was a perfect gentleman. I slept, woke up in the morning and he and his flatmate put me on a train back to Campbelltown. About a million hours later, I finally arrived back on campus. Just in time to sleep for the rest of the day and refuse to go out that night.

So that's Crazy Night #2. This country is great for that! Hopefully an experience I won't repeat. Ever.

Aussie Slang

Aussies do not speak English.
Seriously. The slang is impossible. The language is so convaluted it's difficult to determine (especially if there has been any alcohol involved) if they are indeed speaking, or just making noises in the back of their throats. Incidentally, sometimes they ARE just making noises, but that usually means they are about to spew, so get out of the way!

Which brings me to my first point of Australian slang:

Spew- does not always mean "throw up". Gross things, things that are a little unpleasant, or anything you might not really want to do is "spewing'. For example: "You have to go to class today? Spewing."

FAIR DINKUM- seriously. Example: Someone tells a totally outrageous story, like they wrestled a croc in downtown sydney to save a group of nuns. You may reply "Fair dinkum?" in order to determine the truth of the story.

NO WORRIES- self-explanatory, I hope! i was just delighted to find out they actualy use this phrase!

HOOKING UP:
NOT the same as "hooking up" in the USA!!! Here, hooking up simply means kissing. PICKING UP is something you want to avoid, as it means here what hooking up means in the US. If that doesn't make sense, sorry!
The difference between the two was very confusing, and still is. It's a bit of a shock to hear people casually ask each other, "So did you hook up?" or to have them state "I saw you hooking up last night." Imagine, if you can, the number of awkward situations that can arise from misunderstanding "hooking up"

There are about a million more slang words and phrasess, but because I set out to write them down, I can no longer remember them! Watch for translations in the future.

I'm off to the library to do a bit of uni work. (and I'm not just saying that! I'm really going!)
So....
Take it easy!

Body Image

March 19
The weather is getting colder, but it is still very much summer. I appreciate the days when I wake up and the sun is shining. There is a giant hole in the ozone directly over Sydney/Australia and although Aussies don’t really take pride in that fact, they do acknowledge it and are very conscious of global warming. In fact, if there’s one thing they love to talk about, it’s the weather. A simple comment like “Hot today” can evolve into an hour long discussion on the drought, global warming, Australian agriculture, and back to the unseasonably warm weather. If it should rain, it is an occurrence that can- and will- be talked about for weeks. Freak thunderstorms creating flash floods are a favorite topic, especially among locals, and the news always includes some water conservation tip, as well as a special government report on the current water situation (which apparently changes daily, if not hourly.)

My day today was spent largely in Uni. I had a tutorial/lecture that lasted three hours, then a two hour anatomy lab. I love anatomy, mostly because it’s so amazing. I look at the human body and think, “How could this have happened by chance?” It’s a good reminder that there’s something bigger than I am out there.

Last night I went on a date. Here’s the interesting thing about Aussie guys, and perhaps Aussie social acceptance as well. Back home, I am not considered to be particularly attractive; at least I have never felt particularly attractive or received a lot of male attention. In America, women are made to feel like they have to fit into a certain body type category, that skinny and almost painfully thin is the “right” way to look. I never realized how much this image has affected my self-image, as well as my perception of others until I arrived in Australia. Here, they are more accepting of varying body types. It is not only the “hot” girls who receive attention. Women are not objectified in the same way. Basically, here I am beautiful. I can finally really believe that about myself.

And receiving attention from guys is a little weird. I’m not entirely sure what to do with it. I mean, I’m enjoying, that’s for sure, but I’m never quite sure how it fits into who I am. I have always been the girl who gets put into “friends category.” Who is nice enough, but not dateable, and perhaps that’s my own fault. But the fact remains, I’ve gained a bit of confidence. I like being looked at by guys. I’m just not sure how to meld the half of me who avoided relationships, men, dating, and romance together with the girl who likes to drink, dance, flirt, and (possibly) date.

So last night’s date with Random #2 was really good. He’s an incredibly sweet guy, entirely too charming for his own good. I really enjoyed myself. I think I finally figured out that I can be myself, and if he/she/it doesn’t like me, it’s really not the end of the world. I can choose who I want my friends to be. I can choose who I hang out with. I don’t have to try to please everyone all the time. And, for God’s sake, I do NOT always have to be a social butterfly, happy, flitting, whatever. I can sit in my room and hate the world if I freaking want to! But that might be another story.

So the conflict remains between two Randoms. Random #1 is a 26 yr. old financial analyst who is incredibly sweet and respectful. Random #2 is about my age, incredibly attractive and a 2nd year carpenter. Everything in me says stick with the Financial analyst, but… I’m not going to lie. Random #2 and I have way more chemistry than Random #1 and I. (Someone remind me to tell the story of being left in the city by my mates and Random #1 taking care of me.) I think Random #1 knows there might not be a lot there, which is a bit disappointing for both of us. I don’t know. I’m probably just reading too much into this, as I always do!

Well, it’s a Tuesday night and Chaz’s birthday, so, naturally, I have to go help her celebrate. In Australia, you can drink when you are 18, so it’s a huge party night; twenty-one is the other big party. I think the celebrating of the 21st birthday is evidence that American culture is pervasive. I could talk for hours on that, so I’d best just not get started.

Love, Larissa

Read! One Crazy Night

February 28, 2007
As far as I am concerned, Australia is a land of endless possibility. Here, I can be myself, and accept people will like or dislike me on that basis. At home, that is, in Montana, my actions are still governed by who I was and what I have done previously. Every decision I make is weighed against my past, high school, junior high, and the years preceding and coming after them.
Theoretically, i should feel like I have complete freedom from the person I have been in regards to the community I was living in. Seriously, I was constantly considering my actions in relationship to high school, and what my high school classmates would think of waht I was doing. I wondered if I made a bad decision, would the news get back to my family? Would my high school teachers and friends and classmates find out, and how would that affect my current reputation? For a lot of people, this seems unreasonable. Why should my past so strongly affect the perception of otehrs in regards to myself/ THis, however, was the reality of my life. Some, including myself, would say, Australia is a fresh start. But I find although I have left the community behind, I have brought my past and my character with. I didn't drink in Bozeman because I didn't want to get a reputation as an alcoholic, or do something I was going to regret; in Australia, I drink, but never to the point where I'm going to jeopardize my reputation or compromise my beliefs.
Concerns about my rep and about self control clearly didn't enter into my concious thought for an impacting amount last Friday night. Friday was a planned excursion to Sydney and a club called the Retro Hotel. For sixteen dollars, we rode the bus from Campbelltown to Sydney, entrance into the club, a bar tab, and food. I am very clearly white and very clearly Montanan, which automatically makes me incapable of creating movement even remotely resembling dancing, and therefore formed the hypothesis that if I were slightly inebriated, I might not care as much about my inability to dance. Thus, I determined to drink copious amount of beer very quickly until the bar tab ran out, then ride the buzz for the rest of the night. This plan was executed with ease and I found myself very drunk and dancing to very odd music by eight o' clock at night. By "very odd" music, I mean music that was clearly out-of-date in America, but popular in Australia. The name of the club (The Retro) also apparently gave them license to play old/retro music, including ACDC and Bruce Springstein. although "Jessie's Girl" is clearly one of the greatest songs of all time, it was never meant to be danced to. But there I was, rockin' like a hurricane, in the middle of the dance floor like a mad idiot.
At some point early in the night, I made contact with a UWS Alumni who happened to be at the bar and had heard that a group from UWS was there, and, I don't know, came over to see if there was anyone he knew there or something. Anyway, somehow I ended up talking to him, and then left to do a bit more drunken dancing.
At some point, I found myself on the dance floor with Mystery Man #1, the UWS Alum who had introduced himself earlier as Brett. Brett, despite being white, had some pretty good dance moves, and I ended up dancing with him. I was still very drunk, probably more drunk than I realized, and so when he went to kiss me, I didn't think about it, and just went ahead and kissed him back. Knowing we'd have to leave soon, I took this opportunity to remove myself and him from the dance floor and to talk. This lasted approximately thirty-six seconds until I decided it would probably just be best if we kept dancing, a plan I'm sure would have worked out very nicely had Marley not interrupted.
Marley had been there all night, mostly dancing with Caitlin. Caitlin is my housemate and Marley is fairly infatuated with her. Not that I can blame him. Caitlin is obviously very beautiful and has a great personality to add to it; she is friendly and fun and very interested in other people. Unfortunately for Marley, she is also extremely recently broken up with her boyfriend of three years. Yeah. Bit of an awkard position for all guys involved, and I do mean, all guys. Let's put it this way: The best way to get introduced to every singly guy in the club/room/campus/residence is to have a fabulously good looking roommate. That way, every guy will come up to you , introduce himself, and promptly ask about your roommate. Which automatically delegates you (that is, me) to position of friend or "connection." Ah well
Anyway. Marley comes up to me (and Brett, because he was dancing quite close to me) and says, "Caitlin's really sick, can you come outside?" It was like I became immediately sober. Okay, not immediately, but I did sober up enough to grab Brett's hand (the only indication I was still drunk, like I'd have had the courage to touch him sober?) and follow Marley outside.
Caitlin was sitting to the side of the building, head on her lap, with vomit all around her.
"Caitlin? It's Larissa. Are you okay?" I asked, as I knelt next to her. I knelt in her puke, but I was more concerned about her than what condition my jeans would be in tomorrow morning.
She mumbled, unable to reply in a coherent sentence. Marley hovered behind me and asked, "Do you think someone's spiked her drink?"
I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes, having not considered it as a possibility, but also because Marley had mentioned this much too loud. Somewhere between the front door and finding Caitlin, I had sobered up an incredibly amount, and realized that although Caitlin couldn't or wouldn't answer me, she could understand everything we were saying. I wanted to be like, "C'mon Marley, would you mind walking away before you freak her out anymore?"
Within seconds, Caitlin had passed out completely. The bodyguards and security of the club were outside with us, and were also concerned someone had spike her drink, or that she'd been taking drugs in combination iwth drinking. The one good thing they did was mention laying her in a recovery position. Having instructed the people surrounding me as to how to do this, we made sure Caitlin was comfortable, and an RA (resident assistant) made the decision to call an ambulance.
While we were waiting for the ambulance, Caitlin's ex-boyfriend walked around the corner. The whole situation quickly gained an aura of "soap opera" as Brent stood there, next to Marley, the old boyfriend versus the possible new one. To make things more complicated, the RA who had phoned the ambulance and would be riding to the hospital was Marley's ex-girlfriend, Angie, who still has feelings for him.
Somewhere in the (slightly drunken) chaos that ensued, I became aware that Brett was still standing outside with me, which was a bit of a shock. I don't know how many guys who had just picked up a girl in a club would stand outside and wait around while she took care of her drunken friend; I'm pretty sure I told him to go back inside and have fun, but he stayed outside. I don't know if I'll actually hear form him again, but a very big part of me, or at least the little part of me that allows myself to consider guys, hopes i do hear from him.
Caitlin didn't spend long in the ER, just long enough to get fluids and regain consciousness. He drink hadn't been spiked; she had just overloaded her system with alcohol. In the meantime, I had spent a few tense hours in the ER with Brett, talking about meaningless things and taking walks. By this time, I was again feeling the effects of the drinks I'd had earlier. Marley and Angie waited together in the waiting room while Brent (Caitlin's ex) went back into the examination room with her.
Brett left at about two a.m. and the rest of us waited until about three and then left, with Caitlin, to catch a ride back to Campbelltown. Downtown Sydney at 3:00 a.m. on a Friday night is not something they put in the travel brochures for a reason. It's not the prettiest aspect of the city. Anyway, we caught the Night Rider (night bus) back to Campbelltown, an experience I hope never to repeat for two reasons: 1) the individuals who ride the Night Rider are not the cream of the crop. There were a few I was suspect to call human. 2) the driver had clearly been on shift too many hours when he started skipping roundabouts in favor of plowing straight through. The bumps kept everyone on the bus awake, but when the jolts are also waking up your driver... it's hard to see them as a good thing.
Friday night was the most eventful and interesting night of my life. Consider the drunken dancing, kissing randoms, love square, ER visit, late-night bus ride the experience of a lifetime and a "Welcome to Australia" I'm not likely to forget.

Cultural Differences

February 22, 2007
It’s been a week since I arrived in Australia and the newness, the whole “Oh my God! I’m actually in Australia!!!!” is starting to wear off and I’m starting to feel the cultural differences in a stronger and very different way.
When I first arrived, it was a novelty for myself and Aussies to compare the differences between our cultures; the cause was mutual curiosity, which, at this point, has all but dissipated and what is left is the American stereotype I occasionally fill.
For some reason, it’s totally bugging me tonight… I was playing poker in the common room with a bunch of people, including some guys I’d never met before. One may have been fairly attractive… but that’s not the point. The point is that I said some things while we were playing, usually something derogatory and/or rude toward another player that Americans would have considered either “trash talk” or funny. Australians are sarcastic, but the sarcasm is different somehow. It’s gentler, really, without any malice whatsoever, whereas Americans are usually sarcastic with the intention of making someone feel dumb. Both can be funny, but Australians don’t understand America sarcasm and I come across as a bitch. Not the best light.
And it doesn’t help that there’s this Canadian kid who is half way to driving me completely up the wall. He’s about my age, but young and doesn’t seem to have a real clear grasp on social situations. Or at least that’s my harsh interpretation. He talks about Canada all the time, says things like “Oh, if we were Knucks (whatever those are), we’d be winning,” and constantly berates America and me. Being nice to the socially retarded kid is expected, so I assume it’s common knowledge that no matter, how harsh or incorrect his comments are, I am not supposed to retaliate. I didn’t realize until now how frustrating anti-Americanism is. I am completely comfortable discussing politics, as long as the other person has some clue what is going on, or has a genuine interest in learning about American government. But talking with people who truly believe American stereotypes? There is no combating that, because no matter what I do, in some ways I fit those preconceived notions. I reason that culture defines those stereotypes, which in turn defines the situations I have been facing. Okay, so I’m probably making a bigger deal out of this than it actually is. I am a bit sleepy, probably a bit emotional….the usual.
During “O Week” (Residential Orientation Week), there is a different themed party every night. Basically, it’s an excuse to drink a LOT of alcohol every night, with the exception of tonight. Tonight was a night for recovery and activities that required mental exertion. Last night’s theme was “Beach Party” and a cloudy, slightly ill-planned one at that. My new roommates have finally moved in- Ben just showed up yesterday for good, and there were a ton of new people at the party. I had met been, incidentally, the morning after a late night of being very drunk and slightly ill (I think I may have bronchitis or pneumonia or at least allergies), so my voice was shot and I’d just climbed out of bed; it was close to noon. And there’s Ben, with his parents, and I’m looking- and sounding- like hell. But I don’t know if he remembers, so I’m working on letting my very bad first impression go. It’s almost too bad Ben is in the same unit as I am because it means he is completely off-limits. Unofficial Resident Code and Girl Code and Common Sense all state that it is a very bad idea to have any feelings other than sisterly ones for a roommate. Like I said, it’s a bit sad, because he’s very nice, reasonably attractive, and tall.
Australian men, or at least a lot of them, are a bit on the space-efficient side. Say I’m in the shopping center and I see a guy from down the aisle. I might check him out, find that’s he’s completely gorgeous in the stereotypical Australian male way, and then discover his head is about even with my shoulder. It’s a cruel trick Fate has played on women. Cruel indeed.
Last night’s Beach Party was supposed to run into the early morning, making their little “Boot Camp” that much more painful. I was awakened at six a.m., having been asleep for about four hours, to seemingly very drunk people banging on pots and pans and yelling.
I drew upon my previous experiences with intoxicated people to arrive at this conclusion: “They’re drunk and they think this is funny. If I ignore them, I will get back to sleep.”
I was very wrong in my assumptions. Apparently, the people who had lived on-campus before had devised a little “Boot Camp” for all the Newbies/ It involved a very inaccurate impersonation of a drill sergeant, which failed miserably mostly because the people yelling were still a bit drunk. But we “ran” up the hill and did jumping jacks and ran through mud, drank a shot of Tabasco sauce with tuna, and went down the slip ‘n’ slide just like we were supposed to. Actually, it was kind of fun. I’ve always heard of initiation ceremonies, but never been part of one. Apart from the complete demolition of my one pair of pajamas, the whole experience was enjoyable.
I spent the rest of my day trying to sleep, but mostly just doing stuff on the Internet. I actually went grocery shopping at Woolworth’s online store. The fact that this is available is great for two reasons:
1. They deliver your groceries, which means I don’t have to walk for fifteen minutes with heavy
Bags and melting ice cream.
2. I find grocery shopping in Australia hugely daunting.
Seriously, I went to buy food the other day and couldn’t find anything I needed, didn’t have enough time to convert things from liters and grams to units of measurement I understand, and, naturally, couldn’t find the proper brands and flavors of things. And things you’d find commonly in America, like tortillas, tortilla chips, granola, and ranch dressing, are incredibly difficult to find. I did find Ranch dressing though, so I was extremely (perhaps obnoxiously) excited.
I tried to take a nap and failed. Eventually, my roomies and I went on to the next activity, a pseudo- Amazing Race around Campbelltown. The game was fun, and we got free pizza afterwards. In a lot of ways, this week is like being at summer camp, with the exception of the alcohol. We never had alcohol at camp, especially church camp. Lots of activities and a lot of free food, which is great. I can’t afford to eat over here!
Tomorrow is MTV night. I have to go try downtown in a second-hand shop to see if I can maybe find a costume. I was thinking of going as Ozzy Osbourne, but can’t bring myself to get that discusting. So who will it be?

New Friends

February 19 (?)
The following is a brief description of the individuals whom I have met in Australia and who may or may not be playing a further role in my life.
Jana and Henning: German couple. Henning will be attending school and studying English while Jana will be living in Sydney for the next two months before returning to Germany. They arrived the same day I did and we rode the same shuttle from Sydney airport to Campbelltown. Elena and I wen tot Sydney yesterday to try and find an apartment for Jana, and to sight-see.
Elena: German exchange student from the same town as Jana and Henning, although they did not know each other before arriving in Australia. She is here studying English and Spanish, though just for the semester. Her English is not as good as Henning’s, but they are all intent upon teaching me at least some German.
Bianco, Mike, Renee (Donko), Kim: Campbelltown Student Residence Resident Assistants. I think there are a few more, but if I have met them, I can’t remember. They all seem really cool, very chill and PARTY ANIMALS! Which is apparently common here…. How will I ever adjust?
Abigail: Crazy, hilarious English-woman who arrived last night. We sat together at orientation and had a good time- she freaking cracks me up and it appears we have similar senses of humor, which is nice. It seems we have a lot in common, or at least enough to be good friends. I hope so; I truly like her. She is part of a party of four arriving from the same school in Britain. I like her because she is willing to discuss politics; not many people are terribly interested, it seems, in current political issues, international government, and other important issues. They do like to drink though. Think I may have mentioned that….
Batiste: Frenchman who is a complete stereotype! I mean, he’s nice, but his English is rudimentary and he looks like a stereotypical Frenchie. So funny. He is intent upon teaching me French. At this rate, I will end the year multi-lingual.
Kim Bastien: German who is at Bankstown. I sat with him on the bus ride back from Parramatta. I’m not going to lie: I found him very attractive, despite his name being Kim.

There are more people- I know there are- but I cannot write about everyone right now. My mind would explode and my fingers would cramp! But it is a start.

February 14- Day 1 in Oz

February 14, 2007
What a full and strange few days it has been! Until a few minutes ago, I had no idea what time it was, or really even which day. Oh, obviously I had some idea it was Valentine’s Day, but the date is as unimportant as the time on the clock. I have not warn a watch in, well, years, but I have had no idea of time for almost two days, and it has given me the most wonderful sense of freedom. Who cares whether you are awake or asleep at two o’clock in the morning? Or five? Why does food have to be eaten around noon? When was noon? I have no idea; I’m pretty sure I didn’t eat though.
My flight was made up of three legs: Bozeman to Denver, Denver to San Francisco, San Fran to Sydney. The first leg of my journey was uneventful in ever sense. My luck, of couse, could not hold. There is something about flying and traveling that eliminates luck in even the luckiest people. There will always be a late flight, a cranky flight attendant, or a smelly companion. In my case, there were all three. But I’m still trying to get there.
We were late leaving Denver because the plane had to be de-iced. For all future pilots and flight crew, please remember that informing passengers that ice has accumulated on the wings of the plane is never a good way to instill confidence in them about the aircraft’s ability to fly. Apparently, howeve,r planes can fly once the ice is removed, with no lasting damage. But of course, it meant we were late flying into San Francisco.
NOTE TO PASSENGERS:
When flying, whether internationally or domestically, leave yourself at least TWO HOURS between connecting flights!!!! Although you may hate waiting around in airports and think layovers are th biggest waste of time in the world, a two hour period between flights eliminates most of the stress associated with late flights.
Please believe me when I say twenty minutes is NOT enough time to run from the domestic terminal of SFO to the international terminal. Naturally, it involves at least two walking sidewalks and a shuttle bus, if you do it right. If you do manage to miss the shuttle or are clueless as to its existence, you will invariably find yourself missing your next flight as you go through security for a second time.
Now, as I’ve said, I was late for my connecting flight to Sydney, which was traumatic not only because I truly desired to get to Sydney, but also because I had to use the restroom terribly bad. Needless to say, getting on my plane took precedence and it wasn’t ‘til we had leveled off about 37,000 miles above the closes real toilet that I realized I still had to go.
The plane was enormous, with an upper and lower decks and about a million chatty people. I finally found my seat in 51E, between a nice-looking woman in her fourties and a woman who reminded me (not so fondly) of my Aunt Mary Jo. One would think row 51 would place me at the back of the plane, but a good ten to fifteen rows were behind me. Ah, the hell of economy class. I was extremely relieved to discover my traveling companions were as normal as any Sydney Sider heading home and a middle-aged couple planning to cycle around New Zealand could be. I discovered, to my relief, my seatmates were not entirely odd, creepy or malodorous in any way. In fact, I believe they felt I was the annoying one.
The flight was most interesting because of my Fourteen Hour Crush. He was (is, I suppose he made it to Melbourne alright) Canadian, in his early twenties and named Calvin. Upon our first meeting, he was slightly intoxicated, as was pointed out to me by Canadian and future schoolmate) Derek. From the smell of it, I’d say he’d been drinking rum for a few hours. Calvin was fun and funny and goodness no, I did not DO anything with him. He was entertaining and it was nice to have someone around my own age to talk to. The problem was, the flight crew seemed to have a problem with passengers standing in one area for longer than five minutes. So continual conversation had to be continuously moving conversation.
I met Derek when I met Calvin. I was on my way to the bathroom after remembering my bladder was about to burst when I found myself face to face with a group of men. How one woman can be face to face with a group is linguistic inconsistency you will have to allow.
“Oh great,” I thought to myself as I peered through the dim lighting toward the circle, “just what I need: a group of creepy old men staring at me as I walk to the bathroom.”
Creepy old men they were not. Calvin and Derek and a middle-aged Australian they were. I stopped outside the circle.
“Did you need to use the restroom?” one asked.
I caught sight of him and once again forgot about my bladder. “No, just stretching my legs,” I decided instantly.
“Where’re you from?” He asked, leaning forward and breathing rum and coke into the already-stale plane air.
Thus began the Fourteen Hour Crush. It ended when I went to customs and he went the wrong direction to catch his connecting flight. Ah, love is a fickly mistress.
Here is a list and brief description of a select few who made an impression on me between the flight, customs, and getting to the school.
Flight Attendant #1: Had ridiculously, impossibly white teeth. Smiled a great amount and seemed to have taken more than his prescribed dose of happy pills. Mostly remember him because his teeth were so white, they glowed.
Brandon: tall African American from South Carolina heading to the University of Sydney without a clue where he is going to live, what he will be studying, or, I imagine, the school’s address. Stood in line with me for the first part of customs.
Van Driver: (This is his title, not his name.) This man met me at the airport and was ready to take me to Campbelltown campus, just as soon as the other students arrived. I had just stood in line for two hours at customs and he was making me wait. Fortunately, I was too in awe of his gorgeous Australian accent to be angry.
Blond Guy in Airport: walked by and said, after catching my eye: “You’ve been waiting quite a while, haven’t you?” My point being that Australians are very friendly. Either that, or he noticed I was checking him out and he couldn’t think of anything more interesting to say.
Eventually I did make it to Campbelltown campus, where I am staying. In the van with me were Elana, Henning and Jana, whom I no longer think about as individual entities but collectively as “The Germans” and Mi Ting. I settled into my room directly and am very happy with my accommodations.
I was expecting to have a single room, and I do, but I was expecting it to be of an unlivable size, much as most dorm rooms in the United States are. Instead, I found I have an ensuite, which simply means I have my own bathroom, as well as a room that is more than livable! Student residences are located in what are called townhouses, which really are townhouses. There are five bedrooms, two bathrooms, and occasionally, an ensuite in addition to a full kitchen, dining area, and living room. Really, they are quite spacious and nicely laid out. Each door has a lock and no one else can get into your room. Except the RA’s (resident assistants) in case you lock yourself out. Which I already have. I am hoping it’s the last time I do that. They are very nice about running over and opening doors, but it makes you feel like a bit of an idiot. And there are screens on the windows, so I can’t just climb through the window, like I would do at home.
I am compelled to write a great deal more, about everything, from the colors of the buildings, to the amazing amount of foliage, the humidity and heat, the sun. About the people, about the land, the sky, my hopes and dreams for tomorrow and the days to come. And I will, just not tonight.
Tonight I will go to bed entirely too early because I was awake entirely too early. Then tomorrow I will wake up and figure out what the hell I am supposed to do next.

February 12- On the Plane

My entire life has been reduced to two suitcases and two carry ons. It’s seems like so very few things, yet I have almost everything I will need. I say “almost: because I already know I forgot the USB connector cable for my digital camera and they confiscated my saline solution at security in Bozeman. Yup, turns out salt and water and other contact solutions are being used by terrorists to bring down planes. Such a simple thing, but who’d even consider it? It’s probably a good thing they took mine; I would hate to think I was endorsing terrorism and the demise of the United States by taking CONTACT SOLUTION on a plane. Also, the liquid constitution of my luggage was reduced to a quart sized zip lock bag. Not a whole lot of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, perfume and make-up come in 3 oz or smaller bottles, and very few women can actually manage to keep what they need under quart-sized quantities. I myself thew away shaving cream and anti-wrinkly spray stuff. Terrible loss.
By now the reality of my trip and the implications stemming from my decision are becoming very real. There is the primary concern that I will make it to San Fransisco in time to make it to my next flight (the one actually taking me to Sydney), whether that plane will actually make it there, and really, whether it will have been worth sitting cramped, for hours and hours and hours, on planes, to arrive in a country where I know no one and am, for the first time in my life, truly alone.
When I say “alone”, I don’t mean in the way leaving for college was “alone”. I mean it in being truly on my own; when I left for college, I moved from my parents house to my brother’s house. I have always had my family there, and although I understand they will always be there, thirteen thousand miles has a way of making family ties seem a bit stretched.
Want to know what my favorite question people have been asking me is? “Are you excited?”
Half the time I feel like telling them NO. You know, moving half-way across the world, changing everything about your life, from clothing to culture, isn’t really that big of a deal. You know, Australia just doesn’t really float my boat. I just felt like spending an enormous amount of money, changing schools, packing everything I own into two suitcases (okay, and several boxes in my parent’s house) and flying for almost twenty hours sounded just about average. Not exciting. Not stressful. Normal. Whatever.