Europop87's Tripcrazed

Photopop (Series 2)

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 12:40:38 GMT

Additional posts on The Epic Adventure to follow, but (for now) I'm going to make do with some photos of the latest and greatest. :)

This is what happens when you combine sunshine on a Sunday arvo, surfboards, a camera, an eagar photographer (me) and four friends...somehow, we got a little risqué. ;)

Luleby and Lincs

Luleby and Lincs (noch mal)

Abbey, contemplating the ocean.

Sea breeze and my Luleby.

Clearly, I love my board.

Amanda loves Lincs.

"Look! It's a beyond babe!"

A Wednesday night in Wollongong is the American equivalent of a Friday night - hence the midori and pineapples in our hands. ;)

ChristmasinJulyinAugust Party (aka Traffic Light Party) - the idea is: you wore red if you were "taken," yellow if your relationship status was "complicated," and green if you were openly single. ----Yes, I'm wearing green. ;)

Stowe, also wearing green.

Rach and I! <3!

That's all (for now), folks! ;) Organic Chemistry is calling...ugh.

The Epic Adventure (Part 2)

Sat, 01 Aug 2009 09:37:25 GMT

July 2, 2009

With Mary occupying my bed, I found myself curled up on several couch cushions from the common room sofas I'd placed on my floor, using my old Ventura College sweatshirt as a pillow, and sleeping underneath my favourite beach towel. (Surprisingly, I was quite comfortable using this sleeping arrangement - sofa cushions don't get nearly enough credit, LOL!) My trusty alarm clock was buzzing away underneath my bunched-up sweatshirt, cheerfully proclaiming the arrival of morning, and the noise of kookaburras, parrots, and lorikeets ("chirping" doesn't quite cut it when it comes to Aussie birds) filled my tiny room.

Balancing on my make-shift bed, I reached underneath my "pillow" and flipped the switch on the alarm clock, effectively silencing its enthusiastic and persistent beeps. I attempted to wake Mary from her deep, jet-lagged slumber.

"Oi, Mary. Mary? It's 7:30. 7:30, Mary?"

"Mmmmph."

The incredible thing was that she actually did sound exactly like that: "Mmmmph." I couldn't help it: I burst out laughing, lost what uncertain balance I had maintained on the sofa cushions, and tumbled into my desk, which really woke Mary up. A split second passed in which she quickly pieced the situation together before joining in my laughter. We took showers at lightning speed, talking and laughing over the shower walls and the noise of pouring water (or dribbling water, in my case...I was in the "evil" shower), dressed rapidly, and walked over to the A-Block dining hall for a bite to eat.

Back in my room and revived by granola, crumpets, and fresh fruit, we assessed our "plans" for the day: book tickets for the train from Sydney to Brisbane - which left a considerable amount of free time in which we could do...well, anything! So, we headed over to the Crown Street Mall for some browsing, and to purchase a couple gifts for Jim and Bev, the generous couple Mary knew in Brisbane who had insisted we occupy their two guest beds when they heard of our plans to vacation in Cairns.

After we'd determined a variety of jams, bikkies, and a bottle of wine would serve as thank-you gifts, Mary and I headed over to Gloria Jean's for a cup of coffee (Mary's) and a Chai Latte (mine.) Inspired by that environment generated by busy coffee shops (a blend of hustle, bustle, and chaos, and that vague sense of anonymity mixed in with strong notes of coffee bean and cinnamon sticks), we found a cozy corner and settled ourselves in for another long heart-to-heart, sipping our steaming cups of coffee/Chai at appropriate intervals.

Now, you may have thought that, after several hours of intense conversation at a Sydney cafe and the additional time spent catching up after we'd turned out the lights in my room at Weerona, we wouldn't have that much left to discuss. You would, of course, have been impressively wrong. :P Having been close friends from the tender age of zero (six months on Mary's part), and having maintained and strengthened that friendship over the next twenty-two years, four-and-a-half months of almost non-existent communication had accumulated a fabulous wealth of stories, experiences, dreams, and thoughts. We both understood that we'd be hard-pressed to talk enough over the next ten days if we wanted to cover all the material we'd acquired. :D

By the time the clock (make that my mobile) struck (displayed) 3 PM, we'd caught up on the activities of family and friends back home in the States, revealed future hopes, dreams, and ambitions, unraveled the mysteries of failed relationships, solved world hunger and determined how to achieve peace worldwide (never underestimate the power of two twenty-two year old women in a coffe-shop fueled by coffe/Chai!) We both decided that was enough for the time being and determined we'd better vacate the cozy corner for the use of other young women desperate for a good chat.

A short bus ride later, I was eagerly taking Mary for a tour around the university's campus, exploring classroom buildings, pointing out where the highly addictive Subway cookies could be found, and (of course) meeting the truly evil ducks that terrorize the campus. (Quite frankly, you haven't lived until you've experienced being chased across a green lawn by a large red-and-white duck intent on biting your jeans; this has indeed happened to me on more than one occassion, here. LOL!)

After I'd fulfilled my duties as tour guide, we walked back to Weerona so I could do a bit of packing. I was going to be changing buildings (moving from C to B Block) at the start of the next session, so I needed to package up my belongings into a few boxes (yes, sadly, I can fit most of my possessions into three medium-sized packages) before we left on our "Epic Adventure." Mary was wonderfully patient as I rolled posters, folded clothes, and piled books into my boxes.

Having fulfilled my packing obligations for the day, we wandered back over to the dining hall to satisfy our now rumbling stomachs (goodness knows the food could use a little "help" during the winter holidays, here: I have a distinct memory of Mary examining the food selection, pointing at a main course and inquiring in a perfectly serious though slightly concerned voice, "Is that alive??").

We figured the best way to spend the evening would be by destroying the few brain cells left over from my final exams by watching multiple movies in the TV Room and by consuming disturbing quantities of lollies, chocolates, and popcorn, so we took a short walk through the darkness to the video store in Gwyneville to pick out a couple films. Searching for The Princess Bride, we were horrified to discover Gwyneville Video actually doesn't possess this timeless classic, so we had to readjust our plans for the evening to watching Stardust and A Good Year.

We claimed the TV Rooom (well, OK, "claimed" is a little strong, seeing as there was almost no one left at college to actually be using the TV Room, LOL!), grabbed my doona, popped some popcorn, and got comfy for a quiet, chillaxed evening - just what the doctor ordered for battling jetlag or recovering from daunting final exams. :D

We didn't see another soul for almost the entire time we spent watching the movies, except until thirty minutes before the end of A Good Year when Philippe (one of the senior residents at Weerona) drifted in through the door, almost giving us a heart attack in the process...I'll admit, I may have screamed for a split-second, :) He'd heard the movie from the hallway, had cued in to the fact that the actors were speaking French (his native language) and had decided to check out what "the two crazy friends" were watching.

After socializing for a few minutes, Mary and I packed up the DVDs, sad bits of chocolate and lollies remaining, and my doona, called it a night,and retreated to our warm beds...well, Mary's bed, my sofa cushions.

*****

All-in-all, a good day. :D

Bilocation?

Fri, 31 Jul 2009 04:52:55 GMT

I awoke this morning to gentle rays of sunlight filtering softly through my curtains, the sound of a lawn-mower humming in the background, and the scent of freshly-cut grass drifting through my open window. For one brief moment, I was back in SoCal on a warm Saturday morning in spring: my dad was mowing the front lawn (a Saturday morning routine), and I could almost hear my mum making breakfast in the kitchen.

Slowly, I woke up and realized that (while the sunlight was tinting my room with the glow of early morning colour, and that it did indeed sound as if my dad was tending to the large front yard), I was in reality waking up to a winter Friday morning at my college in Oz, that I had an hour of statistics to go to, and that the only "fresh" breakfast I'd be getting would be cereal.

And, oddly enough, I didn't care. I love it that much here. :D

The Epic Adventure (Part 1)

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 12:53:10 GMT

July 1st, 2009

I groaned as the shrill ringing of my alarm clock pierced the quiet night at the ungodly hour of 4:57 AM. Surprisingly enough, I don't typically get up at 4:57 AM: under normal conditions, that time of the morning would find me bundled up under my doona (that's Aussie for a blanket, by the way), exploring Dreamland. Instead, I found myself crawling out from my warm bed, cringing against the cold as I sat at my computer and logged onto the University of Wollongong's student network, "SOLS." For some horrible reason, my STAT151 professor had arranged for tutorial enrollment to begin at 5:00 AM and, with a few hundred people attempting to score the perfect class time, it becomes a sort of competitive sport, with everyone trying to log onto the system at exactly 5:00:00 to get the choicest picks.

Unfortunately I discovered that my motor skills didn't exactly seem to function at their peak in the early hours of the morning. Precious seconds escaped as I struggled against my own fingers to type in my username and password so that, by the time I had logged onto the network, it was already 5:00:18; eighteen vital seconds had been lost, and (in that frighteningly brief amount of time), all the best classes had been filled.

C'est la vie. :)

*****

7:15 AM. Once again, my alarm clock rang out, trying valiantly to prove that volume has nothing to do with size. (No, seriously, this thing is barely the size of my palm and has such impressive vocal cords it could easily wake up an elephant!) This time, however, it was easier to abandon the heat of my bed: I had a train to catch!

I took a shower and dressed hurriedly, pulling on my favourite blue jeans, a black and silver t-shirt, and sliding my feet into my black Havaianas (a pair of Brazilian flip-flops with a sparkling crystal in the straps.) With a quick glance at the clock, I grabbed my leather shoulder bag and a colourful jacket and made my way off campus grounds, leaving my hair to dry at the whim of the wind and sun.

Walking briskly, I quickly found myself passing through the Wollong Tennis Club, Beaton Park (the large gym behind the Weerona campus), the Australian military base, and three or four residential neighborhoods before reaching North Wollongong Station. I ran up the ten steps to the platform, got a ticket from the ticketing machine, and waited approximately twelve seconds for the train bound for Central Station in Sydney to pull into the station.

*****

I love the train ride from North Wollongong to Sydney. It follows the sandy coastline for the majority of the hour and a half trip, only occassionally traveling smoothly inland to give you a glimpse of lush forests and greenery, bubbling streams and creeks, and the occasional waterfall.

Settled comfortably in my single seat, I studied the vibrant landscape as it flashed past my window. It's at times like these when I wonder how I finally ended up in such a stunningly beautiful, strange country...a place where frighteningly deadly (and large!) insects, bizarre mammals, unique land formations, and disarmingly gorgeous and friendly people call home. Regardless of all the twists, turns, and downright struggles I went through to get here, I truly am here...

Lost in my own thoughts, I was caught off-guard when the train conductor announced we had arrived at our destination, Central Station. I retrieved my bag and stepped out into the sea of people on the platform. A swift glance at the clocks overhead informed me that it was 9:45 and that I'd have to run if I make it to my connecting train (Mary and I had arranged to meet at Museum, a station located beside Hyde Park in the center of the city), so I negotiated my way as quickly as possible through the crush of people surrounding me and acquired a seat on the train bound for Museum.

9:56 AM: I arrived at Museum and went to meet up with Mary.

An hour later, I was still sitting beside the fountains in Hyde Park, waiting to rendezvous with my friend. Somehow or other (as always happens), we'd missed something during communications and had failed to meet up with each other. I figured the safest bet was to just stay in Hyde Park in the most obvious spot I could find and wait for her to either show up or call.

Just then, my phone began to ring.

"Hola?"
"Nikki! Where are you??"
"Hyde Park. Where the heck are you?"
"Hyde Park Cafe!"

"Two seconds."

One of the shorter conversations of my life, I think. ;)

A minute or so later and I was being hugged by one of my oldest and best friends.

*****

If you had flipped the fast-forward switch and had scanned ahead five minutes or so, you would have found Mary and I standing in the queue at Museum Station so we could purchase the all-powerful Red Pass, that amazing ticket that gives you access to almost every single bus, train, and ferry in Sydney City. Slipping my precious red ticket into my pocket, we tripped downstairs to the underground platforms at Museum Station and boarded the first train bound for Circular Quay beside the famous harbour.

"Where do we want to go?" Mary asked.

"Hop a ferry?" I suggested.

Which is what we did. We randomly picked a ferry (our only incentive was to find one that was leaving as soon as possible), and found ourselves walking across the gang-plank onto a ferry bound for Cremone Point. Feeling like movie stars (images from Titanic flashed simultaneously through our minds as we stood at the prow of the little ferry boat with our arms outstretched and the wind blowing in our hair, we navigated through the waters through Sydney Harbour, around to Cremone, and then back to dock at the harbour again.

We wandered nonchalantly around Sydney for the next hour or so, glancing into random shops, peering up mysterious alleys, and just taking in the sights. (Naturally, we took the obligatory photographs posing beside the Opera House, LOL!) We discovered the Nurses' Walk in The Rocks (a famous shopping district) where we found a lovely little cafe for lunch and settled down to have a good chat. We hadn't seen each other since I moved here to Australia, and (unfortunately) communication had been pretty minimal, so having the opportunity to just sit and talk was awesome. There was so much to catch up on (like the fact that she was moving to Argentina in a few weeks!!) that we must have sat in that tiny hide-away cafe for several hours.

Several cappuccinos, a few bikkies, and months of catching-up later, we realized the growing dark and decided we'd better relocate. So, we returned to exploring the city, drifted back to Circular Quay, made a stop at the Queen Victoria Building (one of the most impressive shopping malls I've ever experienced), climbed the steps outside the Opera House, looked at the Harbour Bridge shimmering with lights in the dusk,...that was when I realized just how much I love Sydney. :)

By this time, however, it was getting pretty late, and we needed to catch the train from Central back down to North Wollongong, so Mary and I made our way through various stations and platforms until we got to the YWCA where Mary had spent the last couple of nights. We battled our way through the crowds of people standing by the door (OK, so it was more like one or two stragglers, but that's winter for you in Sydney: kills the tourist season, LOL!) and retrieved her luggage from the luggage room.

We must have looked quite a pair as we maneuvered our way across streets, along sidewalks, and down various flights of stairs until we found ourselves back at Central Station. We had a little more than a twenty minute wait for the Wollongong train, so we made a quick stop at a cafe within the station for a hot cuppa and a few bikkies (or it may have been a couple of muffins, I can't remember, LOL!) before climbing onto the train, dragging our rather tired feet and several suitcases with us.

*****

The trip back to North Wollongong was uneventful, while the station was deserted when we arrived. Pulling Mary's suitcases behind me, I led the way back to Weerona, pointing out rather (un)interesting sights as we went,...of course, the fact that it was dark didn't really help as I did my best to show off bits of Wollongong, LOL! Oh well...

10:30 PM: It felt good to be home, after a long day out. My room was warm and comfortable, and Mary and I fell right back into a good conversation almost as soon as I had her settled in my room.

An added bonus to the day? Mary had come "bearing gifts," so to speak. My Mum and Dad had sent a few things from home with her to give to me: my very favourite-est vanilla chai tea (there simply are no words to explain how yum this tea really is. ;) It was a major contributor in helping me get through those first few months when I was sooo sick with my muscle disease thingy...if you've got to be stuck lying flat on your back in bed for ages, you may as well have some of the most delicious tea ever!), "real" ibuprofen (because, for some reason, the stuff they label as "ibuprofen" here doesn't do a thing to bring down my all-too-frequent fevers, help with my ever-recurring muscle issues, etc.), and last, but most definitely not least, a sweet letter from my Dad. (I love you, and miss you heaps, Dad! Hugs!)

End Day 1...sort of, LOL! Goodness knows how long we ended up talking late into the night...it most definitely wasn't the 1st anymore by the time we fell asleep. :P

Photopop

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 00:04:14 GMT

It's a cheap bribe, but I figure photos are better than nothing, so: here are some photos of the last few months to hold you over until I get my big blog post up. :D

SoCal Girl's finally gone Surfer Girl!

Out catching some waves off North Beach

$20 Prom: the night 80's fashion and abnormally high pony-tails made a terrifying comeback.

Bringing out the bubbly after to celebrate completing final exams!

Sydney City as seen from a ferry headed to Manly.

Three guesses as to what this building is... :)

The Harbour Bridge, as seen from the Opera House during sunset.

Some random fountain in Darling Harbour.

City Hall in Brisbane.

Australia's version of Starbucks (except, I'll admit it, about one hundred times better!)

Cairns at sunset.

Sipping a glass of OJ during a late brunch in Cairns.

Michelmas Island, on the outer edge of the Great Barrier Reef

The Great Barrier Reef (and, yes, I found Nemo!)

The Atherton Tablelands in Queensland

A ginormous tree that had been struck by lightning and in which an opposum had taken up residence.

That's it for now...enjoy! :P

Coming Soon To Theaters!

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 07:39:40 GMT

After an extensive sabbatical, I am planning my return to the blogging world. :P

OK, maybe "sabbatical" isn't the right word. Maybe "vacation" would fit better.

Whatever. I've got stories to tell ya, and that's a fact.

"You Say Ta-MAY-Toe, I Say Ta-MAA-Toe"

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 03:18:21 GMT

With no classes to attend, no exams to study for, and (quite frankly) no interest in doing anything other than turning into a lazy blob for the next few days, I decided to put together another post on the differences between Kansas and Oz.

*****

"Hotels" are not usually real hotels - they're bars or pubs. So, when you see "Mosman Hotel, The Clock Hotel, Cremorne Hotel, Harp Hotel", etc, they aren’t typically places to sleep, they're places to perform that favourite of all Aussies' past-times, drink.
Devestatingly, "lemonade" is not lemonade - it's Sprite or 7-Up. You can’t really find what we think of as lemonade in many places , but if you ever do find it (after promptly calling to inform me where you discovered this precious rarity,) you'll discover it will be called "traditional or real lemonade."
Entrees actually are entrees. And by this I mean they come before your main course, as they should. Entrees in the US ARE the main course, but, in the rest of the world, entree means appetizer or starter. So, don’t order an entree and expect it to be big enough to fill you up!
"Ta" means thank you. Because yes; it seems that (to keep up with that laid-back attitude Aussies are renowned for) even saying "thank you" uses too much energy.
There's not such thing as "ketchup," and (if you make that rookie "American Traveling Overseas" mistake of asking for "ketchup," you will likely be the center of a few laughs in the room until someone graciously explains that they don't have "that," they have "ta-maa-toe sauce." And is just that: a thin, slightly sloppy paste made from tomatoes. Their "pasta sauce" is our "tomato sauce."
Along with driving on the left, walking on the left, taking the stairs on the left, escalators are also "built" on the left. Back in the States, if you take a series of escalators to, say, the fifth floor, you'll begin on the first floor, on an escalator going up. Once you reach the next floor, you typically turn 180 degrees to your left and hop onto the next escalator. Here, you would make that rotation to the right, maintaining that "driving on the left" mentality.
On another note, the first floor isn't the first floor, here. It's the "ground floor." At the University of Wollongong, classrooms are listed by building number, floor number, and room number. For example, my Chemistry Lab class took place in 41-340 this last session. That stands for "Building 41 (the Science Building), 3rd Floor, Room 40. Similarly, my Anatomy Lab class was in 41-G04 - Building 41, Ground Floor, Room 4.
If you thought Starbucks was a confusing place in which to order coffee, you’ve never tried in Australia. They don’t seem to call it the way we call it in America, and it took a a few days (and a few misordered products) to work it all out. Of course, once you learn the lingo, it actually makes a little bit of sense.
Short Black: This is a single shot of espresso.
Long Black: Espresso with water (1/3 espresso 2/3 water). If you want a close approximation of a regular cup ‘o joe, order a long black. It’s equivalent to a Cafe Americano ordered in your local coffeehouse.
Simple, yeah? Well, I hope you didn’t want milk with that. That’s where the confusion starts.
Flat White: This is a popular drink in Australia and New Zealand. As far as I know, it’s not served anywhere else in the world. A flat white is an espresso with steamed milk (about 1/3 espresso, 2/3 milk). The closest approximation in America would be a no foam latte.
So, what if you want a regular cup o’ joe with milk? You order a Long Black with Milk on the Side. This gives you cold milk to add to your long black. Thankfully, I was able to discover a latte is a just your normal latte and a cappaccino is a cappaccino. (Something normal!!)

*****

done, Done, DONE!

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 01:17:02 GMT

Whew! I made it: as of 2:43 PM yesterday arvo, I am officially done with exams! Yes! (Now comes the nerve-racking part where I wait to find out if I managed to scrape a pass in Chemistry and Anatomy...) Fuuuuuun. :)

Chemistry Exam = EPIC FAIL! It was, without a doubt, the hardest, worst exam I've ever had to take. And the fact that all the chemistry majors came out of it convinced they'd failed and exclaiming how they didn't understand any of the questions wasn't encouraging at all. Seriously, if Tennis Dave thinks he may have failed it, there's no hope for the rest of us mere mortals.

My Anatomy Theory Exam wasn't nearly as hard as I anticipated it would be. Still, I don't know if I did well enough to have earned a passing grade. What with having glandular fever and being knocked out of classes for two weeks, I definitely struggled on my mid-term exam (translated as, didn't pass it), which increased the pressure for my Anatomy Practical Exam and the Theory Exam. Fortunately, I nailed the Prac. Exam, scoring a (frankly, quite shocking) 117/120, but the theory exam was 165 questions and I'm not convinced I did well enough to have made up for my mid-term. Still, I put my best effort in and, well, if I have to take it again, I'll be that much ahead of everyone else. :P

I had my Psychology Exam yesterday. It wasn't particularly difficult, and I'm pretty sure I pulled a good grade off in it.

And my BioMedical Sciences Exam I had last Tuesday was pretty easy as well, although the fact that it was worth 60% of my final grade definitely added some pressure. Seriously, how intimidating is it knowing that you can either pass or fail a class depending on one three hour exam? Yikes! I'm not a fan. I appreciate the American method all the more, now when you have multiple exams throughout the semester, resulting in a final exam that is typically worth no more than 20%, possibly 25%.

Still, it's a good feeling being done, come what may.

*****

On the other hand, it's not quite as good a feeling being stuck sick in bed...again! I sound like I've been smoking two packs a day since I was 12, I'm running a remarkably impressive fever (and also bear a striking resemblance to a beet as you've ever seen in a human), and I've developed an entirely new appreciation and respect for how difficult it is to function as an old, arthritic woman.

"R-E-S-P-E-C-T!"

*****

One of my best mates from back home is coming out to visit in a few days. I'm SO excited! We're going to go on a trip up to Cairnes (heat and sunshine!) and the Great Barrier Reef (Nemo!!). It's going to be brilliant fun.

What Did I Do Today??

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 13:30:11 GMT

Final exams.

I had been composing a long, winded explanation for you all as to why I had been so long absent from my blog but finally decided that sentence pretty much summed up my paragraphs of excuses. ;)

*****

Want to know what my Sunday schedule has been today?

6:30 AM: My first action of the day was to kill mt alarm clock by hurling it at brick wall. It's astounding, really, the sheer volume a tiny battery-powered alarm clock barely the size of my palm can generate.
6:32 AM: I actually got out of bed, then promptly leapt back in as soon as my skin experienced the dramatic difference in temperatures between my bed (warm and toasty) and my room which had (quite alarmingly) acquired the frigid temperatures of Antarctica overnight.
6:32 (and 10 seconds) AM: I ventured to extend arm outside of the "safety zone" and switched on my most awesome heater beside my bed.
6:35 AM: I determined by cautious experimentation that the air near the heater was actually significantly warmer than in previous minutes, indicating that the room would soon be back to normal living temperatures. Twisting my dunna (that's Aussie for "comforter," by the way) around me, I groped towards the foot of my bed and grabbed the fuzzy and oh-so-vibrantly-orange bathrobe Jill gave me. Time for a shower.
6:36 AM: I looked like Frankenstein's bride. With disasterous hair, bleary eyes, shampoo bottles, toothpaste, and a toothbrush bursting out of the pockets on my shockingly orange bathrobe, I staggered haphazardly down the hallway towards the showers. Wouldn't you know it, though: Jess had already claimed one of the two showers, and I judged from the melodious tunes issuing over the shower door that it was the "good" shower, too.

*Sidenote: there are two showers at my end of C-1: the "good" shower and the "evil, sucky, why-do-we-even-HAVE-that-shower?" shower.

Now, the distinction between these two showers would (on the surface) appear fairly minimal: one has what we refer to as the "drought-proof" shower head while the other has the "drought" head.

"Drought-proof" is pure awesomeness. It's basically a big disk about the size of a teacup saucer, half an inch thick, and absolutely riddled with holes. It pours an deluge of water down on top of you, and (as an additional bonus) uses a different water heater than the "evil, sucky, why-do-we-even-HAVE-that-shower?" shower, meaning that you aren't either burned to death or frozen solid every time someone upstairs flushes a toilet or takes a shower.

"Drought" on the other hand is one of those shower heads becoming increasingly popular among Australian politicians. These little (emphasis on the word little) showerheads have been equipped with a handy dandy waterflow regulator as an attempt to combat the drought issue Australians have been dealing with for the past decade. The result is that you stand under an absolutely tiny (think the dent inside a teacup saucer...you know, the one that holds the teacup?) showerhead that dribbles a meager pittance of water onto your freezing, soapy head. Clearly, Australian politicans don't use these things otherwise they would have long ago figured out that you use an additional fifteen or twenty litres of water just trying to rinse your hair out than you would with the "good" showerhead. Oh, and by the way, the water handles on the "evil" shower are incredibly tempermental which means that your time in the water is spent at the whim of the water heater. Who knows? At the flush of a toilet, it may decide to become scalding, or it just might decide to see how close it can go to 0 degrees without actually freezing the pipes.*

So, there I was, at 6:36 AM, standing on the tiles in the bathroom, staring at the "evil" shower.

6:37 AM: Taking a deep breath, I walked into the "evil" shower.
6:41 AM: I swiftly excited the "evil" shower, and raced back down the hall towards my room. Standing in my bedroom, I surveyed the damage to my person: patches of red, burned skin and blue fingers, toes and lips could be dealt with, but I was going to have a harder time recovering from the shampoo bubbles still clingingly determinedly to my hair.
6:42 AM: "To heck with it," I thought, grabbed my water bottle and marched back to the bathroom where I gracelessly stuck my head under the sink faucet and, using my water bottle to get the tricky bits, attempted to rinse the remainder of soap suds from my brunette hair.
6:45 AM: At least most of the suds were out...
6:46 AM: While I appreciated the efforts of my radiator, my bedroom was still on the decidedly chilly side, so I pulled on a pair of warm sweatpants and my favourite CHP sweatshirt and headed down to the common room to make a cup of coffee.
6:50 AM: With a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a toasted bagel from the bread basket in the other, I walked back into my bedroom which was finally starting to heat up to tolerable temperatures.
6:55 AM: I finished tidying up my small square of a bedroom and settled myself at my desk for some study.

.....studying, studying, studying, studying, studying.....

8:45 AM: I replaced my sweats with some dressier apparel, pocketed my keycard and made my way out of Weerona, past the tennis courts, over the rugby oval, and across Gipps Road to St. Bridgid's, the local Catholic parish. (The ushers love me there, by the way, because they think American accents sound so funny.)
10:08 AM: Basically reverse the above paragraph... ;)
10:15 AM: Score! Pancakes, crumpets, bananas, strawberries, and hot chocolate for brekkie!
10:45 AM: Socializing, newspaper-reading (you can't imagine how oblivious I am to the outside world here, except for when it comes to the Sunday paper), and a full tummy later, I made my way across the courtyard from A-Block back to my room in C-Block.
10:46 AM: I turned my iTunes on shuffle and settled myself at my desk again.

.....studying, studying, studying, studying, studying.....

1:30 PM: Snags-and-Steak Barbie! *Thank goodness for Sunday S.R. Barbies. The Senior Residents put on snags-and-steak barbies every Sunday to help us get through the long interval between breakfast and dinner at 6 PM and everyone loves them for it!*
2:00 PM: An extra snag wrapped in a paper napkin (to counter "the munchies" later), I headed back to my room.

.....studying, studying, studying, studying, studying.....

2:45 PM: A quick glance out my window revealed that the sun had actually managed to break free from the repressive clouds that had been covering the skies for the past three weeks. I eagerly seized the opportunity to get some vitamin D, grabbed up my books and iPod and headed for the picnic table by Weerona East.

.....studying, studying, studying, studying, studying.....

4:20 PM: The sun had disappeared behind the clouds once again, and a few threatening raindrops had made some lovely splashes on the ground beside me, so I retreated back to C-Block.

.....studying, studying, studying, some green tea, studying.....

6:15 PM: A rumbling in my stomach indicated that, regardless of the fact that I'd simply been studying all day, I was still in need of some extra energy, so I drifted back to the dining hall in A-Block for some sustinence.
6:50 PM: Revived by green beans, potatoes, and ravioli, I cleared my dishes away, said "Ciao" to my tablemates and disappeared once again into my room.

.....studying, studying, hot coffee, studying, studying.....

12:05 PM: My brain feels too full to read another line from my anatomy book or to attempt another equilibrium equation. Solution? Update my blog.

;)

And here we are: it's 12:23 PM. I've studied over 14 hours today. I think I'm entitled to call it quits and hit the hay. Love!

Cultural Arrogance

Fri, 29 May 2009 04:52:02 GMT

There's a large number of American students here at Weerona, studying abroad for a semester. But what really bothers me is how, well, American they are.

"Yeah, yeah," you say, "but you're an American, too, girl! Or did you somehow forget your nationality or neglect to hear yourself speak with your distinctly American accent any time recently?"

Now I'm not claiming to be "un-American," here. Not even remotely. No, what I'm going to attempt to show here is the distinction between Traveled Americans and Traveling Americans. And believe me, there's a difference.

I'll admit it: I like to consider myself as a fairly well-traveled and cultural individual. I've been to more than fourteen countries (several for extended periods of time), have lived completely immersed in multiple diverse cultures, and have ambitions to further explore and venture around the globe.

Before I came to Weerona, I'd never perceived myself as being remotely different than any other American overseas. I always assumed I was a typical Traveling American. However, after observing the other American students here, I've been struck by the variations in attitude, opinions, and adaptions between "them" and me.

You see, one of the primary things I've done since I've arrived here (after the jetlag and general confusion had dissipated slightly) has been to acquaint myself with my fellow Australian students, and begin exploring the differences between the Australian and American cultures. I've eagerly applied myself to listening to people discussing their lives and traditions, noting the way Australians interacted with each other as opposed to foreigners. I've begun to learn the widely used Aussie slang words and phrases. And, of course, I've enjoyed Australian cuisine (for the record, that involves eating spaghetti as well as baked beans on toast during the breakfast hours - yeah, I was a little surprised by that combination, LOL!)

However, as I watched my fellow Americans arrive at college, I was intrigued by the fact that, after initially making an effort to acquaint themselves with the Australians here, they quickly reverted back to their own nationality when it came to making friends.

Maybe it's just me, but doesn't that seem to kind of counteract the whole point of spending a semester overseas? When I was first considering the possibility of studying for my degree in a different country, I kept encountering the major emphasis on the "become immersed in a different culture; experience what life is like from a deeper aspect; spend time in a country as more than just a tourist" side of things.

It just seems counter-productive to me to be forever surrounded by your fellow Americans, constantly complaining about how ketchup is referred to as tomato sauce here, or that hotels should be hotels like back home with beds and little restaurants instead of being bars or pubs.

A little remind: you're not "home!" And, while we may refer to that red stuff that comes in a Heinz bottle as "ketchup" in the US, that doesn't mean that every country is required to call it "ketchup" as well. Besides, when you think about it, "tomato sauce" actually makes more sense.

*****

I love my country, and I'm more proud than you can imagine to be an American. I'm a huge supporter of our military, our hard-earned freedom, and everything that we have the privelege to have as a nation.

But, seriously: can we please stop being so arrogant as to assume that every country we visit or spend time in should (aside from a few very noticable and "exciting" difference such as language, building structure, or history) "feel more American."

Where'd be the fun in that? If that's your idea of traveling, you could always just go to Pennsylvania and spend a bit of time with the Amish. That way, you can stay in your own country (surrounded by your comfort foods and conveniences) and still experience a different "culture" and language! Two birds with one stone.