For Those About To Rock (We See Uluru!)

Sorry its been a few weeks since my last post, but, honestly, there hasn't really been a reason to devote a half hour to pushing out a real blog post.

But now, after this past weekend, I have something worthy of blogging about! But I'll jump back a bit and pick some of the highlights out of the past few weeks.

Coming out of North-West Texas, I, shockingly, know nothing about surfing. So, in an effort to "broaden my horizons," I got up on the 4th of March, hopped a bus to Snapper Rocks down in Coolangatta, and watched the finals for the Quiksilver Pro Surf Competition.

When I walked toward the beach, I was amazed how relaxed it really was. There were a few hundred people, either sitting in the makeshift stands or simply standing in the ocean, watching surfers fly on by about 30 feet away or so.

One of the competitors came from Brazil, and it was obvious that the Brazilians came in full force. There were green and yellow flags waving from hands in the ocean or wrapped as a cape that floated in the waves.

So many flags!

Of course, Australia made sure to let their competitor know they were alive. Though there weren't as many flags or chants from the Aussie support, there was definitely a fair share of cheering from their end as well. The Australian won, but only just.

Kelly Slater, American…All I know is his name

After that, it was pretty relaxed. Focused on school for a bit, went to the beach with some friends, watched some Asians be really awkward.

Those of us present felt that they were building the perfect…person?

Finally after over two months in Australia, I hopped a plane to the Outback. There were two things I wanted to see while I was here: The Sydney Opera House and Uluru, formerly known as Ayer's Rock. Both are iconic symbols of Australia and I wanted to understand a deeper meaning behind what they were and why they are so iconic.

Flying to Uluru is comparable to flying over Texas. The land below looks dry and worn, but when you land, you see traces of rainfall on the red dirt.

Like this tree!

Now, I could bore you with stories such as the one about the guy who apparently was too old to anticipate Nature's call, or the other guy from Lebanon who wouldn't shut up about all the places he travelled…but I won't do that. If you really want to know, just ask me. It just isn't that exciting, just another reason why I decided I prefer hotels over hostels.

But, a note about Uluru: If it is on your Bucket List, go see it. However, if you aren't really a rock person, or you don't really do natural landmarks, or you don't like walking for miles and miles around a rock, then you may want to consider other options. In the end, it is just a rock…A really big piece of sediment formed from a huge pre-historic mountain…A holy rock to the Aboriginal people… But a rock to the rest of the world.

So, in light of that, here are some pictures! I'll show you all 400 of them if you want.

It would have been a very long climb...

The little tree is actually Uluru…thanks Rona

Could have sworn I was in Jurassic Park

One of the forty thousand pictures I took of a sunrise/sunset

Ok, one story. Well actually two, but they do and don't tie together. I'm from Texas. (Shocking, I know) But while at the hostel, I was sitting waiting for a bus to pick me up to take me somewhere. About 50 feet or so away, I see this couple, and the husband was wearing a shirt that had an ugly sense of familiarity about it. As he got closer, I was able to look at the little logo on on his shirt. I didn't have it on, but back in my room, I had a similar shirt but it was red, with an excellent Double T logo right on the breast. His shirt, on the other hand, was burnt orange with a…well…you know… on the breast.

The Longhorn and his wife then proceeded to the bar and could not grasp the concept that the only bar in the area did not sell spirits, or even that the city was "dry." I wanted to walk up to him and offer some snide remark, but the bus arrived and I was too shocked to see a Longhorn visiting Uluru to think of anything good.

My Texas encounters did not stop there either. The day was St. Patrick's Day, so, naturally, the bar had a little celebration. Of course, their celebration consisted of nothing more than a man singing horribly, like karaoke, but far, far worse.

Another man, not the Longhorn, was chatting up every woman he laid his eyes on. He was dressed in a cowboy hat, white collar shirt, jeans, and boots. Heck, he looked more Texas than I ever have. So, curious where this man came from, I asked a friend to ask him. Zoe walks up, asks the man where he's from, and the response, shockingly, was, "Texas."

The conversation continued as follows:
Zoe: "Really?! That's cool, so is this guy. (Points to me)"
The Impostor: (Looks away, completely ignoring Zoe, me, and the fact that a real Texan was around)

A bit later, we heard him talking and it was as Aussie as can be. I took a picture so I could be reminded that, "Being Texan is a gift from God, you can't make a fake version of it."

Barney Stinson would not approve