There are days where I look around at the flat land and the dust storms, and I wonder where the hell I'm living. Answer: Texas. So, to study abroad, I chose to go somewhere completely different, a land with rolling hills, snow, and freezing cold temperatures...
I chose Gold Coast, Australia. Where the temperature shouldn't drop below 70, the beach is 30 minutes away, and the land is flat as ever! This is my story...
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."
Readers, I'm actually excited to write this blog post. I'm going to start with the boring stuff, but hang in there, the story gets good (heck, just read the title of this post!)
I promised you midterms and night life, and I'm here to deliver both.
Midterms
In America, midterms, to me at least, are not a big deal. Usually, they're just a pain because you've already had all this homework, and now you have to translate that into a test answer. You already know how well you've been doing in the class, so you have a good idea of how well you're going to do on the midterm.
In Australia, the "midsem" may count as much as 30% of your grade, and that isn't even as high as it goes. In my economics class, the two assignments we do turn in are worth a total of 10%, then the midsem is 30%, and the final is 60%. But no pressure, right? In other classes, you have to pass the average of your midterm and final to even be eligible to pass the course. And these aren't your "run-of-the-mill" midterms either.
You write.
And write.
And write.
All three midsems involved some degree of writing and interpretation. In Human Resource Management (HRM), I had eight short answer/essay questions. In Eco, I had five - comprising of drawing graphs and interpreting them. In Marketing, I had 17 multiple choice questions, two short answers, and four questions to write about with regard to a case study. By the end of my HRM midsem, I had a small divot in my finger from where my pen rested for nearly two straight hours.
On the bright side, I only have to pass the course to get credit. But still, I hope to God I don't walk into class next week and I see 53 slashed across my test (53 is actually a solid C in Australia). So here's to hoping!
The Nightclub "East"
I want to start this post with a small shout out and an introduction. Rachel, my neighbour, is a Boston girl. She's not quite a year older than me, but she's still as fun as can be. I love the girl to death, but tonight, she proved she's got a bit of a fighter in her.
The smile is deceiving...
Like I said last week, there's a nightclub I finally decided to check out. So Thursday, the 23rd of February, I got a ride from a friend down the hall to a place called "East," in Broadbeach. Most of my friends were on their way, so I casually walked inside to see what the big deal about this place was…
On the bright side, the food that walked by smelt delicious
It was a restaurant. I walked straight past the lady at the front desk, expecting to see some early hints of a club, and all I see are white tablecloths and people eating Chicken Parmesan or a fancy Cesar Salad. Now, I've been around clubs most of my life, and this place was no club.
I was at a loss. This place was definitely the "best nightclub" most of my friends have been to in Australia, and what was this deal with "Ladies' Night?" If you're a lady, over 18 of course, the club provides you with unlimited glasses of champagne or sparkling wine, whichever suits your fancy.
Like I said, a really fancy restaurant
I'm in this restaurant, the band is singing Lou Rawls, and I have no idea what to do as middle aged suburbans eat their dinner in front of me. Yeah, what would you do?
Being raised in club life you learn quickly that your bartender can be your best friend or your worst enemy, so, naturally, I made my way over there and started up a conversation with a new-hire, Diogo, from Brazil. I asked him, "So you're telling me…that this…high quality restaurant…turns into a hoppin' night club here in the next hour, with a women to men ratio that you wouldn't believe?" His answer was short, but telling: "Yeah, pretty much."
So I waited. I listened to the band sing some more Lou Rawls and some Barry White, and people started finishing up their meals and either going to the bar for a drink, or just leaving. The table is then cleared, stripped, folded up, and taken away, creating a decent sized dance floor in front of the stage.
The band, Sex 'N Chocolate, are really, really good at some R&B
Right about that time, my friends started to show up, so the club had an instant 15 or so girls added to the mix (Papa didn't raise no fool). It was a good evening, but then Rachel disappeared for a while and texted me saying she was a 20 minute walk away from the nightclub. So I, being the kind of guy I am, left and hunted her down. I'm not a happy camper if I lose one of my friends, and I'll do just about anything to make sure they're ok.
BAM! Nightclub.
We then hopped in a huge taxi with some of her new friends, and drove back to "East." One of the guys gave us $20 to get back home. At the same time a group of men were going to Surfer's Paradise, one of them gave us $10 for us to get out and let them have the big taxi. So our ride home was paid for, which made for a pretty successful ending.
"East" Round 2
Naturally, if you enjoy something, you do it again. So I did. I went to "East" for a second week in a row, with the hopes that it'll be as fun and exciting as the previous week. And it was, but for different reasons.
Tonight the entire club had a weird feeling to it. Excuse my language to any well educated readers, but it really had an atmosphere of "bitch" about it. And, to top that off, the music just wasn't as good as the week before.
Anyway, get there with the friends, we're sitting around, laughing, having a good time. And, slowly, people start moving their way to the dance floor. As you know, I'm not a club dancer. It just isn't my thing. But, I will go out there and sway along with the masses. During one of those swaying moments, I see Rachel and this large, ugly woman (I'll call her Agatha. She had an air of Miss Trunchbull to her) start exchanging a few words. I don't think much of it, but I keep it in the corner of my eye. Soon after, I see what is obviously Rachel's hair, and body attached, being pulled toward Agatha.
Instinct kicks in and tells me to do something to break it up. When Agatha releases Rachel's head, I grab Rachel and start pushing her back, out of the way. Other friends are either keeping Agatha restrained (by ropes and chains and whatever else you use to restrain a beast), or trying to keep the distance between Rachel and Agatha.
I didn't see what happened next, all I knew is that nails were dug into my chest and I lost hold of Rachel. At that point, security caught on to what was happening and they kept it from getting worse. They escorted Agatha out of the club and Rachel had about a 10 minute grace period before she, too, was asked to leave.
During that 10 minutes, my feelings about the club were made up when this "man of a woman" bumped into me and spilled its drink down the sleeve of my shirt. It then proceeded to dip its fingers and splash a few drops in my face, as if it was my fault I was in its way.
With the lack of good music and the general attitude of the club that evening, I decided to call it a night with the rest of the people who joined Rachel in her departure. We had a good laugh with security while we waited for the bus, and I think we left a good impression on them, which is always a good thing.
In conclusion: Don't provoke people at a nightclub. It won't end well for anybody…
I have a love/hate relationship with this blog. I love it because it gives me a reason to write down everything I've been doing, and an easy way to recall everything I've done.
I hate it because I constantly have to keep up to date on it, otherwise, I'll be posting weeks of material into something digestible. I'm already asking a lot from you if you even read the damn thing, much less for you to put up with the continuing story of a twenty year old running around Australia.
Also, I get the feeling that as some of you learn snippets of the stuff I do, you expect me to write something exciting and elaborate about it. Honestly, if I told you the highlight, that's it. I can make a boring story sound interesting, but in the end, it is still a boring story.
Either way, here's what I've been up to...
Last time we spoke, I had a post about Church, about dreading turning twenty, and Brisbane. We'll tackle it in reverse and hopefully catch up to today.
I traveled to Brisbane on January 21, for the Chinese New Year Celebration that evening.
Upon my return the next day, I learned about the passing of a young man I went to school with, so the week wasn't exactly the easiest to handle. It was spent making phone calls and sending text messages to loved ones, gathering information about the service and learning the circumstances of his death. I hadn't seen the guy in months, and we were far from best friends, but he had a place in my life, and that is what made his death different from the millions that happen every day.
Other than that, the week, if I remember, was fairly unremarkable. I went to church that Sunday and the Prayers of the People included prayers for those affected by drugs. Those who have harmed themselves and harmed others by being trapped in that cycle. We prayed for those who lost their life in the process, and, honestly, that is where I started to break down. Like I said earlier, I lost contact with Charles years ago, and I only saw him on occasion here and there. He was my polar opposite in every way, and I hated to watch his potential squandered by poor decisions. I didn't like him, and if you've known me for a while, I've felt that way since the 6th Grade. He was mean and crude and if you weren't on his side, you were the enemy. After his death, I learned a bit more about his life. I learned how he hated the cycle he was in, and how he would screw people over for his own gain, much to his own dismay. My biggest regret is that, as a class, we didn't, or couldn't, help him. But, hopefully, his death will do what we've needed to do for a while. Our class needed to get back together. We need one another more than we can even comprehend, and Charlie's death opened the line of communication once again.
Rest in Peace Charles Dale Ewing III, you've needed it for a long time.
The week of the 30th (Aussies start their weeks on Monday, so I figured I would too), I had an interview with the Tech Activities Board, but that didn't pan out. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not upset about the result in the least. A great person got the position, and I know she'll do a wonderful job. Besides, it'll be good to have a fairly stress-free fall semester.
(Honestly, I don't remember all of this, so I have to go back and forth between this and my photos to piece everything together!)
Ok, the next big event is called Palaver. It is put on by the Business Students Association and was titled "Studio 54." The email laid out the theme with a few simple key words, "Jive, step, slide, bump, shimmy. Hustle. Disco fox!" If you know me at all, I was musically raised in classic rock and disco, among tons of other genres. So I threw on some boogie shoes, shaved me some wicked sideburns (I've always wondered how I would look with them, so I figured now is as good a time as any!), and headed on down to one of the funnest nights I've had. Under strict confidentiality reasons, I am not at liberty to say what exactly went on at Palaver, but if you're interested, approach me with the key phrases, "Palaver…$21,000…burgers and pizza…GoGo Dancer."
I like to think that she was charmed by my dancing and boldness to jump up and join her…
Security, on the other hand, was not so impressed
And no… I didn't get kicked out.
After that, I went to Byron Bay on Friday, February 3, to learn how to surf. Now, in the past, I think my father hoped that I would have picked up his skateboarding abilities. I can remember taking my little skateboard out onto the sidewalk, and attempting, miserably, I might add, to ride the stupid thing…I gave up a few weeks later.
Surfing, I was told, is a lot like skateboarding, so I didn't have much faith. On the bright side, if you fall, you land in the ocean as opposed to the hot sidewalk in your front yard. After a Saturday morning session of drinking, snorting, and inhaling salt water, I went back for round two in the afternoon. Much to my pleasure, and surprise, I stood up on the huge foam board. I think I only stood up once in the afternoon, but I didn't care. I did it! When that session was over, we kicked back and watched some really disturbing Slip-And-Slide routines.
Sunday morning was much better, the waves seemed to cooperate more, and I was drinking much less salt water than the previous day. This time, I wasn't focused on whether or not I was capable of standing up on a surf board, this time it was all for the photographer. If I stood up, I made sure the camera lady was within shooting distance, and I threw my Guns Up like they were going out of style. I haven't ordered the picture yet, but there is a photo of me, standing on a board, in the ocean, with my Guns Up. Definitely one to frame and put on my desk at work.
They paved paradise and put up…a beach.
Tuesday, the 7th, was my birthday. It was a simple day. Woke up, got a haircut, ate a kebab, went to class, took a nap, met everybody downstairs, went to watch live karaoke at the nearby watering hole. Everyone I came to Australia with got up on stage at one point and sang me happy birthday, which was more than I could ask of anyone. We stayed until the place closed, then I called it a night, as I had class the following morning. Like I told a friend of mine, I didn't know any of these people in December, and now, I can't imagine my life without a single one.
The Aussies call me "Texas." Ironically, everyone in this picture is American.
Oh, and I went skydiving on the 18th. Again, it sounds a lot more exciting than it really is. I relate it to riding a really long version of The Titan at Six Flags. You go up, and up, and up, up, up, up, up, up. Then, when you reach the top, you can take a quick breath as you ease your way to the edge. Then, without anticipation, you're falling. And after a bit of falling, the rail picks up the roller coaster, and you move on. Same thing with skydiving. After a bit of falling, the instructor opens the chute, and you glide down for a few minutes until you make a smooth landing in the grass. I have a video, but YouTube won't let me put it up. If you want to watch it, I'll show you when I get home.
It was around this point where I truly accepted what I was about to do
I guess that's about it. I booked a trip to Uluru for the middle of March. That was interesting, only because I was caught in the middle of false advertising and called a company out on it. Since they didn't immediately cancel my transaction, it is in the credit card company's hands to deal with them. I'm sure Adventure Tours Australia is a fine company, but take everything you read with a grain of salt. Nothing pisses me off more than being told I owe $245 more because I booked "the wrong tour." No, Adventure Tours, I didn't book "the wrong tour." You sold me "the wrong tour," and didn't tell me until after the fact that it was "the wrong tour." I hope you have fun dealing with a bone fide American credit card company.
That's about where we are today. Caught in the middle of midterms and a credit battle. The next post, I'm sure, will be about midterms and possibly Australian night life. I have some pretty good stories about going out, so look forward to that. I apologise for such a long post, but at least I'm back on track.
Nothing says, "Anticipation" like a huge door in the middle of a sketchy alley
As many of you know, I'm a cradle Episcopalian. Baptised shortly after my birth, confirmed at 14, and elected a delegate to Convention at 18, I was raised with a firm tie to the Episcopal church, even attending an Episcopal school during my elementary and middle school years. I went on three mission trips with the church: one to Tennessee, one to the boarder of Texas, and one to Amarillo. I've had strong relationships with most of my priests, one's wife even took me on a tour of A&M when I was college hunting, and I do my best to maintain that relationship.
Through Rich, I learned that a priest should also be your friend.
The reasons people go to church fascinate me. I was required to take Religion in Middle School, and the man pictured above taught it. I learned so much not only about Christianity, but about all the other major religions as well. I'm sure if I were to ask each one of you why you go to church, or why you don't, I'll get many different answers. Some go because they have to, some go to solidify that connection with God, some go to fill a hole in their life, and so on and so forth.
I need you to read this, if you don't, the next paragraph won't make sense...
Part of me agrees with Carlin. Religion, in its own sense, has made itself an idol. There are a number of churches and priests who have abused the system to simply put their name on the religious map. A few years ago, I rarely went to church. I only went when I was on the schedule to acolyte, and even then, I made it just before the service started. I didn't see a point to it. I didn't like getting out of bed on a Sunday just to stand or sit or kneel and sing or pray to the air. Besides, I was going to chapel five times a week, wasn't that enough? I wasn't sure if there even was a God, and I didn't want to invest my time or energy in something I wasn't even sure I believed. But as I got older, I discovered the truth. Life isn't about money, nor is it about the building you go to or the person who says they know the answers. It is about people, about living, about enjoying every opportunity you are given and every opportunity you make.
Coming to Australia, I wanted to find an Episcopal church to visit, just to see if the friendliness I experienced at home extended across international boundaries. In America, we call it the Episcopal church, everywhere else, it is known as the Anglican church. Fortunately, there is a church not too far away called "Trinity Anglican Mission" and I figured I would start there. The service, liturgy, and prayers are similar to those at home, so that was comforting. But above all else, the people are just as friendly here as they are at home.
The other plus is that it is right next to the bus stop!
When I showed up Sunday morning, I was welcomed by the greeter and asked a little about my background, whether or not I was visiting, where I was from, etc. I made a name tag and waited in the narthex for the service to begin. As I waited, more people came up and introduced themselves to me, welcoming me as if I was a cousin at a family reunion. Some asked me if I had enough food where I was staying, and others offered to help me format papers if I ran into any issues while I was here. I was introduced to a law professor and a marketing professor at Bond, along with different staff members from the university. The priest, Malcolm, is from England, and relatively new to the congregation. After the service, he and I talked for a while about Texas and the similarities between services. When I went back a few weeks later, I approached him after the service asking for a birthday blessing, something I was so used to at home. He was ecstatic about giving a birthday blessing, saying that this church takes more of an English approach to birthdays, they come, but nobody really brings it up. I explained that at home, the priest calls everyone with a birthday or anniversary to the altar and gives a personal blessing to each and every person or couple. After the blessing, I was invited to coffee by a few of the church members and I was able to sit down and talk with people from all walks, including a family from Malaysia, a couple who had been married for 54 years, and a couple who seem to view me as a long time friend as opposed to a visitor.
So why do I go to church now? I go because I love the people. That's it, that's my secret. I love everything about the Episcopal church, I love that we're accepting and helpful and generous and kind. I love that we have the ability to accept that we may be wrong about a lot of things. In a recent email, I explained that I find that the nicest, most open, and friendly people go to church. So, in that twisted view, I follow Jesus' statement of, "When two or three are gathered in my name, I am in the midst of them." If I find religion anywhere, it is with friends. It isn't in who tells the best story or who knows the most Bible versus, to me, God doesn't care. He doesn't care if you've read His book 100 times or never even cracked the spine. He cares that you love one another. If I went to a church where I didn't feel welcome, I don't think I would be able to call myself religious or even Christian. I'm just thankful that I found religion on my first try.
If you had any preconceived notions about Episcopalians, throw them out the window. These are Episcopalians.
Again, I'm going to take this opportunity and digress from my typical Australian blog to write something completely off topic.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
And ever since I turned 19, I wanted to put off 20 as much as possible. I loved the "discovery" that comes with being a teenager. I loved learning how to interact with people, how to build friendships and relationships. It is weird to me that the friends I made as a teenager may very well be in my wedding party, the godparents of my children, and the people I would want around when I die. I would do anything for the people I met as a teenager, and that seems like something a teenager doesn't even contemplate. When I met my friends, I had no idea how much they would end up meaning to me. My friends are my life and my family. My biggest fear in life is losing my friends and being alone.
Every other picture was way too serious
Part of me thinks that turning 20 will bring a loss of spontaneity, because I don't know how I can top all that I did as a teenager.
In my last year as a teenager, I picked up my violin and returned to the stage to perform in "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change." I forgot how much I loved the theatre and my instrument, and it was through a spontaneous, "Yeah, I still know how to play," that led me to do it.
We got pretty good at yelling
I went to Chicago with my dad on a fairly spontaneous trip. Originally, my best friend and I were going to make the journey up for Lollapalooza, and while we were planning, my dad sent a text saying, "HEY Son, I'm not trying to crash your trip, but SOME of those BANDS fit my STYLE!? Think I can COME ALONG?" (My father has some of the more hysterical texts to read) When Ken couldn't make it, it was just my dad and I catching the flights up to Chicago, manoeuvring our way around the huge city to find where we were staying and the park where the concert was, and that weekend was a weekend I wouldn't trade for the world.
Just preparing for Eminem, no big deal
I discovered fraternity and sorority life as a teenager. Though not pledging to any fraternity, I had the opportunity to work with a number of them to finally crown the 2011 Homecoming King and Queen.
You know, hanging on the sideline with the King and Queen
I moved out of the country as a teenager. As you know, if you've read any of this blog, I'm in Australia, studying abroad in Gold Coast. I left not knowing a soul, and, a month later, I feel like I've known these other students for years. I realise that the point of studying abroad is to meet the local people and understand their culture and whatnot, but I think that is only half of it. The other half is befriending those who are in the same boat as you. 70 strangers across the Pacific together, and when we return, 70 friends will take root in their own state.
We are the 10 best friends that anybody could have!
The last monumental thing I did as a teenager was learned how to surf, and I'm ok with that. I'm glad that it was that and not something stupid. I'm glad that all the work I did as a teenager led to me learning a new skill in a new country with new people.
20 will be something new. And I've come to like something new. Something new took me to Chicago and Australia, something new taught me how to surf and allowed me to hold a koala, and something new will send me somewhere else to do something else. Come good or bad, it'll be here in about 8 hours.
Again, I've come to the point where I am two stories behind on this blog. Like I said previously, this one was going to be about Brisbane and the people I've met, but I think I'm going to put the people off until the end of this trip. I love remembering everyone I met, so it'll be a great post when I get to it. However, today prompted the need for another completely separate blog post, so I'll do my best to catch up before I go surfing this weekend!
2012 - The Year of the Dragon
Honestly, the Chinese New Year has never been something I keep in my calendar. The most exposure I've had to the holiday was dressing up as a dragon in the second grade, and walking around school with my friends yelling "Kung Hii Fatt Choi!"
Line us up as a Dragon, and "BAM!" You've got Second Grade.
So, naturally, when I had nothing to do a week ago, I looked for something. Brisbane is about an hour and a half train ride away, and, go figure, they were having a three day celebration for the Year of the Dragon. Not to miss a once a year opportunity, I researched busses and trains and hostels, and booked a trip for the next day.
Getting to Brisbane wasn't really a problem. I found the bus I needed, got to the train station, and hopped the train all the way to where I needed to go. It was when I got to Brisbane where I got a little lost. I didn't write down the address for the hostel, all I had was the memory of the Google Map.
*Note to self: Always write down the directions.*
Anyway, so I walked. And walked. And walked. I then realised that I had a confirmation email from the hostel that had the address on it. Still, it was a matter of finding the correct street, so I turned and walked down another road. More walking. Walking. Walking. Also, I began to notice that the Asian population had become denser as I wandered the streets of Brisbane. I finally made it to the correct street and I discovered the source of the Asians.
But seriously...
Chinatown
I've never actually visited a real Chinatown. It is exactly as you picture it. Tons of food from all over Asia: Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese, Chinese. The next block over had tons of souvenirs: shirts, handbags, palmists, iPhone cases and headphones, you name it.
Luckily enough, I found the hostel a short while later (after buying some shirts and a little red and black lion puppet), got everything situated with my new 20 roommates, and took a nap in preparation for the evening festivities.
SAVE THE HUMAN! THE LION ATE HIM!
Naturally, the festivities began with loud drums and cymbals and lions. That's how my birthday parties begin, so no big deal. Of course, the crowd starts picking up, so you have to pick some prime real estate early, or else face the wrath of Mrs. Khan.
Nothing really remarkable took place at the celebration, but it was fun nonetheless. There was one uncomfortable part where the students of the Chinese language school stood up and sang something. Now, I'm not ridiculously nationalistic, nor do I have much of a problem with a country doing whatever it wants. But I did get a little antsy when the students stood up there, singing Chinese and waving around their little Chinese flag. Like I said, I don't have a problem with promoting language and culture, but having Aussies and/or Australasians support something so vastly different from their own culture was unnerving.
This picture still haunts me.
The evening wrapped up and I went back to the hostel and quickly went to bed. It had been a very long day and it was nice to have a pillow beneath my head.
I got up early, checked out of the hostel, and found the soonest train back home. The train ride is always fun, because, like you see in the movies, you simply get to watch the land roll by. The land you wouldn't pay much attention to if you were actually driving.
Remember those clouds, they will be important later.
When I finally got back to Gold Coast, it took me a while to get back to the University. Obviously, I don't know every bus stop, so I missed the stop to catch the connecting bus, so after a ride through the town, I finally got off, found the right bus, and found my way home.
I'm going to shoot for something a bit extreme to catch you up to where I am today. I'm going to do my best to knock out two posts at once, one involving the end of my vacation and the other regarding school.
This…is the school one.
As the weeks go by, it gets harder to remember how exactly I started at Bond Uni. I do remember it started with a bus ride from Brisbane to Gold Coast. It was only an hour, but it felt like the longest bus ride from an airport ever. That was my first taste of Australian rain, and, not gonna lie, it was nice. I hadn't seen rain in months, so it was a good change from the driest year in Texas. Little did I know that I would quickly grow sick of it as the days went on.
Arriving late Monday afternoon caused us to be too late to know exactly what was going on at the University, so I made it to my apartment, got my room situated, and just sat down. One doesn't realise how nice it is to just sit down. I sat on my balcony which over looks Lake Orr, and I decided to start writing down the stuff I was going to put in this blog. I didn't have internet at the time, so it was all I could do. I enjoyed watching the sunset and remembering most of the last post you read. As I sat, I heard someone two floors up, so, naturally, I glanced up from my writing. It was a guy, named James, who was chatting with the resident of the room, Sarah. He and she both started talking to me, asking what I was doing and if I was going to the "Welcome to the Jungle Party" later that night. They invited me up, and I took the opportunity to meet new people. It ended up being a good thing, because they gave me the low down of how Bond Uni works. They recommended which books to buy and not to buy and how to listen for cues from the professors regarding grades and books. I didn't have the $20 to attend the party, but I wasn't really in it anyway. So I said goodbye to the party upstairs and came back down and hit the hay.
You can't argue over a place with a view
Tuesday morning really kicked the week off. I was up fairly early and headed over to campus to my integration process. I went to the library and made sure all of my classes were in order. Luckily, the woman who had been helping me with my classes while I was in the states was the lady I was put with to verify them. So after months of back and forth, I finally had a schedule in my hands. I went across the way to the Multimedia Centre and got my student ID card and my email set up. Turns out, I've had an email since I enrolled, but I wasn't made fully aware of the address or how to access it, so when I logged on, I had about 57 unread emails. Mostly junk, but a few valid ones. Especially the one that told me I had homework for the first day of class! I, with my newly retrieved debit card in hand, withdrew some money and started to choose which events I would attend for the week. I purchased an "O-Week" pack for $50, which included passes to the remaining events and a shirt. The first event was a hypnotist named Mark Anthony (No Mom, not the singer).
He really did land just like that
I've never seen a hypnotist before, but it has to be the craziest thing I've ever seen. To watch a guy put about 20 people to sleep, then make them do the most ridiculous stuff is beyond my imagination. He would have them awake, then say he had a boomerang that as it hit them, they would pass out. He threw the imaginary boomerang over the audience, and as it came back, the hypnotised would fall like dominoes. He would make them think that they were milking a cow, or watching a funny, scary, or sexy movie. This was also my first bout of Australian humour. It is something far more elaborate from American humour, that's for sure. One of these days I'll tell you some of the jokes this guy made, but it isn't appropriate for a public blog! Some words to remind me are milking the cow, the girl in boots, good looking people at Bond, and the craziest things you can do with a chair. After that, I made my way back to the apartment and went to bed.
I can't remember what I did on Wednesday. I think I took that day to do laundry and catch up on stuff. I got an internet cord, so I was able to contact home and work on emails and whatnot. I'm pretty sure I went to the store and got some basics: bread, peanut butter and jelly, cereal, milk, and the like. There was a carnival that evening that I caught a bit of, then went out to dinner with a small group of friends. I had some amazing risotto, which I haven't had in so long because Gabrielle can't stand it… (G, when I get home, I want Dad's fried chicken, green beans, and risotto). Again, after that, went back to the apartment and went to bed.
Thursday was a good day. I got up early and made my way to the Department of Transportation. I knew I needed a Proof of Age card so I could get in to the clubs because not everywhere will take your US license. However, the Queensland Driver License was only 4 or 5 bucks more, so I went for that instead. A better souvenir, in my opinion. After I got that paperwork turned in, I went to the Business Orientation, where we played some getting to know you stuff with the other new Business students, and was welcomed to the university by the faculty of the business school. Then I went back, took a nap, and got ready for Tight and Bright.
Ok, if you know anything about me, I'm neither tight nor bright. So, naturally, I chose to leave all my neon at home in lieu of some more neutral colours. So I grabbed the bluest shirt I had, threw on some jeans, and headed out with the rest of the group. The rest of the group went shopping for this party, so they were decked out in the tightest forms of neon you could imagine. Paint all over their body. Literally, tight and bright. Then me, blue and…bluer. Either way, we made our way over to the Accommodation Centre, where a large group of us was staying. I felt better when I acquired some glow stick glasses and a glow stick necklace. Pictures taken and laughs had, we made our way over to the party. The party wasn't bad when we got there, but I expected more out of "the party to go to." Even after it was over, it was a fun party, but I feel it could have been phenomenal. Maybe that's the child of a bar builder in me. Either way, fun night, went back and went to bed.
THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!
Not much on Friday except some free breakfast from the Student Association. I did watch Super 8 out by the fountain that night, so that was a good relaxing evening.
Saturday was spent at the beach. It was so nice to feel sand beneath my feet and have the ocean wash over me. The waves were a bit rough, so after getting tossed and turned for a while, I went in search of lunch. I ordered a Steak and Octopus meal from a hibachi restaurant, and it definitely ranked up there in hibachi meals. I went back and called it a day.
I forgot how awesome sand was, until it was everywhere
School started so the exciting stories were put on a bit of a hold. I learned that there would be a lot of reading, and not a lot of work to be turned in.
I did go to Brisbane on the 20th and 21st to celebrate the Chinese New Year, but I'll talk about that in the next post.
I learnt quickly that an umbrella will be a necessity. The concept of anything other than dirt falling from the sky is so foreign to me, I had no idea what to do when downpour after downpour hit. I have chosen to study in Gold Coast during the rainy season… The Vice Provost of Student Affairs, Alan Finch, mentioned how relieved he is for a break in the heat, which he said may hit about 40 in the coming weeks. To a Texan, 40 degrees really isn't that bad. The problem is that the ocean is about 15 minutes away, so the humidity combined with the 104 degree temperature literally bakes you when you walk outside. Luckily, or unluckily, it hasn't stopped raining, and it'll probably rain for the next week. So plenty of opportunity to catch up on this blog!
Next entry will talk about Brisbane and my future plans. Oh, and the people I've met, because they deserve their own post.
