Last Days of Melbourne

I fly home tomorrow. My how the year has flown.

My sojourn in Australia will come to a close tomorrow as I fly out of Melbourne at noon. I'm really not ready for this moment and I don't think it's dawned on me how this trip is really ending. It's as if I'm just getting ready for another big trip but will be coming back. By this time tomorrow, I'll be sitting on a jet plane over the middle of the Pacific. How do you leave a place that has become your home for the past year?

Today has been filled with packing and last minute shopping at the Queen Victoria Market, the bazar-like market located about ten minutes from my flat. Just yesterday, my online advertising for my furniture paid off and I sold off my desk and futon. With those pieces of furniture gone my room is quite empty, and it's a bit sad to see it all go. It's as if my Australian life is being carried or packed away bit by bit until it's either some else's or crammed in a suitcase. It's odd to think that almost a year ago, I arrived in Melbourne, a city of strangers to me and now I'm leaving the place feeling like it's mine.

Home is a fluid concept and after leaving home for college five years ago, my 'home' has fluctuated quite a bit. For the past year, though, Melbourne has been my only home. The city has been my dwelling place for eleven months straight and I feel quite settled here. It's what I've come back to from the amazing trips around Australia; the place I've met some amazing people and made life-long friends; the place where I've explored ideas that have challenged and broadened my perspective; the place where I've learned about the world and the people in it. A city full of strangers has become my home. And leaving home is always hard.

Melbourne, I will miss you.

An Aussie Thanksgiving

Last week I celebrated Thanksgiving with a few friends in quite the unusual manner. Four of us met up in Richmond, a suburb of Melbourne very near the city center, that is known for its high concentration of Asian cuisine. Victoria Parade, the main road running through Richmond, has the most Asian restaurants down its strip, one after another, I've ever seen. My housemate, Rob, and I rode our bikes down to Richmond to meet up with the others. Rob commented that I seemed to know my way around Melbourne pretty well as I was pedaling ahead of him and making a few suggestions as to how we get there. Funny how the unfamiliar can become so familiar with just a little time. I remember when I arrived I had no clue where anything was. I knew I was in Australia, in a city called Melbourne... that was about it. How things change.

We met up with my friends Mark and Rob (another Rob). Mark and I had decided we wanted to go for the scene in 'A Christmas Story' where they head to a Chinese restaurant and order some duck only to have the entire cooked animal brought out to them, head and all. I thought it was a smashing idea hence a Thanksgiving dinner out in Richmond. Mark picked out the place, making sure they served up whole ducks. It was BYO friendly (bring your own beer), and very plain, but the place had character - and did I mention they served up whole duck. The Thanksgiving meal was great: spring rolls, egg drop soup, garlic bok choy, a big serving of rice, and the pièce de résistance - heaps of peking duck. Mmm, mmm, good. All eaten with chop sticks and big smiles on our faces. When they brought out the duck, though, they had already cut it up into large bite size portions. So we asked if the cook could bring out the whole thing. So they chopped up the neck and other bits, brought that out, but a crucial piece was missing. "Where's the head?" we asked. "Oh, you want the head?" asked the server scratching his head. He spoke some Chinese to the kitchen and soon came back with a cooked duck head. Scene complete. Happy Thanksgiving.

After a scrumptious and filling meal complete with a few lagers and being thankful for such an interesting Chinese Thanksgiving dinner in Melbourne, we all headed to a nearby pub for a few more drinks and laughs. What I love about Melbourne is rocking up to a completely different area of town and finding the cool little bars and restaurants that make Melbourne's night life the envy of the South Pacific. With our stomachs full of duck, we parted ways and Rob and I pedaled back home. It dawned on me as I crossed into my home suburb of North Melbourne - I have just a couple more weeks in Australia. As I biked along the parade, trams rolling past, passing the Queen Vic market, and all the sights and scenes of the city I thought, "Man, I'll miss this."

A Mass Bike Ride and the Melbourne Cup

I'm writing amidst finals studies. This coming Thursday marks my last exam at Melbourne Uni. I've turned in my final essays (Australians don't like the term 'paper') and now I have only one more written exam to take - a biomedical ethics exam. Just the other day I finished an unusual style of assessment for my history of the scientific revolution course. Instead of assigning a paper to test our writing abilities, our ability to assemble an argument, or our in-depth knowledge on a singular aspect of the course, the lecturer held a 20 minute oral exam. I've never taken an oral exam before and in theory it sounded great. You go in, sit down and have a conversation about various topics of the course and see how your understanding of the details pans out. In practice, however, it was a little more cumbersome. The 'conversation' was a bit forced at times, and giving a lucid reply to the questions posed isn't so easy. I guess that's the point, though, isn't it?

A couple of highlights from this past month or so:

Near the end of October, I participated in a mass bike ride through the city of Melbourne organized to raise awareness about climate change. It was part of a large international movement supported by 350.org that is trying to spread awareness about what a suitable amount of carbon emissions into the air would be. The name comes from the assertion that 350 parts per million of carbon emissions in the atmosphere is the acceptable amount for a sustainable environment that will not change earth's overall climate. Right now the number stands at around 390, I think. I'm not a die hard advocate for climate change, but I do support the cause. Plus, I thought it'd be fun to ride my bike with around 2,000 other people through the city center of Melbourne.

I rode towards the front of the group so I could get some good glimpses of the enormous bike train that was chugging it's way through the city behind me. The group was led by 'Bikezilla', a huge bike-like contraption that seven people could all ride and pedal. The front of the pack had megaphones and were leading chants like, 'Do what's right. Get on your bike,' and 'What do we want? Climate Action! When do we want it? Now!' Near me was a guy who'd taped his boom box (ha, remember those?) to his back wheel and was playing 60's music mostly. He started off with Bob Dylan's, 'The Times They Are A-Changin'. Another fella rode the whole thing with his green parrot perched on his shoulder. It was a quintessential Melburnian crowd. I enjoyed the ride.

Australians, especially younger Australians, are mighty involved in the climate change debate. They are somewhat forced into bearing the brunt of the consequences of huge global carbon emissions; the largest hole in the ozone layer hovers atop Australia, but the country is also one of the largest carbon emitters per capita in the world. As Australians are doing fine with no major wars to finance, no huge unemployment or underemployment problems, and smaller damages from the global financial crisis, you could argue they have the time and freedom to prioritize such an important issue (given you believe it's an issue). Swine flu isn't dominating the news as I've heard is the case in the U.S., so climate change seems to be the issue of the day for many younger Australians.

Leaving somewhat controversial issues... At the beginning of November, I went to the Melbourne Cup at Flemington Racecourse to catch the biggest and most exciting horse race this side of the equator. Being from Kentucky, I had to visit at least one horse race while here and the Cup is the most famous race in Australia. It's a national holiday and the nation stops everything and takes the day off. The Cup is like the Kentucky Derby in many ways, but the race is longer (around two miles) and the prize is bigger (AUD 6 million). Besides the minor exception of no mint juleps floating around, the crowd would have fit right in with the Derby or any Keeneland race I've ever seen. Hats were galore among the ladies, and nearly everyone was dressed to impress. I went along with a Kenyan friend from indoor soccer, and we joined a group of his friends on the grass just beside the race track. We picnicked all day, watching what we could see of the various races on the big screen and then seeing the real thing pass us by up close and personal. I placed a few bets at a nearby bookie, and went for a long-shot in the actual Cup race, but came up short as is so often the case. The Cup went to a horse named Shocking (how appropriate) and my horse, Alcopop, didn't make the top six even. I think the saying is, "You lose some and you lose some." Still a good time was had by all, and I'll get to check off another signature Australian experience.

Footy Madness

The Grand Final is this week and Melbourne has gone footy mad. Australian Rules Football is the sport of Victoria and Melbourne is THE city for all footy excitement. It seems like everywhere you turn there's stuff going on about the footy. One day last week, The Age's front page headlining article was about the St. Kilda Saints having beach practice with all the Saints coming up from the water showing off their footy muscles. This is the front page Melbourne's major paper. Most of the other day's front pages have had some footy article as well.

There's endless talk among my roommates about who will win and how the game will go. I'm for St. Kilda, Rob my roommate's team, as they haven't "won the flag" as they say since 1966. The Geelong Cats will be tough competition though partly because they are just bloody good, and partly because they've won or been in the premiership the last three years. Their experience will come through I'm sure. But it's the Saint's time. 1966? This is the kind of sports matchup that makes Australians, just like Americans, sports fanatics.

Last week the St. Kilda Saints and the Geelong Cats beat out the Western Bulldogs and Collingwood Magpies, repectively, to come head to head for the premiership game. The Grand Final is held here in Melbourne every year at the Melbourne Cricket Ground which holds nearly 100,000 fans. In the past, they've had over 100,000 people attend the game. Rain is forecasted, but that won't slow down the fans, I'm sure of it. This week the Brownlow award was given out to a Geelong Cat adding pressure to the Cats for a victory this Saturday. The Brownlow is the approximate equivalent of the Heisman trophy for footy. The ceremony was broadcast on TV and branded like the Academy awards. The event was a great way to recap the entire footy season as they read off votes for best man of the match by the umpires for each game played. Reading off votes is painstakingly boring at times and really not good television, but you catch the highlights of each week for the footy season which began back in March.

Unfortunately for me, I'll be missing the game. I probably couldn't get tickets anyway seeing as you must be a club member to get them and the waiting list to become a member of the MCG is decades - people sign up their unborn children for membership. Plus I don't know any members who are going who can score tickets. Instead, I'll be visiting Sydney over my break from classes. My spring break is this week so it's time to leave droll Melbourne and surf some waves in New South Wales. Maybe I'll hit up Bondi beach again and check out the surrounding countryside of Sydney. I do hope the Saints win, though. They deserve it.

Go the Saints!

Time Flies after my Sydney Adventure

I think you could say I'm a fair weather blogger.

It's been too long with no updates and August just flew by. Suddenly, I looked up and we're half way through September. My weeks are seeming more like days and my months more like weeks, which is a bit depressing because by that logic I only have three more weeks in Australia. My spring break has just started at Uni, and ahead of me lies two weeks of no classes. This occurring after seven full on weeks of class and several Rotary club visits where I stand up and talk about where I'm from and pretty much anything else I'd like to mention.

Last time I posted, I was getting ready for a weekend trip to Sydney with one of my best friends from high school who flew all the way out here to have a little Australian adventure before returning to work. Marty and I flew into Sydney Thursday night the first weekend of August and stayed at a backpacker in King's Cross which, as someone described to me, is the "biggest party district in the southern hemisphere". Unfortunately for Marty and I, who had only brought minimal clothing and none of which would be considered nice, we weren't allowed into the really nice clubs around the area. I guess sneakers, a wind jacket, dirty jeans, and a backpack isn't the best look for clubbing... The first night we arrived, a friend's text message informed me that one of our travel partners during the Red Center trip I had done back in June was in Sydney the same weekend. I sent him an SMS (that's what they call texting in Australia... no clue what it means) and we met up for free drinks provided by our hostel at the World Bar in King's Cross. We made plans for the next day to go surfing at Bondi Beach. Finally, I was going to go surfing in Australia.

Bondi is a gorgeous beach located a five minute bus ride from the city center of Sydney. I couldn't believe how close the beaches were to the main city in Sydney and definitely see why people love the beach life there when its so at your finger tips. After sussing out the surfing options, I decided to go with no lessons and see how my two friends who'd taken one lesson each a while back would do at teaching me what they learned. Surfing (or trying to) was awesome and the two hours I rented the board and the wet suit flew by. I wanted to go for longer but the clouds were rolling in so we decided to call it a day with surfing. Bummer dude.

That night Marty and I checked

out the Sydney Opera House. This is a landmark icon that does not disappoint. But what made it even better was that we were able to score tickets to a concert in the main hall. Plus, the concert was no string quartet or orchestral movement, no sir. We saw a couple of famous Aussie singers in current rock bands sing the entire Beatles White Album. It was a rockin' show. Plus the inside of the opera house is amazing. The building juts out into the harbor so the impression you get as you're heading for your seats is that you're watching a show on a big fancy yacht. Surfing at Bondi beach and catching a show at the Opera house on the first day in Sydney. That will go down as one of my favorite days in Australia.

The next day we took a ferry ride from Circular Quay to Manly Beach.

Most tourists take this ferry just to get views of the opera house and the harbor bridge, both classic Sydney icons. The harbor is beautiful and Sydneysiders should consider themselves blessed to live beside it. With all the ferries and sailboats around it's amazingly clean, and the fact that such a large city built right on the harbor is able to manage such clean water is hard to believe. From Manly Beach we walked to the very north edge of the harbor where the water becomes the Tasman Sea. My favorite view of Sydney happened there. The sailboats, the ferries, the water, the harbor bridge - spectacular.

As we were walking back from the edge of the harbor (a lot of walking happened this day), Marty stuck his thumb out hoping somebody would see us poor vehicle-less boys and offer a ride back to the ferry wharf. We were in a designated park area so not a very dangerous thing to do, but I thought it was stupid to even try. Well, Marty showed me. After about thirty minutes of dedicated hitch-hiker thumbing, Marty's perseverance paid off, and a nice old couple pulled up and offered us a ride. The couple had lived in Sydney all their lives except for lots of traveling that it seems all Australians make a point to do. They were so nice to pick us up and I still don't really know why they did. We thanked them as they let us off at the wharf, then I thanked Marty for the hour's walk he'd saved us. That night we searched for a place to get some kangaroo meat for dinner but settled for a cook your own meat pub with some excellent Sydney cuts (basically a sirloin) shared a few (several *cough*) Aussie beers.

The next day we walked around the city a bit checking out the parks and a few landmarks. Sydney is just plain huge. The streets are wider, the buildings are taller, and there's just an overall larger than life feeling to the place. It's much different to Melbourne's large yet quaint tram filled city center with little alleyways everywhere full of cafe and boutiques. Sydney's also much more hilly and less bike friendly, something I notice now as a daily bike rider. We checked out the Sydney aquarium and got our fill of dugongs, which apparently are the creatures sailors used to think were mermaids in the oceans. If you've ever seen a dugong, you'll hear me out when I say, I'm not buying it. In our final hours in Sydney, we finally found a place that offered kangaroo on the menu. Now Marty could finally say he'd tasted the animal on the national emblem of Australia. Good on ya, mate.

We flew back to Melbourne with our stomach full of roo, and our appetite for a Sydney adventure satisfied. I have to admit I like Sydney. My Melbourne friends will boo this statement, but the city has charm. It's fast-paced and flashy, stylish and sun-soaked with close beaches and an unbeatably handsome harbor. Melbourne's probably a better place to live, but Sydney's hard to beat for a visit. I'll be going back for sure.

Why Study the Humanities?

Yesterday, as I was listening to my lecturer in biomedical ethics, he mentioned an opinion piece to us in The Age written by Peter Singer, a very famous University of Melbourne professor of philosophy and ethics, who also spends time teaching at Princeton as well. As my ethics professor mentioned the name, I vaguely remembered passing a book signing going on at the Arts Centre on campus last semester with a Dr. Peter Singer, so I was interested to read what this man had to say.

His opinion piece describes his discontent with the emphasis that Australian universities have put on teachers to publish more papers, teach more students and apply for more research grants in efforts to demonstrate the value of what they study. He lifts up many of the American universities that place more emphasis on undergraduate education of a liberal arts kind where the teachers don't have as much pressure to publish and can focus on teaching. Words like Singer's always fill me with pride and make me all the more thankful I was able to attend an institution such as Singer describes. For all Centre folk reading, I think you'll enjoy the article.

Back to School

And so my semester break has ended. But I can't say I didn't do anything while in between semesters.

Last night after a two hour flight back from Brisbane, and a taxi cab ride back to my apartment, the excitement to start up another semester began to sink in. Of course, I'm bummed I can't do more traveling like I have been the past few weeks, but who knows, maybe some weekend trips will be in order.

Although, this trip wasn't as long as the last trek across the continent, the sights and sounds were no less fantastic. Brisbane (pronounced Briz-bun) is a great little city, nestled about midway up the east coast of Australia and full of exotic rain forest looking trees everywhere. The highlight of a trip to Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world and situated about 2 hours north of Brissie, was a drive along 75-mile beach to a place called Indian point. From there, we were at the eastern most tip of Australia and could watch hump-back whales gracefully slide along the coast, followed by a few dolphins, and some seawater turtle sightings. Fraser Island has no roads, only the open beach, yet these open beaches are recognized as roads, with sign posts for speed limits, and patrolmen to enforce the law. A four wheel drive vehicle is a must on the island because once you turn off the beach the pathways are quite bumpy.

From Fraser, we traveled through the little town of Bundaberg (the namesake of a tasty ginger beer I love in Australia), and arrived at Agnes Water and the Town of 1770. Yes, the town's name is a year in history. Here, I (and I never thought I'd say this) rode around on a motorbike throughout the town to catch views of the sun setting over the eastern sea. A local who runs a tourist business called "Scooteroo" actually leads visitors around on motorbikes so they can see the town, ride a motorcycle (a smallish version), and catch the sun setting over the ocean horizon. I'll briefly mention that my first attempt to ride the bike ended tragically with both myself and the bike tangled in a wire fence about 20 yards from where I stared riding. There's no more helpless feeling than not fully having control of a motorbike and realizing that, yes, you in fact will be crashing into a fence for everyone to witness. After a quick bike swap, and a dusting off of my pride, I rode off into the sunset with my masculinity recharging by the moment. I know my dad would hate to hear me say this, but man are they a blast to ride.

The next day at 1770, we took off for a trip to Lady Musgrave Island, which is included in the Great Barrier Reef by just a hair. A few clicks south and we'd have been out of the official Great Barrier Reef. Lady Musgrave is a lagoon about 2 hours east of the town obviously only reachable by boat. The sea was extremely choppy that morning causing major rocking of our boat. Lots of patrons got sick. When you look out to the horizon and the boat railing goes about three feet below it, then shoots about three feet above it for two hours, that's not a pleasant ride. The waves would splash us with sea water consistently with each wake, so I arrived to Lady Musgrave a bit disoriented and quite wet. The coral reef, however, made it all worth it. Snorkeling with the colorful fish and brilliant colors of the coral was unlike anything I've ever experienced. No words can really capture the feeling and the experience so I won't even try, but I hope that I can do it again before I leave this country.

Today, classes started back up. The second time around is so much easier! I know where I am, how to get to where I need to be, and what to expect. Plus, my class schedule (pronounced shed-ual in 'Stralian) is much more even keeled and spaced out than last semester. It's back to work I guess, but I'm so thankful for the time off. The break gave me the opportunity to see parts of Australia other than Melbourne, and get a feel for how big and diverse this country/continent really is.

Journey Through the Red Center of Australia

I've been back from my trip up through the center of Australia for about two weeks now, and I'm still coming down from the excitement and energy that trip gave me. I can honestly say the road trip will go down as one of the best I've ever taken. The scenery was incredible, the people I traveled with were fun and adventurous, and the tour companies we used were top notch. In fifteen days, we traveled nearly 4,000 km (2,500 miles) across the continent starting in Adelaide and ending in Darwin. To talk about all the incredible parts of the trip would take ages and volumes, so I won't even try. I would upload some pictures, but I'm having trouble figuring that out at the moment. Instead, a few interesting tid bits:

I saw more camels in the Outback than kangaroos. Apparently, when they were building the Gahn railway that runs north-south, they used camels and then let them run wild. They've thrived in the desert that is most of Australia and are so numerous they are set to sell camel meat in the Australian supermarkets soon.

A town we stayed at in the middle of South Australia called Coober Pedy began as a settlement of miners who were looking for opal. The town still exists today with most residents living underground or in the sides of huge earthen mounds. This type of living keeps the home a steady temperature in the hot desert, but makes for a very bleak looking town - no grass, red dirt everywhere, and not much else going on. Coober Pedy (pronounced pee-dee) means "white man's burrow" in one of the Aborignal languages of the area.

Uluru (Ayer's Rock) is the largest monolith in the world and was a difficult climb. There's controversy surrounding if we should be climbing it or not. The Aboriginal people of the area would rather people not simply to keep them safe from falling to their deaths. I debated not climbing it, but couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Sleeping outside every night in a swag on the ground, staring at the clearest starry sky you've ever seen is the only way to spend your time traveling the Outback. I saw the Southern Cross and gases of the Milky Way galaxy it was so dark. Sunrise and sunsets out there can not be matched either.

Once you cross the Tropic of Capricorn, termite mounds begin to show up as you exit the desert and enter more forested areas. The more north you travel the taller they get. Just outside of Alice Springs they were no higher than my shins. In Darwin, they towered over me at just about 10 or 12 feet high. The termites themselves are no bigger than a poppy seed.

In the Northern Territory, there are snakes, spiders, termites, cane toads, and most important crocodiles. The fresh water crocs are pretty harmless and more scared of you than you of them. Plus they only get about 3 feet long. The salties on the other hand... they will kill you. They get to be about 10 or 12 feet long, but have been seen as big as 16 feet (5 meters). Signs were up everywhere that said, "Saltwater crocodiles have been known to enter these areas undetected. Swim at your own risk."

Darwin is a great little town with a decidedly 70s look after the whole place was destroyed in the 1970s after a hugh cyclone hit. So the architecture is in the style of the times. Litchfield and Kakadu National Parks just outside of Darwin are full of amazing waterholes, cascades, and rock jumps. Some are only accessible with four-wheel drive vehicles. Lucky for us, we had some.

So, those are just some of the highlights of the places I went and the things I saw. I had an amazing group of travel partners and we had such a blast together. We also really enjoyed meeting the other travelers on the tours we took. In our groups, we met people from England, Germany, Ireland, Switzerland, France, the Netherlands, Australia, Taiwan, South Korea, Japan, and different parts of the U.S. I met a former Swiss guard who'd protected the Pope, a former professional footy player (who I just recently met back up with in Melbourne), and a French amateur didgeridoo player who made the Northern Territory jungles come alive with his excellent playing. Such a variety of people only added to the excellence of the trip.

So why not take another one? Tomorrow, I head off to Brisbane for a week to tour Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world, and the southern most parts of the Great Barrier Reef. It's sure to be a great trip to finish off my in between semester holiday.

A Trip on the Horizon

For the last several weeks, it's been nothing but research and writing. That's good and bad. It's good because one of my goals with this sojourn in Australia has been to improve my writing skills, but bad because... well, writing is hard work! I am in complete awe of journalists, authors, and professors who do this for a living.

At the University of Melbourne, they have twelve weeks for teaching, a full week where no one teaches and no one studies, then a three week long exam period. For my classes, I've had sizable papers due in all four subjects. None of the papers alone is too daunting a task, but having each of them due one after the other, the mind and spirit start showing signs of wear and tear. I appreciate the ample time they give us to complete them, but I'm just not used to such writing marathons and would almost like to get it all over with quicker. Almost.

I've written about the use of history in a museum gallery about minds and madness for my history of psychiatry class, realism versus anti-realism in my philosophy of science class, relativism in scientific controversies and the sociology of scientific knowledge for my sociology of science class, and the importance of Descartes' mechanical philosophy and dualism of mind/matter in breaking away from Aristotelian world views in my history of natural philosophy class. Not exactly the stuff of everyday life... but interesting and I feel privileged to be thinking about this stuff more than usual.

So while all my family and friends back home are enjoying the longest day of the year, I am experiencing the shortest. It starts getting dark here about 5 in the afternoon and by 5:30, you'd think it was midnight. Winter in June is a funny feeling. I'm certainly not used to dating academic papers in the month of June. Last night on television they were playing Home Alone and The Holiday both of which take place at Christmas time in the northern hemisphere, but I guess when it's winter time you play winter movies.

But enough about school and the weather...

The time has come for a trip. And I intend to use my five weeks of break between semesters to take a few. Tomorrow I set off on a two week trip from Adelaide in the south, to Darwin in the north. A road trip journey through the centre of Australia. A foray through the dry, vast, featureless, barren, and hot Outback. A backpacking escapade from the southern vineyards of Adelaide, through the red centre of Uluru (Ayers Rock) and Alice Springs, ending in the wild and dangerous Kakadu National Park outside of Darwin. Along the way I'll be seeing heaps of kangaroos and dingoes, crocodiles and snakes, sleeping in a swag (an Aussie type of tent for the Outback), riding in a van with a bunch of other adventure seekers like myself, and experiencing some of the most remote parts of the earth. I'm so excited for the trip I'm about to burst.

This should be something to write home about.

How American...

Every now and then I have a conversation about American-ness with Aussies. Two nights ago I was at a house party for some Dutch friends that are soon heading back to the Netherlands, and admitted to someone I was chatting with that one of the things I was surprised about and didn't anticipate in coming to Australia was a slight anti-American mentality I picked up here and there from people. By no means is this a very strong sentiment among Australians and Aussies are very polite to Americans and give them respect they would give any other foreigner to their country. But there IS something different in the way Americans are treated or thought of. You never hear someone say, "How Lithuanian..." with a rolling of the eyes and cheeky grin. But when someone says, "That's so American..." somehow that means something more than just where I'm from.

The following is something I wrote about two weeks into my stay in Melbourne. I never posted it, but through my conversation the other night I came to some of the same conclusions. Therefore, enjoy my thoughts from around four months ago:

Tonight was an interesting night. I had my first outing with a bunch of Aussies who were showing me the ropes of what it means to go out for a night of drinks with the fellas. "It's a nuance of Australian culture I've never thought about," said one of my mates, "but if someone buys you a drink, you are obligated to give your shout back or you're just shit." I then realized, I'd better buy the next jug of Carlton Draught, or I'd be labeled "shit". Our conversation turned towards travel, and I made the comment that many Americans on the whole don't find the time to travel or simply don't have the motivation to see the rest of the world. The Aussies looked at me with a bit of a smirk on each of their faces. We continued to talk about travel, and finally I asked them a question that dawned on me. With the looseness of the situation, and the carefree attitude that had marked the whole night of teasing conversation, I asked them, "Why does the rest of the world hate Americans?" They immediately became quite serious and replied, "Because they have no sense of how the world works outside of their country. They are ignorant."

America is ignorant. Hmm... I would like to think that my country is full of open-minded people who just haven't had the chance to venture out in the world and see what it's composition is, but the perception by the rest of the world (or at least by these Australians) is that we don't pay attention to anyone else but our selves, and we don't try to hide that fact even if we do go abroad. As much as we (and I) pride myself in being an American, we certainly could do our part to hear about other cultures and somewhat familiarize ourselves with what goes on in other parts of the world - parts with whom we are not at war or in which we do not have troops stationed. True, our media doesn't focus on world affairs as much as say the BBC does or other international new programs, but we as a people could choose to take more of an interest in our fellow nations of the world. We could at least acknowledge the fact that the sun doesn't rise and fall by the American day, and we are not the only nation out there that can influence world events. Americans do tend to become a bit self-absorbed with our own news and events, and forget that a whole world of other happenings takes place everyday of which we are completely and utterly unaware.

Tonight's conversation with the Aussies was very sobering in a way, but not too surprising. I knew my country had a reputation for being unaware, but when it's spelled out for you by three Aussies who don't hold anything back, you tend to get the message a bit clearer.

Characters on the Tram

Tram rides home aren't always this interesting.  But I guess, over the course of an hour and it being after midnight you can meet some interesting characters.  Usually I hop on, sit, and mind my own business listening to my i-Pod or just watch the stores, cafes, and pubs go past.  But last night I had some more excitement than usual.  I was taking the hour long tram ride back to the city from the suburb Bundoora, where I'd been visiting my friend Mark at La Trobe University, when a couple of girls stepped on and literally fell into the seats directly across from me, apparently having just come from a wilder place than another public tram.  Before these Australian white girls had jumped on the tram, the occupants in my immediate area were myself, several Indians speaking another language I couldn't begin to name, a black Muslim couple with the male in very modern day clothing and his significant other in the traditional head scarf and full length dress, and what I assumed was an Arabic couple, again, with the man in modern day clothes and this time the woman in head scarf, long plain dress, and some fabric covering her entire face leaving just enough space for her eyes to look out.  

Before these two girls sat down, no one had been speaking English on the tram.  They both had helium-filled balloons and those very Melburnian/European razor-straight-bang haircuts.  They were talkative, but I was not in the mood to chit chat at the moment and continued listening to my i-Pod.  The tram began to fill up more and more as we approached closer and closer to the city center.  Then a girl dressed up as a pirate got on the tram and sat down next to me.  Suddenly it just seemed silly to continue listening to my music with all these characters surrounding me, so I took them off and the girls soon engaged me in conversation.  Oh... we talked about everything you could think of: the party they'd just come from, why this girl was dressed as a pirate (21st birthday party), the engagement story of one of the girls involving her high boyfriend asking her to marry him in the middle of a mosh pit at a concert... You know, the typical things strangers strike up conversations about.  The best part about being in a foreign country and talking with strangers is the minute you open your mouth, you suddenly expose an excellent conversation point: where are you from?  Melbourne is full of different languages and ethnicities, but they don't get too many Americans.  A lot of times I get asked if I'm Canadian.  I briefly got in a word or two about where I was from when the two girls with the balloons and strange engagement story departed.  Just me and the pirate girl.  

My stop was next, so I said goodbye, or arggg if you like, to the pirate girl, and walked to the next tram stop to wait for my final leg of the journey back to my apartment.  A guy sitting one bench away from me asked for the time, and when I told him, he again noticed my accent.  He asked where I was from, and I told him Kentucky.  "You're a long way from home, mate."  Sometimes I forget that I'm almost 10,000 miles from home being here for almost four months now.  We struck up a conversation because it turned out he worked with racing horses and knew about Kentucky's reputation for being horse country.  This guy gets up everyday at around 3 am to go take care of the horses before they do their training.  Why on earth he has to get up that early I have no idea.  It ended up that both of us were catching the same tram, so we continued our conversation.  He was originally from New South Wales, just over the border, and was the first non-Victorian Aussie I've met.  Of course, he downplayed Melbourne's dominance as Australia's best city and talked up Sydney a bit.  He said that Sydneysiders call people from Victoria Mexicans since they're south of the border.  I found that an odd but flattering comment, as it sort of suggested a comparison between Sydney and the U.S.  It was like the guy was saying, "You know what I mean," with a slight elbow jab and a wink.  I told him about Lexington and the beautiful horse farms surrounding the city, and he seemed pretty excited to find out something new about Kentucky horses.  The tram arrived at my stop, and we said goodbye.

I mention all this because I think it speaks to how life is different in a big city like Melbourne.  Meeting people on a tram, hearing their crazy stories and then parting ways never to run into each other again is something that never happens in small towns and even most American cities lacking Melbourne's unique public transport system.  Before those girls got on the tram, I was the lone American, lone white person, lone English speaker.  I guess that points to Melbourne's multiculturalism as well.  What a funny night.

Professors Strike. Students Rejoice.

Today my professors are on strike.

Well, to be fair, not all of them are. Two of my four professors decided to participate and not come in for work today. I first heard about it on Monday of this past week when one of my professors made the announcement that he would not be holding the usual lecture on Thursday due to his participation in the Melbourne wide strike by members of the National Tertiary Education Union. Most of the University of Melbourne staff are not coming into work today meaning that a few libraries are closed, most of the different school offices are closed, and lectures were canceled. I've asked some of my professors about the strike, and they've offered different answers for why it's happening. One said that workloads on teachers are becoming unbearable. Another mentioned that faculty budgets are in such deficit that many teachers were let go in past years, and now class sizes are too large, and teachers are having to take on too many classes per semester. The strike is trying to bring the university administration "back to the negotiation table", as one of my professors put it, so that some agreement can be made about working to increase funding by the government and decrease class size and workload.

My first reaction to this whole event was: seriously? The professors are on strike? Wow, I've never thought of that. To me a strike is for factory workers or public transit workers. They strike and production stops or everyone is late for work. The point is made very directly and is easily observed. However, with a professor strike, I'm not so sure the effect is quite the same. Today has seemed like a normal day, just with a few of my lectures canceled, some libraries I never visit being closed, and a few people handing out fliers promoting the strike. I'd say lots of students are glad to not have classes, and will gladly "participate" in the strike by not attending lectures. I guess I just don't quite see how this is effective. Seems to me the only people inconvenienced by this are the professors themselves, who will have to alter their course plans, or possibly a few students who may have to work a bit harder to learn material not covered by the professor that day.

My second reaction to this was: why doesn't this happen in the U.S.? Maybe it does and I just haven't heard about it. The Australians do use their unions more than we do, so maybe this is a product of that union mentality. Although, this doesn't quite compare with some French university staff, who according to one of my professors who didn't go on strike today, once went on strike for three months. That's disruptive and the point would be driven home real quick. I asked this professor, who happens to be American, why this doesn't happen in the U.S. He suggested that maybe conditions at universities are better for the most part. Or is it that Americans just don't go on strike as much and the teachers don't utilize unions? I'm not sure, but this whole event is odd to me, and may point to a few cultural and societal differences between Australia and the U.S.

100 Days

So in keeping with the tradition of arbitrarily assigning importance to the first 100 days of the presidency, I would like to use this post to mark 100 days of being in Australia. I can say that I've settled in pretty well. I wander the city map free frequently, and recently gave advice to someone who is coming to Melbourne about house hunting. Amazing how three months can turn you into an expert. I mentioned in a past post that Uni Melb's campus was hard to navigate, but as a mouse soon learns the correct path to the cheese, so have I learned my way around campus rather well. It's really just a matter of getting used to how the university operates, and letting the unfamiliar become familiar with time. I also ride my bike everywhere. To university, to the market, to the park, to friends' flats, to the central business district, any and everywhere. I've ridden my bike so much that it's now second nature to hop on it and start pedaling. I don’t get near as tired as I used to pedaling around everywhere, and Melbourne is set up to accommodate cyclist really well, with bike lanes on almost every street. Because I’m always on the roads, I’ve become well acquainted with driving on the left side. I saw a movie the other day (Star Trek, which was excellent), and a scene showing a car driving on the right side of the road looked strange to me. Now I know I’m settled here.

This Isn't Your Ordinary Football

America is sports crazy. We love football, basketball, and baseball. All other sports are just filler for these big three that rule the talk on SportsCenter and dominate the topic of everyday conversations among a fair chunk of the population. America has plenty of people who don't pay much attention to sports or find the topic boring, but I'd say everyone would agree we are a sports obsessed nation as a whole. Well so is Australia. In some ways they might even be more sports crazy per capita. I found this out when I attended the ANZAC footy match a couple weekends ago. There I came face to face with the funny and entertaining sport of Australian rules football.

At first glance you'd think you were watching rugby. Of course, I don't know much about rugby but I know enough to recognize it. Footy (as the Aussies call Australian rules football), however, is not rugby. And you'd run the risk of insulting the Melburnians of Victoria by saying that. Victoria is known for it's footy teams, and for awhile the sport was only played in Victoria. Rugby on the other hand is very much a New South Wales sport that Sydneysiders get into more. This comparison of footy versus rugby plays into the larger competition of Melbourne versus Sydney that raises its head every now and again when I talk with Australians.

So as I said, at first glance you'd think you were watching rugby, but then you notice that they aren't laterally passing the ball, but bumping the ball to each other with a clenched fist volleyball style. Or they kick the ball to each other or towards four goal posts at opposite ends of the oval field to score a goal. As I over heard a guy from Los Angeles explain to some of his American friends, "It's like if football, soccer, and volleyball all got together and had one love child." I don't know that I totally agree (or if that's physically possible), but I see where he's coming from. Footy's a fast paced, high scoring game, and once you get the gist of the rules, it's a lot of fun to watch.

As I walked to the game with my Rotarian host, Kevin, his daughter, and her friend, I began to feel the excitement in the air. The sky was a bit overcast, but the stadium loomed large ahead of us, a gigantic oval with towering poles with hundreds of lights spaced evenly around the sides. To say this stadium is big doesn't quite cut it. It's enormous, titanic, gargantuan. Kevin told me that on some ANZAC Day matches, over 100,000 people show up to the match. This special match is always a face off of two of the oldest and most popular footy clubs in Melbourne: the Essendon Bombers and Collingwood Magpies. My Rotary host counselor had set me straight when I first arrived in Melbourne about who I should be cheering for. "Who do you barrack for?" he asked. I didn't really have an answer for him and was a bit stymied by his use of the word "barrack". "Well it better be the Bombers or you can go ahead and find yourself another place to stay," he chuckled. The Aussies ask this question a lot when the footy subject comes up. "Who do you barrack for?" is not interchangeable with "Who do you root for?" however. The second question takes on an entirely different meaning, as the Aussies use the term "root" in a sexual context. Anyway...

The game was exciting and entertaining to watch even for someone who didn't quite know all that was going on. The two teams were pretty evenly matched this year, and the game wasn't decided until a final kick by Essendon in the last 10 seconds to put them just a few points over Collingwood. That's right, my team won. The stadium that day had about 85,000 people in the stands all of them either Essendon or Collingwood fans. The fans erupted with excitement or complete frustration after that final kick and the whole place was an uproar. Some were jumping up for joy, spinning their Bomber scarves around in celebration, hollering at the top of their lungs, and others were cursing the umpires and loudly complaining about the last second clutch kick that put the victory away for the Bombers. Talk about being into the game. It doesn't get much more devoted than this.

Again, I'm struck by the fact that hardly a single American knows a thing about this sport. Little do we know that about 9,000 miles away there's an island nation of around 21 million people who go nuts when guys in really short shorts run around for a good two hours punting and volleying the ball to each other, racking up scores like 98 to 86 or so, and taking some pretty gruesome and even bloody tackles while doing so. Just goes to show a bit of the insularity that America still has in this ever more globalized world especially towards Australia and what is happening down here. However, it does make for some great surprises when you visit, and I'd say that footy has added another fan to its ranks.

ANZAC Day

As Americans, we like to think of ourselves as the professionals of patriotism, but after yesterday's events, the Aussies have proven themselves just as patriotic in my view.  ANZAC Day marks the day on April 25th, 1915 when thousands from the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps stormed the shores of Gallipoli, Turkey during World War I.  In a devastatingly ill-fated mission, thousands of Australians and New Zealanders lost their lives that day, marking a significant loss of life for the two countries who at the time weren't boasting the larger populations they have today.  Around 5,000 Australians were killed that day, and a total of 8,000 were dead by the end of the battle.  The Battle of Gallipoli was the first time the Australians acted on their own behalf as a nation.  Before that, I'm assuming Australia either wasn't involved very heavily in many wars, or they were fighting as Brits for the Her Majesty's empire.  Some say this day signifies the making of Australia as a nation in the minds of the people, even more so than Australia Day does, which marks the arrival of the first fleet of British ships in the late 1700s.  I guess the equivalent for the U.S. would be a mixture of Veterans Day and Memorial Day.  The Australians commemorate that first sacrifice those soldiers made for the newly formed nation of Australia, and they also acknowledge the living veterans of all the wars that have since happened.  

The day started out with a 4:45 am wake up in order to get to the dawn service for ANZAC Day and potentially have a good view of the service.  One of the Rotarians from my host club had offered to take me to the service with him, and I happily agreed to it.  I thought it would be interesting to see how an event that had no large bearing on the U.S.'s course in the war, and one I didn't know a thing about would be commemorated and acknowledged by a country who had a very special and painful connection to the event.  In the still quiet of early morning, Kevin and I groggily got into his car and drove from his house to the Shrine of Remembrance.  This mammoth monument situated on the south side of the Yarra River just off St. Kilda road was built in the 1930s originally just for ANZAC Day, but has also come to serve as a shrine to all Australians killed in subsequent battles and wars.

As we drove, Kevin had tuned the radio to the equivalent of NPR for Australia, ABC (Australia Broadcasting Company).  There was constant talk on the radio about different dawn services for ANZAC Day going on all over the country and even the world.  Not only were there numerous services in Australia, but one in Gallipoli, Turkey as well as one in France.  Once again I was reminded of how important this event is to a millions of people, and I barely even knew a thing about it.  The shrine is near the Royal Botanical Gardens of Melbourne on the South side of the Yarra River, but we were coming from an eastern suburb of sprawling Melbourne during lots of traffic so it was about a fifteen minute drive.  I noted how lots of cars were out and about as well, and activity was unusually high for five in the morning.  I quickly realized that this event was hugely attended and that I was about to be among tens of thousands flocking to the shrine for the dawn service.  After parking the car a few kilometers away, we began our hike over to the service.  As we got closer, more and more people began converging on our same path around the gardens.  With all the people headed towards a common point in the dark hours of early morning, the event began to take on a specialness even to me, someone quite new to all of it.

I soon heard a soothing, deep voice over speakers in the distance and knew we were close.  We rounded a corner and in the early morning light, the Shrine of Remembrance loomed before me.  At the time, I didn't know how many people were there.  All I could tell was that many people had aggregated in front of the monument, and we weren't going to get a very good viewing point.  That didn't really matter, though, because everything was spoken over a loud speaker to the whole crowd.  

The service was very well done, and I can see why Australians would swell with pride in their country after attending this ceremony.  The speaker told the story of ANZAC Day, read poems from some of the soldiers, and accounts of what those men had to face, the few that did survive.  Gun shots were fired during one of the hymns sung by a choirs of former soldiers.  They also sang "God Save the Queen" which, to my American ears, I recognized as "My Country, 'Tis of Thee."  Then the whole place joined together in singing Australia's national anthem, "Advance Australia Fair."  It was a moving ceremony, even to a bloke like me who didn't know a thing about the whole affair until now.  Later that day I found out that around 40,000 people had been in attendance that morning.  Forty thousand people got up at the crack of dawn, many of them hours before the service started so that they could be up front, to remember their past countrymen who died in the heat of battle, in a mission that was almost doomed from the beginning.  Those in attendance weren't just old folks either.  I saw people of all ages in attendance, paying their respects.  The event was a moving one even for me as a foreigner here, and the Aussies showed their true form as supportive and mindful citizens of their country. 

Confusing Lingo

Lately, my house mate Rob has been calling me "Aluminum".  Why you ask?  An odd choice of nickname, I know, but it came about one night as I asked him for some aluminum foil for cooking.  "Say it again, mate," he told me.  "Aluminum," I said.  "Aww, mate, that's all wrong.  It's aluMINium!"   The Australians say it as the rest of the world does: aluminium  (see my spell checker just told me to correct that).  The extra "i" at the end makes all the difference.  It's so funny how the way I say this word throws Rob for a loop every time, and it's become kind of a joke every time we cook.  Rob will even come home from his work and say, "How ya going, aluminum?" with a cheeky grin on his face.  It's so funny to me how in one part of the world, 300 million people won't bat an eye at hearing the word aluminum, but on the other side of the world, saying the phrase, "Where's the aLUminum foil?" causes these short pregnant pauses where the hearer grins slightly to himself, always reminding you that you say things quite funny.

Another prime example of how the lingo and pronunciation here can cause a bit of confusion happened when Rob and I were biking through Princes Park situated just north of the University of Melbourne.  We had a choice of a couple of different paths to head down through the park, and Rob said to me, "Let's go down this way, mate.  The symmetry is really nice."  I thought to myself, well this is a sensitive side of Rob I haven't seen yet.  He's perceptive of the balance and beauty bestowed on things because of symmetry.  Must be the architect in him.  So I responded in agreement saying something like symmetry tends to be universally thought of as beautiful and a lot of times really attractive people are thought to be that way because of the symmetry of their face.  Rob cranes his head around while standing up on his bike and gives me this perplexed look.  "Mate, what the hell are you talking about?  There's a bloody cemetery over here!"  I then looked to my left and sure enough, a huge beautiful "sim-eh-tree" was there, plain and simple.  These sorts of things happen from time to time here in Australia.  The lingo and expressions developed on this island nation will take awhile to get down, I guess.

"Alex from Kentucky"

I'm coming up on two months in Melbourne, and Easter break is just around the corner.  Australia isn't that religious of a nation (especially compared to the US), but for some reason they still schedule their "non-teaching" period to coincide with Easter, an autumn event for Aussies.  As can be seen by my lack of posts, the work is picking up in classes and the reading is becoming fairly lengthy.  My fifth week of class has begun and I'm steeped in reading and papers.  Ah, the life of a humanities student: ideas, papers, tests, and grades.  This next week will be a doozy as all mid terms seem to be.  Not looking forward to the two papers and one test all happening on a Thursday a week and a half from now.

So in order to catch up on the month of March, I'll provide just one vignette for the sake of brevity:

During the second weekend of March, my host Rotary district had its annual conference where all the various club members within the district are invited to attend.  For three days the conference holds sessions that spread the word to all its members about what Rotary is doing locally, nationally, and internationally and bring them up to date with where Rotary is and where it's going.  All the ambassadorial scholars were invited to attend which included six others and me.  The event was well done and the speakers and entertainment they had lined up were excellent. However, the best part was... the venue was Tasmania.

Honestly (I must admit this because that's the first step to recovery), I had no clue before my trip to Melbourne that Tasmania was a state of Australia.  Had you asked me about Tasmania before, my mind would have immediately fixated upon Looney Tunes'  Tasmanian devil and the location of the island would have been a complete mystery.  To my ignorance's allay, this conference trip brought me up to snuff on the location and nature of Tasmania.  The plane ride there was a short hour just south of Melbourne to the town of Launceston in the northern part of the small island.  Tasmanian gets substantially more rainfall than the mainland and hence there's more greenery.  Launceston (pronounced lawn-ses-ton) is the third oldest city in Australia and is a quaint town with quiet streets and easy-going locals.  The trip provided a nice contrast to the bustling streets of Melbourne .

I won't go into the ends and outs of the conference, but one particular day bears mentioning.  The last day of sessions had quite a bit of entertainment scheduled, and as one of the final acts before the closing ceremonies took place on stage, Rotary invited a female improv duo to perform for the conference similar in style to "Who's Line is it Anyway".  These ladies romped down the aisles and assumed the stage, asking everyone in the audience to stand up.  One of them explained that she was going to ask us all a few questions and if our answer was yes, we had to sit down.  She began with easy questions that only singled out a few people, but then she asked a biggie, "Are you married?"  A sequence of scoffs and chuckles emitted from the audience as almost everyone in the entire theater sat down.... except for the Rotary Ambassadorial scholars.  The others and I were just about the only ones standing, and for some reason, I found it necessary to throw my arms up in the air and give a few little fist pumps to show my pride for staying in the race.  Suddenly the attention was on our little group and one of the ladies pointed at me and said, "Yes, the young gentleman there who expressed so much joy at not being married.  Come up on stage!"

A bit shocked but kind of excited, I shuffled past a few people in the adjacent seats and headed up on stage.  Now, the conference was fairly large, so around 500-600 people were staring back at me from on stage.  The woman proceeded to ask me my name and other questions about myself.  "Where are you from?" she asked.  I replied Kentucky which threw her for a loop.  Here we were in Launceston, Tasmania and some unmarried bloke she picks out of a room full of Melburnian Rotarians is from Kentucky?!  She asked me more questions like what and where I was studying, about what was in Kentucky (horses and Derby I gave for short answers), and she asked me what a pet-peeve of mine was (I grappled with this for a bit but answered when people say "ummm" too much).  She thanked me for my answers and then told me I could return to my seat.  With the information I'd just given her about myself, she produced an improv rap about, "Alex from Kentucky" and incorporated all the answers I'd given her from our short conversation on stage.  The rap was hilarious, but even funnier was that for the rest of the day, Rotarians I'd never met before would come up to me and say, "You're Alex from Kentucky!  Nice to meet you."

The final night of the conference, the district threw a big gala dinner party with around 800 guests all under a large outdoor tent, with a nice Tasmanian rain pouring down for most of the evening.  There were stage performances of operas singers and a live band, but the most hilarious part of the evening was at the end when people began to do a bit of dancing around the stage and suddenly the district governor (THE head honcho) gets on stage with the band and a slew of young women join him and dance all around him as he does his thing on stage.  At this point, I was confirmed in my belief that Australians are a laid back bunch that know how to have a good time.

As I flew back from Launceston, an unexpected feeling came over me.  I felt like I was coming home.  I hadn't felt this feeling in a long time, and I took comfort in it.  It told me that I'd finally reached a point where this foreign place had become less foreign to me.  I knew what I was doing when I came back here, and that's a good feeling.  Leaving a place you are familiar with, exploring an unfamiliar place, and then returning to the familiar seems to be the theme for the year.  And I like that.

University Starts

This past Thursday marked a month since I first arrived in Melbourne, and how the place has changed.  Well, not exactly.  The weather has lightened up a bit and now starts out quite chilly in the mornings (this morning it was 9 degrees Celsius), and rises to about 23 degrees in the afternoon, then falls back to a chill at night.  Autumn is creeping in I guess but Melbourne has a way of fluctuating quite quickly so it's still quite summery for the most part.  The change has more to do with me really than Melbourne.  Now, I know the area somewhat and when someone talks about Carlton, Fitzroy, Parkville, or Brunswick, I have a good idea what they mean (those are all suburbs surrounding the University of Melbourne).  The tasks I found daunting and confusing a month ago, like getting around by tram, understanding Australian slang, or looking right, left, then right again when crossing the road are now coming more easily, and words like bloke, mate, brekky, and footy have found their way into my vocabulary.  In short, I'm beginning to think I'll get used to this place.

Last week was my first week of classes, and it felt like the first day of college all over again.  I hadn't really anticipated the change of attending a small college for four years and then switching to an enormous one like Uni Melb.  The largest and most palpable difference I find is simply the numbers of people that are everywhere.  Waiting for my first lecture, I was in a sea of students, many of them first-years.  Some (mostly girls) were all collecting together and chatting away and others were stoically awaiting the doors to open for the lecture hall.  When the doors opened, we flooded into the theatre, resembling a levee breaking, and as I entered I felt more like I was attending some large production with a keynote speaker rather than a lecture.  Of course, this is really all quite normal for most people, and it's me who's finding this all a bit unusual.  The second challenge is navigating my way around campus.  It's like a big maze with some pathways leading to a dead end and others that look like they'll take you where you need to go, but then end up hanging left suddenly and you're not where you wanted to be at all.  So as I get used to Melbourne and navigating the city, a new challenge of familiarization rears it's head in the form of university.  Getting settled takes time.  All in all, the first week showed me I still have some adjusting to do for life at a big university, but I know I'll land on my feet.

International Conversations

What I love most about traveling abroad is the people you come across, and the stories they share with you.  Travel doesn't just bring you in contact with the locals, but also with the internationals that are visiting the country as well.  Tonight I spent the evening with a bunch of Germans, a woman from Poland, and an Iranian.  What a mix, huh?  I met my German friends at the graduate session on Australian culture, and one of them called me later to arrange a hang out at a place on Brunswick street called the "Comfortable Chair".  This was a perfect place for hanging out and talking without having to scream at each other in order to be heard like you sometimes have to do at a bar.  The group sat down in some cushy couches on either side of a big coffee table and just exchanged conversations the whole evening over a few drinks.  Of all the different conversations that night, the ones I had with the Polish woman and the Iranian man were the highlights.  We ended up discussing American politics and I commented that I was a bit surprised at how much they knew about the election.  She said to me, "Well, you all are the angel of the world, okay?"  She was insisting I stop acting so modest, but it did legitimately strike me as odd that they should know so much of my politics and I know so little of theirs.  Then I began to speak with the Iranian man who told me of his strong desire to go to Colombia University, and how he was accepted but his country wouldn't give him the simple papers he needed to get in.  So instead, he came to Australia and is doing his Ph.D. here.  He expressed frustration with his government and commented on how the people of a country get very badly represented by the governments in certain cases.  The whole time I kept thinking the same thing about my government is true.

I just find it refreshing to meet these people, discuss politics, life, anything, and come away thinking we aren't so different from one another.

"A Fair Go and Taking the Piss"

Today, I attended a session provided to the graduate students of Uni Melb about Australian cultural values.  The whole time I've been here, I've been trying to put my finger on what makes Australian culture different from American culture.  The place sure feels different and goes about life a bit different, yet it's still a part of western culture and is maybe what you'd call our sibling from mother England.  However, whereas our allegiance to the crown ended centuries ago, Australia is still a commonwealth of the UK; the Queen of England is the head of state (this was a bit shocking to me).

As just a run through for the sake of time, here are the values mentioned at the session.  The value is followed by an Australian turn of phrase meant to illustrate each value:

Egalitarianism - "a fair go"

Anti-authoritarianism - "tall poppy syndrome"

Self-reliance - "no whinging"

Practicality - "give it a go"

Informality - "no worries"

Multiculturalism - "everyone belongs"

Humor - "taking the piss"

I'll just touch on two of the values in the interest of time.  In describing the egalitarian nature of Australia, the speaker provided this quote by Francis Adams, circa 1880s: "This is a true republic, the truest, as I take it, in the world.  In England, the average man feels that he is inferior, in America that he is superior: in Australia he feels that he is equal."  Australia prides itself on the myth of mateship, the idea that your "mates" will do anything for you and you for them.  You need your mates and rely on each other to help you survive the Outback, and the other harsh aspects of the extreme country.  Many Australians also expect and dream of the "quarter-acre block" which is akin to the American dream of a front yard with a white picket fence.  With your mates and a quarter-acre block, life is grand.  All Australians are entitled to these things and they make up part of the Australian way of life.

Australian humor also interested me because of the turn of phrase paired with it.  I'd never heard the phrase, "taking the piss" in my life.  Australians like to have a bit of a go at you sometimes, because they never like to take themselves too seriously and feel you shouldn't either.  If someone is starting to take his or her self too seriously or talking a bit like they know it all, Australians might "take the piss" out of them with a few jabs at their ego.  They also are willing to take the jabs themselves.  "Taking the piss" is a gesture to show you don't take life too seriously and won't get all upset if life isn't perfect or exactly as you lined it out to be.  It's meant to be in good fun, but it reinforces the idea not to take yourself too seriously.  The speaker said that Americans have a hard time with this aspect of Australian culture because it can be a bit off putting especially to a nation that is very proud, a bit naive sometimes, and take themselves very seriously (we're the greatest country in the world, right?).  But no worries, mate.  It's all in good fun.  She'll be right.

Orientation Begins

My orientation to life at the University of Melbourne began today.  Needless to say, life at a university this size will be quite different than my former experience at Centre College.  The University of Melbourne has around 44,000 students, undergraduates and graduate.  Centre College has just below 1,200.  The number of international students at the University of Melbourne is around 11,000.  My home town of Somerset, Kentucky has somewhere around 12,000 people total.  Somehow the phrase, "little fish in a big pond" comes to mind just about now.  However, as staggering as those numbers are, we must grow up sometime.  Last night I was telling my housemate Rob about Centre, and how it was a lot smaller than what I'm about to enter.  He said to me, "Wow, mate, you're in for a shock."  Earlier today before I left for my orientation events, he texted me saying, "I reckon there's more than 1,200 people hanging around the architecture building right now.  Welcome to the big pond buddy!"

I set out today doing as I've done numerous times the past week, walking east down Arden Street, listening to my latest podcast of This American Life as I tromp towards Uni.  However, today was a bit different as I would be mingling with not only international students but all the Aussies as well.  I strode onto campus and headed for the Student Union events.  Immediately, I could tell that the place was much more crowded than the days before.  Pockets of students crouched below eucalyptus trees, laid themselves out on the lawn in front of the beautiful standstone Old Arts building, and sauntered to and fro from all sides of campus.  Union lawn was my destination, and upon arriving I knew this would be an interesting event.  Not one minute into my arrival at Union lawn, with the area teeming with students of all ages, a guy approached me and asked if I wanted to sign a petition to end the seize in Gaza.  A bit flummoxed, I slowly comprehended what he said, and then thanked him but said no.  Not two seconds later, another guy comes up to me and asks if I want to join the Marxism Society.  A more confident and faster no escaped my mouth.  Geez, I'm here two minutes and already I'm being drafted to support Palestine and communism.  Welcome to the rest of the world, silly American.  Most of the tents had promotional booths for campus organizations and clubs.  Other booths had tables promoting the two big papers in Melbourne, The Herald Sun and The Age, different banks to open up student accounts, and various stores that students might find interesting or useful like Ikea.  Another booth caught my eye that had a busty brunette and a bubbly blonde, scantily clad, handing out free Coke Zeros.  I had to go investigate because free stuff is always a plus.  Sure enough, you could get your picture with the girls as well...  so I did.  It's shameful, I know, but I'd better go ahead and admit it now.

So with some free Coke Zeros and a big smile on my face, I headed off to my orientation to the Faculty of Arts.  I am enrolling in a Graduate Diploma program in the history and philosophy of science, which marks the first time I will have ever been an official arts student with no science in the mix.  Science has pervaded most of my studies up to this point, so I find it rather odd but exciting to think of myself mingling with those of the more Platonic bent rather than Aristotelian logic.  The event kicked off with a lecture explaining the ins and outs of being a part of this particular faculty.  The best part, though, was the welcome party that followed the meeting.  Any faculty that thinks serving wine, beer, and some fancy dinner snacks for a welcoming of the new graduate students has my effortless and enthusiastic approval.  With a chance to meet some of the faculty and a few of the students I'll be among this year, it was a great way to start things off, and I look forward to the next few days as I get acclimated to life at the University of Melbourne.  Hey, maybe they'll be handing out free Coke Zeros tomorrow.

Settling In

For the past week, I've been settling into my new place.  Settling in is somewhat difficult, especially when all you've brought with you to another country is clothing, a computer, and cash.  This process has made me keenly aware of how much stuff it takes to make a life.  Of course, by life I mean a life with a certain standard of living and all the luxuries that my American self has come to see as necessity.  In the midst of all this settling in, I've had a few opportunities to have some fun and start living life in Melbourne.

Last Wednesday, my housemate Rob invited me to play some soccer with a group that gets together every week and plays a pick up game.  See, soccer used to be my thing back in high school and although I took a four year detour for the swimming pool, I still love playing.  To my relief, my skills weren't too rusty (what skill I ever had is debatable of course), and I quite enjoyed myself there out on the makeshift field composed of a few bike helmets and some shirts.  Funny enough, Rob's friend Mic told me how to get to the field from where my apartment is, but went there separately.  Off the tram on Royal Parade, I arrived at the spot I thought would be the field and saw a gathering of around thirty people or so.  As I approached the group, all their heads gazed towards my direction and a guy in the middle said, "You here for the run?"  "This isn't for soccer?" I asked.  "Naw, mate.  This group's for runnas."  Embarrassed just a bit, I began scanning for a soccer ball being kicked around somewhere.  Way off in the distance I spotted one, and walked a bit more briskly there than would have been necessary, but I had to distance myself from the "runnas".  Those playing were from all over the world I found out.  Some were from Scotland (and would playfully let you know when Scotland had just scored a goal on you), others from France, Kenya, Iran, and of course Oz.

On Sunday, the country observed a national day of mourning.  The bush fires that have claimed the lives of so many and rising have been happening just north east of Melbourne.  However, I feel so removed from them being in a big city and all.  Every now and then, you get a whiff of smoke or burning wood in the air, but mostly what I know I hear from the newspapers and general public discourse.  Australia's a paradoxical country in many ways.  While suffering a long standing drought for around twelve years, the south eastern portion of the country is on fire and the north eastern part is flooded.  But I've been amazed by how supportive and considerate the Australian people have been.  They are more than willing to give money left and right to different organizations, and I've even heard some say that the general bushfire relief movement has more than enough money.  Of course, more bodies will be found and more deaths will be confirmed and no amount of money will ever make up for that.  As much as Americans don't pay attention to Australia, we could learn a thing or two by their example of generosity and sense of community.  Maybe that's part of living in a harsh environment that can take a lot out of you if you're not "in it together".  In a way, I feel honored to have bore witness to the nation coming together like this to help their fellow mates.  The situation is devastating and the loss of life is terrible, but it has shown the Australian true colors, and I can say with certainty I'm living in a nation that cares for their fellow human.

Another World

I awoke to find that I was still flying.  This was not a dream; I was actually still on a plane and still struggling to find a comfortable position for my head.  Nine hours into the flight, I'd woken up from my night's sleep to find that I was somewhere between Hawaii and Fiji.  Oddly enough, I was sitting by an El Salvadorian (I assume that's how you describe them), and he was glad I'd awakened because now I could return to my job as amateur translator.  Earlier on the flight, I made the fortunate mistake of asking him where he was from.  He didn't understand so I said, "Hablas espanol?"  From that moment on, Francisco and I were best friends.  It's funny when someone thinks you know what they're saying, and you haven't got a clue.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I speak a little Spanish.  I just can't have a political conversation about the new elections of a right wing leader standing up for the rights of the farmers in El Salvador in English, let alone Spanish.  Francisco seemed to think I understood most of what he was saying, and I pieced together what I could.  But I'm just as likely to have it completely wrong.

Flying to Australia is a task.  It's work.  You don't just hop a plane to get there.  Getting there (and it's quite an understatement to call it simply there) takes around 15 hours from Los Angeles.  If you are from Somerset, Kentucky, you've got quite a bit of traveling ahead of you.  I left around eight in the morning on Tuesday February 3rd, trekking up Highway 27 to the Lexington airport through falling snow and icy roads, and arrived in Melbourne, Australia on Thursday February 5th at around eleven in the morning to 90 degree heat and clear blue skies, with the temperature rising.  Just a hint of mint or menthol filled the air, which must have been from the eucalyptus trees.  Leaving a place that had just been covered in inches of snow and ice, enough to cause significant damage, I found myself around 8,ooo miles from home, mid summer in a land of blue sky and hot sun.  The reality set in: I was in another world.

Melbourne is such an energizing place.  For me, a small town guy who went to college in an equally small town, a big city is incredibly fascinating and overwhelming at the same time.  Multicultural Melbourne has quite an extensive tram system that can get you pretty close to where ever you want to go... if you know where you're going that is.  I've been here almost two weeks, and I'm just starting to know where I'm going.  My first trip to the heart of the city was on a beautiful, but hot day.  I arrived at Flinders station, exited under the large clocks nestled above the main gateway that indicate which train is leaving when and where, and took in all I could see.  Federation square, a public square that's appearance is simply too difficult to describe, stood before me with a visitor's center in plain view.  I grabbed a map at the desk, and decided to start walking.  Melbourne's Swanston street was crowded with a mix of different ethnicities, but many Asians and Indians.  This shouldn't have come as a surprise since I am in the Asian dominated part of the world, but it did.  I continued up Swanston Street and took a few pictures here and there.  Trams were rolling by, people were thronging the sidewalks, sushi and Asian cuisine aromas filled the air, and nice tall trees lined either side of the street reaching over towards the other's limbs.  My goal at this moment was to find the Victoria State Library where a much anticipated reunion with my friend Mark would take place.  Mark, who's been in Melbourne for a year is also on a Rotary scholarship.  It's nice to see an old face in a new place, and we spent the rest of the day touring Lygon Street, an Italian precinct with great cafes and restaurants, and the University of Melbourne, my future place of study.  

The heat in Australia is unlike anything I've experienced.  My third day in Australia, Melbourne recorded 48 degrees Celsius.  I'll clarify for the Americans reading: that's around 118 degrees Fahrenheit.  The paper's claimed it was the hottest day in Melbourne's recorded history.  To make matters even worse, a dry hot wind was blowing hard all day long.  To borrow some imagery from Mark, imagine walking around in a furnace with an enormous hair dryer blowing in your face.  It's shocking to the system to feel that sort of heat blowing all over your body as you struggle to navigate a city of 3.5 million people and endless suburbs sprawling in all directions.  Plus, I had a backpack and no clue where I was going.  So, as you may be able to conclude, choosing this day of all days to start my search for housing was quite ridiculous.

As challenging as finding housing has been, I found a place about a week and a half into my stay here.  From what I can gather, that's actually pretty fast, and I'm lucky to not still be looking.  My search consisted of scanning the postings on a local bookstore window on Lygon Street, and the online listings provided by the university.  The search had me going all over the surrounding areas of the university and I saw a fair variety of housing.  Most were, as the Aussie's put it, "quite ordinary" but I've finally found one that fits my budget and my taste.  It's not extravagant by any means, but it'll do just fine.  I'm staying with two other Melburnians near my age, and it looks like we'll be getting along pretty well.  On a side note, my first trip ever to Ikea was the other day to buy some necessary items such as a bed, a desk, and a chair.  This place is amazing.  It's like a grocery store for furniture.

As I get settled here in Melbourne, the prospects of the year ahead excite me.  Tomorrow, I will begin my orientation and enrollment process with the University of Melbourne, and I look forward to all the new friends and acquaintances I'll be making.  What lies before me is a year to explore, to grow, and maybe, just maybe, to transform.  Who knows what will result from a walkabout Melbourne?  I'll conclude with one of my favorite quotes about travel from Mark Twain:

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do.  So throw off the bowlines.  Sail away from the safe harbour.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream.  Discover."