Part Two of "Home at last..."

And my travels continue...

Taiping was our next stop! We got to stay in a homestay while living there. My host family insisted we call them "Machi and Pachi" (Aunt and Uncle). We were also persuaded to wear Muslim garb. Under the headpiece and tent-like dress, I don't think I have ever sweated so much. Jen and I looked like a couple of old ladies under these layers. Er, correction: I looked like a spinster old lady. My Machi also gave me the wrong size of dress, so at one point I looked like a stuffed spinster sausage in hot pink. I don't think I have ever looked so unattractive in my life. It was a great source of laughter for Jen though. There I was, stuffed and stuck in this polyester blend hot pink dress: my ass was ballooning over and my arms were straight up in the air. I was yelping for help and she was holding her sides from having her gut split from laughter. Our poor Muslim host parents must have been very worried or offended by my screams and Jen's laughter.

Luckily, Jen pulled it together enough to get my ass out of that dress and to ask for a new one from our Machi. My new dress was something my grandmother would have liked: blue with giant blue flowers on it. It put about 40 years on me but it was a lot more comfortable. I complained about how hot it was to wear but that was before I saw my wedding dress...

THE WEDDING:

During our homestay, my host family put on a mock wedding. I was chosen as the bride and my groom was an IT guy from New Zealand in his late thirties. He was a nice guy but I was dreading the wedding due to all the teasing I was getting from our travel group. Even David, the groom, started making cracks at me ("Hey hun, have you made the seating arrangements for the wedding, yet?) Anyway, the night of the wedding was also the day I had gotten stuck in that hot pink mess. What I had no idea was that my wedding dress was an even thicker polyester blend that included a wool cap.

In Taiping, I don't think we had a day under 30C, so it was a real treat to wear wool. My hair was placed on top of my head and a blue wool skullcap was pulled over. Next, I had to put on a beautiful (though heavy) blue jacket and skirt. I was topped with a chiffon veil and metal crown. I looked like a princess but I was sweating like a pig. Luckily for me, Jen, my maid of honour, got to fan me for two hours while I sat in a royal chair with my husband during the ceremony. It was actually quite a beautiful experience and looking back on the photos, I've come to realize that Western weddings are so... white... compared to the colour of Malay or Indian weddings.

Penang was another beautiful place. It was probably Jen and my favourite place in Malaysia. The culture was really evident in the city but it was not overwhelming... maybe we were just used to it by then. I saw my first ladyboy (who happened to be a prostitute but that's besides the point) and we had some amazing food experiences there. It was there that I got hooked on Mango Sticky Rice dessert. The sweets in Malaysia were very interesting-- though definitely not my idea of a real treat. Sweetened beans or green coconut slime served over rice just doesn't beat chocolate.

Jen and I got massages too. You will have to hear Jen's account-- her experience is actually more embarrassing than mine-- but my encounter with the masseuse was pretty interesting to say the least. Fluent english speakers in this particular parlour did not exist. I was trying to ask my masseuse if I should remove all of my clothing (since it was a full body massage) and all she could say was, "you naked on bed. now." Thankfully she left the room in time for me to rapidly strip to my underwear and hide under the sheets. When she entered the room, I heard her click on the television. She was watching Asian soap operas during our session.

For those of you who have experienced a massage, you must know that the point of a massage is to try r-e-l-a-x-i-n-g... but this was far from it. All I could hear while I was trying to let my mind go was sobbing, screams and retorts in another language. And if you think our soap operas are dramatic, you have never seen an Asian one. It is epic.

But that wasn't the worst part! Half-way through my massage, she jumped up on the table and straddled me while she used her elbow on my back and legs. She was a little thing but it was still weird feeling her sit on me while she kneaded my muscles. I am sure some of you men out there (and maybe some of you women) are just lapping up the idea of girl-on-girl but it was not sexy in the least. I was lying there, more tense than when I had come in, and thinking, "will anyone hear my screams or will they mistake that for the Asian girl on my masseuse's television?" Regardless, when the massage was said and done, I actually felt pretty good. For sixteen dollars, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience...

More to come...

Home at last...

One Hundred and Fourty-Three days away from home, five countries, and a two trunks full of memories: I am back home in Canada armed with experience, maturity and all that other stuff. I have been working on a very long blog post for some time but it was getting too epic so I have decided to break them up in parts. Here is part one! Please note that my sentimental writing is at full throttle (but for good reason). That is all:

Hello Everyone.

So, I left Canada the day after St. Valentines Day and I arrived home on July 5th, the day after Independence Day. Maybe I am crazy but I think the theme of love and independence in the last six months of my life has been most prominent. It's no surprise then that I would find these trivial coincidences to be little reminders of things that I have been thinking about a lot lately.

On Independence:

I flew the nest on February 15th and I did it in a big way. I went across the world to live amongst a nation of wonderful people (for the most part anyway). I had a great time doing it too. I discovered a passion for experimenting in the kitchen (and then taking pictures of the result). I discovered the ocean and what it is like to go to school sans two jobs, a car and a family to fall back on all the time. For the first time, I tried kangaroo, squid, scallops, mussels, shark, haloumi cheese, dukkah (which tastes like an old man) and cheesecake straight from the freezer. I went Australian tobogganing and I drank salty sea water. I met some of the greatest people I'll ever meet. I navigated two major cities (Sydney and Melbun') and got a slice of what it's like being truly self-sufficient.

Then in June, I went to Malaysia, Thailand and Bali. Jesus Christ. Asia! My best friend joined me in Australia on the third and the next day we were off to Singapore. Our first day was a bit of a disaster-- weather wise. It was like I had never seen rain before... or at least a downpour to such a grand scale. Still, we braved the rain (which was warm) and navigated our way through the Little India district. I bought a blue plastic poncho in Oz that I was dreading pulling out. Plastic ponchos are the rainy gear equivalent to a fanny pack. This one I had taken with me was particularly bad... so it was only fitting that half-way through the day I figured out I had shoved my head through one of the arm holes rather than the hooded top. I still blame Jen for making me look more ridiculous than need be.

Melaka was our next stop and the starting point of our Malaysian experience. A trend that started in Melaka and that did not end until we were back in Australia was the poor quality of sidewalks. May not sound that bad but I had to constantly watch my footing. One minute I was walking along just fine and then the sidewalk would open to a gaping hole with only a makeshift piece of rotting wood or plastic planked across the opening. Sometimes the sidewalk would just be a pile of rocks or broken concrete. Sometimes it was just easier walking on the road and risk getting picked off by a motorcycle or taxi.

After Melaka, we headed to Kuala Lumpur. KL had the nice mix of big city and village. Our hotel was based in China Town where the scary hawkers cat call, grab, whistle and sell knock-off product. It was my first experience with that kind of interaction and, for the most part, it was pretty funny. I got everything from "Hey baby!" to just a simple "kiss-kiss" smacking noise. Nothing made me want to buy a fake Chanel purse until I heard a man with greased back hair say, "Hey sexy! Babaaay, look at these purses! Muah Muah!" Not.

KL also had beautiful handmade art and crafts. It also had some amazing food. Almost every place we ate was on the street and so it was like "dinner and a show." While eating something that was called "fried carrot cake" I watched a dog taking a nap on top of a vehicle and a man who walked around with his leg behind his head. Pretty amusing and disturbing.

Our last dinner in KL was probably one of the most memorable. We were eating on the road again across from a hawker stall selling fake designer bags. The gentleman who was running that particular stand had these piercing eyes that bordered psycho-killer. He was chain-smoking and starring at me without much blinking. For some reason, if one has crazy eyes, one has no need for blinking. I don't understand that. Regardless, I noticed early on that I was the subject of his gaze. I tried to ignore it. (You've got to most of the time since meeting someone's gaze somehow means you want to buy something).

Anyway, this was going on throughout the meal. I turned to Jen to let her know of what was going on and she looked at him and laughed out loud when he wouldn't stop starring at me. I was panicked but I was also flattered. I mean... there were a lot of white girls around, yet somehow I was special. I think I could be charmed by a lot of serial killers-- honestly. At one point, he gestured to say that my eyes were nice. I looked down about the time that he got bashful and smiled to his friend.

After we finished eating, we decided to go to a Reggae Bar around the corner. I told myself not to turn around and look at Psycho Killer but I did and I could tell he was trying to tell me something. To what it was, I will never know and probably for the best.

Part two to come shortly!

One Hundredth Day in Oz!

Hi!

So, today is the 100th day that I have been in Australia and it has been one sweet day. This past weekend I traveled to the homes of two of my best mates. I have to say the Port Macquarie area is a lovely place to be with people you like! Indeed, Kate and Emily were determined to put on a good show for me this weekend and it was nothing short of wonderful.

The day we arrived, Kate and I met up with Emily at the cafe that Emily used to work at. It was a quaint little place with live music, flowers (it's a greenhouse) and neat art. I went out of my comfort zone and had a "bacon, banana and cheese" melt. I can't say I would have thought of the combination myself but it was pretty amazing. Later on, I went home with Emily to meet her family.

Emily's family is the kind of family you'd only ever see on a weird sitcom. In fact, they are a hilarious bunch of people who should start a reality show about family wrestling. At one point (actually, at several points) Emily had her twenty-five year old brother pinned to the ground. Emily is a civilized lady (not to sell you short, Em!) but when her brother would get this devilish smile on his face and call her "fat" (which she is definitely not!), she would have him flat on his back in seconds. Quite the woman, I tell ya. Apart from that, Em's dad showed me a book on Australia's most beautiful birds--which was actually very interesting-- until Em made her move and whisked me off to heckle at the contestants on Masterchef and, later, at some sleezy guy on a show about Spain. Good times.

The next day, Emily and I met up with Kate in Port Macquarie. Along the way, however, Em showed me all the amazing beaches, trails, and real-estate. I could picture myself living in a place like that-- wouldn't be hard really. Hit the beach, go to a cafe, back to the beach, walk through a reserved rainforest, back to the beach! Even when we met Kate on the wharf it was like a fairy tale. The sun was hitting the water in just the sort of postcard way you'd expect. Kate had been watching a pod of dolphins. We hung our feet over the dock and watched the fish. Laughed. Chatted. Perfect.

Later on that day-- after shopping for errands-- Kate and I went to the beach and had ice cream cones. I know it's not that special for you Australians but I couldn't get over the (nostalgic) novelty of eating mango ice cream while standing in the ocean. Amazing.

After that, I went back to Kate's house and officially met her parents. I fell in love with them immediately. We sat outside in front of the pool, drank and talked into the evening. Maggie and Jazz (her lovely dogs) kept me warm and reminded me of Rudy's good days back home. After dinner, Kate cut us each a healthy sized piece of cheesecake and we sat down and watched Love and Other Drugs. For those of you who have not seen it, I will warn you that it is not the most "family oriented" film. Let's just say that Anne Hathaway's tits are amazing and that mole on her left breast is cute. And although my face would be turning a dark hue of purple from embarrassment (sitting there with Kate's parents), they are the kind of people who just make you feel comfortable-- even when you're watching Jake Gyllenhaal's hand slide down Anne Hathaway's panties. I guess that's a good thing!

Bright and early the next morning, Kate's dad took us four-wheel driving on a beach. It was nothing like I had ever experienced before. The sensation of driving with the ocean just outside my window was strange and wonderful. We jumped out at one point, dipped our toes in the water (well, I had my adidas on but I got my hands wet) and took photos. I will have to post some to this entry-- remind me! Haha!

Later on, we went for lattes, fed some fish and oh, yeah, drove up a mountain! Again, I got to see a unique view of Australia. Kate even pointed out her house down below. I pretended I was God looking down on my kingdom. That too is documented in photos...

After that, we went fishing and caught zip. It had been over ten years since I had tried it and although I was terrible at casting, I got good support from Kate's dad: "Well, that was really good for a beginner, Mackka, but here's a tip..."

By the time we got back, it was around lunch time and coincidentally there was a "food and wine" festival going on. Say no more, right? We headed down there and stuffed our faces full of indian food, wine and cake! The gentleman who gave me my chocolate cake slice had actually slipped me a second piece and that was a double bonus. So, here is my piece of advice for you food festival goers: go later in the day when they are trying to get rid of their food because you might get more than you paid for!

Sadly, after the festival it was time to say goodbye. Though it was hard to leave, I had an overwhelming sense of gratefulness. Who knew this time last year that I would be on a mountain overlooking a small town in Australia with a group of funny happy people? Time has flown by so quickly and yet it feels like I have been in Australia for a long time. Tomorrow is Monday and the first day back into reality. Though I am begrudgingly accepting it, another part of me is still eating ice cream on the beach.

Overall, I'd say I had a fantastic weekend. Hope yours was good too.

Day Eighty-Eight in Oz

Dear Everyone,

So, I was looking around my apartment thinking it looks like it belongs to a depressed slob and then I thought... wait a minute...

Before you all send me comments for a suicide hotline, I will say that I'm not depressed (maybe a smidgen bluer than usual) but I have most definitely been a slob the last couple of days. I have no idea why but my motivation to do anything has plummeted. I know I'm preaching to the choir to most of you students (especially those of you who have just finished and would like nothing more than to sit on the couch with a bowl of cereal resting on your stomach for infinite) but this is somewhat unusual for me. I would classify myself as the "sentimental hoarder" but definitely not a "slob slob." Yet, if you were to look at my unmade bed and my kitchen counter that is supporting the weight of a lot of half eaten food and dirty dishes, you might be a little shocked.

Since I've been here I've been noticing a lot of my mum's characteristics come out in me. This one isn't particularly new but I constantly apologize for the smell and appearance to those that enter my apartment. I could've just cleaned it or, conversely, it could look like it does now and I would say the same thing: "Hey, sorry about the mess. Last night I cooked with garlic. Sorry about that." Most people look at me like I'm a lunatic-- and maybe this is what I want so that they aren't just starring at my cleaning habits. Who knows. Do we got a psychologist in this house?

Another thing I do that is my mum to the core is to get the impulse to clean that thing you would never think of during a normal housecleaning session. "Oh! I know what would be fun! Let's take apart the microwave and scrub the shit out of it!" or "Those drawers are looking a little dusty. No matter! Let's pull everything out, wipe them down and then... ready for it... let's wipe out the drawer i-t-s-e-l-f!"

I'm sure lots of mums have these habits and maybe even more outlandish ones than I have just described. My mum, however, does all these obscure clean-ups in between raising three kids (one of which isn't even considered to be a proper human yet-- give him five more years), a demanding job at the hospital, on-call shifts (some of which keeps her up for twenty-six hours or more), studying, power-point presentations, cooking, and spontaneous renovation bursts (right now it's my front yard that is going under the knife)! Most people I know would turn to their blog or facebook and complain until their fingers ran out of steam but my mum does this with an open heart and fast legs. She's my superhero and I really miss her.

I apologize to all for taking this sentimental turn (I told you I was a sentimental hoarder) but I think I had to write that down to motivate me to clean my place, haha.

As far as I can report about my Australian experience, here it is:

My friend, Joe, gave me a great book. I am only on the fourth chapter (of what appears to be a pretty meaty book) and I should probably be focusing on academic endeavours instead but it is just so intriguing. It's been a good while since I've read a really good book and it's reminded me why I am an English major. I like books. I forgot about that for a moment there... Oh, and do not worry, Mike, I will be getting to The Alchemist. I've decided I want it to be my journey book through Southeast Asia-- seems fitting since the narrator seems to be Muslim. I don't know that yet for sure since I haven't read it yet but I think it will be good for that experience.

One more thing:

For those of you who do not know, my best friend is flying her butt to Australia to meet me and fly with me to Singapore where we will do a two week journey up to Thailand. From there, we will venture down to Bali where we plan on passing out on the beach from exhaustion and happiness. That's the plan anyway. Don't ask me how I'm going to fund this excursion-- I just know that the opportunity was too wonderful to pass up... especially since I have such a great person to experience it with.

That said, I am trying to squeeze every ounce of school, friendship and happiness that I've made/discovered here. Socializing is trumping a lot of school but I really don't mind since the people I hang out with are more interesting anyway.

Okay. Now to clean up my mess. Maybe I'll try making bird noises to conjure up the cleaning spirit of my mum: "Ka-Kaw! Ka-Kaw! Koo-la-doo-doo!"

love,

Kenz

Day Eighty-One in Oz

It's a Wednesday night in Newcastle. I have half my dinner uneaten and sitting beside me. It looks revolting-- though it once was a pretty nice pasta a few days ago. I made it for Bryan's final dinner in Australia. It was a pumpkin risoni. For those of you who do not know what that is, it is a grain-like pasta. What inspired me to make it was a dish we had had in Melbourne.

It was our last night in that fabulous city and we were wandering around aimlessly. I was beginning to get food-cranky. For me, if I'm tired and hungry, I begin to get short-tempered, frustrated and sometimes mean. Some people would call this being "bitchy" and I wouldn't disagree with them. Poor Bryan was trying to find a suitable place for us while I kept blabbing away about how difficult it was to find a decent place to eat especially when Melbourne is considered to be a haven for great food and wine.

After several minutes of walking through dark streets and cafe alley ways, I noticed a sign that read, "Vue de Monde." I had read in a tourist brochure that it was considered to be an excellent French restaurant. Without thinking twice, I grabbed Bryan by the arm and probably rather aggressively because I was in one of my moods. When we got in, however, I froze. It was decadent to the point of making me feel rather insecure and weak. Don't you despise that? On the one hand, I adore fine dining and fine experiences in general. But on the other hand-- and you can ask Bryan about my irrational insecurities-- I avoid those places-- restaurants and shops-- completely. Something about the way that hierarchy, or maybe better put, exclusivity, is blatantly on show really bothers me. "Vue de Monde" had a soft reflection of that... though it wasn't so overbearing that I ran for the hills.

When we got into the restaurant, a server took one glance at us and asked us if we needed assistance. I told her that we had wandered in and we're looking for a bite to eat. She suggested we go to the Bistro part of the restaurant. We followed her down a hall and into an obscure part of the restaurant. When we entered, it was beautiful. French paintings, red cushions, dim lighting all gave the allure of European romance and sophistication. It was stuffy, don't get me wrong, but I decided to play along.

When we were given menus, I kind of choked at the prices. Now, the Bistro is supposed to be the more "casual" dining experience of the restaurant, but judging by the prices, atmosphere and service, one could easily mistake the Bistro as very fine dining. I don't even want to imagine what the other half of the restaurant was like...

Still, we had a fabulous experience. I had had a pumpkin risoni. It was about half the size of a regular serving but every mouthful was simply divine. Bryan, who had opted for the steak, had the best cut, best cooked, best presented steak I had seen in many months. And the wine-- oh the wine-- every drop was savoured. Every ounce of it was delicious. So delicious, in fact, that I had to close my eyes with every sip and give my full attention to the flavour. And then the creme brulee arrived and I almost died.

Most of you know my obsession with food and wine but I think I've been taken to new heights since this last dining experience. It's probably lame for you to read about it but I think food is so important. It really is the center piece of every celebration. Who goes to a wedding or an anniversary without food? Who goes to a party without the snacks and booze? Who goes to a funeral and leaves before the miniature ham sandwiches are passed around? I don't know. I adore food because I adore people and delicious experiences. It doesn't bode well with my figure at the best of times but I am much happier laughing with friends over a glass of vino and chocolate than starring at my fridge vacantly and hungry.

Now that I'm currently on my second... er, no... third glass of wine, this all makes a lot of sense to me. I hope it does to you. But getting back to the point, Bryan and I had a wonderful though unexpected dining experience and it was a nice send-off from Melbourne. I recommend the place to anyone who enjoys art, food and shopping.

Our trip made me really appreciate Newcastle too. It may not be the most cultured or exciting place in Australia but it has a lot of fine cafes, restaurants and people. The university is gorgeous and, if you know where you're going, there are parts of the city that are just splendid. I particularly like Darby Street. It's home to the best of the best in food and fashion. It's also not too too far from the beach-- depending on where you are on the street, I guess. Yesterday, a friend of mine and I went to Monkey Monkey Monkey. It was a really nice cafe with mediocre service but still with a lovely atmosphere and great food. We spent a good couple of hours discussing the really freaky people in our film class, politics and the best television series ever made. It was fun to lounge about and it got me thinking: I would be a fabulous dandy. All they ever did was discuss high art, eat, party and celebrate. I would be a great candidate! Where is the university degree for that? All kidding aside, I know I'm not a dandy because I'm not as clever as Oscar Wilde nor as good-looking as his lover, Lord Alfred Douglas.

Getting back to our trip, however, I will say that it was very fun and successful. We saw a lot of things and did some things that could never be done at home... namely a Dracula cabaret/dinner show and a wine tour. We ate a lot of good food and got to spend much needed time together. I miss him so much but I'm trying to focus on school as much as possible right now. Having said that, I am almost finished my third glass of wine... tisk tisk...

I don't know if there is anything more I'd like to add to this post other than the fact that you all should go out and eat a really fabulous meal with great people. It doesn't hurt to do it in a foreign place, either.

My wish is that you all are happy and well. I will be seeing some of you around soon and some of you in a few months, and I look forward to it!

Day Sixty in Oz

Good'ay mates!

Actually, it's been very rare that I've been greeted in such stereotypical fashion. Australians, often in customer service, say instead, "How you going?" I don't know what this means exactly. How am I going to pay for this item? How am I doing? Or is it just a slightly more professional "whazz up?" It's hard to gauge but I've gotten used to it for the most part.

So, what's new with me? I have been submersed into the toils of school, homework and having no money to support my holiday habits. I've loosened my grip on the alcoholic beverage to embrace my library card and do what is expected of me here: study, write, study, write, break, study, write etc etc...

I may or may not have written this exact entry before but who was I kidding. It's nearly impossible to study or write essays when the sun is shining and nearly blinding me via reflection off my computer screen. If the weather is even protesting my studying, it's time to give up the books and just do what man was intended to do: play in the grass.

Actually, I haven't done much of that but I have a break coming up and I intend to get re-baptized into holiday mode.

Bryan will be here tomorrow. Currently, the poor guy is sitting on a plane (probably between the two stinkiest and/or obese people on the plane) half way between Los Angeles and Sydney. Words can't capture how excited I am to see my better half. Two months have really flown by quickly but trying to remember everything in that span is like an exercise in dizziness. From the variety of friends I've made to the things I've done in and around Newcastle-- it feels like a lifetime-- albeit a very short one-- but a well established life distinguished from the one I've got waiting at home. It will be nice to have a piece of me from home here in my Australian bubble of a life.

I think this yearning for that event to materialize really brought out the best of me last night. I was sitting around having some "goon" (poor man's version of wine) with my mates when I did the drunken "I love you guys" speech. They didn't seem to mind and I genuinely meant it but I'm sure they were thinking, "Ah man. There she goes. Oh no. There's a quiver in her voice. She's really done herself in now. Poor thing. She needs a hug." And I did get hugs! Note to all you poor saps out there in the future: act pathetic, you can usually get what you want. ...Oh, and don't worry about your pride-- pride is for suckers.

More to the point, I've made some incredible friends here and I will be sad to leave them when the time comes. I have very much relished friendship since moving here and I know it's only making me love the crap out of you all back home even more. You guys better be ready for some lovin' when I get back.

My next entry will hopefully cover a topic you're all more interested in: Melbourne! Sydney! Wine tours! Food! Music! Culture! Yipee!

Bryan and I are traveling to Melbourne after a few days of wandering around Sydney. I am very excited to see more of Australia and getting a better idea of what this country is all about. So far I've gathered that they really like their meat pies, rugby, fashion, beaches, surf boards, reckless driving, and goon. I'd say this is a pretty happy-go-lucky place and it's fine by me!

Hope all is well with you. Thanks for making it this far into my sappy entry.

'Til next,

Kenz

Day Fourty-Two in Oz

Hey.

I find it incredible how quickly time is passing while I am away. I'm well into my second month in Australia and I have no idea how that happened. I could say a lot has happened since I have left home because it is true but I still don't think that justifies how speedy my new life here has gone.

I am really enjoying the mundane aspects of it all: grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, taking out the recycling, coming home to my mess, doing the dishes, having a beer, reading some philosophy and repeating. Back home, of course, these things feel tedious and frustrating but I like it all here! Must be something in the water...

Speaking of which, I went to the beach last week with a film class friend of mine on our break. It was really casual, you know: "Oh me? I'm just going to get my toes wet in the ocean in between my film tutorial and lecture. Oh, it was nothing. Just a little bit of sun, a fresh organic lunch, and a visit to the Ocean Baths..."

If you ask me, it's not hard living here. I relish in the fact that I have a recovering burn on my shoulders from our excursion and that, while sitting in class, I was rubbing the sea salt off my calves. It just doesn't get any better than that.

I really hope all is well with you guys back home. As the days get longer and warmer on your side of the world, it's getting slightly chillier and darker here. I don't mind though. My Aussie friend and I were shopping the other day and she pointed to a really nice jacket. It was a cotton long sleeved number. I asked her if that would keep her warm for the winter and she eyed it up and said: "Well, you could throw a sweater under that and be toasty." Unbelievable.

This week we're still expecting some days in the +30s and I'm looking forward to relishing in that but I'm so curious as to what an Australian winter will feel like. I might have climatized too quickly-- 18C sounds a little too cold for my liking!

Until the next time I get an urge to blabber on...

Kenz

Day Thirty-Two in Oz

Hi all,

It's been a while since I've bothered to write a post-- finally! That means I've been too busy having a good time. I think, anyway.

Three things:

1. For those of you who do not know, I have been on a secret mission to find out who my neighbour is. I'm well acquainted with the neighbour to the left of me. I may have mentioned him before but his name is Nathan and he's from South Korea. One thing I really like about Nathan and his other Korean friends is that they all have really sweet names. You'll meet them in packs and they all, one by one, give their Americanized name: "Hey, I'm Max!" "Hey, I'm Nixon!" "Hey! I'm Dex!" They really like their x's. But hell, I would too if it made me sound like a secret agent or a skateboarder with an attitude.

Erm, back to my mystery neighbour: For a whole month now, it has been quiet to the right of me. Our rooms don't have paper-thin walls or anything but like I said in the last post, I heard Nathan blasting "Love Shack" at 1:30 in the morning. With my other neighbour: nothing. nadda. zip.

I was getting the feeling that no one was, in fact, living in that room. I didn't mind this at all since it increased my chances of not having to deal with a potential weirdo (we all know they flock to me like moths to a light)... but oh boy! was I wrong!

I was sitting here trying to write a failed post when I heard loud screams coming from the supposedly empty room. I was a little concerned but living in a dorm room on campus means you hear the occasional shrill scream. It's nothing to get alarmed over. I went back to work when, again, I heard a yell, a scream, and then... Eminem. All three of these things make me uncomfortable, so now I was worried.

I looked through my peephole to see if I could see the potential killer outside my door. What I saw, instead, was a guy violently dancing outside my door-- imagine a chubby version of Muhammad Ali punching the air and rocking his head back and forth to "Not Afraid" or something...

I couldn't help but let a laugh out. Now, I was behind the door and I didn't think he could possibly hear me over the music and his occasional grunts and yells but he stopped mid fist pump and looked at my door. I clamped my mouth shut and quickly went from amusement to sheer terror. It felt like seconds past by in years and yet he still didn't move. I was about to back away from the door in case he was going to charge into it but, instead, he climbed a bench outside my door and threw himself over the balcony.

The set up of my college resembles a ring. All of our rooms open up to a courtyard in the center. It's quite a lovely place-- especially from my level because I'm on the second floor-- but I thought it was soon going to be the site for a suicide. But no, Stan-- I'll call him Stan-- threw himself over my balcony to do pull-ups. Yes, I guess a work-out was in order. The entire time he was lifting himself up, he stared at my door. As I looked through my peep-hole, I had an eerie feeling that he could see me. Not possible, of course, but then again, this kind of thing doesn't happen everyday...

After about five or six pull-ups, he brought himself back onto the bench. Without missing a beat, he went back to yelling and dancing-- this time in front of his own door.

I was so confused that I had to stop writing and get a drink. As I sipped on a beer, I continued to hear yelling, things getting bashed and the occasional outburst from some rapper. After about an hour of the raucous, it all stopped. Quiet. Silence. ... Did he fall to his death? I decided to venture outside and see if, in fact, there was a chubby Muhammad Ali out on the grass in the courtyard. To my relief, he wasn't dead but he wasn't around either. Believe it or not, the weirdest thing about this whole story is that I never saw him again...

2. I have a replacement neighbour. He moved in three days ago and he's this little string bean of a guy. He seems nice but he must have thought I was standoffish because when he shook my hand for the first time, I sized him up thinking, "Did Stan lose weight?" When I knew, for sure, it wasn't him, I let out a sigh of relief. It was bad timing though because my new neighbour was, at that moment, saying goodbye to me.

Him- "Hi. I'm so-and-so..."

Me- Probably making some confused, searching face.

Him- "...I moved in three days ago..."

Me- "Uh huh..."

Him- "Well, it was nice to meet you..."

Me- "Oh, whew!"

This relief was short-lived because then I started to wonder who was, in fact, fist pumping and suicide-working-out outside my door. Was he part of the college? Was he a guest? There are a lot of crazies in Newcastle. Every other day you hear about a murder, a rape, a guy who wrestled with a sharkopus (shark octopus hybrid) and so it wouldn't be totally surprising if this guy was one of 'em. Needless to say, I will never know...

3. Last, but no least, I survived Sydney! It's a beautiful city that is divided by very modern and Victorian architecture. I met up with my best friend's boyfriend and, luckily for me, he knew some wonderful places to visit. I got really acquainted with some of the pubs here thanks to his guidance! I also saw some interesting views of the harbour, the older neighbourhoods and the hustle and bustle of George St. My favourite part, of course, was my intimate evening with Belle and Sebastian.

The venue for the show was amazing. It reminded me of the Odeon but it was better looking, better ventilated and better constructed... so I'm not sure why it reminded me of the Odeon but it did! My friend, Lauren, and I found an amazing spot to see over the heads of everyone but I did pay a price for it: I missed out on going onstage with Stuart Murdoch! It would've been amazing, of course, but no one had a better spot in the whole building than where we stood. I also probably annoyed every person around me because my thirteen-year-old self crawled out to sing every lyric, scream the loudest for their encore and jump up and down in one spot afterwards from my over-excitement.

Me- "OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod! Did you see thaaaat?!"

Lauren- "Yes, yes I did."

Me- "OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod! That was GREAT!"

I'm happy I didn't see that concert with any of you guys back home because I'm sure you would never let that down... "Remember that time Kenz pissed herself she was so excited?" (That never happened, guys, OK?)

Anyway, that is all I can recall right now. Tonight I am attending a moon party. Yes, that's right. The moon is apparently the closest it has been in twenty years, so we're all heading outside-- maybe to the beach-- tonight to gaze at the moon over wine and good company. I look forward to it.

Hope all you darlings are doing well! Miss you!

Kenz

Day Eighteen in Oz

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, I got what I asked for. I asked for feedback and I go it. In fact, from all the positive replies I have received from my last post (particularly on Adrian), I have spiraled down into a writer's block. I have stories and a ton of inspiration all around me but I can't seem to put it down in words. What do you guys want to read about? What do you want to know?

I could tell you about my recent adventures with my fellow "misfit" friends (as we have now sort of adopted the title) or about my upcoming trip to Sydney to spend a weekend following Belle and Sebastian around, but I think, instead, I'll indulge in something a little less exciting and a little less scandalous: my hip.

Not the kind of 'hip' that makes you cool-- otherwise I would have written, "my hipness." And then I definitely wouldn't be cool. I'm talking about the middle region of your body that helps you twist, walk, run, dance etc...

When you think about it, it's a pretty major function of the body. But I only seem to discover or, at least, appreciate the essentialness of things only after I have lost its benefits or, sometimes, the whole thing together. I am sure that is how most of us are but I am also pretty sure that when others lose something, they often aren't lying face down wondering how many days it will take for someone to discover their corpse. Enter me on Wednesday night.

I had this somewhat exciting plan about going out into town (which means going to the clubzzz). I wasn't particularly interested in clubbing but I had yet to discover downtown Newcastle and I was looking forward to possibly wandering around a little bit. I actually did my hair (which is a feat since my blowdryer is softly dying in my suitcase due to the fact that it would explode into a million pieces if I plugged it in an Australian outlet) and I got ready to be out on the town.

I met up with some friends from my college. Stuck around casually for a drink before heading over to another college to see a fellow Saskatoonite... Saskatoonian... ? ... whatever, friend. I found him, chatted and was anticipating the bus into town when something in my head went off. It was the warning I have been giving myself whenever I feel an attack of old age strike. I knew I had to make my exit quick and it wasn't hard because my "Stoon friend" was already stumbling over to the bus stop before I could say, "good bye."

I tried to rush home as quick as possible. Now, consider the story of Cinderella. I myself hesitate drawing in Disney to a perfectly innocent blog but that is exactly what I felt like: a girl who had to get home before midnight in order to save her integrity.

With seconds left on the clock, I got into my room to safely live out agony. My hip went out of control.

Ever since I was little, I have been able to do the splits. Not that big of a deal, you say. What I mean to say is if flexibility ever came up as a topic of conversation, my mother would make me demonstrate ultimate flexibility by doing my extreme version of the splits. I would lie on my back and spread my legs as far out to the sides. I could actually get them to lay completely flat against the ground. Now, you try that and tell me that's not an impressive feat!

Every time I had to do this demonstration for relatives, family friends etc etc, I always felt this sense of humiliation. It was a bit pervy really and also a little bit "circus freak." At the same time, I was kind of proud of this bizarre talent. Sadly, my mother thought this would mean I would be good at gymnastics and, boy!, was she wrong. When I got one of my chubby legs stuck between the wires of a trampoline, my mother finally got the message: "Kenzie no good at sports."

... No one in my family talks like that. Nevermind...

Now, sixteen years later, I suffer the consequences of my body tricks. My hip clicks when I walk and, sometimes, like on Wednesday night, it goes into a fit of pain so badly that I'm crippled. I can barely walk or lie down comfortably. I contort my body into different positions to see if any pain is relieved. I often get stuck into a ball, yelping and/or psyching myself up to quickly untwine my limbs before the pain strikes. Except pain strikes fast and it always wins.

On Wednesday night, I was moaning and whimpering so badly, I am sure my Korean neighbour was alarmed (to what he had in mind, I do not know). Since our rooms are like dorm rooms, the walls are thin enough to hear loud conversation or music. (As a side note, last night I heard him playing "Love Shack" at 1:30am).

Anyway, at one point I had my face against the floor, my lower half on my bed and I wondered how long it would take everyone to know that I was dead. Paralyzed by pain. Starved to death. And all because I can do the splits...

(20 minutes later)

I crawled to the bathroom, struggled into an upright position by clutching the toilet and then the sink, and was finally able to reach the medicine cabinet for some Advil.

Advil, folks, is a girl's best friend. Its only purpose is to relieve pain. It will not backstab you like alcohol or people and it tastes better than tylenol. Sadly, however, it does not keep away pain permanently.

I'm waiting for another hip attack (there is always another one ready to strike) but I have decided to take action. I have an ankle that has been swollen since Hallowe'en, a jaw that clicks and locks and a hip that's out to kill me but I have a Doctor mom and the will power to survive. Indeed, I may be across the world but I still emailed my mom for advice. She's given me some exercises to do, so I am hoping that it will help. The last thing I want is to be ruined by my hip while in one of the most beautiful countries in the world.

I'm guessing it won't be a deadly spider or jelly fish that's going to kill me but my own body. Go figure.

'Til next time (if there is a next time),

Kenzie

Day Thirteen in Oz

To my minimal readership:

I started this blog to inform my friends of my daily adventures here in Australia but I have no idea who actually reads this blog. The goal of it really is to minimize repeating my stories over and over. Everyone knows that when I tell a story more than once, I get a little more excited and thus a little more exaggerated. It's a flaw of mine but it makes for good comedy.

Speaking of comedy, my first day of school happened yesterday! I only had one class to attend but I was rather nervous about the whole ordeal. I remember my first day of kindergarden, high school and, yes, university. While they were not particularly exciting in any direction, I am always enveloped by two emotions: absolute paranoia and euphoria. It's a bit of a contradiction, yeah?

Yesterday was an above average day. My paranoia was nicely balanced with euphoria (like a fine wine you could say) so I was pretty much a happy zombie. I found my class early, went to the bathroom to wipe the sweat dripping down my temple (30+ heat guys) and made it in time to meet Adrian. How do I describe Adrian? Here are the basics: He's from Jamaica and he's a student here at Newcastle. He looks to be about 35 and has dreads that are almost down to his knees. He's got a gnarly goatee and a booming voice. You ask him to whisper and you've got a dull roar coming from his throat.

Here are the not-so-basic details about Adrian: I could be wrong but I think he uses a lot of drugs. He's obviously Rastafarian (no big deal) but he's got the cocaine pinky fingernail going on. Forgive me if that serves for more purposes than cutting coke-- I feel so white and naive right now-- but either way, it's disturbing. That's not even the big deal. Adrian has a strange but charming personality (this could be the drugs too). He's very loud, as I've mentioned, but he acts as though he's always on a soapbox. I first encountered him at an International Student Orientation and he shouted at the Dean of the University about his ideology on thinking. 'Just stood up in front of hundreds and said, "Mista! You say we should ask questions! Well, I've got a question for youuu! How come you don' let us ask more questions!? You say we should ask questions but you've ignored my question this whole time!" (He turns to the audience) "My friends! My classmates! We need to ask more questions! MORE QUESTIONS!"

The Dean had to backpedal a lot of what his speech was about to accommodate Adrian's frank outburst. And while I admired Adrian's boldness, I also recoiled into an extra quiet and tentative listener to the rest of the speeches. I'm a wimp, what can I say...

Anyway, Adrian is in my Philosophy class, Democracy, Economy and Global Warming. This would be the class I started my first day off with. I told you I found the room early, went to the washroom and came back to see a man wearing the kind of jester hat you'd win at The Ex. It was bright green and yellow with "Australia" written across it. He had a matching outfit (I have no idea where he shops) and had two different pairs of shoes on. He approached me and asked, "I'm Adrian Fire--- (I couldn't catch it)... What your name?" I said, "MacKenzie." He smiled and turned to the nervous girl beside me and asked her for her name. She said, "Sarah." He burst into a very loud compliment about every single Sarah he had met. He said they were so lovely and pretty and nice. She moved closer to me and nervously nodded every now and then. It didn't seem to phase him because he kept asking her questions about the name, "Sarah."

About this time, a prof came out to ask Adrian to quiet down. He turned to her, made some kind of nod or gesture and turned right back to Sarah in his usual speaking tone. Several people around us just stood to see this Rastafarian Jester seduce a frightened law student named "Sarah."

Luckily, we got to go into class despite the fact that the prof had yet to show up. With no time, Adrian got up on the prof's podium and went onto his computer. He spent several minutes clicking buttons, making grunt noises and searching for something. I was casually watching him and talking to a girl sitting beside me when something like a bomb went off in my ears. Adrian had gone on to youtube to play this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yjd6yBAdKr4

You have to understand that the volume was so loud that my desk was rattling next to my classmate's desk. It didn't seem to phase Adrian though because he started rocking back and forth to the music, shouting, "My friends! Freedom! Love yourself! This Prof is amazing! He'll teach you many things! Freedom! Have a good time!" As he gained momentum, he started really dancing in front of the class. About this time, a few Profs from other lecture rooms came in to yell at him. They were trying to talk him down from the podium when my professor walked in. He saw Adrian dancing and yelling and about three men and one woman trying to reason with him or yell at him.

About the time the video was done, Adrian was ending his mayhem. My prof kind of burst out laughing and said, "Welcome back, Adrian. I think you've pissed off this entire floor." Adrian just replied, "I'm here for a good time!" Beautifully, my prof picked up Adrian's line and started his lecture with, "Well, the funny thing is is that there is a direct correlation between 'having a good time' and Global Warming... Why might that be?"

I felt as though I was in a Terry Zwigoff film or a Daniel Clowes comic. Even I couldn't exaggerate such characters or capture such a weird moment in reality. I live for these moments.

I have to thank Adrian for making my university experience absolutely fantastic so far. I hope to see more shit go down throughout the year...

Please send me a message about your life. I do want to know how you are ... and if you respond on this page, I know that my blog is not an exercise of echoing stories back to myself. :)

I hope the youtube video works. I'm not exactly tech-savvy, so let me know.

Love,

Kenzie

Day Eight in Oz

Oi!

Yesterday I had my first official Australian experience and it could not have been more beautiful. As part of our orientation week, my college hosted a "mystery dinner." When I first read this, I assumed, "murder mystery dinner." I was not particularly excited about it but I decided to ask a fellow Barahineban resident what kind of murder mystery theme we would be doing. Every time I said, "murder mystery," I could not help but hear in my head the voice of Michael Scott from The Office saying in a Southern drawl, "Sir, there has been a muuuurder!" Watch to see what I mean:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SC7v01Om9yQ

I am not sure if I confused the poor guy by my inward laughing at this thought or by the question itself but he responded quizzically, "Uh, theme?" Naturally, I responded, "Yeah. You know. Are we getting characters? Is there going to be a murder theme?" And, now even more confused, he responded, "Murder?" I almost mimicked Michael Scott in return but he finally caught on to my train of thought. He laughed and said, "No. This is a mystery location dinner. Just dress relatively formal and you'll be fine."

For the rest of the week, I anticipated the dinner. As much as I would have liked to have been apart of a murder mystery dinner, I don't think it could have been quite as hilarious as the one on The Office. The mystery location dinner was more exciting to wait for and I caught myself many times wondering where they could possibly take us. I heard rumours and hints throughout the week. I found out that last year they took all the students on a cruise for dinner. I also found out that this year they had a great deal of funding invested in our location.

While we were waiting for the bus to pick us up to send us off to our mystery destination, my friend, Emily, guessed that it was going to be a vineyard. I think my heart leaped into my throat at that moment because I knew we were close to Hunter Valley vineyards (about an hour's drive). Some of my favourite wines from back home have come from Hunter Valley so you could imagine my excitement.

Sure enough, the bus followed all the signs leading to Hunter Valley (I was paying close attention) and under an hour's time I was in wine paradise. Indeed, once you actually get into the valley, it becomes a dream. I saw my first kangaroo (well, actually several) and by the time we arrived, the sun was just descending behind the hills. The rows of vines were full and lush and the surrounding trees made the area seem like a happy secret.

We ended up going to Hope Wine Estate for a wine tour, tasting and dinner. While the wine itself was not particularly amazing, it was interesting to try wines in all stages of fermentation. We tried wines that looked like beer and almost tasted like beer because of the yeast stage they were at and we tried completed wines as well. The food was incredible too! Also, there was a stage out on the field by the vines where apparently big acts go to perform. Our bus driver told us that the last time she drove up, she watched Sting sing on stage here. The best part, however, was the room in which we had dinner. Surrounding us were giant oak barrels signed by famous people. The one closest to me was autographed by the King of Sweden. There was also a barrel signed by John Cleese. Imagine that! For a school function, I would say that our excursion was particularly special.

The only minor incident that happened during our outing was that the bus broke down. By the time we got home it was close to 2 am. All spirits were still high though because a few guys had brought along guitars. We had a sing-a-long outside in the vineyard. When we sang "Hey Ya!" I was the only one who knew all of the lyrics, so I felt pretty smug about that too. Haha.

Soon, I hope to go to another themed dinner with two of my friends here. Apparently in Newcastle, there is a restaurant called Kavon (I think that is the name) that hosts a scary theme every week. The best show/dinner is called, "Best of the Naughties" which is a sort of Dracula/Ghoul/Monster Cabaret and Opera. When I first found out about this, I was stunned. I think the words that came out of my mouth were, "So, you can eat dinner while Dracula serenades you? Sah-weet!" We looked up the restaurant online and it looks pretty amazing but you've got to book in advance. So! More to come on that one when I go!

Hope all is well with you guys back home. Miss you all.

Here are pictures (from google) of the winery I was at yesterday. My only regret yesterday was that I forgot my damn camera back in my room. Sadly, my memories will have to suffice for the awesomeness that was yesterday.

Day Six in Oz

Hello all,

I've been here under a week and I have already captured a beautiful thing called a "hangover." I'll have to explain a few things about day five here before I can properly get to the results of my fun, so I'll start first with how University runs here during Orientation week in Newcastle.

There are four colleges on campus: Evatt, Edwards, International House and Barahineban. I live in the last college. It's considered by most to be the quietest college on campus since it promotes independent living the most. Indeed, most of the rooms have their own kitchen, bathroom, bedroom etc. The other colleges usually share a kitchen, bathroom and sometimes a bedroom too. While that's not my cup of tea, it means that the other colleges do a lot more group activities. There is always a pool party going on beside my college at Edwards Hall (or, as we Uni kids call it: Teds). International House is always up to something, if not partying at nearly all times of the hour. And... Evatt... well, I don't know anyone from there yet but everyone says they are crazy.

Stereotypes aside, I've mentioned that I like my college and that other colleges are really friendly too.

Yesterday, I got a knock at my door at 11 am. You can imagine how surprised I was since I had not met many people in the college. It turned out to be the lovely guy who hooked up my Internet for me and who is somewhat of a college leader for Bara. I'm pretty surprised he didn't just turn around and walk away when I opened the door because I was still in my pajamas and looking a little worse for wear. To top it all off, I was quickly embarrassed by this fact and was acting a little weird because of it. This was our conversation:

Sam: "So, we're going into town to get costumes for tonight. Wanna come?"

Me, Squirming: "Costumes?"

Sam: "Uh, yeah. For tonight. There's a party."

Me: "Party?"

Sam: "Yeah. Back to School Party!"

Me: "Back to School party?"

Sam: "It's where you dress up in school uniforms and party. We're going shopping for the costumes. Do you wanna come?"

Me: "What time?"

Sam: "In fifteen minutes?"

Me, awkwardly hiding behind my door: "Ok. Where do I meet you?"

Sam: "Front room. Fifteen minutes. See you soon."

(Me laughing awkwardly while closing the door and followed by a lot of scrambling to get myself looking presentable in fifteen minutes).

... As you may have picked up, I think I only responded in questions. This added to my already flourishing charm in case you were wondering. Regardless, I went shopping with Sam, his friend, Jeff, and the other Canadian girl living in Bara. She's from the Yukon. It was nice to socialize with another Canadian but I also had fun talking with Sam and Jeff.

Sam found the best costume too. I guess everyone in primary school or high school wears a uniform. Sam chose to go as one of the girls, so he found a pleated plaid skirt, polo shirt and a hat with side flaps to go with it. The last article of clothing may sound weird but it's something every student has to wear. The idea is that it protects your head and neck from the sun. A good idea, of course, but still ridiculous in its own right.

I found a tie and shirt to complete my outfit and the others found some gems too. I should have bought this particular tie (it was made completely from bird feathers and was rock hard because it was cast in some sort of finish) but I chose to do a classic school-girl look.

The party itself was a lot of fun, of course. Besides the few I had previously met, I got to mingle with what seemed like the entire college. Everyone dressed up and we played games like 7-Up (they call it "heads down, thumbs up") and Duck, Duck, Goose (Well, we attempted to play it). These primary school games were all done with a twist: that twist being with "alcohol."

Now, here's where it gets a little hazy. I guess I had gone through a bottle of white and was ready to call it quits when some guy in a black jumper (sweatshirt for you Canadians) demanded I stayed. I did not recall meeting him or telling him my name but he seemed pretty determined to get me to stay and so I did. That was my mistake.

They got me to play a drinking game and I was either losing a lot or winning. I don't know what you call it if you're drinking a lot. Whilst this was happening, I had this guy named "Raul" from Saudi Arabia sit on my lap often and smother the side of my face with what I think were kisses. (Don't worry, Bryan, it wasn't reciprocated or invited). Simultaneously someone was drawing on my arm and leg with a permanent marker. I should say it was pretty interesting trying to get a penis in permanent marker off of my leg in time to make it to a compulsory orientation meeting.

I got out of there pretty quick after that and for good reason because I realized I had to wake up in seven hours for a full day of orientation and tours.

I have read this post over and feel like I must say something to reclaim my "reputation." Australians... and for that matter, Saudi Arabians, are crazy! Long after I left, they kept the party going. As a result, most of them had just woken up for the BBQ lunch. And in an ironic moment, I realized that the "tables had turned." Now they were all standing around in their pajamas looking tired, sick and unkempt.

I had fun. I hope to not have that much fun again for some time. And I've been told once school starts, there will be far fewer parties thrown. Amen. I don't think I can keep up with these Aussies.

The rest of my day is going to be spent reading Jane Eyre, cooking a delicious and nutritious meal and drinking a lot of water. I think everyone is heading into town tonight and I might tag along but shall remain composed and graceful. At least that's the plan...

Cheers!

Day Four in Oz

Day Four in Australia

So, if you are wondering, I haven’t seen very many scary bugs yet. I told you that “mozzies” are apparently a big problem here but I’ve only been bitten once (on the ankle) since I have arrived. For me, this is amazing since back home I am a mosquito’s perfect meal. I seriously think my smell drives them wild. Here, on the other hand, I haven’t been bothered too much.

There is a very large spider’s egg (or meal?) on the wall outside my bedroom window. My window is sealed so I am not worried but I really hope I don’t miss the web ball release a giant spider or, conversely, a giant spider eat whatever is inside this web ball.

I mentioned the parrots here already but the other species of birds here are also neat. I was walking around campus the other day when I saw a bird with giant legs dart across the path. I kind of jumped out of surprise and then realized that the bird jumped because of me. I am not sure if that bird makes the crazy “wah-la-wah-la-woo” sounds but there is a bird that perches near my door at night and makes this insane call. Other birds make very strange noises. That, mixed in with the unusually loud cricket noises, sounds like a symphony at almost any time of the day. Maybe it sounds louder to me because I am not used to it but I can’t recall quite as much racket from animals back home.

I was talking to a girl the second night of my arrival and she told me that a small lizard ran into her room when she was moving in. She couldn’t find it and so she thinks that he’s still hanging out in her room. That wouldn’t bother be much as long as I didn’t wake up with it on me. My friend, Kyle, on the other hand seems to have a “roachies” problem. And by that, I mean, cockroaches. Yes, cockroaches are common house bugs in Australia. I’ve only seen one and it was relatively small but Kyle said he saw some relatively big ones in his dorm hall. GROSS.

Maybe when I get a chance to hit the beach, I’ll tell you about more animals. So far, I haven’t ventured out of campus (with the exception to take the three minute bus ride to the Jesmond Shopping Center)… and apparently that’s not even “town” yet. Hopefully, on Saturday, I’ll get to hit the beach.

More to come. I’m off to a mandatory orientation meeting.

P.S.

These are the parrots I was talking about:

Day Three in Oz

I thought this would be a good time to write a passage since I thought we were just about to have a vicious thunderstorm. I heard three loud cracks of thunder outside and I thought, “Oh. This is brooding weather. Why not write today’s journal entry?” Alas, I’ve opened my computer and we’re back to being sunny. How this place is always so sunny is beyond me.

So, today’s events have been very similar to yesterday’s. I woke up early, watched a little bit of the Australian news and found out that Leonardo DiCaprio is in Australia filming a new version of The Great Gatsby. Baz Luhrmann is the director behind this project too. I’m pretty sure I like Baz as a director but something in me hesitates. Anyway, when I watched this news story, the 9-year-old girl inside me thought, “Go find him (Leo)! How cool would it be to brush shoulders with your 12 year crush in Australia!” Now that I’m older and wiser (emphasis on “wiser” I hope), I think I’ll just be satisfied seeing the movie. I’m so excited for him to play the role of Jay Gatsby though. When I read the book, I envisioned Leonardo as him, so it seems rather fitting. For me, at least. But enough about Hollywood. Actually! One more thing about Hollywood:

I’ve noticed that everything American reminds me of home. If I see an American show on TV or hear anything North American related, I get this feeling of home. It sounds weird because I saw a poster of Natalie Portman on the side of a bus and I thought, “Awe. That’s like advertising at home…” If you haven’t caught the irony of this yet, I’ll tell you: American things are reminding me of my Canadian home. There, I said it.

Being away has really opened my eyes to how assimilated we are with the Americans. This is not a recent discovery nor is it really provoking. I’ve been asked if I am an American. I know I look like one and maybe even talk like one. I consume the same culture for the most part… And I’ll be damned if I could ever go without movies (which, again, for the most part, are big American productions).

You could say that Australia is very much like American and/or Canadian culture. They have their own reality shows, celebrities, metropolitan centers as well as farming communities. They consume North American and Australian music, movies and books. … and they definitely know how to party like any North American kid too.

What I find a little culturally shocking is in the details. For instance, I was told that Newcastle has it “really bad for the mozzies.” What are “mozzies” you might ask? Mosquitoes. Basically you can put “zies” after any word and you’ve made it Australian.

There are other words I can tell you about but I’ll just sum it up neatly by saying there are obvious dialectical differences—not insanely different from us but enough to say, “Pardon me. Could you repeat that?”

I also noticed they do not account for “calories” on any of their products. They’ll give you the energy via kJ but forget about calorie counting. When I went grocery shopping today I also noticed a few other things. Most big name products like Kraft, Yoplait and Coca Cola have their spot in the grocery store; however, they have completely different logos or sub names. For instance, my peanut butter doesn’t have the two teddy bears on the logo. It’s definitely a product of Kraft… but it isn’t “Kraft” if you know what I mean.

Similarly, our Walmart is their “The Big W.” It looks the same, carries many of the same things but is slightly different. I didn’t recognize any of the laundry detergents but I walked to the next isle and found a complete section of “glade” and “febreez” candles. Why this fascinates me, I don’t know.

Finally, their plug-ins are all buggered up. You can’t use anything from home that requires being plugged in. You either have to get an adaptor or an expensive step-down transformer to use your Canadian products. I had to buy an adaptor for my computer and, luckily, it’s capacity for voltage accommodates the insanely high Australian voltage of 220V. My hair dryer, on the other hand, will probably sit in my closet until I can come home.

I wish I could tell you more about the beautiful scenery here. While I was walking to the campus library, four parrots zoomed over my head while making the most horrendous sound ever. I thought an alarm was going off. However, when I looked up their beauty stunned me. These particular parrots are white with bright yellow and green on the underside of their wings. They also have a green Mohawk. I’ll look them up when I have Internet.

Alright, I’ve bored you with American similarities, Mozzies and The Big W. I’ll just finish by saying that I have yet get my bearings but I feel like everyday is a bit of a learning curve.

More from me later (that is, if you’re not sick of me yet and, in which case, you should just ignore my posts anyway…)

Love,

Kenzie

Day Two in Oz

Hello everyone I miss:

Well, it’s day two in Newcastle, Australia. So far, I have not 1) died 2) gotten lost 3) starved to death (although I came close yesterday) or 4) made any friends. The last one may not happen for a few more weeks but I tell ya! I miss having people who I can have a deeper conversation with than something like this: “Oh! You’re from Canada? Sorry, I thought you were American. How cold is it in Canada right now?” or “Which way to the Dining hall?” or, even better, “You don’t have a cell-phone? Uh oh. You’re going to have to get one of those, mate.”

Everyone has been very friendly, don’t get me wrong. In the last two days, I have had plenty of people just come up to me and introduce themselves. I like that. There is no hostility towards anyone really. Oh, and if you’re wondering, I haven’t met an ugly person yet. It’s a little intimidating but everyone here is beautiful. Tanned, in shape, and glowing. I think the Asians and me are the only group of people that are pasty, out of shape and a little bit, uh, spacey. Just kidding. The Asians seem to know what’s going on. And they don’t sweat--- I don’t get it.

Actually, it’s crazy hot here right now. If I had the Internet I would post some pictures—(I realize that by the time you read this I will have internet since I have posted it on my blog but right now it’s just me and my word document). The weather is very humid, warm and bright. You walk outside and you feel as though you’ve just walked into a sauna room—except you can’t leave the heat like a sauna room. This is Australia, baby.

I should have packed an extra pair of shorts. I don’t know if anyone in Oz owns a pair of pants. Some guy told me that this is typical winter weather for them too. My god. Why did I even dare pack a sweater? I’ve really got to invest in some shorts. I’ll have to hit “The Big W.” Yeah, that’s right. Australia’s version of Walmart.

I took the bus to “Jesmond Shopping Center” today. I think it’s Newcastle’s only mall. It was pretty much like any North American shopping center except smaller and with more local shops. I don’t think I have ever seen a butcher shop beside a clothing store—only here, folks! Anyway, I picked up some groceries and supplies. I had to decide what was essential because when you’ve got to carry your groceries a kilometer in 35C, you choose wisely. I mostly purchased fruits and vegetables (I plan on blending in with the beautiful Australians) but also some bread and cheese. I was hoping to have a bit of a more finished kitchen to do my cooking. Luckily, I don’t have to buy pots and pans or dinner sets. I’ve got that supplied but I don’t have an oven. This limits some of the recipes I had in my mind to make, so it looks like I’ll try my hand at a variety of salads, pasta and soup. I actually saw cheese infused vegemite but couldn’t quite provoke myself to buy it yet. We’ll see. I’ll document my first encounter with vegemite for you guys when it happens.

Speaking of my place (sorta), I should say it’s quite nice. I’ve got a lot of space since it’s designed for two roommates. I like that I have so much space but it does emphasize the fact that I’m pretty lonely right now.

Thanks Jen and Bryan for giving me pictures. It helps personalize my space a little bit. I plan to invest in some candles to make my room a little more romantic. Otherwise, it looks like an office with a bed in the center. Not very me.

That’s about all I have to say right now. I could tell you how horrible my trip getting here was but I think I’ve told enough people about it. I’ll just say that I slept for 13 hours last night to catch me up from a 2.5 sleepless day marathon.

Hope all is well with you Canadians. I ache for home, family and friends but I’m forcing myself to keep my chin up through this rough patch. I hope I can tell you more great things about this place, as I get more familiar with my surroundings.

Love,

A Sheila*

*Australian for a girl, lassy, doll, dame etc…