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