I'm going camping and I'm bringing.... Apples..... Bananas...... and Carlton Draught

Greetings followers, it has indeed been some time since my last entry (and I know I promised to TRY and write more often, but my busy, busy, busy schedule…sarcassssssm…. has prevented me from doing so…) and I am afraid to say there is nothing thoroughly awesome to report. NOT. PS this another novel.

When I left you last, I was getting stoked for my camping trip the following weekend, but before I headed to Cathedral Ranges( aka Jurassic Park minus dinosaurs, plus wombats and lyre birds), there occurred a small celebration upon Wednesday of that week. Yes. The international holiday celebrated by everyone 0.00001% Irish and their mothers: St. Patrick’s Day. At this time I would like to state that during the day, no one wore green. I saw I think maybe three people in green, and one of them was Indian and wearing a green turban, which I thought was WAY COOL! But that’s beside the point. Where’s the love for the Emerald Isle? Keep in mind, green is one of the Australian national colors, so what gives? But never fear, when the sun went down, the leprechauns came out of hiding and all headed to the Old Colonial, which they affectionately call the OC, which I thought was hilarious.

Upon entering the pub, I ran up to the bar to get my first ever GREEN BEER, and the barkeep says, “Oh, I don’t think we have any green dye…” ……….. Um. Excuse me? IT'S SAINT PADDY’S I WANT A GREEN BEER. Then I spotted the tube of dye behind her and politely pointed it out, and got my green beer. Thank God. So I turn around with my beer and was asked several times what I was drinking… A GREEN BEER! Jeeeeeze louiiise. And then of course everyone wants one! So the pub ran out of the dye pretty quickly, but hey c’est la vie. But the night was great, there was a live band (no Irish music….?...but we did some celebrations back at college, rocking out to Flogging Molly, Dropkick Murphys and a little Riverdance.. something for everyone), and everyone had a merry old time. And yes, as is the norm here, the tram ride back was packed with boisterous uni kids belting out inappropriate songs. Requesting me to sing these songs when I get back will likely not happen in the presence of anyone under the age of 18 and over the age of 30, so don’t ask if that’s not you haha.

Considering it followed St. Paddy’s, Thursday night was pretty low-key. (Didja ‘ave a big one? Answer: No, sir.) I wanted to state that before I go into what Thursday night entailed because if I told you after, you wouldn’t believe me. I went to the Eagle Bar, the campus pub, for Beach Night (they love to copy theme parties from America aka American movies and television) ….. and Jelly Wresting (really it was Jell-O, Bill Cosby Style. They just call it jelly, which is why everyone thinks peanut butter and jelly is nasty…they say peanut butter and jam…still pb and j). I thought someone was going to die in that jell-o pool. It was SO INTENSE! Like, really fighting. Not the girls, haha, just the guys. The guy who won was probably 5’10, 280. Yikes. The girls’ competition winner was decided by the noise from the crowd and the arbitrary judging from the La Trobe Cheer Squad (sidenote, one of the kids from California joined the cheer team and when he showed up to practice the girl who had recruited him says, “GUYS! He is an AMERICAN cheerleader!” and literally all their jaws dropped in awe. It was like they saw Jesus or something). Other than that, the DJ played the Eagle’s usual line-up: upbeat electronic and dance jams (preferred music of the creepy 30 year old Indian men that lurk on the perimeter of the dance floor) then Mr. Brightside, then some sappy songs, and right when you think the music is going to get better, Closing Time comes on and everyone whines as they tramp to the door and back off to college to prepare feasts of toasties and easy mac.

Friday morning I went to class (I know, right? I actually do go to class, believe it or not). It was Anna’s last lecture, and now I have a hard to understand German instead of the jovial, menopausal Dr. Anna Morris. Such a shame. It was a glorious morning, and then at about 4:30 in the afternoon the floodgates opened and it down poured for about an hour. Where was I at this time? Oh, just with all my crap on the way to the carpark to get a ride up to the campsite for my weekend trip. I amaze myself with my timing sometimes.

So off we went into the middle-of-nowhere Victoria, where sheep and grapevines outnumber people 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 to 1. There are no street lamps out there, but the amount of stars you can see is truly breath taking… You think you can see a lot in Sonoma or Tahoe, trust me, that might be 20% of what’s up there in that abyss. We got to the campsite at night, thankfully it had stopped raining, and proceeded to set up tents and all that. Me and some new found friends (Ms. O’Neill, if you’re reading, I realize the grammatical error, forgive me, but I think it sounds better…. :) … ) shared a box of goon and star-gazed while I entertained questions about America into the wee hours of the morning, the most common of which is “Do you guys really use those red cups at parties?” I get such a kick out of it. They don’t have red cups here! So funny.

Our fearless leader Emily woke us up at 7:30 the next morning ever so gently by knocking two pots together and screaming “WAAAAAAAAAKE UUUUUUUUUUUP!!” Thanks Em, I’m up. Breaky was served and then we were off to various activities. My group went rock climbing first, which was really fun, but not as challenging as I would have liked it to be… the indoor climbs have so far been a lot harder. As we climbed, we voiced aloud regrets on making the decision to go kayaking later that afternoon, as it was a bit chilly and misty in the mountains. But as if by an act of God, the sun came out in the afternoon and the river was perfect. The rapids were mid to high Class 2. For the uninformed crowd, river rapids run Class 1 thru 5, 1 being comparable to the majority of the Trukee River and 5 being a death wish unless you are Bear Grylls or Chuck Norris. For the scholars or the Costa crowd, the American River is Class 2 and 3 I think, and Pacuare is Class 3 and 4. So it was pretty chill, with only three areas of actual rapids aka swift moving water that splashes you in the face as you paddle thru. Alas, I did roll. Meaning I got knocked out of the kayak, the reason being was that we were playing a game: try to turn the kayak in the rapid and get behind the various pylons in the river to sit in its swell (where the water is stagnant) facing upstream. As I turned out at the pylon I over compensated with my lean and went under. Oh well! Haha, so I ejected myself, washed up on shore, and got back in the kayak.

After kayaking, we laid in the sun on the side of the highway (safe, right? well in a land where kangaroos and wombats use the road more than cars, I'd say we were alright) and waited for everyone to change and all that. When we got back to camp, Jamie, the author of that great question about red cups, and I drove down into the nearest town, Buxton, to purchase some man sodas. When we got back, dinner was served (Steak!! And Mexican chili!!! And it was good, but I wouldn’t call it Mexican haha) and then we all laid out on a tarp and played various, umm… ‘campfire’ games and roasted marshmallows (they don’t know what smores are, unfortunately, and they do not have graham crackers either so I can’t exactly introduce the smore to Australia). After that, Pete, one of the leaders, allowed Emily to cut off his dreadlocks!! We all guessed how many he had, I think it was 48…? Woaaah.

The next morning the pots banged at 8:30 and I had my fill of toast with vegemite (which…okay it gets a bad rap from non-Aussies. But I kinda like it! At first I thought I didn’t because my introduction to it was about a teaspoon full, which, according to my roommate, who enjoys the (in)famous yeast extract, “Is right foul.” Oh, PS, that’s what vegemite is, yeast extract, left over from beer production…of course… I’ll bring a jar back with me. According to Dr. Anna Morris it’s great for your hair and skin, full of Vitamin B). After breaky my group headed up the mountain to go hiking, which…okay Team Hipp, remember the Squaw hike we did a few years ago to get to the gazebo on top of the mountain…it was similar to that, except way more climbing, less walking. Don’t get me wrong, it was a lot of fun, I love hiking and climbing, just like my father...haha I’m just trying to paint a picture for the fam that loves to hike, go Team Hipp! Anyways, we got to the top of the mountain, which is not that high, I didn’t notice any thinning of their air due to altitude.

The view was incredible. Not in the epic Tahoe sense, but for a vastly different reason. Last summer, Victoria experienced its worst recorded bush fire. It ravaged the countryside, starting out during a series of 40+ degree days with 100km winds (that’s over 105 degrees Fahrenheit of DRY heat, it does not rain often in Victoria and humidity is typically very low, and 100km is about 60mph). The devastation left in the fire’s wake was shocking to look at. Grass has of course grown back, but there is nothing but black barren eucalyptus everywhere. Pete told us that the fire started out in a mountain range on the horizon and had come to where we were sitting, over the top of the mountain and down into the valley. WOW. We headed back down the mountain on the opposite face, which, let me tell you, was much harder than climbing up it. Pretty steep at some points… got a bit of vertigo. We got back to the campsite, packed up and all headed back toward the city, getting back to college late Sunday afternoon.

Nothing much has happened this week. Of course the typical pub nights Tuesday and Thursday (Tuesdays are Uni nights at Stolberg Pub, affectionately called Stolly’s, and Thursdays at the Eagle). Friday I had a paper due, which I completed before my trip to the Eagle Thursday night (I’m doing my work, Mom) and after I turned it in I went to the beach. Such a rough life. As fate would decide that day, there was a major traffic accident and we spent an extra 45 minutes on the bus talking to an old Australian man about Connecticut and some small town he visited and asked if we had ever heard about. No, sir, no we have not. But I am sure the maple syrup was awesome and the trees were indeed very pretty. Since fate was already dealing us a low blow, it decided to keep the bad coming and the sun disappeared behind some angry clouds and the wind picked up. After an hour on the beach, the first tell-tale fat drops preceding a torrential downpour started to fall, and took that as our cue to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. As luck would have it (finally), it only drizzled a bit as we happily took an alternative route back to campus, avoiding any possible complications arising from the crash that most unfortunately took place that afternoon on our bus route.

Saturday was spent indoors watching movies and attempting to do work as the rain pitter-pattered on the windows. A few friends and I (you’re welcome Ms. O’Neill) took the tram toward the city and buckled down to try some authentic Mexican food at Taco Bill’s. No, that is not a typo, the place is called Taco Bill’s. There is no friendly Chihuahua, everyone speaks English as a first language, and they put a bowl with maybe 10 chips on the table for you before you get your food. Authentic? Not according to the five kids from California you served, but it was a valiant effort considering, as Sarena Chan puts it, how geographically far we are from Mexico. As a sidenote, I just want to say this is the reply I was given when I asked one of my Aussie friends what she would put into a burrito: “Well, you got your tortilla, and then you put in meat, cheese, lettuce, and like, carrots.” Carrots. Anyways, margaritas were half priced, so we sucked it up, but truly, for the amount of money we paid…let’s just say we won’t be regulars. After we finished our million dollar meal we headed into the city with Alex aka Harv as our guide (she goes to UCSB normally, University of Melbourne at the moment). We were going to go to some crazy new club in the city, but instead ended up in a penthouse! Heeeeey not bad right? Not as glamorous as it sounds, but you take what you can get. It was early night tho, and we caught the midnight tram back to the hood, Bundoora.

Sunday was a bit more productive than Saturday, meaning I went outside. We have a farmer’s market on Sundays so I got some fruits and veggies and then went back to my room and prepared for the night’s activity: Earth Hour. Earth Hour is a worldwide phenomenon when everyone turns off the lights and ceases use of all electronic devices to conserve energy and do Mother Earth a good deed. Well, as with anything, the Aussies (maybe just La Trobe?) take it to a whole new level and made Earth Hour a tight-and-bright, glow-in-the-dark rave. So we lit up the Glenn College Rec Room with body paint and glow sticks and danced like idiots all in the name of saving the Earth! Woooowooooooooooooooooo!

That brings us to Monday, and me sitting here eating a pomegranate and writing about my uncanny life in this ridiculous country. Tomorrow is Tuesday, the day I go to lab and play with live bacteria, hoping I don’t accidentally infect myself with E. coli. I actually really love it! It’s a lot of fun and super interesting, and I think I’m going to try and get a job in a lab at LA for next year. Tomorrow also happens to be International Goon Appreciation Day, and a Stolly’s night! So that should be interesting…

And it’s Holy Week! Good Friday is a national and public holiday here in Australia, which I find odd because, although churches are a dime a dozen, there is not much of a Christian community at all. It must be leftover from the days of the Irish convicts. Anyways, I will be attending the Bells Beach Rip Curl Surf Competition and Music Festival on Friday (except during Holy Hours of course………) and Saturday, and then will heading south with a bunch of kids from California to Tasmania for five days of RVing and camping throughout the state. So I guess my next novel will talk about the trials and tribulations of driving on the wrong side of the road in an oversized vehicle and surviving on easy mac and pb and j for five days. Can’t wait! I hope everyone is doing well at home, or abroad if you happen to be among the lucky!! Hooroo mate!

Vocab lesson
*correction: last time I stated a sanger is a sausage. That is incorrect. A sanger is a sandwich, and a SNAG is a sausage. My bad. PS A hotdog is wrapped in a bright pink covering and they are pretty foul.

Tom-aw-to = tomato (you know the saying “tomato, tomawto?” Yea, well here you can actually use it. And no, they do not say po-taw-to)

Tom-aw-to Sowce = ketchup

Jug = Pitcher (of beer). A pint is a pint, a pot is one standard drink of beer, I guess about 8 ounces?

Coon = Australia’s tastiest cheese!! Haha, at least that’s what the label says. It’s pretty good tho Erica, in case you were wondering. PS Erica, I failed again on the mayo, I thought I could get by with Kraft and it was still nasty … I should have known never to stray away from Best Foods.

Capsicum = Bell pepper

Chillies = all other peppers

Roller = deodorant stick

Mobile = cell phone

Fun-jee = fungi (I’ve always said Fun-guy. Do people in the states really say Funjee?)

Kooo-cumber = cucumber

I think that’s all I have for now. I really hope you all enjoy reading these posts, because writing them is a complete riot. Take care!