A few months on...

Australia was a place where I found peace. I found strong friendships. I found love of life, welcoming people, and adventure on a regular basis. I cannot accurately communicate how much my time there meant to me. As such, it should be no surprise that, while there are some good things happening currently, overall being back "home" has not been an easy transition. Yeah, it's been a few months now. In fact, it's been almost the full length of the semester already. But those few months I spent thousands of miles from my current location were formative and life-changing months.

I don't think a day passes that I don't tell someone a story about Oz. Certainly, I talk to someone from the trip every day--usually more than one person. Before the summer was over, I took two trips to visit friends from ASC. I traveled by plane to visit Toby in Connecticut, which was an absolutely fantastic few days. I got to meet several of her friends, her mom, and even got to go to Maine for my first time. The trip was well worth the effort to get up there and she and I have plans for other trips to see each other again within the next few months. Just before I left for that adventure, Rachel stopped by my house for basically 1 day. This was also a fantastic visit and I eagerly anticipate the next one. Then, on my way back from CT, I got to have dinner with Alessandra and her sisters in Charlotte. Such wonderful people. I'm so lucky.

A few weeks passed and I got the itch to travel again. Thus, looking at various options at to where I should go, I finally picked Michigan by way of Indiana. By going this route, I got to stop at my sister's new house in Kentucky, as well as get lunch with Amanda. Visiting with her was such a blessing. I can't wait for her wedding! Then, I continued up to Michigan where I stayed with Ryan for just a couple days. We went to the Henry Ford Museum, Ryan made me pancakes and steak (not at the same time), and we completed a very large and difficult puzzle. And... within a couple weeks of my visit, Ryan got engaged. I can't wait for his wedding too!

I drove home from Michigan through Ohio and Kentucky, enjoying a gorgeous day by myself in my car. I listened to music, had Lady Gaga dance parties with myself, and even called a few people while I drove. It was a wonderful end to the summer. And then, a couple days later, I moved back to Milligan.

Getting back into the normal flow of things has not been easy. I have a pretty full schedule, a good-sized class load (though it looks small on paper), I'm stage managing The Secret Garden, I'm finding a lot of my old friendships have faded quite a bit (interests change, people change, that's life...). And I'm starting to miss the people and things that made Australia so fantastic more and more each day. During Australia, I was pretty much stress free. Being back, it's like all of that stress I stayed away from last semester has come flooding back into my life. I'm trying to figure out what I do with all of the things I learned during my time abroad. I'm trying to figure out how to maintain the close relationships I made while I was gone. I'm trying to figure out how to fit back in with the people here. And to be perfectly honest, I'm having a hard time figuring any of it out.

Australia is seeming more and more like a dream every day. And I feel like I'm in that moment of waking where I'm saying, "Wait, wait, stop fading! Please let me sleep for five more minutes. Please let the dream pick back up where it left off... I don't want it to be over..."

Toast and Cereal

This was my final paper for one of my classes in Australia. I wrote it as a short story. It's pretty self-explanatory and is as good of a summary of my semester as I can give at this time.

“Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.”

–Ralph Waldo Emerson

“There was reality and there was reality;

and some things were more real than others.”

-Neil Gaiman

Toast and Cereal: Seeking A New World

Stepping off into the new, he knew that the old would never be seen in the same eyes again. By the time he'd return, the old world would be gone. What's more, his vision would be different. This wasn't necessarily bad. It could be quite good. It was to be different, exactly how much he could not know. He simply knew the old house that he walked away from would not look quite the same upon his return. And if that little child in his heart were to sneak up again, he'd suddenly not be so little. The young don't stay so for long. But it was time to go. So he did.

Behind him, he left little. Behind were memories, those things in constant flow, hard to hold onto. They move out of sight before long. As do friends. Before the new, Rose left pursuing her career and a man. Traces of Jewel were few. She was naught but a fond collection of images, a smile here, a shrug there. Her disappearing act, whether by her own devising or not, was an unprecedented success. She was gone and nobody knew where.

And, in the midst of sadness, the man left too. He paused all his work. In a sense, the paint was still wet when he could no longer take it. He packed little. And he left. The few times others stopped him to ask him why he was going, he shrugged. For adventure, he'd say. To get out. It just seems like the thing to do. To see something different. These were all valid reasons. And they were all true. But there was more. The truth was that he was unhappy and he left hoping to find peace.

Peace, however, was not to be found. In the new environment, he certainly found many new friends. He found people he would grow to call family. He found incredible perspectives that differed from his own, though that is not to say they were somehow lesser than his. They were just as valid, just as important as his own. He found himself a struggling believer in the midst of several strong believers. He found himself challenged and uncomfortable. He found himself being sucked into conversations and thoughts in which he never expected to be interested. Such an environment does not create peace. Instead, it upsets and stirs up a person. It pushes and prods. Despite his hope to find peace, he found the warfare of a new social environment all about him. And he smiled.

The days in the new began earlier than he was used to in the old. He rose shortly after the sun. After a quick bite of toast and cereal, he would pack his bags and go out the door. Shortly after the new began, the early mornings became routine. Yet the new continued to shine even as routine fit in. Due to the use of public transportation, new faces met his eyes every day. He would smile and nod, occasionally saying hello to the people of the city. The people of the city were, in his eyes, the people of the country. They were men and women different from him simply because they were used to the new. They were the people whose routines had been occurring for years. They were the people who knew about the history and the society of the new long before he was to learn of it. During his first few interactions with these people, he believed that they were all already experts of the kind of life he was in the process of discovering. They were those who called the new old. It was among them, he believed, that he would discover the happiness that he so fervently sought. He, however, was soon to find out that the people of the city, the people of the country, the people of the new, they were nothing more than people. They were the same as him, no more, no less, just different. It was interest in such people that led him into conversations with them.

“Myths are those conceptions we have about the people around us and the history of those who came before us. They are not necessarily false conceptions, but they are not necessarily true conceptions either. It is important to be aware of the myths that can be found within modern culture, specifically those speaking of the past.” The room was busy, full of comers and goers. Dim lighting, loud music, and constant conversations took place everywhere that people weren’t either dancing or buying drinks. That is to say, the conversation was taking place in the sort of locale many good conversations take place: a late night pub.

He’d wandered into this pub by recommendation of the man who owned the house in which he was staying—a man nearly three times his age who lived far differently than anyone he had ever encountered before. In time, he would grow to love his newfound friend and mentor, but the conversation in the pub took place in the early days before that relationship had truly grown. It was simply to be polite that he had even followed the older man’s recommendation—loud pubs full of dancing crowds were not the kinds of places he typically enjoyed; he much preferred the quiet kind of pubs, the ones where the customers sat with their drinks contemplating. But, in his politeness, he found his way into this loud pub, unsure of what he was going to do once he got there—after all, going to a pub by oneself is not typically an action of those who are not looking for comfort in drink. The man he was talking to now was one he had just stumbled upon unintentionally. He had simply chosen a random empty seat, the next one over from the man.

“Nic Cage,” the man said when asked his name.

“Really?” Obviously the man was lying, but why bother about it? His real name was unimportant. “That’s interesting. So, what were you saying about myths?”

“They’re everywhere, mate. You see, for instance, the majority of these people in this pub would say their ancestors were convicts but only small ones, ones who hadn’t really committed any big crimes; they would say their ancestors were unjustly brought to this country. That’s what the majority of the people around here would say. But then, most people want to be viewed as better than they are.[i]”

“That makes sense. I certainly want to be seen that way.”

“Exactly, mate. Now, the other big myth of these parts has long been proven wrong. People used to say this land was one of terra nullius. You know what that means?”

“No, I can’t say I’m familiar with the term.” He took a drink of his lemon, lime, and bitters—a drink of the new, one he had never had back in the old.

“It’s the idea that a land’s null of inhabitants, free for the taking, open, nobody here. Well, when people said that this land was one of those, they were lying. We had people here all right. Just as you had people in your land. We took over, invaded, called them lesser beings and went about our merry way[ii].”

“So, what you’re saying is that a bunch of criminals were brought here while the people who lived here were forced out?” This was disturbing to him. Where was the peace he was seeking? How could peace and happiness be found in a society that was created by unjust people for the housing of even more unjust people? It was not something he wanted to dwell on, because he wanted to believe he had escaped the land of the unrighteous. But people are people, he found.

He was fascinated with the man calling himself Nic Cage. When he had first sat down, he thought the man drunk and had had no intention of speaking to him. But Cage, like many locals, had an incredible drinking constitution. He was, in fact, simply a friendly man out in a pub for an evening. He had begun the conversation all of a sudden, without any introduction.

“Why do you get up in the morning?[iii]” Cage had asked.

“Pardon?” he replied, unsure the man had intended to speak to him.

“Why do you get up in the morning?” Cage repeated. “It’s a simple question. What’s the purpose of getting up and going about your business? Is there some kind of greater good that you work for in your daily life?“

“I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“These are simple questions. Do you believe you have a purpose?”

“I don’t know. I want to have a purpose, but I guess I can’t know that I do for sure.” His original intention had been to humor this crazy man briefly and then politely excuse himself.

However, Cage had no intention of losing his newfound conversation partner. He simply cascaded away into a conversation about the problems of modern society. He began a railing against consumerism, one that struck a chord in the young man’s heart. “We all play into the game of the advertisers, you know? It’s the corporations and marketers who control so much of our world day in and day out. They tell us buy this, buy that. And we do so. They certainly wake up and believe they have a purpose. They see their purpose as seeking out the most efficient ways to earn money—money that only has meaning because we allow it to—and they are the wealthy who ride us lower men. But, mate, don’t let my words fool you into thinking we’re the ones truly hurting from their games. No, you and I have the status and place in society that allows us to come to this pub and purchase drinks. We are not even remotely close to being in the low classes. By society’s standards, you and I are in a good place. And yet you and I are not content, are we? We want more, more, more. But what is it we want? I asked you why you get up in the morning, but you had no answer. We don’t even know what we want. To what end are we going? We can rant and rail against society’s standards as much as we want, but we still play into them as long as we do not have a better goal than the one they present us. So what shall our goal be? What shall we seek if we’re not going to seek wealth as they would have us do?[iv]”

After a brief pause, he muttered, “Love?”

“Precisely,” Cage said with a smile. “Now, let me tell you about the land you’re in. You know about the concept of myth?”

Thus the conversation had turned into the brief discussion of a nation’s myth and the lack of love found within this particular country’s history. It was that lack of love, both he and Cage decided, that had caused most of the problems in the history of the land. Crime happened because of a lack of love and a lack of community—men are not likely to commit crimes towards those they truly love. The treatment of the original inhabitants was cruel and fueled by fear and distrust rather than openness and friendship. At least, these were the versions of the story with the depictions that Cage gave that evening.

“Before we continue,” Cage said as the conversation began to get moving, “what brings you here? Are you running from something? Got your own problems back home you’re trying to pretend don’t exist?”

He did, in fact, have several stories he could tell about the troubles he was trying to leave behind.  He could have talked about how he felt that had never really accomplished much of anything. He could have talked about the broken friendships he had suffered through. He considered talking about being a hopeless romantic who never could find romance. He very nearly spoke up about how he had wanted to get away from everyone he’d ever known. After all, he was searching for solitude, for a place to clear his mind. He could have talked about how, in this search, he simply found himself feel quite alone and miserable because of it. He could have talked about growing up in the church but running into large questions and doubts as he got older, having to try and sort out what he believed while everyone around him always seemed so certain. He could have talked about any number of things. Instead, he lied. “Nope. Life’s pretty good, really. I just wanted to see some new things and hear some new tales.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Cage said. What Cage didn’t know was that he was right. Despite the attempt to find solitude, the man was to find himself thrown into a community. He was thrown into a place full of new that reflected the old in ways he had never expected. “Let me tell you about the land itself.”

Cage described the land as a place where only fools would try to live, but it was through perseverance and love that the great vastness of suddenly began to be beautiful. Harsh conditions were aplenty in this place and a great many mistakes had been made throughout the history of settlement across it. However, those who chose to continue living on it and continue working on it, despite the difficulty to do so, could see the mystery and beauty within the land. He described it as a place where only those who chose to love it could stand to live in it for long. In other words, the place was a place of beauty to those who chose to see it as such[v].

After this, the conversation died down. The man calling himself Nic Cage got up and walked away without saying goodbye. He simply left the man in his own thoughts. These thoughts rode the bus with him all the way to the house in which he was staying. Entering the old, creaking building late at night, he tried to be quiet, but he found the owner was awake and moving regardless. “Welcome home, son,” the owner said to him. “Have a good night?”

He told the owner about the conversation in the pub. “So, what do you think your purpose is?” the owner asked.

“I still don’t know,” he replied.

“It sounds like you’re supposed to love,” the owner said with a smile. “And you know, love is a four letter word for God, just as God is a three letter word for love.”

“What?”

“They are one in the same. Seek one and you’ll find the other.”

He just smiled and nodded, not knowing that this was just the first of many conversations about love and God he would have with the kind man who opened the house to him. He had no way of knowing that, throughout the course of a few months, he would discover that he was, in fact, happy despite all the struggles and problems he faced back home. Certainly, his time in the new was not totally without troubles. Despite the fascinating land and people, the world was still the same dark place at times. But, leaving the old was an act that would open his eyes to see much of the beauty he had been blind to before. As he adventured and sought out freedom from the old, he discovered that his desire to escape had transformed into a desire to return to the old bearing the fruits he had found in the new. He was to find a new flame burning within him, because he had discovered a purpose. He was to seek love wherever it may be found, in society, in the stories of history, in the land itself. Thus, with a smile on his face, he stepped into the old, knowing that he brought with him the new, knowing that his eyes had been opened just a bit wider.

---

[i] Hughes, Robert. “Who were the Convicts?” in The Fatal Shore (London: Vintage, 2003), 159-202.

[ii] Macintyre, Stuart. A Concise History of Australia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).

[iii] Garber, Steven. “The Problem & Its Parameters” in The Fabric of Faithfulness: Weaving Together Belief and Behavior. (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2007), 40-61.

[iv] Hamilton, Clive and Richard Denniss. Affluenza: When Too Much Is Never Enough. (Crows Nest, NSW: Allen & Unwin, 2005).

[v] Millikan, David. “The Australian Outlook” in The Sunburnt Soul. (Alexandria, NSW: Anzea, 1981), 15-34.

 

To my friends, both new and old.

Tomorrow's my last non-flight day on this journey.

I'm bidding farewell to a number of dear friends. I don't know for sure when I'm going to see any of them again. And I'm extremely melancholic.

We said our "words of affirmation" to one another this afternoon. We shared with each other encouraging thoughts and memories and love. We talked for hours, going around the circle, speaking to every individual. During all of this, I was one of the few not to shed a tear. But inside I was weeping. I was weeping for this has been an incredible semester. I was weeping, because I don't want this to end. And I was weeping with joy for the new loves I have found in these people.

Toby, Alessandra, Nick, Rachel, Tess, Aaron, Courtney, Kara, Katrina, Paul, Aubrey, Becca, Hannah, Amanda, Sam, Ryan, Allana, Elaina, Sarah, Anna, Kim, Kristin, Alex, Casey, Liisa, Kimberly, Erin.

These are names I will not soon forget. These are the names of some of my closest friends. Indeed, a few of these people I consider just as close as anyone I've ever known. I love these people so dearly and am going to miss them so much.

To each and every one of them, I give them my best wishes and blessings. I hope each of us will look back at this time with love and affection and remember it as a time of growing, a time of learning, and, most importantly, a time of friendship and beauty.

Tomorrow, I will go on a final adventure with Nick, Tess, Rachel, Alessandra, possibly Kimberly, and possibly anyone else who joins us. We will be heading to Rangitoto Island, a volcano in the middle of the Auckland Harbour. Tomorrow will be a wonderful day with wonderful people. I just wish it wasn't the last one.

Oh, by the way, I'm in New Zealand, which is very possibly the most beautiful place on earth. I've had my breath taken away so many times just driving through the country. It is incredible. I wish I could stay longer--which might actually happen due to a volcano in Chile causing many flights to be canceled. With any luck, maybe the adventure will continue just a bit longer....

Guys, it's been great. Thanks for a wonderful semester. I love you all so much.

To my friends back in the US, I am looking forward to seeing you. I can't wait to share with you stories of my experiences here. I hope some of you will take the time to listen and to try and understand as I tell my stories. I will never be able to truly explain what I've seen and learned here, but I look forward to trying. I hope you all will welcome me back with open arms and open ears. I'm going to need some support for a while, because it really is extremely tough saying bye to the amazing people I've met here. It's extremely tough for me to let this segment of my life go. I hope you guys will try to understand.

I may blog again when I get back. I'm not sure. We'll see. For now, goodbye.

Love, Daniel.

Bookshops, Beaches, Engagement, and Debrief

So.... what have I been doing lately? I haven't blogged much in a while, that's for sure.

Let's see, there's Newtown, which is a place with tons of bookshops (Goulds, Elizabeth's Bookshop, Books on King St, Moore Books, etc). It is a place with a few small theatres. It has a Dendy Cinema. It has tons of coffee shops and restaurants. It is a place I have spent many hours. It's the arts district of Sydney. It's basically like Downtown Asheville on crack and congested into a couple streets. I love it.

I have gone to Watson's Bay multiple times, enjoying the beautiful ferry ride there, as well as the incredible view of the Pacific Ocean on the cliffs of area.

I went on a day trip to Bondi with Rachel, Tess, and Nick. We did the coastal walk from Bondi to Coogee, which was gorgeous. That day began with frustration. The trains were having maintenance done, so we had to catch a replacement bus, meaning the route was not normal. Due to this, our bus driver got lost. We sat on that bus for a full hour before finally arriving at Bondi. However, the trip ended up being worth it. The coast was gorgeous and the weather was wonderful. We got thickshakes--mine was a chocolate raspberry one that was AMAZING. After enjoying those, we headed to Darling Harbour, where we purchased tickets to Pirates 4 at the World's Largest IMAX. We wandered around Darling Harbour for a good amount of time, enjoying good conversation and finding a small pub in which to have dinner before returning to the cinema. The screen was ridiculously big and gorgeous. The movie was enjoyable, though not great by any means.

Meanwhile, Alice Adventures in Wonderland has been gearing up. I'm the White Knight, meaning I'm one of the largest male roles in the show. My scene is at the end of the show and it's just me and Alice on stage for about 15 minutes (which is one of the longest scenes in the show!). Rehearsals for this have consumed much of my life during the week. The show is exciting and it opens this week. I'd go into more detail, but there are people reading this who I don't want to spoil things for...... so, I'll try and remember to blog about it later after the performances.

Also, I got engaged. I guess I ought to tell that story....

Toby, my current fiancee, came over for dinner last Wednesday. Every week this semester, she, Nick, and I have had a Wednesday outing after our Faith and the Contemporary Artist class. This always took place at the Bakehouse, a locally owned coffee and pastry shop near the school. I jokingly named this outing "Toby Make Out Time" saying that "Make Out" [almost] rhymes with "Bakehouse." The name stuck [for me]. Well, last Wednesday was probably the last Toby Time ever--unless we manage to somehow sneak one more this week; we'll see. Grenville, our teacher for FCA came along as a special guest star to that final outing. The conversation was good, reflecting on our semester as a whole. After finishing at the Bakehouse, we said goodbye to Grenville and headed home to Ross's for dinner. Toby Time continued well into the evening. We played some pool and enjoyed simply hanging out. Then, Toby and I left the house and headed into Circular Quay, where an incredible light show has been going on all this week.

She and I watched the lights shift and change across the Customs House for a while. Then, arm in arm, we walked to the Opera House, where a massive projection stretched across the harbour onto the sails. We went straight to the steps of the famous building and, as we marveled at the architecture, I said something along the lines of, "Toby, these last four months have been incredible and we're standing here and I'm just thinking 'wow.' Our time together has been special, you know? All the Toby Make Out Times and we went to the Outback together and we've just had so many good memories. And, well, Megan Elizabeth Tobin, will you marry me?" I, of course, got down on one knee and presented her with a ring. She accepted and, as we hugged, I lifted her off the ground and spun her around. We walked back down the steps arm in arm and sat down on the edge of the harbour watching the lights and enjoying the evening.

Oh, the ring I presented was her ring already. I was just borrowing it. And she's the fourth person I've gotten engaged to in a world famous city--though it's the sixth city I've proposed in. And though she and I are clearly madly in love, it probably won't last. I mean, after all, we kinda skipped the relationship prior to engagement period. And she's headed back to Connecticut and I'm headed back to Tennessee in just a couple weeks. Oh, and, frankly, it wouldn't be surprising if I impulsively propose to someone in New Zealand next week. Beautiful/famous places just give me this near-impossible urge to propose. It's a hard life I live, knowing I break so many hearts due to impulsive engagements. Ah well. C'est la vie.

In other news, Friday was my last day of official class for the semester. We wrapped up the course with a full day debriefing session, talking about what we'd learned and what would happen upon returning home. We talked about how some people at home are going to be interested in stories from the travels for about five minutes before they quit being polite and go back to not caring. We talked about how some people will genuinely be interested, but will still never truly understand the experiences we've had. We talked about how the only people who will ever really understand are the people who have been on the trip together and we're all separating, spreading out across the country. We talked about how, even if any of us return to Australia, it's never going to be with all of us again. It's never going to be the same. The days of this semester are coming to a close and we're all going our separate ways. We talked about the good times and the bad times. We talked about our regrets. We talked about who we were before we came here and who we are now. We talked about the friends back home who will have changed since we last saw them. We talked about the loneliness one can feel after returning home after a trip such as this. We talked about how hard things may be when we realize that nobody understands us. We talked about how hard things may be when we realize that some of our opinions and our ways of thinking are different from what they were before we came here. We talked about the coming trip to New Zealand and the incredible experience that it is going to be. And we said our goodbyes to Erin, one of our teachers, a Christ-like woman who is one of the kindest, friendliest people I've ever had the pleasure to know and to Aubrey, one of our classmates, a thought-provoking, kind friend who has always struck me as a passionate, intelligent individual. Neither of them are going to New Zealand with us. This makes me sad.

During debrief, we also watched a slide show that Aaron, a great friend of mine, put together of pictures from throughout the semester. It was during this that it clicked in my head that this journey is ending. Everything's coming to a close. The inside jokes, the lingo, the habits, the routines: they're ceasing. I'm not going to be sitting outside the library, eating lunch with friends on a day to day basis anymore. I'm not going to be wandering into Circular Quay to aimlessly catch a ferry just to see where it takes us anymore. I'm not going to go to the bookshops in Newtown or the Botanical Gardens or the Art Galleries anymore. The days of traveling with these friends south to Melbourne and west to Bourke will not occur again. Painting our faces in the Blue Mountains will not occur again. Getting fifty cent ice cream cones at every Macca's and Hungry Jack's we see isn't going to continue. Toby Time is over. Joking with Aaron about not becoming close until the last few weeks is over. Going to Top Ryde City with Nick just to go to Aldi is over. Filling weekends with Rachel, Alessandra, and Tess is over. Watching the slide show was about as melancholic an experience as I've ever had. I watched image after image of all of us happy together. I saw things from the beginning when we hardly knew each other all the way to recent days when we're the best of friends. And at some point watching that damn slide show, it clicked. I suddenly knew just how wonderful this semester has been. I suddenly knew I've been consistently happy for the longest period in recent memory. I suddenly knew how lucky I am. And, worst of all, I suddenly knew it's ending.

Guys, we're leaving. And gosh. I'm going to miss all of this, all of you, so much.

Oh, by the way, I went to the Outback a while back....

The drive was a two day haul. Staying the first night in a small town, Nick and I discussed the possibility of going to see Thor: The God of Thunder as we ate dinner. Nick asked at the front desk of the hotel if there was a cinema around. As there was, a small group gathered and ran across town to make the last showing of the evening. It was one of those movie going experiences for the memory book. We all pumped ourselves up, shouting "THOR: THE GOD OF THUNDER!!!" frequently. We went in expecting a fun, popcorn flick and it provided just that. It was glorious. Chris Hemsworth = new man-crush.

Anywho, the next day, we finished the trek to the Trillby Sheep Station, out back o'Bourke. The massive, silent place was incredible. Due to large amounts of rainfall recently, the vegetation had actually accumulated quite a bit. The place was far greener than I had expected. Meandering into the bush a bit, Toby, Nick, and I found ourselves suddenly isolated from all of the man-made world. We discovered a goat carcass across a tree limb--it appeared to have landed in the tree after flooding. Continuing to wander, we came across several kangaroo. Seeing these incredible animals in the wild was fascinating. They moved with such speed and grace. Beautiful creatures.

We sat on a broken tree, watching and listening to the world.

Each night, the group gathered around a campfire. One night, we all shared personal stories about our lives. Stories about what makes us us. One night, we played a huge game of Truth or Dare--highlights: Aaron danced around making chicken sounds in his underwear; Liisa kissed Kimberly once on each cheek and spoke to her in Spanish, which I immediately followed by taking off my shirt, picking Liisa up, and "serenading" her. The game was hilarious at times, if a bit awkward. But it was enjoyable for the most part.

We slept outside during the trip. The stars in the Outback are incredible. We could see the Milky Way vividly. I took a couple of star shots. I hope they come out. I took a lot of pictures in the Outback. I'm probably more excited about them than any other pictures thus far on this trip.

Ian, our bus driver, was extremely at home out there. He built the fire each night, and he taught us many things. "If you get bit by a snake," he told us, "the key is to crouch on the ground, put your head between your knees and keep bending forward until you can kiss your ass goodbye!" One day, he drove us around the paddocks of the sheep station. He took an old bus off the road in the Outback. And he knew where he was the entire time. We saw gray sands. We saw red sands. We sat in the middle of nowhere in silence, spreading out around red dunes writing letters to ourselves. We entered an old run down property. We saw so much that I will never be able to explain it all. It was incredible.

And throughout the course of the journey, our group grew closer. In the Outback, the cliques broke down. Barriers disappeared. We became a community, even if it was just for a brief time. The Outback was a place unlike any other I have ever been before. It was a magical place. A beautiful place. And I'm never going to be able to explain how incredible the journey out there was accurately, so I'm going to quit trying.

Shakespeare and Ballet: Sydney Opera House Visits

A couple of years ago, had someone suggested to me the possibility that I would enjoy a ballet more than a Shakespeare performance, I would have probably told them they were nutty. Dance was not something I was interested in in the least. I, like many stereotypical guys, simply never gave the art form much thought. However, I was very much into theatre and Shakespeare is obviously the epitome of playwright. I enjoyed reading Shakespeare, enjoyed performing Shakespeare, and watching Shakespeare. I still do immensely. However, I have also learned to love dance. I am awful at rhythm which makes it extremely difficult for me to dance, but I have learned to love watching dance performances.

This love for the art form came about due to a handful of events. I watched movies such as West Side Story and Singin' in the Rain. I went with friends to see Prince Caspian: The Ballet (which was pretty awful, but epic). I briefly dated a dancer. I made friends with other dancers. I heard that Darren Aronofsky was making a ballet movie and began looking up more and more about the art due to interest in the film--and I thoroughly enjoyed Black Swan when it came out. Throughout the last few years, I have attended many theatre performances, several of which have included dance numbers. Gradually, I began to think of dance as an art form I wished I could do. It is an expression using the beauty of the human body in ways that I wish I had the capabilities to mimic.

Meanwhile, my love for Shakespeare has also grown. I have read a few, seen a few, and performed in a few in the last couple of years. Many of my close friends are lovers of Shakespeare as well. I got to see an incredible performance of Macbeth at the Globe. Shakespearean acting, while not necessarily my largest strength is something that I am capable of doing. His plays are incredible works full of so much power and profound ideas. They speak to me. I love studying them and working on them. It is, in my mind, right to call him the greatest playwright to have ever lived. Given that there are no things I love more than theatre, there's nothing I would rather have a career in than theatre, no art form I enjoy more than theatre, it should come as no surprise that I hold the greatest playwright in extremely high esteem.

So, when I say that I decided I was going to see Much Ado, About Nothing at the Sydney Opera House, it was kind of a big deal. Meanwhile, I also decided I was going to get a ticket to British Liaisons, a ballet about which I knew relatively little--I simply wanted to see several different shows at the Opera House while I have the opportunity. I bought my ticket for Much Ado, getting a nice seat just a few rows back from the stage and to the house right side. I put off buying the British Liaisons ticket because I was not quite as enthusiastic about it--I definitely wanted to see it but I didn't have such a high preference about where I was going to be seated.

So, Much Ado was a week ago. And I did enjoy the show. My view was good, nothing super special, but not bad. The lead actors playing Benedick and Beatrice were great. Don Pedro and Claudio were enjoyable as well. The smaller roles were a mixed bag, some being quite good, some being just okay. Don John was an interesting but ultimately dull take on the character. Dogberry made me cringe, because he was flat and boring when he should have stolen the show. Transitions in the piece were strange--actors occasionally would come on upstage slowly setting up the next scene while dialogue was still going on downstage. This was very distracting and annoying. Random moments using musical instruments throughout the show added very little and often detracted. Don Pedro, Claudio, and Don John bowed at the Interval completely shattering all suspension of disbelief. Oh and did I mention that Dogberry was just bad? To their credit, the set design was quite interesting--rather than around a garden, they placed the action inside a pool room. Quite interesting and very good use of the pool table--Benedick using all his strength to push the pool table closer when he overhears Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio talking was hilarious. But overall, the show was rather lackluster.

Now, to be fair, I have a history with Much Ado. Seeing a Milligan production of it is one of the earliest plays I remember watching--Lee Blackburn played Benedick; more importantly to me, Ben Lee played Dogberry (which has made it hard for me to enjoy any interpretations that are not similar to Ben's). Then, in high school, I was in Much Ado, playing Don John. I have read the play multiple times. I have, of course, seen the Kenneth Brannagh film. I probably know no other Shakespeare play better than I know Much Ado. Thus, I was let down watching Much Ado at the Opera House. It was also this performance that made me realize just how small the theatre industry in Australia really is. The fact of the matter is, there aren't that many actors here. There's not that much competition. The overall quality of theatre here simply is not as good as many of the theatres in the United States or Britain. It is a sad fact--and not one that I'm throwing out there just because of Much Ado; this is something that has been talked about at Wesley while I've been studying there.

So, I was let down by Much Ado--though, really, it was enjoyable and I don't regret going at all. Now, about British Liaisons....

When I went to buy my ticket, I simply intended to buy one for a cheap seat. I quickly discovered that the show was close to selling out. As I looked through the available seats, I saw one that stood out to me, one that I strongly debated about buying. This seat was located in the dead center of the front row of the balcony. In other words, it was, literally, the best seat in the Sydney Opera House. It also cost a lot of money. Every other seat in that row was sold out. In fact, almost every other seat in that entire price bracket was sold out. And there the single best seat was looking at me, tempting me. After much debate, I decided that, while I do intend to return to Australia some day, it is unlikely that I would ever have the opportunity to pick the best seat in the venue again. Thus, I bought an expensive ticket for a show that I still didn't know that much about--and a ballet at that; me being someone who really doesn't know that much about dance.

Well, let me tell you. Walking up the red-carpeted steps to an area of seating where the vast majority of the other audience members are elderly men and women who clearly frequent the ballet was just a bit intimidating. I was seated between two old women and felt rather awkward and out of place. Then the show began. British Liaisons is actually a compilation of three ballets of differing styles from different eras. The first ballet, Checkmate, was based on the game of chess: the dancers played the chess pieces dancing across a chessboard. In the story they told, the Black Queen seduced the Red Knight who is commanded to fight her by the Red King. After their duel the Red Knight is about to strike the Black Queen down when he finds himself unable to do so. The Queen takes his sword and kills him. Then the black pieces take over the board and slay the Red King. The story was simple but told beautifully.

The second piece, After the Rain, was much more minimalist. Complex lifts and turns took place as smooth as water. The most impressive part was a pas de duex (duet with 2 dancers) of incredible power and beauty. The dancers moved across the bare stage painting an incredible picture of beauty that, frankly, I cannot describe. I was nearly moved to tears. As the piece ended, the entire theatre was silent. Then, applause exploded throughout. The piece was brief, but it was one of the strongest, most beautiful works of art I have ever witnessed.

The third ballet, Concerto, was also quite excellent and technically amazing. Many dancers moved across the stage constantly in sync with one another. They moved as if they were all of one body. It was a wonderfully done piece, though it was not quite as incredible and moving as After the Rain.

During the Intervals, there were two brief ones, one of the women next to me began talking to me. First, she asked me if I were a dancer, saying she thought I might be. Then, when I told her that no, I was an actor, she began telling me about coming to the ballet with her late husband. She was a precious lady, reminding me of an Irish nun in Paris once upon a time who gave directions to me and some friends to Notre Dame and the disappeared (true story). This woman, after the show ended, wished me luck with my studies and that I would manage to be in the right place at the right time and thus have a good career. Somehow, I felt that her wishes were more like commands. She was encouraging and kind and meeting her was a blessing.

In case you haven't noticed, I enjoyed the ballet far more than I enjoyed Much Ado. I do not regret purchasing the ticket I did at all. My seat truly was the best seat in the Opera House. I could see everything perfectly. I was moved to another world throughout it. Granted, I don't know the technical aspects of ballet and thus go into the show with less biased. However, watching British Liaisons, especially After the Rain, I felt like I was watching something special that I won't soon forget. Watching Much Ado, I felt like I was watching a decent production that I won't remember in detail for long. Both experiences were good, but gosh... I wish I could dance.

PS. The Drama Theatre at the Opera House isn't nearly as nice as the Concert Hall. Just in case you were wondering.


PPS. British Liaisons trailer, doesn't really do it justice though.

Melbourne.

"We're thinking about going to Melbourne for Easter Break. Wanna go with us?" Tess and Rachel asked me several weeks ago.

"Sounds like fun. Why not?" I replied. Did I know anything about Melbourne other than it's Australia's second largest city and that it was supposed to be a bit more artsy than Sydney? Not really. Did I know that the mountains around Melbourne are absolutely gorgeous and in many ways similar to the mountains in Tennessee? Nope. Did I have any specific things I wanted to do in Melbourne? Nope. Basically, I was asked if I wanted to go on a trip and I said sure without giving it much thought.

Thus, Thursday 21 of April, I found myself getting onto a night train that would, with roughly 10 hours of travel time, take me across much of the Australian east coast to a destination of which I knew very little. Traveling with me were the aforementioned Tess and Rachel, as well as Alessandra and Nick. The train ride was not terrible, though none of us really got good sleep. The seats were not the most comfortable in the world and having many stops along the route resulted in frequent awakenings. Rachel and I sat together, neither of us sleeping very successfully with the occasional brief conversation about it. "This stop looks like a barn," she said to me sometime around 3 or 4 in the morning.

"Huh," I replied. "I can't see it. My contacts aren't in. It's just a blur."

"Well, it's definitely a barn."

Not even cuddling could help us slip into the world of dreams. We were in a perpetual state of tired near-sleep. But really, the train travel was not bad. Just tiring.

Nick lived in Melbourne for two years earlier in his life--once when he was six and once when he was fifteen. Thus, he had connections that resulted in us having a destination of the Lilydale train station--Lilydale being one of the suburbs of the city. However, that Friday, Good Friday, we spent meandering about the city itself.

As it turned out, the free tram that goes around central Melbourne only closes two days a year: Christmas and Good Friday. Thus, we walked. A lot. We found our way to a park, meeting a man in a bunny suit on the way. We went to a war memorial. We walked down through the city to another park with a lake. We saw black swans. We found our way to a stretch of restaurants, where we ate wonderful pizza. We meandered across a dock that ended up placing us along rocks where penguins live and thus we got to see some penguins. We played cards. And then we found our way to a tram which we paid to take us back to the train station. We walked something like 10 or 11 kilos throughout that day, which is quite a bit to do with backpacks full of a weekends' worth of clothes just after a long train ride during which little sleep occurred. Fortunately, the weather was good for us--occasional spurts of light rain cooled us down but didn't last long enough to be annoying.

Finally, we got onto a train to head to Lilydale where Stan and his son Daniel, friends of Nick's family, met us. We loaded into their vehicles and headed to their lovely home in Mt. Evelyn, a beautiful little town of nice people. We were served some wonderful food, chatted briefly, and the girls were driven to the Tromps, another family of friends who opened their home to us travelers. After a good night of sleep, we set off with Stan and Daniel to travel through the mountains.

We stopped by rivers. We saw an eccentric house. We entered a rain forest. We hiked. We went on mountain tops with incredible overlooks. We had a barbie in the middle of the woods. We were out all day, seeing beautiful sights and having excellent conversations. We went to a farm owned by Stan's nephew. We were in awe of the land. And then we went back to Stan's, where we ate good food again.

The next day we visited their church for Easter Sunday. This was the church Nick's father had preached out when his family lived in Melbourne. It was a nice place with welcoming people. I then went with the girls to the Tromp household for lunch, while Nick caught up with friends he'd not seen in years. We went for a walk while Rachel Tromp, a girl just a little younger than us, took her horse for a ride. The path was similar to the Virginia Creeper Trail--indeed, it was even a path converted from an old railway. After about an hour of walking, we got coffee at a wonderful shop converted from an old Harry Potter style train.

After returning the the Tromps, playing cards, and good dinner at Stan's, we set forth again, going to an incredible overlook that looked across the city that night. The lights were incredible. We then returned to Stan's, where we watched the classic Australian movie The Castle. The next morning, we got up early and returned to the city, where we caught a train back home to Sydney.

The weekend was wonderful. It was beautiful and I did not want to leave Melbourne. We saw so much so quickly and were so welcomed by such wonderful people. I cannot imagine spending that break better. And I didn't plan a single part of it. I was just invited, said sure, and ended up having a wonderful time. Then, almost as soon as the Melbourne trip came to a close, we got on a bus to head westward into the Outback. But that's another story.

Service placement

For three hours every Monday morning, I am at Sisters of St Joseph Aged Care. I spend my time at the hostel, rather than the intensive care facility across the street, helping the many lovely ladies who live there. The sisters, for they are nuns, are of varying health, some being quite capable of moving around with energy, some needing help simply to go for a walk around the garden.

Each week, I do basically the same simple tasks. First, I help set up for Bingo in the library (a very small facility with mainly different Bible translations and religious criticism, as well as a large selection of VHS tapes). Then I help clean up from breakfast and set up for morning tea and morning exercise. The ladies come to the dining area and I join them going through the exercises--these consist of using foam "weights" and thera bands, as well as doing such tasks as standing and sitting, balancing on one leg, holding hands up in the air, touching each finger to your thumb. The amount of exercise each lady is able to do varies greatly. Some are unable to stand at all. Some can't lift the foam. Some simply can't hear the instructions properly. Once exercise ends, I help pour tea or coffee and then join one of the tables for some kind of snack. During this social time, the ladies always ask me how I'm getting on, how I find Australia, and often they ask me about America. They ask me about my family frequently. Today, one of the asked me what I thought of Obama. And then there are a handful who ask me who I am, though I've been there every week for a month and a half. Though, perhaps the most frequent question is how long I'm going to be in Australia.

From here, we all go to the library to play Bingo. I usually sit with either Antoinetta or Margaret Bourke, both of whom have difficulty seeing and hearing. I make sure they put buttons on the right numbers. Usually they just smile and nod thankfully. I take the chocolate prizes to the winners of each game and call out the lucky number. Then, after Bingo, I leave and go to school. Each week begins like this with very little variation.

Today was a bit different. I took Antoinetta for a walk around the garden, one time around the loop until she was too tired to continue. We then sat on the front porch of the hostel by Margaret simply enjoying the sun. These are two of my favorite residents of the hostel. Antoinetta is Italian. Occasionally, she will be mid-sentence when she switches into Italian completely unaware that she has done so. We have to stop her and ask her to repeat frequently. She never remembers me week to week. Margaret is not in good condition. She has a hard time moving around and simply sits with a glazed look the majority of the time. She smiles a lot and clearly enjoys having people around her. She told me today that she didn't know how to play Bingo, though she has played every week I've been going to the hostel. She never remembers me either, though I've helped her play Bingo and exercise many times. Both Antoinetta and Margaret are quite frail.

Then there's Sister Mary who helps set up Bingo every week. She's one of the most energetic of the residents. She doesn't use a walker. She's constantly up and about. She remembers my name each week and is always asking me if I've gotten to travel much of the country--she has a story about traveling from east to west, all the way around Australia, though she never made it to America, which she would have liked to but it's too late now. Today, I found out that Mary is 97. I was shocked. She's in incredible health.

And that's the thing. These women are all quite aged. Many of them joke about this frequently. Once one was waiting for the elevator and she remarked to me, "This lift gets slower every day, just like us." Today, one told me about remembering the song Tennessee Waltz, a song from her youth. Today, I took my camera and asked if I could take some photos. They were all eager to have me do so. They were thrilled. These ladies live in a small home close together. Each week, they go through the same routine. Few of them are capable of leaving the hostel. They're all getting weaker constantly, but they are all high-spirited almost every time I see them. Their bodies may be failing, but their souls seem strong.

I must admit each week I almost dread going in to St Joseph's. I am afraid that one of these days I'm going to go in to do my normal volunteer hours and that I'll look for Sister Margaret or Sister Antoinetta or Mary or Betty or Thecla or someone else only to find that particular lady missing. Being around these joyful women is one of the highlights of my week. I always leave the hostel in a good mood. It's a tough place to serve. Sometimes seeing their frailty breaks my heart bit by bit. But I'm glad I'm there. Because these women are not afraid. And that's incredible to see.

Ends and Beginnings

Last night was opening night of the Classic Shorts (the shows I assistant directed). While killing time before the show, I was sitting chatting with Peter, one of the actors. All of a sudden, Adrianna, one of the actresses, walked up to me and hugged me without much of a word. I hugged her back and just smirked at Peter's confused expression. A few minutes later, Mckenzie, another of the actresses, walked up and hugged me without much of a word. Again, I hugged her back and smiled at Peter's confusion. I shrugged my shoulders. Not long after this, Kylie, a third actress, walked up, hugged me, and kissed my cheek. As she walked away, Peter shook his head. "They do know you're going to be here for the whole run, right? What's going on?" I just shrugged.

A bit later, Peter and I had entered the theatre. The set was up and the clock was ticking. It was getting closer and closer to performance time. Out of the blue, Laura, another actress, came up to me and hugged me. Unlike the others, she also said, "Thanks for that lovely card."

"Aha!" Peter exclaimed. "I knew something was going on!" I just laughed and told him he had one waiting in the dressing room.

A bit later, Bobby, one of the actors, thanked me as well.

Not to downplay the sincerity, but I've picked up the tradition of director giving thank you cards to his (or her) actors from my directors back home. Both Dick and Dennis give cards of thanks for each production. It's a kind thing to do, a simple way of saying thanks for working hard. To me, it's not a huge deal. But the little action made these actors happy.

A short time later, the actors and Tash, our stage manager, called Herman (the head director), Wendy (our wonderful set/costume designer), and I down to the stage floor where they presented us each with gifts. They gave me a photo frame which they all signed (and a photo of the whole group is on its way--it just hadn't been printed yet). And see, here's the thing... That was the first I've been given a gift as a director. And suddenly, I realized just how much such a simple thing really does make a person happy. It really made me feel like I was appreciated and that all my work on the show was worth the effort.

And most importantly, throughout all of these exchanges--the physical ones, the material ones, the spoken ones--it occurred to me just how much I have enjoyed working on this production and getting to know these people. Although I still have a good amount of time left in my semester here, I'm feeling a bit melancholic to see these shows coming to a close. I have been working on them since the first day of classes. They have basically defined my Australian school experience thus far. The Australians I've been getting close to thus far are the cast members of these shows.

And just as one thing ends, another begins. I had my Alice in Wonderland auditions a couple days ago. Today, the cast list went up. I'm playing the White Knight, which is a role for which all male auditionees were required to do the monologue. It's a good sized role, complete with a ridiculously long, rambling 2 page song. It's a pretty iconic part.

I was excited to see that several of my friends from the Classic Shorts cast got good roles too. Now, a new show begins where I am no longer in charge. I am back down to earth as an actor. And I get to act with a group of people that I am loving getting to know and be around. I get to be among my friends, as well as around more people that I don't know quite as well. It's exciting. And life is great.

"Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, if you see a crocodile, don't forget to scream!"

Public transportation in Sydney is highly frustrating. Buses are quite rarely on time. Sometimes, they're very early. Sometimes, they're very late. Sometimes, for whatever reason, they never show up. Let me give an example of what may occur when using Sydney public transportation.

It's entirely possible that a person might go out to the bus stop right next to their house five minutes before the bus is supposed to arrive only to wait for twenty minutes before deciding to take the ten minute walk up the hill to the larger road that has six different bus routes crossing it. It is then possible for none of those six buses to arrive for another thirty minutes, causing this person to hail a cab that is the only cab that has shown up in the last fifteen minutes. Then, upon being dropped off at a different bus stop in town and rushing onto a bus, it is entirely possible that the driver of that bus may decide to go about 10 mph throughout the entire route. Meanwhile, it is entirely possible that every person over the age of 65 who is incapable of moving quickly will have lined up at nearly every stop along said route--one person at each stop, so that the bus is constantly having to stop. After all of this, it is possible for a person to finally arrive at the train station and find themselves on a train that randomly stops twice in between stations. Then, as the train comes into the station the person was going to, it's entirely possible that said person may receive a phone call from the friends they're meeting informing that the bus that needs to be caught from that final train station has arrived five minutes early and that driver is unwilling to wait those five minutes for the last person, thus causing that bus to be missed. This person then finally arrives at their destination over an hour later than intended, three hours after having left home.

I'm so glad this is yet to happen to me and my roommates--oh wait. It did. That was how our Saturday trip to Featherdale Wildlife Reserve began. But we did eventually get to Featherdale. Was it worth all the effort? Hell yes. You see, upon entering the reserve, we immediately saw all sorts of animals that one only sees in Australia. All sorts of fantastic birds, massive lizards, flying foxes (bats), koalas, wombats, kangaroos, emus, a massive crocodile, Tasmanian devils, dingos, and penguins. And that's just to name a few. And the best part? Most of the kangaroos and emus we free roaming through a large section of the park. As in, they're just running around where you're walking. You get to pet them and feed them. It was fantastic. And surreal.

Also, I've officially been in the same room as the deadliest snake in the world--yikes!

And that croc was freakin' massive. And there was an albino kangaroo. And one of the Tasmanian devils kept running around on this path it had created in its pin. It kept running and running and running in this big circle for the entirety of the few hours we were there. I got to pet a joey in a bag (used in place of a pouch for the orphan joey).

Through all of this, I took several digital photos which I'll put up on Facebook in the near future. I also took a full roll of film at Featherdale--really looking forward to developing/printing it.

By the time we left Featherdale, I was pretty tired. We ended up with a bit of a different group than normal--Nick, Ryan, Pat, Lainey, Paul, Toby, Sam, and myself. We went to a mall together, where we wandered about for a bit. Then, Nick, Ryan, and I headed home. On the way, we came across an ice cream truck that was playing Greensleeves (totally random, but rather awesome). Then we got home where Ross was hosting a good-sized party for Ilie's birthday--Illie's his Hungarian girlfriend, not sure I've mentioned her before. As Ross ran around making sure everything was ready, Santiago arrived back home--he'd been in Melbourne all week on a business trip. I won't go into detail, but a large yelling match occurred between Ross and Santi. Sigh. This is a fairly regular occurrence and there doesn't seem to be a good solution to fix the troubles that occasionally brew. I suspect I'll be interrogated by Erin and Kim on Monday, as I witnessed the whole event. Sigh. Why can't we all just get along?

Anywho, the barbie was great. Ross made lots of lamb, pork, and chicken. Ilie had made some incredible potato salad. The company were mostly Illie's family, but some of Ross's as well. He had sparklers and Nick and I took a couple down into the darkness of the miniature bush behind the house with those as our only lights. Intense darkness and sparklers is great fun. During all this, Dom joined us and I asked him if he'd had a good day. "No, mate," he responded. "To be perfectly honest, it was shit. But it happens. Tomorrow will be better, you know?"

A bit later, we turned in for the night. And that's that.

Oh, and the quote that is this blog's title is a song that Ross's daughter Danielle was singing to her youngest daughter. It's the Australian version. It makes me laugh.

Canberra: The City of Boredom (according to most Australians)

Canberra. The capital city of Australia. A city that almost all Australians dislike. A place that, when brought up, an Aussie will generally say, "Canberra? Why would you want to go there? So boring." With all that in mind, imagine how thrilled I was to be giving up the majority of one of my few precious weekends to make the trip to the political capital.

En route, we stopped a Bundanoon, the first city in Australia to "ban" bottled water. Sounds thrilling, doesn't it? I mean, this city has... get this... fancy water fountains! And they sell... aluminum water bottles. Shocking! They even have Camel Bak as a sponsor... Oh and all of those aluminum bottles are extremely overpriced. And the citizens of Bundanoon are all crazy about their achievement. Now, I will grant that it's a nice move in the way of environmental awareness, in the whole Green movement--except when asked about if they're taking any other extra cautions for Green awareness, it turns out they aren't even trying to be part of that movement. They've banned bottled water and, for now, that's the only thing they're doing as a city. Also, the city is tiny. It's not really a city. It's a town. And they're all extremely proud... and frankly, they seemed rather insane and cultish and attention seeking. I think the move is an interesting and good step in an environmental direction, but they seemed to be doing it more for publicity and tourism. Lame.

After that short stop, we continued into Canberra where we went to Parliament Hill--their Parliament building is literally built into a hill. Epic. We sat in one of the debate rooms and talked to a clerk who told us about some of the processes of government, though she avoided all questions concerning her own opinion on anything. That was kind of interesting, but not really. Cramming into elevators with 26 other people (mostly lovely ladies) was far more fun. Just sayin'.

But then we went into the larger senate room, where the Senate was in session. We sat down and watched the wonderfully fascinating event that is Australian politics--and I'm not being sarcastic. Let me simply write this as a dialogue.

Senator Barnaby Joyce: I just want you to answer my question, minister. It's not even my question! It's their question! [he indicates the audience to his left... my group... we're Americans, though he does not know this] It's them you're affecting! These people want an answer, minister! We'll stay here all day and tomorrow and the next day until you stand up and answer the question.

[Senator Joyce continues rambling for five minutes--the minister does not respond]

Joyce: Minister, I know you can hear me. I know you have many deficiencies, minister, but deafness is not one of them! Hello? Hello? Wake up, minister! Wake up! Wakey, wakey, anybody home? No? Nobody home? Minister, come on and stand up and answer the people's question! Come on, we just want you to stand up, Steve-er, minister.

[more time passes with more rambling]

Joyce: Minister, if you sit there like that any longer, we'll need to get a gnome hat to put on you and move you to the garden!

[Joyce sits. Senator Not-Joyce stands]

Not-Joyce: Hear, hear! A garden gnome! You'd make a good one, minister! And it would put you to good use! Good use! Now, I agree with Senator Joyce. You need to answer his questions.

Anywho, you get the point. Not-Joyce talked for a while. Joyce got back up again. They just kept going and going. And Minister Steve never did stand up--at least not in the 30 minutes we watched. At one point, Joyce straight up called the government party stupid. Australian politics are far more entertaining to watch than American ones. And Australians hate their government! It's glorious.

Then we went and talked to an Aboriginal woman who lives in a tent outside Parliament protesting for Aboriginal rights and a return of Aboriginal land. And then we went to the hostel, ate, played games, and told stories.

The next day, we went to the National Portrait Gallery (good! especially the black and white photography), the National Museum of Australia (eh, okay. all history stuff and laid out weirdly), the National Gallery (absolutely fantastic, reminded me of the Pompidou and the Tate Modern--enjoyed the Pollocks, Rothkos, Picassos, Stills, and more a lot), and the National War Memorial (very well done, similar to the Imperial War Museum in London). I took several photos at the War Memorial around the inscriptions of names--several portrait shots of friends.

Then, we got on the bus to go back home. (Now there's a weird feeling. I'm calling Sydney home.) The bus ride was a lot of fun. Chilling with Alessandra, Tess, Rachel, and Nick mostly. But of course, given being on a bus, others were in and out of the conversation as well. At one point, several of us clambered into one set of seats, all squishing together. It ended up being like 2 guys and 6 or 7 girls squished into that one seat. Epic. We took pictures. And then we returned to our separate seats once more, though Allana decided to come lay across Alessandra and me, which resulted in more pictures.

I'm so glad to be getting comfortable enough with these people to be ridiculous. And I get to be ridiculous a lot. It's glorious. The Canberra trip ended up being a ton of fun, though I do think the city itself had little to do with that. Mostly, it was fun because of the people--though I really did love the National Gallery a whole lot. And then we came home and I got up the next day and..... well, go read the post about my trip to the Opera House and you'll know more, as chronologically it takes place after this post (but I had to turn in a blog post as an assignment, so I wrote about the Opera House trip for the assignment, causing this post to get overlooked for a few days).

:)

I went to the Sydney Opera House. Be jealous.

There I was, standing on the steps of the Sydney Opera House when all of a sudden: DOUBLE RAINBOW: All the way across the sky. I kid you not. It consisted of two complete arches--one of which I could clearly see hitting the ground just beneath the Botanical Gardens. These two rainbows were the best rainbows I have ever seen in person. A bit later, everyone's attention was drawn to the sky once again. Large bats had replaced the double rainbow, flying overhead. Meanwhile, I sat down eating some fish and chips and drinking the Australian energy drink V. And that was how I began my visit to the most famous opera house in the world.

I'd bought my ticket to go see Tim Minchin, an Australian musician and comedian of whom I'm quite fond, about a month ago as soon as I saw that it was on sale. Fearing tickets would sell out quickly, I bought mine without really seeing if there was anyone else interested in going. This turned out to be a valid fear as the show quickly sold out soon thereafter. Thus it was that, after finishing my food and drink, I walked alone to the doors of the illogically structured architectural wonder and promptly found my way to the loo. As if the double rainbow, the bats, and the massive arches of the outer shell of the building were not enough, I knew I was in a truly special place as soon as I saw the sinks. A long white counter with dips in it stretched across the length under the sinks. The water sprayed directly onto the counter, flowing down into the dips. This, in itself, was a fascinating design element. And then I went into the concert hall.

I stood staring at the immensely high ceiling, the thousands of seats around the hall, the wooden walls, and the brilliant lights shining down onto the stage. It was only after this that it clicked where the usher had taken me: nearly dead center, in the second row. I sat down, finding out that even the seats were structurally wonderful. In my opinion, there are three criteria that make up good seats: they must be comfortable, aesthetically pleasing, and, most importantly, they must leave plenty of legroom. Somehow, the red-cushioned, wooden-backed seats of the Opera House concert hall managed to fit all three criteria.

But enough about the architecture and design. I was there for a show, not to marvel at the incredible infrastructure of the venue. The orchestra filled up their seats and a violinist came downstage right, a brilliant white light shining on her as she played a solo that gradually built up. Then, Minchin's voice rang out: "Yeaaaaaah. I'm in a cage!" And a black veil that had been covering a large box on stage about 5 feet in front of me was removed to reveal the ginger-haired man himself. The show consisted of a fun mix of music and comedic gags, making fun of the audacity of a comedian playing with a symphony orchestra in a gigantic arena style concert hall. Foul language abounded throughout the show. Minchin made fun of religions, races, women, and just about everything in between--though perhaps his most frequent target was himself. I've known much of his music for a long time now and so I knew what to expect. He's offensive but hilarious. And I'm fairly sure the man really loves the world--that's why he makes fun of it so much.

Tim is Australian, after all. Part of the job description of Australian appears to be: "Make fun of those people or things that you love." And I saw that mantra carried out thousand fold at this concert. Minchin kept poking fun at the conductor--at one point he took the baton and went into a discussion about how it kept making him think the conductor was Harry Potter. But enough about the humorous side of the show. After all, Tim Minchin does have a dark side too.

During the show's interval, Minchin changed out of the white shirt he'd worn at the beginning. When he returned to the stage, he wore a black shirt. During a few introductory words, he told us all that, while the first half was all fun and games, the second half, as indicated by his wardrobe change, would be much more serious. He then preceded to "accidentally" mess up the next song humorously. But here's the thing: even though there were still plenty of laughs throughout the second half of the shows, Minchin didn't lie. The songs got darker and a bit more serious. While still quite funny, almost all of them had a good deal of subtext to them. And they got me thinking.

Minchin sang about the world, living in it and loving it for being the world we live in. He sang about the difficulty of creating something beautiful in the modern world. He sang about loved ones being important. I laughed and smiled a lot during the show. I was seated in an incredible building, in an incredible city, watching an incredible performance of a comedian and an orchestra. And I found myself thinking about home.

I love Australia. I've been here for a little over a month now. I'm making good friends and getting to do all sorts of wonderful things. I have a public transport pass that allows me to take as many buses, trains, and ferries as I want during my stay. I've been to several great museums, I've traveled to Canberra, and I get to travel to the Outback and New Zealand. I've been working on several awesome theatre pieces, having wonderful opportunities unlike any I've ever had back in Tennessee. But Tim Minchin hit a chord within me as he sang about the importance of home.

"You will learn someday that wherever you are and whatever you face, these are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world."

The song these lyrics come from, White Wine In The Sun, has been my favorite of Tim's for as long as I've been a fan of his. It was the first song I ever heard by him, but tonight was the first time it really felt true to me. The song continues, discussing that, even when you're nine thousand miles from home, your loved ones will still be waiting for you to come back. Well, I am quite literally nine thousand miles from home--more than that, actually. Thinking about that almost makes me a bit melancholic. Tim's words made me miss friends and family.

But that's part of what this trip's all about. I have lived in the same place with the same people for twenty years. It was time to get away from home. It was time to open myself up to new things. And Australia is providing that wonderfully. I'm having a blast. I'm getting to see incredible things and visit incredible places. I'm even getting to wash my hands in aesthetically pleasing sinks. But most importantly, I'm getting to forge wonderful new relationships that I'm convinced will last for many years to come. And all the while, there are people waiting for me back home. Knowing that's true is a wonderful feeling. But for now, I'm in Australia and these new relationships are just starting. And I can already tell: by the time I get back to Tennessee, I'm going to feel like I've left another home nine thousand miles away. Despite the melancholic tinge, that's going to be a beautiful feeling. That feeling will probably be almost as amazing as a double rainbow.

PS. After the show, I got a 50 cent cone at Macca's, which is Australian for McDonald's. Yum.

PPS. I'll post about the Canberra trip sometime in detail. It was epic. We watched a senator call another senator a garden gnome.

Kissing Point (and more!) with 3 lovely ladies

Today was rainy. The world was soaked repeatedly on and off all day. It would come in great rushing spurts all of a sudden. To be caught in one of these was to be drenched. And of course, today I had plans in the city, where there was not to be constant cover. The weather disappointed me, initially. But I still packed my bag and made my way to town, meeting up with Alessandra on the way. Soon after, Tess and Rachel joined us at the Queen Victoria Building and the four of us made our way to Paddy's Market. Here, we split up.

I meandered around the place, enjoying the frantic nature of the place--people were scurrying everywhich direction, the shops were packed to the gills with all kinds of things (mostly touristy things, but still interesting). The place was crazy, but kind of fascinating. I found myself eyeballing shoes. See, I only brought my sandals and some Rockport sneakers to Australia. I've been having Converse withdrawal. So when I found my way to the second floor where it was much more like an American mall, I was quite sad that the store I first entered was way over-priced (the cheapest shoes I saw were $90!). But then, walking back towards the elevator and I looked up and saw a grand sight: one floor up, there before me was a Converse Outlet. I made my way up the escalator and entered the store. After much debate, I settled on a pair of Deep Lichen (read: forest green) high tops.

Rejoining the girls, I was amused when Rachel said, "Converse? I'd not have marked you as a Converse wearer!" See, my entire fashion sense here is completely different than at home. At home, dark jeans, mostly dark colored t-shirts or button up shirts, and casual shoes are my regular attire. Here, I'm almost always in shorts and bright colored t-shirts. And of course, before today, I only had two sets of shoes. Oh, and I wear my Busch Gardens hat here. A lot. It's kinda wonderful. But anywho, I now have some new Converse that are wonderful. And the day could have ended there and been a good, successful day, but it was only just beginning.

Wandering across the street into Chinatown, we soon found a small shop where we bought pastries and sat down to chat. We took silly pictures--most notably outside of a strange pink stuffed animal store. We found ourselves caught in one of the sudden rain spurts (fortunately, we had 3 umbrellas with us, so we were able to stay relatively dry). And we decided it was time to go take a ferry--having unlimited bus, train, and ferry passes is freakin' wonderful; most useful things in this city--just sayin'. Thus, to Circular Quay, we made our way. Throughout all of this, by the way, I was carrying my film camera. I took a handful of pictures, most of specific moments that I had to move quick to get shots and, in all likelihood, the photos won't come out. But there was an adventurous quality to shooting some film moment to moment, knowing the lighting was low, the rain was going to cause issues, and most of my targets were moving people. I took shots quickly and we shall see if they work out... in a few months.

We had just missed the ferry to Manly, which is where we were planning to go. Thus, we found ourselves looking at other potential destinations--after all, the journey's more important than the destination, right? Upon seeing the name "Kissing Point" as an option, we knew we'd found the place for us. I mean, where else would one guy and three girls go on a day out and about? (And  of course, this was our running joke of the day). Thus, with no knowledge of the place aside from the name, we got onto a ferry. Mid-travel, I put my arm around Rachel and said, "Hey, Rachel. I know we're headed to Kissing Point, but we could bring it to us right now, if we wanted." I grinned big and cheesy and got some laughs.

And then the ferry was arriving at the little dock that marked Kissing Point. We got off the boat to see a woman sitting, smoking a hookah, minding her own business. We knew we were in a good place. We followed the dock to the shore, a small beach with lots of shells and seagulls. We took some pictures and enjoyed the peaceful land--it rained a bit again, but not hard enough to be obnoxious. A path swerved into Kissing Point Park, but we decided not to investigate today. Discussions were made about how perfect this little beach would be for a picnic. And then the ferry was coming back and we were heading back to Circular Quay once more.

Mid-travel, I put my arm around Rachel and said, "Hey, Rachel. I know we just left Kissing Point, but we could bring it back to us right now, if we wanted." I grinned big and cheesy and got some laughs again and some eye rolls. Docked once more, we headed to the Rocks in search of dinner. We finally ended up at a small hotel, eating good food. Then, Alessandra and I waved goodbye to Tess and Rachel and we caught a bus heading back to Drummoyne. The bus journey brought us back to discussion about my new Converse and I told the story of how I came to own my first Converse, which lead into a walk with a lengthy conversation about my life in the last few years and part of why I'm so glad I'm in Australia right now. Then, I returned home, having had a day full of Oz, that wonderful fantasy world I've discovered here, as well as having had a day that closed with conversation reminding me of the real world. It was a good day. My one regret is that I did not, at some point, blurt out, "If this isn't nice, I don't know what is!"

In explanation, I leave you with this quote from Kurt Vonnegut: 

"And now I want to tell you about my late Uncle Alex. He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well-read and wise. And his principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is. So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is."

Well, you know what? Better late than never. I'm in Australia with some wonderful people and if this isn't nice, I don't know what is. That's all I'm sayin'.

St. Patrick's Day.

I found a hat. It’s shiny. And green. And it’s a bowler. This was just after purchasing some amazing ice cream—the flavor? Sunshine Mango.  It was truly amazing—several of the friends I was with tried bites and the critics were in agreement: I’d picked a winner. This was the beginning of how I spent my St Patrick’s Day evening.

To give a little back story, flash back with me to lunch this afternoon. I was just eating my corned beef sandwich (perfect meat choice for St Patrick’s Day!) when my phone buzzed. “Huh! A text?” I thought. And I discovered that Rachel was suggesting a journey to a pub in The Rocks for St Patrick’s Day. In that moment, I thought, “Sounds like an adventure!” And so I agreed. Then I asked who else was going… and Rachel didn’t really have an answer, but she told me to spread the word.

Well, I talked to a couple people who weren’t really that interested, but figured that didn’t matter too much, that Rachel would gather a decent group. Thus, I headed to Circular Quay this evening to find out whom I was meeting. And the group was great: Rachel, Tess, Liisa, Kara, Toby, and me. I must admit, I thought of my old group of friends back at Milligan, those wonderful girls I affectionately once called The Harem.

We were all quite relaxed and out to have a good time and that we did. We went to a pub—no worries, we all kept our bargain and didn’t drink anything with alcohol; though Kara stumbled a bit right by the bouncer and almost got denied entry because he thought she was drunk; quite funny if you know Kara—where we danced and mingled. A live musician played several classic songs, which we generally sang along with (as did most the crowd). Drunken guys hit on the girls some, but it was all harmless fun. The music was loud. The crowd was tight. And we all had a blast.

So, yes. I spent the evening of St Patrick’s Day at a pub in Sydney. And I got a shiny hat. That I wore all evening. Total win situation.

Long Day's Journey Into Night....

Shortly after the day began, I found myself standing in front of a painting by Imants Tillers entitled "White Aborigines." This was a disturbing painting of chaotic blue, white, and pink colors covering 100 small canvas board panels. Black streaks created figures within the chaos, though these too were chaotic. The painting was frantic. It was hard to focus on one image at a time. The painting was violent. No happy faces here. Some German phrase crossed the bottom of the painting--I don't know what it said. It was a dark painting. And it began my day.

Yes, I'd begun my day at the Museum of Contemporary Art. After nearly 3 hours there, Nick and I headed out to the Rocks to find snacks. A wonderful coconut and jam pastry satisfied me. And then it was time to meet our friends. Tess, Anna, Kara, Reza, and Olivia. We wanted to find a place for a relatively cheap dinner. After a long trek across central Sydney, with discoveries of closed restaurants, we finally found our way to the Shark Hotel, the same place where a group from my homestay had gone "clubbing" back the first weekend here. The room was complete different in the daytime. It had a buffet for about $10, and it was glorious.

You see, at the Ross Frazer homestay, we have a group of 7 guys. Ross does not believe in salad. In fact, he doesn't really believe in vegetables in general. And he doesn't think guys in general are interested in such things. Most of what we eat on a regular basis is meat. It's good, but it's beginning to get old. It's also doing weird things to all of our stomachs. So, when I say that I didn't eat a single piece of meat at this buffet, you should understand something: it was an event. I loaded my plate with salad fixings, some Chinese noodles, humus, potatoes, and carrots. The combination is strange, I know. But it tasted incredible. I got happily full without a single shred of meat.

The conversation over dinner was good, crossing all sorts of topics--from relationships to 9/11. And then it was time to head to the bus stop to get to NIDA (National Institute of Dramatic Art), where Nick, Anna, Tess, and I had tickets to see the finalists of Short + Sweet, a 10 minute play festival--a group of Wesley students were participating, thus how we had heard about it. So, we're in a hurry to make sure we get to the theatre on time. And we're following Reza, who is using his iPhone to guide us to the right bus stop. And we're running late.

Thus, we moved quickly through the city, traveling several blocks. We finally get to the stop, only to discover that Reza's phone had messed up. We'd gone in the wrong direction. With only minutes before our bus is going to be arriving, we took off sprinting through Sydney. Block after block, we ran. Uphill, downhill, through the dense humidity of the Australian air. As we weaved our way through crowds, Reza frantically tried to find the right bus stop. We finally saw it ahead. And we also saw our bus turning into the street, heading towards the bus stop. We sprinted as fast as possible, trying to get to the stop before the bus left. God bless the old man who got on the bus and had not pre-payed and was having trouble getting the correct change out. We got on the bus. And Reza told the driver, "Drop these guys at NIDA, please."

And the driver said, "NIDA? You need to catch a bus on the other side of the road. Wrong direction."

Crap. Thus, we got off the bus, crossed the road, and waited... and waited... and waited.... And no bus of use to us came. Finally, we grabbed a cab. Nick struck up a conversation with the Indian cabdriver, and we got to NIDA just in time to pick up our tickets and head into the theatre.

The shows covered several different styles and genres--from dramatic dance to pseudo-existentialism to commedia delle'arte (the Wesley guys!). They varied in quality, greatly, the highlights for me being: a play about people trapped in a prison with no explanation (which had a crappy ending unfortunately--turned out they were lobsters. Lame.), a play about talking down someone from suicide (really powerful), a play about an autistic man meeting a woman on top of a building and falling in love (quite humorous and touching), and the Wesley guys showed great range and storytelling with their commedia piece.

There were awards given after the festival--the Wesley guys got $1000! And then it was time to head back home. We caught a bus and then a train all together. Then, Nick and I said goodnight to Anna and Tess, and caught another bus home, and it was 1 in the morning by the time we got there.

Throughout all of our adventures, there were many conversations, as we broke down barriers and began getting to know each other better. By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. It had been a long one, but a fun one. And I had a blast.