Adventures in Fiji

Bula from my final few hours in Fiji! I am currently at the Nadi Airport, awaiting boarding for my flight to LAX, so I figured, what better time to document my final excursion before heading back to the northern hemisphere? None. No better time. So, on with it we go.

I arrived in Fiji to a quartet of ukulele playing, singing Fijians. A brilliant way to start off the trip, if you ask me. I met up with my Awesome Adventures welcome crew, and was soon escorted to a mini-bus where I would be traveling to the Nadi Bay Hotel for the evening’s stay. Now, don’t let the name fool you… the majority of the hostels I stayed in were much better than this place. There was no air conditioner. Now, for those of you who are unfamiliar… IT’S REALLY BLEEPING HOT IN FIJI. This, naturally, did not bode well for my sleeping habits. I tossed and turned and tried every trick in the book and by some small miracle fell asleep after like three hours of trying. Naturally, this offset my entire sleep schedule pattern thing, which lead me to miss my first ferry the next morning. Off to a great start, yet again. But luckily there was an afternoon boat going out to the island, so I was able to catch that after having some brekky and purchasing some much-needed bug spray. Another note to anyone who may go to Fiji… the mozzys are out of control. You need to coat yourself head to toe every few hours if you want to survive. And even then, you get bitten. UGH. Such is life in the tropics. But back to the fun stuff.

I boarded the completely badass yellow Awesome Adventures boat sometime around noon, which took me out to South Sea Island. Because, when you go to Fiji, you don’t stay on the mainland. Granted, the mainland is quite nice, but the outer islands take the cake. It was kindof cloudy, and ended up raining on us as we transferred from the boat to the island. After arriving on the island where I would spend the day/night, I had a bit of lunch, then, as I always do in new places, took to exploring. I was done within ten minutes. Not because of lack of things to do… but because you could walk around the perimeter of the island in, oh, seven minutes? Leaving three to explore the inner parts. It was that small… which I found to be immensely awesome, not to mention the entertainment factor of being able to stand in the middle of the island, look to the left and see water, then look to the right and see another coast. Brilliant.

I soon gave in to the idea that the skies would clear, and opted to grab some free snorkel gear and check out the local aquatic life. Snorkeling is so fun. I saw some pretty sweet stuff, and by the time I grew tired of breathing out my mouth, the skies had cleared. This resulted in some hammocking, but mostly lounging on the beach and reading. Dinner was the next main event, and after dinner, I grabbed a shower (no hot water… just rain water. I love it!) and retreated back to the beach to do a little nighttime reading. It was an early night, and although there wasn’t an air conditioner in the 3o person dorm I was sharing, it was a-ok, cause we got an awesome sea breeze. There’s something about falling asleep to the sound of the ocean that is immensely soothing. And double the bonus points for the fact that there were hardly any bugs on South Sea.

The next morning started early, as I awoke at seven to a beating drum… their way of waking everyone up for brekky. Again, brilliant. I ate my morning meal with my toes in the sand, then packed up my bags and continued my beach loungings on what had emerged as a beautiful day. Took some pictures, and come nine, it was time to depart South Sea for my cruise on the I-Know-Why-They-Call-It-The Sea Spray. We hopped a big motorized catamaran to the boat, hopped on, and were immediately greeted with a glass of champagne. Soon we were off and cruising, and as with my trip in the Whitsundays, I was loving every second of being on the pristine blue water. Our first stop was an island that housed a traditional Fijian village. We hopped the dingy onto shore and went about wandering through the village, exploring the primary school, village, and seeing lots of Fijians greeting us with ‘Bula!’ as we walked along. The village was incredible to see… all open windows, hardly any electricity… a real change to the cushy life I’m used to as an American. But with the most gorgeous views you could ever imagine as their backyard. Give and take, I suppose. After our village tour concluded and I had acquired sufficient bug bites to mark the occasion, we jetted back to the I-Know-Why-They-Call-It-The Sea Spray, where we were given lunch. This ended up being quite comedic, seeing as the captain kept us sailing, actually taking us into somewhat rough waters as we were trying to eat. Naturally, this resulted in lots of flying food and falling people. I did pretty well for myself, only losing a piece of bread along the way.

Our second stop was the island where they filmed the movie Castaway. It was definitely one of the most gorgeous places I have ever seen. Being the adventurer/pirate I am, I opted to jump off the side of the boat once we’d anchored and swim to shore, in true pretend-to-be-a-castaway form. One of the ladies on the boat was kind enough to take my picture pretending to be stranded on the island (which wasn’t altogether convincing, seeing as I had about five people milling around right near me). I only minorly regretted this later, as it prevented me from photographing the glorious scenery on the island. Either way, I seriously doubt the pictures would’ve done it justice. I went about wandering parts of the island from there, doing everything from attempting to crack my own coconut (I succeeded, but sadly, it hadn’t ripened yet. At least good to know I could survive if stranded on an island.) to swimming in the bath-like waters. But the highlight of my stay on the Castaway island had to be climbing the mountain. Now, granted, I didn’t climb the whole thing, but I did make it to just above the treetops, which is a pretty decent climb, considering I had no harness and no shoes. The view was incredible, and it made me feel like quite an adventurer. I was into it. After I ever-so-carefully descended from the mountain, we only had a bit of time left until reboarding the boat. And once we did, well, therein comes the whole ‘I know why they call it the’ part of the Sea Spray. I sat at the bow of the boat, still wet from my swim, and the captain once again took us onto quite rough seas. And by quite rough, I mean I got pummeled by sea spray about fifty times. Not a ha-ha-nice-little-splash sort of deal, either. A full-on Canyon River Rapids soaking. Which, of course, I loved, and the rest of the boat loved as well. Because it’s always fun seeing other people get slammed with a wall of water. Don’t lie, you know you’d have loved to see it. From there, the I-Know-Why-They-Call-It-The Sea Spray took us back to meet the high-speed catamaran, which took most of us on a long and chilly venture back to Denarau Marina. Another short bus ride brought me to my home for the past two days, the Aquarius Hotel. With previous arrangements in mind, I wasn’t sure what to think of my next two nights in Fiji, but they ended up being spectacular. Aquarius had the ever-elusive air conditioning, as well as SEVEN hammocks, a pool, a beach, a plasma screen tv, an affordable restaurant, free breakfast for backpackers, and free wireless internet! Didn’t do much the first night there, really just got a bite to eat and went to sleep after a long day. But the next two days were pretty damn glorious, if I do say so myself.

Yesterday I woke up around nine, redeemed my free brekky in the form of three pancakes (whoo!), and went about spending some quality time in the hammock. Ohh, do I love hammocks. I bounced between there and the pool a few times, reading The Toyminator along the way, until my one remaining roommate, Jemma, asked me if I wanted to go into town. Of course! So, we hopped one of the insanely awesome circa 196o’s buses with no windows into town and went about exploring/souvenir shopping. I picked up two more packs of Tim Tam’s, as well as a few little things at the market we came upon. Definitely a good way to spend the afternoon. We grabbed some lunch at a little café, then after attempting to board the wrong bus, found our way onto our purple bus and proceeded to go off-roading on the beach with a crew of Fijian school kids. Brilliant. After getting back to Aquarius, I got back into my rotation of swimming and hammocking until the sunset. Jemma and I grabbed dinner with our two new roomies, and that was about it for the evening’s events. That’s the thing about going to tropical places like Fiji… it’s lovely during the day, but come nighttime, there’s nothing to do. So after a hard day of relaxation, you just end up going to sleep early. Spot on.

Which brings us to today. Today I worked incredibly hard on lying in the hammock, occasionally jumping into the pool to cool off. But really, just lying in the hammock. It was grand. I know it’s going to be a biiig reality check when I get back to the States and it’s cold and rainy, but hey, at least I’ll still have my tan. And now, here I am, at Nadi airport, a few minutes away from boarding my ten-ish hour flight back to the States. Here’s to hoping the travel goes smoothly and the weather back in Philly isn’t too formidable. So until next time… it’s been an amazing five months, and I’ll see you all soon!

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Epic.

That’s the only word I can possibly fathom to come up with how my last few days in Australia went down. Just… epic.

Because in the time I spent in b-e-a-utiful south Queensland, I occupied myself with two main elements on my list of life goals and aspirations. Because last Wednesday, I jumped out of a plane from 14,ooo feet. And the day after, I visited the Australia Zoo for the first annual Steve Irwin Day. Seriously though? My life rules. The only downside to all this is that I am no longer in my beloved Land Down Under… alas, I’m now in Fiji. But before we move onto that chapter, let’s take a look at the ridiculously amazing/borderlining on things I always wished to do but never actually thought would manifest… stuff. Sure.

Wednesday started off on the earlier side, not that I’m complaining. I hopped the Brisbane to Byron Express Bus a little after eight, snacked on my Macca’s yogurt parfait thing, and was back in Noosa before I knew it. Arrived at Skydive Byron Bay in a little under two hours, no dramas. As I’m walking up to the place, I see two people parachuting down, and think to myself ‘Self? This is gonna be awesome.’ I was right. After filling out the obligatory I-Won’t-Sue-If-I-Become-A-Cripple paperwork, I only waited around for about five minutes before I was suited up in my sehsly hawt parachuting pants. They were aqua green… went well with my lime green shirt. Along with four other kids, I was given a debriefing on Jumping Out of a Plane 1o1. Basically, all you need to know is you cross your arms, roll out the side door, keep your head and your legs back, and when your shoulder is tapped, go into the stereotypical skydiving Jesus position. Sweet, right? Right. So, next step is I’m introduced to the guy who will be keeping me alive, Damo. We chat for a bit, and in no time I’m on the plane, going 14,ooo feet up. Yikes. I thought we were pretty high up at one point, but we weren’t even halfway there. It’s a looong way up, and the ride up seems excruciatingly long… comparable to a death row inmate’s walk to the electric chair. So, finally we reach our ideal height (appx. 3 miles in the sky), and they open the side door. This is about the time I begin my mantra of (pardon my French) “Oh shit. Oh shit.” Yeah, that was about all I could muster at the time. The first few people flew out the side door, and the picture the photographer got of me as I was told it was my turn is well worth the $119 I spent on the picture package. It’s completely awesome. So, my heart’s racing (it even is a bit now, just thinking about it), adrenaline pumping, and my legs are dangling fourteen thousand feet over Byron Bay.

And then, just like that… my heart’s in my throat and I’m freefalling.

All I could do was scream. It was one of those very few moments in life that your brain just shuts off, and its pure, raw experience. I’ve never felt anything like it before. So, there I am, falling at god knows what rate, screaming my head off, but smiling amidst it all. And honestly, the only fleeting thought I had was that scene at the end of Dr. Strangelove where Slim Pickins rides the bomb. So after seventy seconds of what is arguably one of the greatest experiences of my life, Damo opens the chute and it’s just like we’re parasailing. He lets me steer for a bit, we do a few spins and turns. The deafening rush of wind dies down, and I can enjoy the gorgeous view of Byron Bay. We float around a bit, and come up on our landing quicker than I thought we might. We land not on our feet, but sitting down, and easy as that, I’ve successfully skydived. Amazing. The rush lasts all day, too. Like, you’ll just be sitting there, and then you think to yourself, ‘Hey, a few hours ago, I jumped out of a plane. AWESOME!’ It’s amazing, an experience unlike any other, and I highly suggest you take it up if you’re ever given the opportunity.

After coming down from the initial high, I stuck around the skydive place to get my pictures. I think there are about fifty of them, and they’re hilarious and amazing and you can bet they’ll be on facebook as soon as I don’t have to play for internet anymore. The skydive dudes took me and a few of the other kids into town and dropped us off. I wandered around a bit, and ended up getting a pretty awesome quesadilla and nachos at an Australian Mexican shop. Spot on. After that, I opted to get changed and head down to the beach for a bit. Lounged in the sun, went in the water for a bit (it still floors me that it’s November and I’m in total summer mode), and generally relaxed. Spent about two and a half hours on the beach, then went back for another wander about Byron, got a popsicle and did some reading. The day flew… I was back on the Brisbane to Byron shuttle before I could even comprehend that I’d spent the day there. The ride back was a bit long, but such is life. When I got back, I grabbed a quick shower and met up with Rach and Robin for some dinner and [H]ouse action. We ate at Robin’s hostel’s place, and although there wasn’t any tea involved, it was great to watch [H] with those kids again. I know I’m gonna miss them when I sit down to watch at home. It had been a long day, and I had another ridiculous day to look forward to the next day, so I went to bed pretty much right after [H]ouse.

Thursday 15 November 2oo7 will, much like its counterpart, 25 September 2oo7, will forever remain engrained as one of the greatest days of my life. I woke up around seven (we were leaving an hour earlier to make all the festivities), and was outside waiting ever-so impatiently for the Croc Connections bus to pick me up not long after. The Pilgrimage started all over again just after eight, and aside from the fact that I was alone, was pretty similar. Although I was a bit disappointed that Chris didn’t remember me, the fact remains that I was on my way to the Australia Zoo for the second time in as many months, and I couldn’t hold back my grin.

Contrary to last time, I actually remember entering the Zoo this time around. I was first in line off the bus, natch, and happily received my free crocodile-shaped donut and commemorative Steve Irwin Day map at the gate. Thanks to Chris’s suggestions, I knew to stay put at the front of the Zoo for the unveiling of a new statue, and probable appearances by Terri and Bindi. I got front row real estate right at the edge of the green (not red) carpet leading to the covered statue. After what seemed like forever (although I did enjoy listening to the Khaki Choir), the announcer dude asked the crowd to well come NOT ONLY Terri and Bindi, but ALSO Bob, Bob Sr., and Wes!!! Yeah, you can bet I was peeing myself as they walked no more than a three feet from me, waving to the crowd and stopping to pet the animals that were on display. Pictures aplenty. They walked up to the statue, and Terri said a few words about how grateful she was that there were so many people there for the first annual Steve day. Bindi said the same thing, and they unveiled the statue (which actually doesn’t look like any of them, except for Sui and maybe Bindi… I’m wondering why it wasn’t just of Steve? But whatever.) and wished everyone a great day at the Zoo. After the ‘official’ kick-off of the first annual Steve Irwin Day wrapped up, I made a bee-line to the Crocoseum (a return to the Mecca! Ah yes.) and got primo seating for the upcoming show. Second row, biyotch! Yeah, sometimes it pays to be by yourself. Anywho, the place was chock-a-block full of people. Pretty much every seat was filled. The Khaki Choir came out and sang again, and I almost cried when they played True Blue, because they even noted (pssh… like I didn’t know already) the fact that last time it was played there was Steve’s memorial. But, I promised myself I would not cry, because it was a day to celebrate Steve’s life, and so I had to be happy… damnit. And happy I was.

So, from there, announcer guy introduces Terri, Bindi and the Crocmen on the stage above the Crocoseum and they were presented with an award for Bindi’s CD and DVD being ridiculously popular and the like. She’s the youngest ever to be nominated for an ARIA, sweet. They performed after the award business… two songs, one which was a new rap song, and the other, which broke my heart and almost made me cry AGAIN. Yeah, she sang the song. The “He Was Just Plain Dad to Me” song. Ruin me already, Bindi! From thereon out, though, the day was all smiles. They started off the regular Crocoseum show, with the snakes out first, followed by the birds. It was just as good the second time around… the tricks the birds do are amazing. After the first two animal parts, we turned to the stage again for a singing performance by Olivia Newton-John. Hilariously random. She was pretty good, but I just found it extremely entertaining that she was even there. Apparently she’s a pretty good friend of Terri’s? Sure. So that was that

But what took the cake for the day was, again, the croc feeding demonstration. Because after Sandra Dee hopped off the stage, instead of returning to the couple who was hosting the rest of the show, out come TERRI AND WES!!! YES!!!!! I was insanely excited about this, especially seeing I was in the second row. Umm, yeah, so they brought out Murry and did all sorts of feeding demos and it was just so amazing to see Steve’s protégés do the show. It’s the closest I’ll ever come to seeing the man himself feed a croc, and I am perfectly okay with that. It was, as everything else I’ve written has been… epic. They did a few other things that weren’t a part of the show last time, too, which was equally cool. Wes had Murry death rolling at one point. Made for some pretty excellent pictorials.

So yeah, Terri and Wes hosting the Croc Show… I’m glad I didn’t fulfill my prophecy of dying after my first Australia Zoo visit, because it was deeefinitley worth living for this one. And all in the name of Steve Irwin Day. Amazing. After the show was over, I stuck around for a bit because announcer guy falsely advertised an opportunity to get a picture with the whole crew. Yeah, not so much. By the by, the media attention yesterday got? Also epic. So, from there, I went about wandering and exploring the further Steve Irwin Day activities. There was heaps of stuff there. I filled out this khaki shirt about how I’m going to be a Wildlife Warrior. Yes, I am well aware that when it comes to the Australia Zoo and the Crocodile Hunter’s legacy, I am approximately eight years old. Such is life. From there, I made my way around the Zoo again, revisiting the koalas and Tazzy devils and, of course, the crocs.

But when I made it back to the Crocoseum’s vicinity, I did a bit of a double take. There, standing by the photo area, just chatting with some random, was the legend… my hero’s hero, Bob Irwin Sr. I was hesitant at first… I didn’t want to bother him. But I lingered and did what I do best (covertly stalking), and when I saw him chatting with a kid with a camera, I figured I owed it to myself and my obsessive ways to talk to Bob. I mustered up the courage to approach him just as the kid was leaving, and I shook his hand, introduced myself, and thanked him for everything he’d done for conservation. I told him his son was my hero, I was a huge fan of him and Steve, and it was an honor to be at the Zoo on such a special day. He thanked me for my support, and seemed genuinely pleased and grateful for my words. I got my picture with him, and we both went on our separate ways.

Talk. About. Epic.

Being able to talk to Steve’s dad, the guy who he regarded as his own hero and legend, the bloke who started what is now the Australia Zoo, and thank him for all the work he and his son have done was so redeeming on a level I never thought I’d be able to achieve. After Steve died, I thought that was it, the jig was up, and I’d never be able to legitimately express my feelings of gratitude to him for everything he’d done for me and the world. But talking to Bob, even though it was just for a minute or two, gave me the feeling that I had actually achieved that. That, even though he will probably never remember me, I was able to thank him for his and his son’s work. That’s something I never thought I’d be able to genuinely feel. Again, all in the name of Steve Irwin Day.

After meeting Bob, I continued about my wanderings, this time with an even more unshakable smile plastered on my face. Somewhere between the wombats and the roos, I found Robin, who ended up on the other Croc Connections bus. We walked around for a while, finding Olivia Newton-John holding a lizard (hah), and visited various other animals. We ended up back in the Crocoseum (I couldn’t tear myself away from this place) to catch the second half of the afternoon show, and get good seats for the Jimmy Barnes concert. I’m telling you, the animal shows don’t get old. They’re awesome every time you watch. Graham was the afternoon’s croc, naughty as ever. Shortly after the show wrapped up, Jimmy Barnes came up. Apparently he’s an Aussie rock legend, but to me, he sounded irish when he spoke. Robin and I stuck around for the first few songs, then I suggested we explore more of the Zoo, seeing as I hadn’t made it to the ellies or the tigers yet. During our trek, we came across yet another croc demo, this time actually in Acco’s pen. Brilliant!! Yes, for those of you keeping tally, this is croc demo number three on the day for this kid. Seeing Acco move about like that was insanely awesome… he’s huuuuge. Sixteen feet of saltie anger. Love it, love it. The show ended within a few minutes of us arriving, and so we went on our way to South East Asia, where I (again) marveled at the spectacle that is the ellie enclosure and covertly swiped one of the many Steve Irwin Day posters hanging around the Bengals. After wandering around there a bit, Robin had to get back on her bus, so she and I parted ways and I made my way back to the Crocoseum to take it all in one last time. I wrote a quick journal entry, then went about purchasing Erin her Steveo badge and sadly departed the Australia Zoo, marking the end of my Steve Irwin Day adventures.

And what a glorious day it was, too. I know I enjoyed myself, what, with meeting my hero’s hero, seeing every member of his immediate family, and just being at the Zoo on the first annual Steve Irwin Day… a day that can never be repeated. Amazing. The bus ride back was a bit long, but at that point, I didn’t care. I met up with Rach after our return, and we went out on the town for one last celebratory piece of cake. It was overpriced, but quite tasty, and there was ice cream involved, so I’m not complaining. All in all, an absolutely fabulous way to spend my last full day in Australia. Kindof ironic, in the sense that I spent it at the one place that motivated me to head Down Under to begin with. I like it.

Things have come and gone since then, and I am now in Fiji, but this entry is beyond epic in both length and content, so I’ll save Fiji adventures for a later update, probably whence I return to the States. So thanks for keeping up to date, blog readers… I appreciate it. And having culminated my experiences in Australia, I must say, it’s been one hell of a ride. I hope you enjoyed reading about it as much as I enjoyed having it all happen. So until further notice… get the turkey ready, I’ll see you when I’m back from Fiji!

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Ahoy from blogland!

And a hearty g’day from Brizzy, the second stop on the Farewell Tour! I must say, things have gone swimmingly (pun mildly intended) since my last update from the seventh rung of traveler’s hell. I can account this mostly to the fact that I spent three full days sailing the Whitsunday Islands, but you know how it goes. Allow me to elaborate.

Saturday morning marked the beginning of my three days of buccaneering. Woke up on the earlier side, packed my bags, and headed down to the travel place to drop off my suitcase. Made my way back to Koalas from there, picked up the rest of my gear, czeched out, and wandered down to the marina. I ended up getting there about a half hour early… after previous travels, I’ve now become overly wary about when I’m due to be somewhere… and spent my time at the bottleshop picking up a cheap bottle of coconut rum (hey, it was a pirate cruise) and eagerly awaiting boarding the ship. We were met by the captain sometime around 9:3o, and escorted to the Pegasus, our new home for the next three days. After a brief debriefing, we were put in our cabins. Now, whatever image you may have of a “cabin”… divide that by ten, and that’s what I was staying in. My bed was half the size of a normal single, and there would be no standing of more than one person at one time in the ‘room’. A closet would’ve been more spacious. I’m not complaining, though, just describing. Being below deck wasn’t really my thing. So after dropping off my stuff, I headed back up top and proceeded to contemplate what, exactly, I was going to do with myself for the remaining 72-odd hours. I quickly found the best option was to lay on the deck and put some serious work into my tan, interspersed with a bit of reading here and there. Relaxation was key, and I think I achieved it pretty well.

Our very first mission as Pegasus Pirates was the royal salute. Dale, our skipper, gave us our duties as he saw an approaching ship. Now what, pray tell, is a royal salute? Well, for the boys, it’s the bums, for the girls, it’s the boobs, and for the crew, well, it was full frontal male nudity. Needless to say, I was a bit taken aback when I turned around and saw the captain’s full-on wedding tackle. Nine kinds of hilarious, this I promise. I mean, picture it, a 23 passenger pirate ship flashing/mooning an oncoming ship of unsuspecting tourists. That’ll teach ‘em to mess with the pirates! Not that there was any real messing to begin with, but that’s beside the point. All in the piratey spirit, and certainly a grand kick off to the trip.

Our first stop was a snorkel about two-ish hours out into the Whitsundays. We were given lunch, then stinger suits, snorkels, masks, and fins, and were dropped off in a gorgeous little reef just off a sand bar in the middle of the ocean. I saw another sea turtle, as well as heaps of other fish, big and small, and all sorts of coral. The Great Barrier Reef really is spectacular; I highly recommend seeing it for yourself if you have the means. After tiring of swimming, I snorkeled my way to the sand bar, did a bit of lounging, and walked to one of the islands from the sand bar. So cool. Swam back to the boat afterwards, and became quite engrossed in lounging and reading my newest book ‘The Toyminator’… hilarious. As the sun started to set and we continued cruising about, things started to get a bit more piratey. First to go were the two English boys, Max and Mase, who emerged from the hull with hats, eye patches, swords, even a parrot, and, of course, a bag of goon to top it all off. From there, pretty much everyone started getting piratey and drunk. A substantial portion of the boat was drunk before dinner. I decided to bide my time (and my rum), and only smack the goon a few times among the sipping of my own drink. I did, however, get piratey. Surprise, surprise. I still had on my pirate bikini and black shorts, and put on my black hat, grabbed a sword, and was given a pretty intense skull and crossbones by Mike, as well as two war marks under my eyes. I’d like to think I made a pretty good pirate. After a decent amount of pirate partying had gone down on the ship, the skipper (who, in retrospect, I probably should have asked to marry me… he was Australian, 1o+ years older than me, a ship’s captain, a pirate, and a lover of Frank Sinatra) informed us that we’d be invading a local island. So, donned in our best pirate getups, all 23 Pegasus Pirates were shuttled to land, where we went on a shoeless (pirates don’t wear shoes) bushwalk to some random eco-resort in the middle of the Whitsundays. We proceeded to cause major havoc (as pirates do) and generally harass the poor people staying at the resort. Highlights of our evening on land include (but are not limited to): the skipper’s dugong impressions, which basically consisted of him assaulting me and two other girls, smash-o ++, failed thumper attempts, the goon gun, varied stories, and generally befriending the study abroad kids from UNSW. Despite being the only sober one of the crew (a decision I was later very, very happy I made), I still had a blast. When we got back onto the boat, we partied a bit more, but I was beyond exhausted, so I grabbed my hoodie and laid on deck watching the stars for a good hour and a half before retiring to my cabin and abruptly passing out. All in all, a very successful first day aboard the Pegasus.

Day two was off to an early start. We were awoken a bit after seven for brekky, and on our way for a second day of sailing shortly thereafter. I made the terrible mistake of attempting to shower pretty much as soon as we hit the rough seas area. Combined with the one minute shower restriction and the fact that I had a day’s worth of sea salt and pirate paint all over me, this made for both the best and worst shower of my life. Changing in the cabin resulted in a bit of queasiness, but it didn’t last for too long. Nowhere near as bad as some of the poor souls who had those awful goon hangovers. Not drinking, although it made me slightly less of a true pirate, was definitely a good idea.

We cruised for a while, with our second destination being the famed Whitehaven Beach. Facing scattered storms, I wasn’t sure how everything would pan out, but it ended up being an excellent trip. Shortly after lunch, we jumped on the dingy and were taken to shore. I went on a kilometer-long bushwalk to get to the top of the hill to the lookout, did a bit of climbing on things that shouldn’t be climbed, and of course, took some photos. I picked up two of the German girls amidst my walking, and we wandered down to the beach together. Even though the weather wasn’t the best, Whitehaven was still absolutely gorgeous. The sand was so white, and so, so soft. It was amazing. I split my time on the beach between taking pictures, climbing some more rocks, lounging in the sand, and wading in the crystal clear waters. Spectacular… one of those places where the pictures don’t do it justice, and all you can do is just sit on the beach and think ‘wow’. After about an hour and a half on the beach, we made our way back to the boat, where more deck relaxation and reading took place. There’s something about cruising on the ocean, the combination of the sun and the breeze, with the occasional sea splash… there’s nothing quite like it.

Another snorkel session commenced after a short cruise; not as good as the first one, but still quite amazing. I chased quite a few fish, dove through a cavern-like structure once or twice, and had a fun little dip in the drink. Like before, I spent some time lounging on land after thoroughly paroozing the reef, this time climbing a decent-sized rock (which did a number on my feet) and almost falling asleep in the warm Queensland sun. After swimming back to the boat, more lounging commenced before and after my second (and arguably more successful) shower, and dinner. The food on the Pegasus was surprisingly awesome. I was definitely happy about that aspect of the trip. The evening was one of the more spectacular ones I’ve ever had, both in Australia and anywhere else. I gave myself permission to hook my iPod up to the boat’s speakers, and spent the evening talking with my new friends, jamming to my favorite tunes, attempting to catch sharks, hanging the poor legless pirate, and cruising along the Whitsunday Islands while occasionally sipping rum. The best part had to be when the skipper put on Frank, and I had a combination of four of my most favorite things in the whole world—being on a boat, the Rat Pack, pirates, and Australia. It was absolutely amazing. After another long day at sea, I fell asleep under the stars with my pillow and blanket, lounging on the deck with the American and British kids. It was fantastic, and well worth the bug bites I now have from it. Ahh, to live the permanent life of a pirate. I’d do it in a heartbeat.

Our third and final day at sea wasn’t as much of a day at sea as the previous two had been. We did some more cruising, and I did some more lounging, but we spent a good part of the day on South Molle Island, one of the 74 Whitsunday Islands. I think I made it onto four of the islands? Sure. The day was spent mostly lounging in and beside the pool, and playing Frisbee/volleyball with my new buddies. Towards the end of our stay, I opted to get a $5 virgin daiquiri and sip it beachside. This, my friends, is how you live the proverbial life. I know I enjoyed myself. We reboarded the Pegasus sometime around three (honestly, I’d lost all track of time during the three day trek) and, sadly, made our way back to the main land. The weather had started to get a bit inclement, but aside from brief showers and looming clouds ahead, we had good weather for 9o% of the trip. However, as soon as we pulled in to the marina and the skipper shut off the motor, the skies opened up. After bidding the crew and my new friends adieu, I waited out the storm undercover, then walked back into town to collect my bags. Another ten minute walk landed me at my hostel, where I showered, assessed various burns (I’m actually not all that bad, considering the fact that I was out at sea for three days), and chatted with my English roomies. I barely made it through the series finale of Californication (honestly, not all that great, considering how fond I am of the series) before falling asleep.

Writing off today as mostly travel, I got up on the earlier side, called Sam to say happy birthday, gathered my things, and hung out in the very chill Backpackers by the Bay for the morning, awaiting the bus to the airport. I just barely made the shuttle bus to the airport, where I was surprised to see Sam, one of the guys from the Pegasus, taking the same flight as me. Chatting with him definitely helped pass the time, and before I knew it, I was here in Brisbane. No lost luggage this time around, thankfully. I hopped the airtran into the city, accidentally got off a stop early and thus had to walk quite a ways, but found Tin Billy without too much difficulty. Czeched in, dropped off my stuff, had a bit of an evening stroll about Brizzy, and booked my events for the next three days. Tomorrow I’m jumping out of a plane from 14,ooo feet over Byron Bay. And, of course, Thursday is the one and only inaugural Steve Irwin Day at the Australia Zoo. Yes, as if my travels have not been insane enough already, this is what I have to look forward to. Ahh, I love my life.

As for the rest of the evening, I just had dinner, and Rach is somewhere… apparently at the cinema, maybe, so I suppose I’m on my own for the time being. Perhaps we’ll rendezvous later to swap stories and get some dessert, in true Rachel and Kirstin form. That’s all from me for now, so until next time, later days travelers!

+K+

I've been banished to travellers' hell.

G'Day faithful blog readers, I report to you today from g-g-g-gorgeous Airlie Beach. But this, I promise, is a much rewarded gift from the gods of vacation. Getting here has proved to be the most difficult and angering travel experience I have ever been unfortunate enough to come upon. Allow me to elaborate.

The whole schpeal started Tuesday night, I reckon. I had a final night out at Irish Murphy's with Rach and Justin, and was back, in bed, and mildly intoxicated by 11. No dramas. The next morning was an early one, and Erin was kind enough to help me with my baggage and get to the bus station, where I was to take the Gull bus to Tullemarine, grab a cab, drop off my heavier bags to be shipped, and jump back to the airport in time to board my flight to Proserpine Airport in the Whitsundays. Easy as, right? Wrong. I got on the Gull bus a-ok, and departed Geelong without much difficulty. Things started to go downhill when I arrived at Tullemarine. Now, let me paint a little picture for you. Here's me, 21 year old, arguably smaller-sized female, juggling one 38 kilo (I know the exact weight because of shipping) hockey bag, two of those annoying rolley suitcases, one bag stuffed with a blanket and pillow spilling over the top, and my trusty Flyers reload strapped to my back. Yeah, movement wasn't exactly something that came too easily to me. I struggled to hail a cab, but ended up being shooed an extra 5o-odd meters to actually get in the damn taxi, and was finally off to Jetta Express. Well, the two-minute cab ride I was promised turned into a ten minute excursion after the cabbie had no idea where we were going. When we were finally there, I hauled all of my belongings, which had become as annoying as inanimate objects can possibly be, into the Jetty place. Their "easy as" process ended up taking far longer than they or I anticipated, and after overpaying to try and enjoy myself on a post-semester abroad holiday, I had to wait an extra five minutes for the guy to drive me back to the airport.

Timecheck: 1o:15 a.m. Flight departs at 1o:3o.

Yeah, needless to say, that flight didn't happen. So, here I am, stranded at the Melbourne airport with a suitcase and two bags worth of living, with no option but to fly to the Whitsundays the next day at eight a.m. The start to the farewell tour was looking less than stellar. After an hour-long conversation with my Dad and a turkey sandwich, I was feeling a little bit better about things, and decided to go into Melbourne to find a hostel instead of waiting out the 20-odd hours in Tullemarine domestic's arrival section. I found what I thought was a reasonable hostel, and SkyBussed into Melbourne without much difficulty. Czeched into my hostel, the "hotel discovery" (sidenote: I have no idea what they were discovering, but I did not want any part in such and expedition. This place was by far the worst hostel I've come across thus far), and decided to make a day of it and head to St. Kilda to explore. I'd intended to do this ages ago, but the timing, weather, and company never seemed to come together. So, after befriending two Canadian guys who stopped me in the lobby by saying "Flyers?" (we had a spectacular twenty minute conversation discussing the ins and outs of the 2oo7-o8 lineup), I was on my way. Remembering it was 7-11 Day (the dates are "backwards" to most of you), I stopped in the Sev across the street from my hostel and wished the clerk a happy seven eleven day, and was rewarded with a free small slurpee. I proceeded to do this another four times throughout the day, and varying 7-11's in Melbourne. Whoever said nothing's free obviously wasn't around a seven eleven on November 7th or July 11th, respectively. I was into it.

So from there, I found my way onto a tram heading towards St. Kilda. The ride there was uneventful, although there was a kid on the tram that looked like he could've been the lovechild of Conan and Wilson. Like the free slurpee action, I was into it. St. Kilda ended up being a super cute little suburb, though, and I'm glad I got a chance to check it out. I popped in and out of a few stores, wandered by the beach and on various rooftops, and ended up having a delicious pasta dinner at a spaghetti bar. All in all, not a bad day. I was back in Melbourne by 8-ish, and went about seeking a place to watch House after finding that my idiot roach hostel didn't even have a television I could watch. I wandered in and out of bars around the block of the hotel discovery, and ended up sneaking into a neighboring hostel. To my dismay, although they had a television, it didn't have channel ten, and thus, did not have my weekly dose of House. In a last-ditch attempt, I went down the street and started asking people if they knew of a place that had a place that I could watch my beloved medical drama. One guy suggested I head to an Asian cafe about a block down, because they normally had a tv on. Praise the doc himself, they had a plasma showing this week's episode, and had the volume on. So, in true Housewatching form, I ordered a cup of tea and watched House in some random Asian cafe. I'm pretty sure that was the highlight of my day, as per usual. After that little excursion, I went back, did a bit of reading, and went to sleep, well aware of the fact that I had to be up at 6:1o the next day.

Well, in the true spirit of the trainwreck that has been this trip so far, I didn't wake up until 6:2o, and was forced to throw on the first ensemble in my suitcase (I later regretted this... greatly), quickly pack my belongings, and rush downstairs to check out and grab the cab that I had to take because the damn hostel failed me yet again in contacting SkyBus for my free pick-up. The taxi driver was a certifiable imbecile himself. He tried to talk me into letting him drive me all the way to the airport (no, sir, I already bought my return SkyBus ticket), then didn't have change when we finally got to the station. So, I ended up missing the SkyBus I had originally intended to take, because I was busy buying a bottle of water from 7-11 to make change for this idiot. I swear, if he would've said "You no have change?" one more time, I would've been forced to go gangsta on him. It was extreeeemely frustrating.

I caught the next SkyBus, though, and ended up almost missing my flight again, but luckily made it. I was seated first row, middle seat, which was interesting, but did not bode well for my intentions to sleep off the flight. We arrived in Brisbane at a still early hour, and I spent the majority of my layover wondering why time was an hour behind, paying to make a collect call, and drinking tea to try and soothe my nerves. My connecting flight also ended up being a thorn in my side, offering another delay. Apparently some all-powerful deity did not want me to get to the Whitsundays. The only good thing about the flight was that we were given free inflight television, where I was ecstatic to find FoxTel broadcasting a Thrashers/Red Wings game. Sweet, sweet, NHL action, at last!! This heightened mood did not last long, though... this I promise. See, when I finally got off the plane and was thoroughly engaged in being really, really lost, I hear my name butchered over the loudspeaker. "Maybe I won a prize or something," my optimistic side offers. Of course not. The Virgin Blue rep was very sorry to inform me that they had sent my bag to the Gold Coast, instead of Proserpine, and that it would be sent to my hostel by tomorrow. All I could do was laugh. So, I took my meager belongings and boarded the bus into town in a quite foul mood. I checked into Koalas, already sweating bullets in the tropical heat, and went into town to try and find some shorts and a t-shirt to change into. Being a tourist town, everything here is insanely expensive, so I overpayed for a pair of board shorts and an Airlie Beach t-shirt. I grabbed some dinner at a little cafe (quite tasty, actually), and went back to Koalas to change. I had every intention of going back out to check out the nightlife, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. So, I laid down in my new garments and fell asleep after about an hour of reading and another emotionally exhausting day.

Today has proved to be the first real positive of the trip. I woke up early, having fallen asleep before ten the night before, did a bit more reading and checked to make sure Virgin Blue hadn't dropped of my bag (of course not). My next task was finding a pair of flip flops, because my newly acquired Ugg Boots (don't hate) weren't exactly cutting it in the heat. Plus, I looked completely ridiculous wearing them with board shorts. What else is new, really. I ended up finding a pair in Jay Jay's, as well as a tank top to wear throughout the day, and changed in the store's dressing room. From there, I headed beachside, where I found a swanky little cafe that had an appetizing-sounding brekky. One mango smoothie, some fruit, yoghurt, and raisin toast later, I was was off to explore. I did a bit more reading and some beach wandering before reluctantly purchasing another towel and some sunscreen, allowing me a glorious afternoon by the lagoon. I've already put a decent amount of work on my tan... at this rate, I'm going to be borderline Aboriginal by the time I get back to the States. And now, I'm at the travel agent, where I confirmed my pirate cruise (!!!) for tomorrow. I'm super, super pumped about it. Well, this has been beyond lengthy, but I felt it necessary to update you all on the trials and tribulations of the farewell tour thus far. Don't be surprised if, next update, I tell you the boat sank. With my luck, I wouldn't put it past it. But the weather's far too gorgeous to remain inside, and your eyes are already straining to read the print, I can tell. So until next time...

+K+

Heart's a Mess

And it is, Gotye. Because today is the beginning of the end. I suppose it was a while ago, with the end of classes and whatnot, but I'm truly regarding everything from this point on as the certifiable 'end.' See, today's my last full day at Deakin. Today's the day I have to say goodbye to all my friends and promise that we'll get together again someday, somehow, on another random corner of the globe perhaps. Today's the day I have to finish packing all of my belongings, rummage through everything I've amassed in the past months and reflect on the things I've almost forgot. Today's the day I have to actually come to terms with the fact that I'm leaving Australia, and in another two weeks' time, coming back home.

I've been thinking about what this will be like for some time now. I was torn as to whether I'd be overly emotional, or roboticly not so. I think it will be more the former, but it's going to be more of an internal thing. Don't get me wrong, now entering my fifth month away from home, I'm starting to feel the pangs of removal... but as pretty much everything I've written in here proves, Australia has been wonderful to me. If I had my ways, I'd import everything I loved from the States to the greater Sydney area, and life would be grand. Unfortunately, I don't foresee every member of my family, my estranged friends across the country, my favorite hockey team, and the Wawa corporation picking up and moving 12,ooo miles anytime soon. Oh well, a girl can hope, right?

I suppose I shouldn't be too bummed... I mean, yes, I'm leaving Deakin... but for the Whitsundays! And a Pirate cruise, at that! As if the past five months haven't flown enough, I know my last two weeks in the southern hemisphere are going to go by in a snap. I was talking to Karina last night while watching Californication, and she said the international kids she'd befriended in the past told her that once they got back home, it was like they'd never even been to Australia, and that it was just one big dream. I don't want that to happen. I want to remember this moment, and every moment I've had here. The good, the strange, the less than great, and the unbelievably amazing. I suppose that's why I've tried to keep such a detailed account of everything here, and in my other two journals. So that when I'm back in dirty Philadelphia, hearing gunshots out the window and worrying about my five hundred [appx.] hours of class at La Salle, I can stop and look back on 6/7/2oo7-21/11/2007 and say "damn... wasn't life grand?". Or so's the plan, at least.

I reckon I should quit my ranting at this point and return my attention to the whole packing issue. Yuck. Well, at least my Fly Boys should be taking the ice pretty soon... let's hope they can see their way past the damn dirty Rags. I'll be cheering them on as soon as NHL.com's satellites decide they want to start working. This will likely be my last post from Deakin... I'll try to update accordingly throughout the Farewell Tour, but as per usual, I make no promises. So until Queensland [most likely]... au revoir, Victoria. It's been real.

+K+

Fin.

As of twenty three hours ago, I have completed my academic experience in Australia. Bittersweet, if I may say so myself.

My history exam ended up starting a few minutes late yesterday. It was a breeze. I was mildly concerned that what I'd studied wouldn't be what showed up on the exam, but everything went fantastically. I'm pretty sure my professor is going to know it's my exam, though, because I spent the last question Reagan-bashing, which he's called me out on before. What? I can't help it if I'm still harboring feelings of resentment to America's 4oth president because of an inept eleventh and twelfth grade history teacher. Damn you and your neo-conservative bullshit, Mrs. Rock.

Janis left yesterday, too. She's the first of us to go... sad. We have no mom now! How are we supposed to feed ourselves? I guess it's cookies and cake until further notice. I know Rach will join me.

I didn't really do much of significance after the exam. I started work on the international kids e-yearbook that I'm going to put together, but nothing too extreme as of yet. I've hit something of a stumbling block on the "superlatives" section. In due time, I suppose. After caf, I watched 'So You Think You Can Dance?' with Rach and Diane, because they always yell at me for bailing on them when it's on. Well, I watched it, and it was excruciating and annoying and I will not be watching it again anytime soon. ENTIRELY too drawn out. I'll take Aussie Idol over that crap any day.

I've been drawn to another new musical venture as of late: Xavier Rudd. Heather and Robin spoke highly of him after catching his show in Tas, so I scanned the network and, as per usual, it did not disappoint. He's pretty amazing, especially if you're looking for some digeridoo action. Yeah, you know you are.

So, speaking of music, yesterday was the first day of November. It rained all last night. What, par say, does this have to do with music?



Yeah. It doesn't get old... it just doesn't. I look forward to every November, just so I can jump around like an idiot to Slash's sweet, sweet solo. It's invigorating, I suggest you try it sometime.

I suppose that's all that went down yesterday. Wednesday was another trip into town times two-- first to pick up our underwater camera pictures [http://deakinedu.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2030039&l=fa483&id=17500696]. I had a blast with the captions on that one... hope you enjoy the Tale as much as I do. We were only back on campus for two hours or so, so I took it upon myself to do something productive and dye my hair. It's not really all that different from what it was before, just more even. The extent to which my roots grew out was killing me. The evening brought forth our last international kids dinner at Bended. Heather and I split a pitcher of some mixed drink that looked like carbonated Dimeatap, but tasted pretty good. I had the chicken kiev, and it was pretty damn delicious. I don't know if my taste buds have acclimated to boring caf food and my less than impressive cooking skills or something, but I am certainly looking forward to returning to the Philadelphia brand of food. Pretzels, anyone?

Anyway, back to the dinner. It was nice having all the kids together again... we did shots at the end (yuck), toasting our brilliant experience, and, oh, I almost forgot to mention... most of the kids were dressed up for the Halloween party. Jens was in a full-on Santa costume, Rach, Janis and Diane were Charlie's Angels, Robin was a dominatrix, Justin was The Todd from Scrubs (brilliant!), and Kingsley was an emo. Kindof hilarious, when you think about it. Yes, you Americans know you're glad my ridiculous crew and I are the ones representing your image in the land down under. Fantastic. Rach and I split some cheesecake, and then I hopped the bus back with Austin, Jake and Heather to go study. Sadly, no Halloween party for this kid. Oh well, I suppose my amazing Halloween experience last year makes up for my lack of one this year. Balance, baby, it's all about balance.

I don't think I have much else to say at this point... we've got a few things in mind for the weekend, but nothing too extreme. I'm just hoping the weather clears up a bit so I can put November Rain on pause and head to the beach for a day. Until then, I think I'm going to go back to reading my conspiracy theory books and drinking tea. Ah yes, dear friends... life is good. So from my side of the world to yours... see you next time :)

+K+

Three down, one to go.

Scary/funny/insane to think that I'm one exam away from culminating my study abroad experience. Today was my first exam-- PR. Exams in Australia = INSANE. But more on that, later. Let's take a look at the weekend's shenanigans first.

We didn't end up going on the dolphin cruise on Friday... it was all booked for the afternoon, and we weren't about to get up at six a.m. just to check out some dolphins, when there was the exact same cruise offered the next day at a much more reasonable hour. As a result, nothing very exciting came about on Friday. I spent some time at the shops, had lunch and a cupcake at the little cafe deal, and that was about it. Saturday was a whole 'nother story though.

Despite the fact that we were scheduled for the afternoon cruise, we still got up pretty early to take the bus into town. From there, Diane, Rach and I waited around for a while to grab a second bus to Queenscliff. It was an absolutely gorgeous day for such an adventure... about 3o, which is warmer than it's ever been during my time here. Blue skies for the most part, too. We ended up getting to the dock a bit before one, and were immediately sized up for wetsuits. After that, it was only a matter of minutes before we were on our way for our three and a half hour tour. Naturally the idea of a three hour boat tour got my Giligan senses tingling, but needless to say, I am not currently stranded on a deserted isle. The boat did somewhat resemble the S.S. Minnow, though. True story.

After a short cruise on the net-protrusion-thing (I don't know what else to call it, but it stuck off the side of the boat, and was like a giant hammock for you to hang out on. Of course, I spent a good deal of the trip there.), our first top was an introductory snorkel around some rocks in the middle of the bay. We donned our fins and masks, and proceeded to freeze our butts off. Baltic. We spent most of the dive in fits of laughter, trying to keep our faces and feet (the only parts not covered by the wetsuit) out of the water. It may have been gorgeous outside, but that didn't mean jack to the water temperature gods. One day of beautiful weather does not, by any means, make up for three seasons of chilliness. Aside from the cold, there wasn't anything entirely remarkable about our first dive. We saw a starfish and a few others, but it was nothing compared to my last dive in the Great Barrier Reef. Such is life. So, we got out of the water, attempted to sun ourselves and dry off a bit, and were off to our next destination: Seal Island.

Okay, so it wasn't really called Seal Island, but it very well could have been. It was more like Seal Outpost In The Middle Of The Water. Either way, it was completely awesome. There were probably between 3o and 5o male seals just hanging out there. A few babies, some guys that had to be over 3oo kilos... some lounging, some barking, some trying to push each other into the water. Seeing as seals are probably my favorite marine animal, I was pretty pumped about the whole ordeal. The cold wasn't as bad the second time around, and when you looked under water, you could see seals twisting and turning all around, chasing each other, doing flips, and generally enjoying themselves. I took a decent amount of pictures with my underwater camera, and we even posed for one in the water right near the post. The seals could be snarky little bastards, though. More than a handful of times, you'd hear someone scream through their snorkel because they'd turned their head and were faced with a seal bearing its teeth, no more than a foot away. Kindof really hilarious. I definitely enjoyed myself, and I'm super pumped about seeing the pictures. We're due to pick them up tomorrow.

Dolphin sighting was next on our boating agenda, but not before another new Aussie experience: the Duck Spa. Basically, this consisted of hanging off the back of the boat onto the duck board, and having the boat pull you as the motion from the propeller created a "spa." Only in Australia. After our spa experience, Diane, Rach and I camped out on the top deck of the boat, attempting to spot dolphins. I saw a few within a few minutes, but by the time we'd turned around, they disappeared. We cruised for a half hour or so before our guide called us down to say that they'd spotted some dolphins in the shallows, and we should get ready to jump in. Now, how exactly do you snorkel with wild dolphins, when they move much faster than you, and aren't really prone to staying in one spot? Why, you hang on to a rope and get towed by the boat! I know, it sounds ridiculous. Well, it was ridiculous, but it was also completely worth it. Everything was a bit hectic at first... the guys on the boat were shouting at us, and pointing in every different direction trying to get us to see the dolphins, while simultaneously telling us to keep our heads in the water. The first one I saw was sort of far away, and I wasn't necessarily impressed. It certainly picked up from there, though. The dolphins went from crossing underneath us to swimming directly next to us. There were a pair of them, then three, four, and five. All basically within arms reach, flipping around, looking up at you and squeaking. Believe me, it was no easy task hanging on to the rope for dear life as the boat churned along while also trying to take pictures, but I think I managed to get at least a few good ones. It was so completely amazing seeing these dolphins swim right beside us, look over at us, then dart off, only to return to the pod moments later. At one point, I looked up out of the water and saw one flip through the air, like something you'd see at SeaWorld. To have that kind of experience with animals outside captivity is remarkable. When we finally got back on the boat, I couldn't stop shivering, but I also couldn't stop smiling. Our guides told us that they never see that many dolphins in the shallows for such an extended period of time like that, and we had been extremely lucky to be a part of it. It was certainly an experience.

We bid our dolphin friends adieu as they swam just ahead of our boat (like in the movies!), and headed back to the dock. I was completely frozen... I couldn't get my teeth to stop chattering. We made it back to the marina not long after, changed, swatted many a bug, and wandered through town a bit before catching the bus back to Geelong. It was an incredibly tiring, but also awesome day. I made Diane and Rach tacos for dinner, then Janis came over and we watched what we thought was our last episode of House. I slept quite well Saturday night.

Sunday was the first real day of study I partook in. Oddly enough, it was the last day of study week. I spent the day finalizing research and writing my paper on paranoia and conspiracy in one of the books we'd read for lit class, After. I think it turned out rather well. And I finished at a reasonable hour, too! I think I got to bed sometime around 3 a.m. Considering it wasn't due until 5 p.m. yesterday, I'd say that's pretty good. Must've been the pancakes Erin made for breakfast. Aside from the completion of the essay, nothing monumental went down on Sunday-day. Sunday-night, however, I made a series of incredibly awesome discoveries that I will now share with you. First, the Halloween party I thought I was going to have to miss out on due to exams... well, I'll probably be able to go now! My exam isn't until 2, so I figure I can at least dress up and stop by for a bit. My dad's e-mails were also the source of copious good news, in the form of Guitar Hero III acquisition, Keith Primeau's ice hockey team, and the fact that I'll have the opportunity to coach hockey when I get back. And, lest we forget, I found the final two episodes of House s3 on the network! Finally, we can have closure. And we will, tonite. Ahh, that show has taken over my life, and I'm totally okay with it.

Yesterday equated to copious amounts of studying for my PR final. I was surprisingly productive! I definitely thought yesterday would be one of those days where I intend to do a great deal of work, but only really accomplish a small sliver of what I wanted. I made comprehensive guide of everything I thought I'd need to know for the exam (pretty accurate, in retrospect) and studied for pretty much the entire day. I took a time-out only to drop off my lit assignment, grab a bit of lunch, go to caf, and watch Californication. Ohh, David Duchovny and threesomes involving two dudes.... of course they did. Had a bit of trouble getting to sleep after the coffee/tea intake that went down during the day, but such is life. On a side note: I'm about to murder every single one of those damn birds that sound like you're stepping on them when they crow. They sit outside my room and yell all day and all night, and I've had about enough of them. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for conservation of wildlife and the like... just not during studytime. Thanks.

So, we're up to today: my first exam experience. I get up at 8:3o for my 9:15 exam, brush my teeth, wash my face, eat my breakky, and head to the gym. I didn't know why they were holding the exam in the gym... but now I do. The gym was set up into perfect columns and rows, with over 4oo kids taking all sorts of exams. It was completely insane. Having followed what it looked like everyone else was doing, I dropped off my bag, reviewed my notes one last time, and walked into the exam, armed with my two pens. Apparently I also needed a pencil and my student ID. Oops. Needless to say, I played the hopeless international kid card and had everything figured out without much effort, but it was still a bit nerve racking at first. And so, for the next three hours, I wrote about nine pages for my PR exam. Altogether, it wasn't really terribly difficult... just long. And the setting was insane. In. Sane.

My post-exam day has been spent making fried rice, watching the Golden Girls, and pondering if I should start revision for history yet. Yeah, it's not tomorrow, so that's gonna stay at "no" for the time being. Caf's in a couple hours, and then we're watching our final two episode of House afterwards. Tomorrow is Halloween! We're going into town during the day, Janis's departure dinner is that night, and the party is afterward. Hmm, maybe I should be studying, then. In due time. I think I'll keep jamming to my Fall Out Boy/Michael Jackson/Backstreet Boys playlist for now. I call it-- the depth of pop music. Right.

That's all I've got for you. Until further notice... laterdays!

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