"Shoptacalypse": A family reunion to remember

Well, I have been living in California for the past few months since my graduation from College. It definitely has been a transition, though, nothing could have prepared me for this adventure. A few weeks ago, Mom came home from work with exciting news.

Mom: "Kids, we are going to Russleville for our family reunion!"

Though I have been anxiously anticipating a trip to meet the elusive 'Shoptaw clan', I couldn't help but be a little nervous about a family reunion...on our family farm.

Let's begin with the fact that the Kussin-Shoptaw's, when traveling together, have the world's worst travel karma. Mom, Dad, Ben (brother) and I left our cozy beds at 3:30AM for LAX only to find our flight delayed resulting in an impossible connection to make. The four of us stood at the counter: Mom looking royally peeved, Dad looking sick, Ben looking asleep, and myself just staring at the plant sitting on the desk. The LAX lady figured out we could make our flight to Fayetteville, Arkansas if we just flew into Chicago.

We landed in Chicago fine and dandy in desperate search of food. Dad, Ben and I each had gyros near what we thought was our gate. Just about the same time we all got settled in at gate F9, Ben decided to go explore the airport. By the point he was out of eye shot, Mom realized that we were at the wrong gate. Well, Mom went to the correct gate, leaving Dad and I waiting for Ben. Our departing time kept getting closer and still no Benj. But dont worry, Dad and I bumped into Ben on the way to our correct gate just to discover that our flight to Arkansas had been delayed an hour. Oy.

By the time we made it on the plane, the K-S reunion crew had been traveling for a little more than 12 hours. But it was all worth it because let me tell you: there is nothing like Arkansas in August.

Mm, Mm, delicious. The automatic doors of the airport slid open exposing my body to a heat wave equivalent of opening a 10ft oven. My family and I climbed into our rental car and drove 3 more hours to Russleville, in Pope County. Fun fact: Pope County has been a "Dry County" since the prohibition. Seriously. What kind of family reunion functions without alcohol??

Despite the humid heat, Arkansas was beautiful. There are so few people and so many trees. The sunset reminded me those I had witnessed in Walla. I began asking Dad more about the state. Learning my lesson from living in Australia, I thought that it would be smart to ask about the local fauna and flora before trekking through anything potentially life threatening.

Me: "So, what kind of animals are around? Can I walk around the farm?"

Dad: "Well, for starters, there are lots of ticks and chiggers. Chiggers, Alie, you'll know them when they bite. They feel like shingles. Then we have cottonmouths, Eastern rattlers, bob cats, coyotes, brown recluses and I think thats about it"

Thats about it? I dont want to hike around those mountains without a plastic bubble. Chiggers sound terrible!

We finally made the trip to the Hampton Inn. It kind of smelled like mold and stale cigarettes, but it was air conditioned so I was not about to complain. The parking lot was a mini 10 plagues scene--straight from the Prince of Egypt. Locusts. Everywhere. Inside we asked the lady where we could go for some grub. She suggested anywhere but the Chinese place. We chose Ruby Tuesday's as it was the only place in town that had some sort of private liquor license.

Ruby Tuesdays food was very similar to the quality served at the 'bad' Denny's. Ben's ribs came cold, Dad's chicken tasted funky, my salad definitely had grody cucumbers. The one redeemable quality was their biscuits. Unbelievable. I could live off of them. I might be 1000 pounds, but I would still fit in around the town and get to eat as many garlic cheese basil biscuits as I pleased. Mmm.

After dinner, Dad took Ben and I on a fantastic drive. There was no light pollution so the stars were completely visible. Dad drove us to our property; his 17 acres of farm land and the cemetery. Though totally creepy, the cemetery was probably my favorite part of the drive. I have always been so secure with who I am identity wise. I know everything about my mother's side of the family. Though, as any KS sibling can tell you, Dad has been very good at making sure details about Bill Shoptaw's side of the family remain ambiguous. This cemetery shattered all that. It was pitch black. It had a giant sign that said: _insert old family last name_ since 1852. I had no idea that my family could date back that long ago!

Dad continued our drive/tour around the farm property. He told us stories about our family and his life as a kid. If any of you know my Dad, you would understand how rare of an opportunity this was. Steve was opening up. I know Arkansas is smelly, famous for its' lack of toxin regulations, amount of churches per mile, obesity, and racism, I am actually very happy that I finally had an opportunity to meet my other half. I am a little apprehensive for meeting the actual living relatives. I am not sure how they will receive the LA relatives who are hippy liberals. But hey, well see how it goes tomorrow :)

the last week

This past week has been full of epic adventures!

I rented a car with some girl friends and took a drive to the South Western most part of the Island. It was a competely new and undiscovered place for me. We drove 2 and a half hours out of town to a tropical rainforest to a place known as Russell falls. The falls were awe inducing. Absolutely nuts. There was also Horseshoe falls, cleverly named for the water falls in a horseshoe shape (A+ for the namers) and another far far away falls. It was nice to trek around the area. Apparently, you can do the hike at night as well and see glow worms!! I wanted to see glow worms so badly but that was just not happening this trip.

Following the russell falls, we decided to drive over to the Gordon Dam. SO COOL. Never underestimate the coolness of dams. Ever. First of all, they are tall. They are so uncomfortably high up that when you're at the top all you want to do is get off of the platform and back onto solid ground. Second of all, they are surrounded by water on one end and not so much on the other. Translation: one side is full to the top with a terrifyingly black liquid and the other side is a plunge to insta-death. Then there is the wind: it echoes. Oh! But wait! You can make your voice echo as well, not just the wind. Anyways. The dam was amazing. Walking up and down to it was like a death trap but it was worth it. I was shaking the entire time. I almost passed out when my friends told me that people actually repelled down it for "fun". I would repel down that if someone paid me a hefty sum of money. That valley/cliff full side of the dam was scary enough to get each of us tired girls to sprint up the steep steps.

I drove all day. I was so tired afterwards. I really thought a few times we were going to die. Never ever drive at dusk or at night in Australia unless you are driving a jeep. Wallabies the size of cows will hop in front of your car and wait for you to hit them. Then if that doesnt kill you, wait for those wombats. Those sneaky, tank like critters, will waddle right out in the middle of the road and instead of you breaking them, they will break you. Oh and please, never neglect to be wary of the giant running peacocks. They are not cassowaries because those birds are only on the mainland, but they are just as scary--especially in a small car. They ran in front of the car multiple times. Each time, they would spit out all their feathers to my car as if sticking out their tongue to my face. "Hit me I dare you, sucker!", Im pretty sure that's what they were telling me. Breaking for animals is strictly illegal in Australia. Yea I get that's an important law because it's dangerous to swerve for an animal, but A) I didnt want to kill any animals and B) I feared that they wouldve done more damage to my car than to themselves (especially for the wombat incidents).

Besides that trip, friends and I have just been spending as much time together as we can. Tess, Corey, Bobby and Carmen decorated my room for my birthday when I got back from NZ which was so nice of them. We all went out for birthday drinks on a night no one had finals the next day. I went on a hike to Mt. Nelson with Mattie and had a nice therapy session with her. We talked about life and love and how we have changed since coming to Tassie. We went on a stroll to the beach a few km down from the colleges (our beach) and picked up some shells. We had to say goodbye to great friends like Amy and April. We stayed up all night with Amy and watched the world cup and drank wine. It was so hard to say goodbye to her at the airport the next morning. Oh, it's so weird here. In Tassie, you can go through security without a ticket and sit with people who are flying out. No terrorist threats here obviously. You dont even have to take off your shoes! Except for Mattie. Every time Mattie walks into that airport, she gets stopped and searched. Apparently, white, females with brown/blonde hair are obviously on the aussie hit list.

Tomorrow is officially my last day in Tasmania. I cannot believe that that time has come. Nick bought all his international friends Australian flag capes for people to sign. I am so sad to leave but I guess Ill just save those sentiments for my last blog. Until then, only happy current memories. Goodnight everyone :)

a trip with the Kiwis

AH!!! Birthday!! Okay, I promise to write more about my trip to New Zealand as soon as I have heaps of time available; however right this minute I want to talk about a significant portion of my holiday...my birthday with friends!! This was the first time ever I was able to celebrate a birthday with friends I made in college! Ah! 21 was definitely a good birthday bash. Honestly, I wasn't looking for anything big because in Oz, the drinking legal age is 18.

My New Zealand trip began the 1st of June and lasted until the 8th. I arrived at Christchurch, NZ at 11pm on Tuesday. It was pouring rain. I was alone. I found a cab, befriended the driver and boogied my way to Charlie B's hostel. I literally just climbed into bed and fell right asleep. I guess traveling all day zonks me out. The next day I had all to myself. I decided to tramp (synonymous to bush walking) around the city. It was small with few people. The biggest tourist attraction was the Cathedral. I met the priest, had a chat, and lit a candle for peace. I went to an art gallery, a history museum and a few parks (all which were free). There was also a centre for the arts, funded by the NZ government. Basically it is a little village of art studios that display and sell art pieces. I met some fellow artists and talked about their works. This one lady suggested I go to the Royal botanical gardens to see an exhibition on the Mauri people. So off to the museum I went.

At the museum, I met a Mauri guy who worked there. He spoke the language and was active in his tribe. He toured me around the entire museum, explaining to me the histories, plights, and eventual successes of his people. He told me the differences between the tourist assumptions and the truths about the Mauri tribes. After his two hour tour, I explored the gardens in the rain and stopped at a cafe for a mocha. It was there I met up with Karen, Claire, Becca, Chad and Drew! Aw hey whitman students!! It was so nice to see the girls (I just met Chad and Drew that day for the first time...oops?). We caught up on life, grabbed some lunch and headed off to Dunedin, home of Otago University.

As lame as this sounds, I spent my first day at Otago studying. That's right Mom and Dad. I cracked open my psych notes and began memorizing social psych theories. It was that night that my birthday celebrations commenced. I apologize in advance, but this blog is going to have tales of drinking. As it was my 21st birthday, alcohol had to be involved. No worries though! No one got hurt/sick/injured/arrested...the celebrations were successful nights ;)

Claire, Becca and Kar took good care of me. They bought me drinks and I was introduced to all the Kiwis! The NZ kids were super nice and we all went out to the pub area and went dancing. The night didnt last very long but it ended in the most epic of ways: grilled cheese sandwiches. The best, most delicious conclusion to a night of drinking.

The next morning, well, okay. The next afternoon, Karen and I packed up the car and grabbed the other road trippers (fellow Whittie students: Janna, Gabi, and Erica) and headed off for Queenstown. We got there at night so I couldn't see much of the city. We went grocery shopping, checked into a hostel called "Southern Laughter" and had dinner at a crazy good burger joint. We finished our night at a pub called Buffalo something. Our hostel had drink specials to the place: 1 free beer! As we 5 girls were shmoozing to ourselves at a booth, a fellow snow boarder approached us and joined our table...He definitely thought we were about 18 or younger because he made two major faux paus: 1) He asked us our ages and 2) he asked if we "were planning on getting drunk as". Well, after laughing at both of those questions we answered that we were 21 and no, we were not planning on getting "Drunk as". We asked him how old he was and he laughed nervously and said something along the lines of turning 21 next June. We each placed bets after we finished our beers on how old he actually was..I think we agreed on 17. I give him serious brownie points though for approaching a booth of girls alone! No matter how old he was, he sure has guts

Karen and I headed back to our hostel room. We ended up sharing a two bunk bed suite with two Eastern English snow boarders who were following the ski season to the southern hemisphere. They were friendly enough and we ended up talking about Mammoth mountain and how they want to work there someday but have only ended up working in the Colorado areas.

The following morning was spectacular. We were all up by 7 to watch the sunrise. Because we arrived in Queenstown at night, I had no idea that there were giant, ominous mountains surrounding me. Really, they were spectacular. Most of them were snow capped beauties, intimidating fellow mountaineers and skiers. The girls and I ate some oatmeal, marveled at the gods and started on a city walking tour. We found a massive lake, royal gardens, and BONUS! a candy shop.

We got a move on and squeezed into the car. We drove to the famous bridge of bungee jumpers and watched a 10 year old girl plunge a few hundred meters for her birthday. Scared to pieces, I left unable to take the dive. The car of girls and I drove past Lord of the Rings film sites and unbelievable views. We stopped at a playground for a drive break and swung on the swings. There was a dinosaur in this park! So cool! We stopped that night at a place on the beach. Karen and I took a sunset walk by the waters (oh so romantic) and talked about life and Whitman. When we got back to our hostel, a feast of sorts was ready to be devoured: nachos! Basically the best nachos ever consumed.

The next morning, we were off to an ambitious start. Firstly, I was driving (my first time on the “wrong” side of the road). It really wasn’t too bad. The main problem I struggled with was that the turning signal lever is on the right hand side instead of the left. On the left hand side, there is the windshield wipers. Good thing it was raining! Otherwise I would’ve looked like a bigger fool. Secondly, our trip was super adventurous because we decided to see not one, but two! glaciers! We stopped and hiked up to the Franz Joseph glacier and the Fox glacier. Both were fascinating and glorious. I was proud to have had my picture taken in front of such a geological wonder! Gosh I should have been a geo major

After a few more hours of driving in the rain, we made it to our next hostel. It was amazing. For a low fee of $23, we were given a house. We shared it with two other couples but this house was huge! We girls had our own two levels to ourselves. One of the couples, funny enough, was a Tassie couple! I talked with them while playing on one of the hostel provided acoustic guitars. The man was very friendly. We covered topics such as: his children’s educations, professional goals, and epic trecks. Apparently this Tasman came to NZ by himself to hike the most famous peaks because he had already hiked all the ones in Tassie twice over. His wife was just visiting him for the weekend.

The next morning we took a series of short hikes. One was to the beach. This beach made me understand the Romantic period of art history: the period when artists focused on the terrifying or overtly dramatic. The water was vicious: seething, scratching with menacing claws, ready to grab wary visitors and pull them into its rip tide of doom. I of course had to walk down to the shore to touch the water myself, but I ran away quite quickly because that was mean water. Not California coast water. Oh no.

After the beach hike, the girls and I went to Pancake rocks to see another geological phenomina. Apparently, the rocks by the sea were of a sandstone sediment and with the combination of tectonic movement, wind erosion, and sea erosion, the sediment divided itself into layers thereby looking like stacks of pancakes. Cool, huh?

Next, we drove through the famous Arthur’s Pass. Beautiful! NZ IS like Tassie on steroids: the mountains bigger, the canyons wider, the birds more aggressive and terrifying. I was attacked by a kea.

That was my final day in NZ. We left Arthur’s Pass for Christchurch. We stayed at a hostel that used to be a legit jailhouse. Therefore, it is only fitting that the hostel be named the Jailhouse Hostel. My room was an old cell block. The cinema room was the isolation room. It was definitely creepy, but so cool! After unloading our packs, we went to search for a place for dinner and possibly a drink. As it was actually my date of birth, unlike the other days of prior b-day celebrations, we wanted to have a nice meal and a cool drink. We found a Chinese place that was open. Apparently I share the same birthday as the Queen so everything in NZ was closed. Karen and I split a bottle of wine, and no one even carded me. It’s going to be a weird feeling back in the states when they’ll ask for my ID. Because the age limit is 18 over here, I get past security no questions asked.

We ladies finished our night with an experience at a pub. (A more traditional 21 celebration). I became best friends with the bar tenders. They were so nice! They were from Western England and were about to travel to California, so I had so many things to tell each of them, whether or not they wanted to know about them ;) Those blokes were very fun. They exposed me to drinks I never thought existed. Did you know they light drinks on fire? What is the purpose of that?? Anyways. That night those bar tenders got the pub band to sing happy birthday to me and I left with a mega happy smile on my face. The next morning (bright and early!) I boarded a plane at 4am. I could not have asked for a better trip. I got to celebrate my birthday with old Whitman friends and I explored the entire Southern Island of NZ. I met Mauri citizens, watched a crazy girl bungee, and got attacked by vicious parrots. I saw so many geological formations, drove on the left side of the street without crashing, and sang my heart out to the bad pop music played on the radio. I am going to miss the Southern hemisphere. What am I going to do when I leave this place?

the beginning of the homecoming

There are so many things I would like to talk about..There is an entire adventure in New Zealand that needs to be illustrated; my birthday celebration(s); my return to Tassie. This blog however has a very simple dedication and focus: the beginning of coming home. That's right ladies and gents, I am actually coming home (in 16 days to be precise). The reason I chose to bring this up at this time is because the IFSA Butler program that I am a part of concluded today. Dara, our student advisor, took us out for a farewell dinner. I hate to be sentimental again, but dinners really do bring out the true levels of friendship. Even though I have not seen her in forever, Becky is still one of my closest friends. We have hung out perhaps a handful of times outside of Butler activities, yet we just go back to where we left off when we reunite. Derek and I are just ridiculous. I am not sure what is said, who says it first, or in what mind set we are in, but whenever we are together, hilarity commences. As for Temi, Lisa and I, well we always get along. Our relationships with each other have grown so much and I am proud to call them friends.

Dara as well, my program advisor, is not just an authority/mentor figure. She is a parent, a leader, a role model, a person I can trust. It also helps that she is a Granada Hills native. Tonight at our fancy shmancy dinner at the Ball and Chain Grill (a super nice steak house), Dara presented us Butler students with a DVD of our adventures together. We were given letters that Dara had written specifically for us, accompanied by a glow stick and a lolly. The most significant part of the package however, was not created by Dara. In fact, I created it. On the second day of living in Sydney during our orientation, we were asked to write a letter to ourselves--for us to open at the end of our trip. We were supposed to analyze it or even just enjoy it and witness first hand how we have grown and changed as individuals. When I read mine, it was completely unexpected. This blog is a dedication to this letter to myself. I hope you come to enjoy it as Dara, Derek, Becky, Lisa, Temi, Mary and I have!

Here goes nothing:

"Letter to Myself:

I am so tired. Keeping my eyelids open is a hassle. Australia is beautiful. I guess I have missed this. Thus far I'm making friends, going on hikes, exploring the terrain. I'm really overwhelmed, but that is to be expected. At least I'm not nervous anymore.

For this trip, I want to expand my artistic knowledge, enhance my self confidence and discard apprehensions of the future. I want to live in the 'now' and cease to concern myself with other's toxic judgement.

This trip for me, hopefully, will be a self fulfilling adventure; enabling me to past boundaries I once thought existed. In return, when I arrive in Los Angeles June 24th, I will be the same and not the same.

I feel like I'm at camp.

Aussies have super cheerful accents.

I am super white.

I cannot wait for Tasmania

-Later

-Alie

PS: It's super hot here in Sydney

PPS: I want to watch the world cup with Aussies."

Good night everyone! I will write about NZ and my birthday when I finish my final!

Epic.

Im going to put this out in the universe because I have to: rugby puts american football to shame. Especially when played by people who have no idea what they are doing. Last weekend, Christ College girls played against Fisher College, and Mattie literally broke a girl's leg. An ambulance had to come and everything. Bobby got a shiner on his right eye, my friend Jenn got a bruise that even today still takes up half her face. During this past Sunday's game, American Mary continued to tackle even when concussed. Alyssa has the scariest black-eye. Big Rob on the boys team bulldozed a kid down. Tim clothes-lined an opponent.
Im sure professional rugby is scary and intense, but when people are amatuer rugby players, the paramedics should be on stand by...actually last weekend, they were.

That game was incredible. We fans screamed our hearts out, singing our super sexist, anti-feminist chants everytime we made a tri (touchdown).We all were sitting together boo-ing our opponent: Jane College. Even the losers from the past (Fisher) came down to support Christ. Go Black Pigs! Okay, I realise the irony of our mascot. Not only am I living CHRIST College, my mascot is a PIG. It's like the universe wants me to be in the most un-Jewish environment known to man.

Following the game, we fans hiked up the hill to get ready for a party of a lifetime. Of course Christ had to celebrate the victory! It was the first time in well, a long time that the girls team had kicked any butt. The boys team just won the championship for the 7th consecutive year. Translation: a Sunday night dance off. That night, the American girls INVADED that dance floor and brought out dance moves that should have stayed in the 1970's. (Our parents would be so proud). Of course we had to bring out our Zumba moves too! What is a dance party without Zumba?? Um, definitely not a party at all. I really couldn't tell you what I was doing. I was gesticulating; that is what I was doing. Amy summed up my night very well: "Al, you were just flailing your arms and dancing and somehow you were engulfed by people!". Apparently, everyone loves crazy bar mitzvah dance moves...just a little bit of Jewish spice to get the party going.

So yea. That has been my few days. Rugby, celebration, psychology class, finishing up an art project, preparing for New Zealand. I leave Monday super early in the morning. It should be a good time.

oH! Yesterday I went to Zumba as usual. Zumba, for those who do not know, is basically a latino dance party disguised as exersize. The zumba gods sometimes sneak in some english speaking songs but with new base-lines to match the speed of the dance moves. Yesterday in class, the horrah came on. The HORRAH. Of course, my zumba friends came up to me and said: "Alie! This is the Russian dance thing we told you about from our first day of class!". Ya. Russian my butt. That is JEWISH music. And for the record, I do not appreciate people using such a joyous, celebratory song for exersize class. That song was written and designed for running mindlessly in a circle and holding hands with relatives you only met when you were five (or who mistake you for your mother...depends which bar mitzvah you attend). That song is not meant for leg ups, squats and a ridiculous number of jumping jack-like moves. And OF COURSE because it's the Horrah, each time the song repeated itself, it had the need to go faster. The purpose of this horrah characterisitc originally was to weed out drunken relatives at the party...but for zumba, oh no. How about faster leg lifts, squats and jumping jacks. Not okay, zumba; NOT okay! As a Jewish ambassador to the island of Tasmania--scratch that. As the ONLY Jew on the island of Tasmania, I refuse to let you zumba go-ers to use that song. The Horrah is designed only for joy, getting dizzy, and rocking out the grapevine dance move--NOT for sweating. Amen.

I like being a hippy, thank you very much

My hair is luxuriously long and is only washed 3 times a week. I no longer shave my legs (granted I wear PANTS everyday). I play guitar in my room, on the beach, on the streets...and guess what? I enjoy singing John Denver tunes, James Taylor, and (my personal favorite) Don Mcclean. Christ almighty it finally happened: I am officially my mother.

I mean it was bound to happen, right? I came out of that woman's womb her twin (disturbing as that sounds) and spent my entire childhood development trying to be something other than her. Even in college, I refused psychology classes, confident in the fact that I wouldn't enjoy them just because my mother does.

Well, all I have left to say now is: oops? I listen to most of the songs she listened/s to (except for that Israeli cd you have..), I am studying the same subject she works in, and to top it off, I look AND sound AND act like her. Being my own human being is just not feasible! I guess that's why I chose to visit the most remote place on the planet...so that no one truly knows that I am in fact, a clone.

Well, the Jody II set off on a backpacking adventure this past weekend: giving my father an anxiety attack of a lifetime. To be fair, I did have a massive psychology research proposal due the day after I returned, however, I managed to finish my homework before leaving on the trip. So no worries, pop. Lisa convinced me to join her on a trip with her rock climbing friend Will: a bizarre character from Tasmania. He drove us to his shack near Port Arthur (Southern Tassie) where the other trekkers met up with us.

The trip consisted of Will, Lisa, Pete (english), Anna (Swedish), and Ryan (Malaysian). All were post graduate students working on becoming professors or finishing up their theses. These were intelligent people. Ryan asked the fatal, inevitable question: Alie, what is your major? As the focus of the dinner conversation turned to me, I disclosed I was majoring in Fine Arts. Yup. That was it. Apparently, Will, Lisa, Pete, Anna and Ryan are all in the science department. Excluding Lisa, these people were all various types of Chemists with at least their masters. Two had Phd's and two were working on getting theirs. Oh and Lisa is getting her degree in Physics with a minor in math. That was a fun moment.

Anyways, at the shack, the 6 of us prepared a pre-hike feast: home made pizzas! We all packed our packs and hit the hay around 11. At 6:45am, we got up, dressed in hiking gear, and set off for quite a strenuous hike. We hiked about 20 or so miles in two days. That is a lot for me, ladies and gentlemen. I don't care how fit of a person you are, eight hours of hiking is a bit excessive. Day one wasn't too horrible. There were some vertical treks but those were solely because we were hiking on the cliff on the Tasman peninsula. Towards the end of that hike, we attempted to make our way to Mt Fortesque to make camp. Okay. We were in a rainforest. It was wet. To get to our campsite, we had to walk down a seriously steep hill covered in dead, slippery leaves and rocks coated in moss. I fell. My butt pain rivaled that of my first snowboarding trip. But it was worth it. Mt. Fortesque, in the middle of a luscious jungle, was incredible. We pitched our tents, put on warm layers (as it was FREEZING) and began cooking dinner. Eight hours of walking, even for the fittest of people, causes fatigue. That being said, the sun set at 4:45pm. We finished dinner at 7. Everyone was dead asleep by 7:30. Yup. Incredible.

The next morning was tough: partially because my quads were sore, and partially because I had found leeches on my legs the night prior. Either way, I was less enthusiastic about the massive hill we had to climb to get out of Mt. Fortesque and onto the track for Cape Pillar. I had a brekki of dehydrated apples, packed up the tent and sleeping bags, re-checked my legs for leeches, and off we went UP. As I have said before, if there is any direction to go in Tasmania, it will be up! And up we went. We dropped our packs off at the other top of Mt. Fortesque, and commenced our day hike to Cape Pillar.

That hike wasnt so bad, just long. Pete and Anna were slower walkers so I had some company (finally). Will and Lisa were like the friggin energizer bunnies! Give them ten minutes and they were out of eye/ear shot. Ryan was somewhere in between speeds so every once in a while we would see him. There was no group unity on this trip. Good thing the trails were decipherable.

Before we arrived at the cliffs, we passed by a stream to fill our water bottles. We drank the water without purifying or adding tablets to it. In most of Tasmania, you dont need to purify water. The forests are so secluded and rarely visited that rivers are healthy, clean and clear.

Pete, Anna and I made it about 15 minutes from the point we were going to, when Pete decided to share that he had hyper-extended his knee. Anna, who was already a knee-cripple, suggested that we begin to hike back. Well, Lisa had my water and food, Will had the map, and Pete and Anna were both on the injured players list. So back we went. The entire group finally met up at around 4:00 to where we left our packs. Just on schedule to watch the sun go down.

I hope you just read that previous line: we were watching the sun go down. Funny, hiking at night was never on my itinerary. We had finished the day hike, but not the hike back to the car park. We had 5km to go, which, without injured human beings, is about a 2.5 hour walk. I walked with Ryan this time, speeding up and trying to beat the setting sun. At about half way to the car park, light just disappeared. We were in devil territory, and we could hear them. My head torch was not bright enough and I fell, once again, over my feet, rocks, and bushes. I am just a graceful human. Ryan later asked if I had slowed down because I had sprained my ankle. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I slowed down because I couldn't walk in the dark. ;)

Oh, I forgot one important detail of the trip. All these seasoned hikers had the same brand of shoes, pants and shirts. Partially, I am sure it was a designer thing; however, it was partially because those clothes are the best to hike in. My pants, though a synthetic material, were not backpacking appropriate. That is how I got leeches. Additionally, I kept pulling up what I thought was my pants but really I was just giving myself an atomic wedgie for 6 hours. This resulted in some serious injuries on my thighs (thank you circulation cut off) and now I have to waddle to class. Note to self: I am buying hiking pants and shirts before my scramble (which is 7 days long, not 2).

So that was my trip. Adventurous, social, with a sprinkle of lovely weather. Today I decided to be a student again and go to school. I went to the grocery store at Salamanca near the art building and picked up a bushel of apples for $1.98. That is mega cheap! On the way back to art school, I realised I had extra time before the bus came. So, being my hippy self, I sat down on some rocks on the water front and stared off into the bay. As the sun was setting, a penguin looking bird began swimming right in front of me. He looked up at me, acknowledged my presence and kept on swimming. Moments later, he plopped onto a rock right below me and migrated his way up onto the rock I was sitting on. This bird (I named him Daffodil-Daffy for short) sat next to me for 15 minutes. I stared at him for a while and he would look at me and then just stare off into the bay. People walked by and looked at us as if we were crazy. One man remarked: "Looks like youve got a new mate!" I guess I do now. I tried giving him some bread but he wouldn't take any. Instead he shook his head, ruffled his feathers and showed me his wing span. I got up to leave and he just stared at me. I wanted to take him to my dorm room, but how would I explain that one to Christ College? "Hey guys, you know how we cant have cats or dogs? Can I have a bird?" Thankfully, Daffy didn't follow me to the bus, but he did watch me walk away. It was such a strange experience. Maybe I will see him tomorrow and take a picutre to show you.

Alright. Time to go for now. I have to prepare for tomorrow--its my 7 hour studio day! Yay! Oh, and Sam? In case you're reading this.. I know I am my mother, but I learned my hippy-ness from you.. You just cut your hair and got a job...sold it to the man!!! muahaha!

on a more serious note..friend making 101

I don't know if I'm delusional from the food consumed, but I thought now would be a great time to blog (instead of finishing my psych research proposal).

Tonight was a great night. Over the past weeks, I have befriended a group of people who cook in the kitchen around the same time I do. Sherry and Fiona are my two closest friends of the group: both chinese students. We decided a ways back to have a teaching dinner: they would teach me how to cook a classic chinese dish, and I would teach them a Jewish dish. Well, as these things typically go, a party of 3 turned into a party of 15. 15 close, good friends who each brought a cultural dish. Two Americans cooked Mexican, someone made a classic American pasta salad, I made Kugel, Rohan (australian) made coconut biscuits, and Sui Ching and Keiv (Malaysain) cooked chicken curry. It was a meal literally from around the world. We even cracked out some Italian food and made some garlic bread.

This dinner was perfect. All my favorite people were there. Lisa came for a while, Temi ate with us; it was really ideal. At the end of the meal, I served the Kugel and everyone learned about a new food. It was a smash hit. We all sat around the table laughing and the atmosphere was blissful. We laughed about cultural differences; laughed about language difficulties; laughed about studies. I found it funny how sometimes Sherry and Kiev used me as a translator for one another. They both speak fluent Chinese, but solely used english at the table.

Our dinner gathering, that began as a dinner for just three, transformed into a dinner party. No alcohol, no loud music, just good people, enjoying each other's company. Sometimes I think people forget how important it is to appreciate one another. The reason the dinner was so successful wasn't because the food was spectacular, nor was it attributed to everyone knowing each other. The dinner was a success because everyone for a moment, loved each other. Okay, that sounds like a hippy statement, but it's the truth. I sat between Corey and Kiev, two people of whom I don't always hang out with, and we were best friends for the entire meal. Everyone bonded.

As we all left the dining room to clean up, I became sad. I am so bad at goodbyes. I know, I have over 40 days remaining. That is plenty of time. But in the large life spectrum, that is nothing. I really and truly love these people and I know that when I leave for home, our relationships will change. A few "oh em gee I miss you!" on facebook or perhaps a skype date once in a blue moon, but if I have learned anything from goodbyes, it is that our friendships will change. Is it really that selfish of me to want one thing in my life to remain the same? I am so sick and tired of how dynamic life is. Leaving for college back in '07 was difficult, but because I was entering Whitman for the long term, I entered friendships fearlessly. I left Whitman for Tassie knowing I would be returning to the same people I have grown to love. But what of the friends I have made in Tassie? What are to become of them? It's weird because the best friends I made at Whitman took me almost a year to establish. In Tasmania, it took only 3 months. This group of friends is my world. They are the ones I trust, the ones who insist on celebrating my birthday even though they have finals, the ones I don't want to have to fly across the country/world to go to visit. Sometimes I wish that I didnt have friends here. I would be fine with hanging out with acquaintances. I can leave acquaintances. I cannot leave friends. I dont want to leave friends. They make me who I am, and without them, who am I? I would like nothing more than to cook a stupid, simple dinner with these people and just be with them. I want to go home, I do. I love home. I love my bed, my home friends, my family. But then why did I have to go and be ambitious and find a new place to call home? Hobart! psh, what kind of name is that? Ho-bart. It sounds like a hick version of the BART in San Fran. Could I have not just been content in Walla Walla or Los Angeles? Are two homes not enough? Come on Passover morals, kick in aleady! DI-freaking-AYNU.

But no. I came to Tasmania and met the most spectacular human beings this world has to offer. I forged a new family, a new community.

I know I dont have any contact with New Jew anymore, but I really have to thank that school. It taught me powerful lessons and values: the importance of deciphering a big thing from a small thing, learning through exploration and risk, and most significantly, the power of a community. The reason why this dinner was so successful was not just because we are all amicable persons, but rather, at that moment, we were a functional community. This dinner though simple, was in the words of Bruce Powell, a big thing. It demonstrated a shared respect of everyone at the table, an equal friendship.

There are many different kinds of friendships--those that last a lifetime, and those that last a few moments. Whatever kind of friendships I have created here in Tasmania, I hope and pray that these people know what kind of impression they have made on me. I hope that they realize the significances their lives have played in my life.

Now on a completely different note: I am going backpacking tomorrow!! Woo!! Lisa invited me on a hiking/mountain climbing adventure with Tasmanian people who I dont know (but Lisa does) and it shoud be epic...and cold. I will be sure to post photos and details later. As Ian so kindly mentioned to me today was that my trip has been defined by three main factors: hiking/backpacking, studies, and going out. Yea. Well, now we can add to the list making friends. OH. I FINISHED MY CHAIR IN METAL WORK!! I am a welding PRO. You guys have no idea. None whatsoever. Professional welder. It is a functional, weight supporting device also commonly referred to as a chair. Now I have to make a frame and a container and I can leave that class satisfied :) Catch yall later!

-Alie