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

An Ode to Technology

Oh technology, with your high tech, speedy ways,
enabling endless opportunities, for students to display
amatuer attempts of professional occupations
leaving heaps of areas--no, a void! full of pety miscalculations.

lets start with starting up the computer,
a simple push of the button right?
then why come the black screened moniter,
after all my effort and might

or how about my project,
the one that took up my free tuesday,
the computer spat out my usb, eject!
this project is due the first of this coming may.

an ode to technology
is all that is left for me to create.
An ode to the brilliant inventions of the 21 century,
it has become something I cant help but hate

the computers have all committed a mutiny
one fierce, one strong, one so crude
shutting down, deleting my work
mocking me, they are so rude

I know I shouldn't use the word hate
even if these computers have decided their fate
but I wasnt the one who started this war against me
they are evil, they are callous, you just have to wait and see.

If you cant tell by this lovely ode, I totally hate computers right now. This is the second time these stupid, shallow, selfish computers have eaten away my art! It's like they had a book burning but instead of igniting pages of literature, they are consuming my digital masterpieces!!! What is happening!!!

Anyways. Besides my new found quest in life to destroy all of the art school's computers, my life has been going swimmingly. OH OH OH MAJOR LIFE UPDATE! No, it has nothing to do with my trip to the Bay of Fires (which was heavinly, btw)..oh no. It has to do with my new favorite form of exersize: zumba. Imagine a large dance room with a single stage, about 40 women of all ages and sizes, dancing out their day's stress. It was the funniest/more amazing experience ever! The dance instructor was histerical. She turned up the tunes so the entire gym could hear, and started dance moves that we had to mimic. Some of these moves included (but didnt exclude) the Beyonce "Single Ladies" booty shake, the chacha, some shakira hip action, and of course, my favorite, the high school musical "wildcats" arm motions. So okay, zumba, in australia or at least in tassie, isnt a real reflection of the dance. However, to credit Tassie, the music was mostly contemporary reggae tones!

Besides computers ruining my life and zumba dominating it, the Bay of Fires has also entered my being and will never leave. Imagine the most beautiful beach in the world and then put it on steroids. That was the bay of fires. The rocks were coated in orange moss, which in the sunlight, appeared to engulf the bolders in infinite flames. The waters were so perfectly blue I seriosuly thought I must have been in Tahiti. I could see fish from the beach. The trip consisted of Bobby's Aunt Mart, Bobby, Mattie, Tess and Corey along with a massive van. Some tunes were sung, gelato consumed and rocks were definitely climbed. The wind was crazy during the night times and some sporatic showers occured however, once the sun was out, nothing else really mattered. All we did that weekend was walk, swim and lay on the beach: trying to absorb fully the beauty of the bay. (Seriously, pictures do not do this place justice).

I feel that Tassie is an underrated place. The mainlanders hate it because they think that it is a state outnumbered by boagens and incestuous beings, and tourists don't go because they think that there is nothing here. Okay, so perhaps the mainlanders are right that there are in fact incestuous, hick-like, simple minded folk. However, I believe these folks are the ones who will literally give the shirts off their backs if they find you lost, and drenched from the unexpected torrential downpour. I do not see Sydney peeps being quite as courteous. Who cares if Tassies marry their siblings? You don't have to endorse it (or do it) yourself! But hey, they are sweet, kind people and they have yet to eat/kill me, so as of now I am super content. On the other issue of nothing being in Tassie...How could one ever say that! Sure, if you have little children, maybe a camping adventure isnt the best idea, but come on fellow world citizens! Tassie is one of the few places left in the world with deserted, untouched, natural wonders! There are cave spiders that get to be the size of DINNER PLATES! DINNER PLATES!! Can you believe that?? If I awoke to one of those puppies, I would die. But still. Tassie is fully equipped with mind blowing nature reserves, rain forrests, beaches, pastures, and geological formations.

I think there is one more biggish trip for the American adventure crew and that will be to Bruny Island. We will see how that goes. I kayaked there with my IFSA Butler group and we saw penguins and dolphins. We also had a barbeque on the island but I wouldn't mind spending an entire day hiking around there. Apparently on the other end of the island, there are mega cliffs and some spectacular views. Tassie has yet to sell me short on views, so I am eagerly anticipating this trip. Besides that, my final Southern hemisphere adventure will be a trip to New Zealand to visit the South Island. Baba and Zadie kept saying repeatidly how it has the most unbelievable natural sites, AND Karen Gastineau is there, AND it will be over my 21st birthday, so I just decided that I should try out another country for a week.

This weekend I will be a-working on my psychology research proposal paper and attending various Christ college events (this includes but is not exclusive to, a Toga party, two uni rugby games, watching multiple friends shave their heads as a fundraiser for luekimia research, and possibly some passion pop consumption). I will post more pictures and I will be sure to write more later next week. Love y'all! It is now time for me to buy some veggies for my dinner tonight and after dinner guess what??? I have another zumba class! Aunty susan, when I get back, you and I are soooo doing this...it is really that much fun. So much more pleasant than spin class.

I am so full

Oh, holy allah in the sky. Next time someone has the brilliant idea to cook breakfast for dinner, I am not going to eat as much as I did. Quite frankly, I don't think my eating splurge was entirely my fault. I blame the delicious feast spread out on the table of banana/chocolate chip pancakes, hash browns, french toast, scrambled eggs with veggies, freshly squeezed orange and apple juice, bacon, sausage, grapes, apples and strawberries. Really. How does one turn down this food? My stomach has never been in such a happy pain...Corey summed up the evening very well: "I'm so full; what should I eat next?"

Besides the ridiculous consumption of the Australian thanksgiving feast, my life has slowed down quite a bit. There was Easter break: the 7 days of crazy traveling throughout Melbourne and Sydney and then the two weeks of trying to recuperate. I didn't want to blog about my adventures in the two mainland cities just because, honestly, it would take hours and hours to write. But I will try to summarize the highlights of that trip and of my life currently.

Melbourne:

Corey#1, Corey#2, Tess, Mattie and I journeyed to Melbourne super early in the morning. We stayed at a nice hostel in chinatown and explored the city. So much walking! All the time, all we did, was walk. But thankfully, there were no hills in Melbourne. Considering that it was Easter weekend, most of the shops were closed, but the crew and I managed to tour the city's lane-ways (alleys) which were beautifully decorated with graffiti and ventured through many gardens that the city had to offer. We also visited Brighton: a touristy beach cluttered with brightly painted shacks. Each shack was an estimated value of $200,000! A beach shack, a single beach shack (without any bathrooms, rooms, beds...etc.) $200,000! Incredible.

Anyways. The real highlight of that trip was my third day there. It really could have been my best day in Australia ever. This day was the day of yet another surf contest and a footie game. The surf contest was held at Bells beach, a two hour bus drive outside of Melbourne. Mattie, Carmen and I met up and began speed walking to the bus station at 7:45am (talk about dedication). We barely made it on the bus, but we did, and the beach was definitely worth the rush. Bells, a national state park of Australia, is a beach engulfed by massive, orange clayed cliffs. The cliffs plunge into a gully of yellow rocks which are met by crashing ocean waves. This is where the best day of my life began. Mattie, Carmen and I sat on the sandy part of the beach but the waves must have been upset with us, because the tide came in so fast that we had to move before we could actually watch any surf heats. The only room left to sit were on the yellow rocks below the cliffs. Little did we know these rocks were in the direct paths of the pro surfers--the path they took to get to the best waves! One surfer passed us and Carmen and I chatted about how he looked so familiar. He was so close to us he could have tripped over my foot! As he dove with his board into the blue abyss, the announcer of the Bells contest enthusiastically introduced Kelly Slater. That's right world! I watched Kelly shred and eventually win the contest. He is a surfing god!

Following the contest, the girls and I walked up to the city portion of Bells to wander about and who do we bump into but some pro surfers that were at the Marrawah competition a week ago. We got their autographs and they joked how we were stalking them... oops :) So, best day ever check list: watch pro surfing, check; almost kick down the greatest surfer of all time with my flip flopped foot, check; meet real live pro surfers again, check.

We finally made it back to Melbourne at around 6, just in time for a footie game! Mattie was so tired she decided to go home, but Carmen and I just couldn't pass up an opportunity for an Aussie sport. Helplessly lost, Carmen and I found a group of footie fans and asked for directions to the field. A nice older man named Jason invited us to join him and his crew to the game. He led us to the field, introduced us to his friends and proudly explained the sport of footie. Basically, it is a mix of basketball, handball, football, soccer, and rugby...in short shorts. Shorts so short in fact, that the men have to shave their legs. How do I know this? Well that comes later in the best day ever story.

Jason, a 50 some year old construction worker is the definition of Australian Rules Football fan. I could hardly understand what he was saying his accent was so thick and his curses were something from a Manchester United game. He insisted we get some beer and watch and learn. His crew, die hard St. Kilda fans (Go Saints!), never went to their general admission assigned seats. Instead, they stood behind the best seats in the house and watched from the hallway. Jason and his best friend Dave told the security guard that Carmen and I were American and had never seen a footie game before and the security guard led us down to some empty seats in the third row of the stadium! How do I know footie players shave their legs? Because I could have touched them I was sitting so close! They also could hear every curse Dave and Jason threw at them...But, hey, St Kilda won! We defeated whatever blue and white team we played and we sang triumphantly: "Oh when the Saints go marching in!". Dave insisted that he give me his St Kilda's club hat because he loves sharing his life and passions with others, especially foreigners. Those men and their family members and friends were such nice, drunken people. They got us incredible seats, and gave us an incredible experience.

Sydney:

The Sydney part of the vacation was more fast paced than the Melbourne. In Sydney, we walked over the famous bridge, touched the walls of the opera house, walked along the royal botanical gardens, surfed once again in Manly beach and searched unsuccessfully for Passion Pop (a cheap champagne). My highlight of Sydney was the Manly surf day because it was a serious adventure. Tess, the Coreys, Mattie and I were all so tired. Tess and I wanted to go back to the hostel and nap but the Coreys and Mattie insisted on exploring Manly. We found some rocks and cliffs and decided to go climbing. There was a sandstone cave, beautiful vines crawling up rocks, and waves constantly crashing up against the land mass. I was enjoying time by myself, exploring and wandering around these rocks when I hear Mattie cry: "Alie?" Oh no. I turned around and found Mattie with her foot sliced open. I took my water bottle and washed it off but we didnt have any bandages on us. The only choice was to keep walking and make it to the next beach and see if the lifeguards were still there. They weren't. We kept walking to a nearby pub where an old lady thought Tess and I were the coolest people alive; she even told the manager of the pub to give us free drinks. Instead, we settled for four bandaids and some alcohol swabs.

Lost and one man down, we asked some people for directions back to the ferry so we could get back to Sydney. The men we asked sent us on the strangest, scariest path in history. Remember back in the day when I said that the mainland had animals on steroids, waiting around every corner trying to deliberately kill us all? Yea. We all forgot about that. The path we found ourselves taking was a nice beach path through some trees and brush. All was fine until I looked up and noticed the massive spider webs. Dumb and curious, I pointed the webs out to my friends. They all gawked in awe and terror and continued to walk. It only took two more seconds to see that these webs were surrounding the path and in these webs were the biggest, terror inducing, evil-looking spiders I have ever seen. They were huge! At least the huntsman spiders I discovered in my room are far away on the ceiling. These puppies were the size of puppies. Tess and I saw a leaf fall and swore it was a spider pouncing on us, so we sprinted back up the path and found an alternative route to the ferry.

Other than that day, there was one more highlight of Sydney. The day after the spider/foot slicing incident, we all went to a pub and ran into other friends--the girls who went on the Marrawah surf trip with us! We all sat together and listened to some live music. I was asked to dance and the whole crew eventually went down to the dance floor for some funky dance moves even my father and uncles would envy. When we Americans invade a dance floor, we do it with pizazz and creativity which only attracts the attention of the entire pub and gets people up to dance.

So that was my trip! Or, those were the highlights of my trip! Other than those things, I went to an aquarium, walked, napped, walked some more, napped again, read a book, surfed and explored. I am back in Hobart and I have given up metal shop. I am now working on wood shop and it is so much easier. I love it. All you do is cut up wood and glue things together. No missing fingers, hair or other ligaments. Mattie and Carmen went on an adventure this past weekend and Corey, Tess, Bobby and I explored more of Hobart. Bobby's Aunt is in town so we toured her around Salamanca Market. We also went around to the botanical gardens and they were just something else. I know the mainland is well, the mainland, but of all the gardens we visited, this garden takes the cake. It is huge! The roses smelled so good, I wanted to steal some petals and make some perfume the way Baba and I used to when I was little.

But really. Right now, I can hardly focus. I am trying so hard to digest. My stomach is so full. I even purposefully didn't eat much today so I could fit everything in, but that only made me fuller faster. So. Much. Food. I guess I made Sam and Ben proud. Oh my god. If I think about it too much, I may explode. No more Alie adventures, sorry. Instead there will only be pieces of me all over my highest room in the tallest tower bedroom.

On one more note. I think I finally got homesick. I was sure it was bound to happen but I thought it would happen sooner rather than later. Everything lately reminds me of home and sometimes I fantasize sleeping in my bed back in Northridge. Last night, I was half awake, half asleep and I could swear that I heard Sam and Ben outside my room--strange. But then again, the boys who live on my floor are so much like my brothers that it is no surprise I got confused. Alright. I have to go to sleep. My food induced coma is coming on strong and there is no way to avoid it. Talk to you all later!

-Alie

Boagens. They are everywhere.

I really think coming to Tassie was one of the best decisions of my life. As I self reflect on my past 20 or so years of living in the States, I can't help but think that everything I lived through and experienced had somehow contributed to my arriving here.

For instance, in the States, I was taught to tolerate obscene driving thanks to Sam. I learned how to talk to random strangers at gas stations compliments to Dad. I learned that scary, middle of nowhere towns are actually just red neck towns thanks to Walla Walla.

This weekend was one of shear ridiculousity- it's officially a word. This weekend was that of the second annual Cold Water Classic international O'Neill surf contest. 22 of the 44 best surfers in the world all came together to a small, one pub town called Marrawah in the North West coast of Tassie. Corey was our designated driver. I was in a 5 seater car with 6 people. This trip initially comprised of Corey, Mattie, Amy, April, Carmen and myself. Yay me! I got stuck in the back seat with four people. We were snug to say the least.

The drive up was 6 hours long. We left Hobart at around 1 in the afternoon. Though we were supposed to leave at noon, Mattie and I ran into this street performer that I had seen before and I wanted to talk to him. He is this old English man who plays clarinet wherever he goes. He wears a cap, old slacks and button down collared shirts. With Mattie's help, I was able to sit with him and listen to him play soulful jazz and blues. He started talking to us and asked us where we were from. When he found out we were from California, he immediately played "California Here I Come", "California Dreaming", "I love LA" and "I left my Heart in San Fran". I always see the clarinet man because he plays out on the water front outside the art school. Maybe one day I will see him again. I hope so.

So back to the trip. Corey's driving was considerably better than the other male drivers from my last trip. That doesn't mean however, that there weren't moments when my life flashed before my eyes. It was a montage really, of my 20 years of life; when a possum ran in front of the car, or when we were passing a car and an on coming truck appeared out of no where, or when the road just randomly ended and there was only one lane and we were going the wrong way. So many near death life flashes. But let me tell you, driving on tiny, curvy, ancient Tassie roads is way more fun and death defying when all the light in the universe is consumed by gravity and begins to travel to the Northern hemisphere. As the sun said goodbye to the Southern most tips of the hills, a brilliant sunset baffled us with its beauty, and mocked us with its morbidity: knowing fully well that we were heading into a void of darkness. While driving endlessly in the night, we had a joke session about how our car was going to break down and we would get eaten by boagens (Australian red necks without fire arms--important tid bit) or that the boagens would put tacks in the road to pop our tires and then once again, eat us. We laughed and then sat in honest horror, praying to god that we would make it to Marrawah, without becoming a true life scary movie.

We entered the town of Marrawah around 9pm. We pitched our tents, ate some dinner, explored the nearby beach and then headed up to the one pub: the Tarrawah Tavern. I read up on Tarrawah before leaving for the contest. I knew fully well that there was only one pub and that there was a high possibility of meeting some pro-surfers there. When we arrived at the pub, there were a few locals and halleluyah! Pro surfer heaven! My group of American friends started on an US card drinking game when a few local surfers and a pro surfer came up to talk to us. The pro surfer was named Dylan from Kawaii. He was so cool! Basically, his life is a dream. He is 20 but has been pro since 18 and travels around the world, living to find the most beautiful surf locations.

The next morning we woke up early and left to the competition at a nearby beach called West Point. It is a national reserve, so the beach was spectacular. The girls, Corey and I set our stuff down behind a group of vans, not knowing to whom those vans belonged. Turns out, we were seated directly behind the pro surfing cars: the place where the pros would go to change after their heats. As the girls and I drooled and Corey rolled his eyes, hours of surfers and crazy surf tricks dominated the beach. We met up with Dylan and he told us more about his fantasy life. We also met older veteran surfers who were once crowned world surf champions and came down to support their friends and their sport of choice.

Later that day, we left the beach to find some potable water at a nearby river campsite. On the drive, a Tassie wasp flew into Corey's ear. As he tried not to kill us while driving, the girls in the back seat screeched and I couldn't help but laugh at this awful scene. I took the map and tried swatting the devil wasp down but it ended up under Corey's seat and tried to get him from below. Thankfully, Corey pulled over and the wasp got out of the car alive. Seriously, everything in this country wants you dead.

That night we went back to the tavern and met even more surfers. But the highlight of my night was meeting a hippy from San Francisco who lives in Tassie and plays his guitar for money. He was very nice and played American music that reminded me of Whitman. The next morning, the gang drove to "The Dismal Swamp" because Corey wanted to see it. The girls all conceded because we felt badly that he actually just watched the surf contest while we were multitasking: swooning over our new husbands-to-be and watching crazy surf tricks. In case you were wondering, I am marrying a Brazilian surfer. I do not know his name, but I know he has bright green head phones, a black and red wet suit, and a very cute dog.

The Dismal Swamp was essentially a gigantic slide that twists and turns through the Tassie rain forest and ends in one of Tassie's biggest natural sink holes. This island has some interesting tourist attractions... The group decided against actually sliding down the thing because it was firstly, super expensive, and secondly, we wanted to save our energy for The Nut.

The Nut: a decaying volcano towards the central coast of Tassie in a town called Stanley, is famous for having the cleanest air in the world. Of course, because the world being fair and Tassie is part of the world, the hike up this Nut was vertical. Literally. I had to lean forward and hold onto a railing because it was so steep. And of course my over achieving, enthusiastic crew didn't want to take the chair lift up the mountain because why hinder the experience of sweating, panting, turning obscenely red, and wanting to keel over. I realize this may sound absurd, but these Tasmanian national forest guys don't want to harm the nature here so they don't do switch backs; just vertical climbs up cliffs. Going down hill was even more fun! That way, not only are you quads pulsing, but if you fall, there is nothing to stop you except for maybe the kind human-being in front of you.

The climb really wasn't too bad. It was short. That was the best part. It was way less than a mile and at least it was cold outside. Plus, the view, and the air all made it worth it. Though I really couldn't tell if the air was the freshest in the world, it did feel good in my lungs. All those years of breathing in Los Angeles smog and there I was breathing in the purest, cleanest air in the world. The view was obviously unbelievable. As if Tassie would offer anything less. You could see so much of Tassie from up there. There were bays I didn't know existed. One side of the Nut overlooked cliffs that plunged miles into the ocean while the opposite side looked over two opposing bays. To the far East you could see the foreshadows of the rain forest creeping into the towns.

After we left the Nut, I slept in the car for a few hours until we made it to our last destination: St. Claire Lake. Unfortunately for us, it was pouring rain and none of us felt like camping. So we thought, hey, why don't we just drive home. This is where our adventure really began.

In the car were Mattie, Corey, Carmen and I. April and Amy had found another UTAS student to drive home with because six hours in the back seat of a car with 4 squished people just was not pleasant. Anyways. My car crew decided to save buying gas to later in the evening. This would have been a smart idea if Tassie had 24 hour petrol stations. You would have thought someone would have mentioned this fun fact about Tasmania: petrol stations close at 6:30pm outside of Hobart city. At 8pm, we had an eighth of a tank left and drove to some small town called Tanawah or something like that. It was pitch black outside, raining, and all we wanted to do was to go home and sleep. Corey pulled us up to a pub to ask for directions. When they told us the devastating news, we asked if there was somewhere we could stay-like a back packer, a hostel, or a dry spot to pitch our tents. They told us that for $160, we could stay in their hotel, but we didn't want to spend the money. So instead, against their advice, we carefully and fuel efficiently drove to a town called Hamilton to find a place to crash for less money. As Mattie was looking through her travel guide Tasmania book, she noticed that the town we had just visited had a population of TEN people. TEN PEOPLE! What IS this place?? TEN PEOPLE? I would go crazy! Thank god we didn't stay there because the movie The Hills Have Eyes definitely needed another bad sequel and I think "Tasmania has Incest and Boagens" was going to be it, starring yours truly.

In Hamilton, our luck finally changed. We found a gas station that accepted credit cards and was open for independent fueling. Oh my god. I really thought for a second that we would have had to car camp in the middle of nowhere. I was definitely more okay with this idea than my co-campers however. They were all having silent anxiety attacks while I was slowly but surely getting myself more and more cozy in the back seat.

All I wanted was sleep. I love sleep. I am a professional sleeper. The benefits to sleeping in the middle of nowhere during a rain storm are just obvious: it is pitch black (so one can fall asleep quicker without the bothering of artificial lighting), the rain acts as a soothing lullaby (so one can have sweet dreams), and you are so far deep in sleep and concentrating on the sound of the rain that if a boagen or zombie attack were to in fact go down, you would be in such a deep sleep you wouldn't have to worry about being scared. I thought that no, this wasn't the best idea in the world (to sleep in the middle of nowhere) but hey, this will be the most terrifying bonding experiment ever. Perhaps I should take notes in case leadership camps want tips. "Tip #1, nothing builds trust or bonds people together more than a life scarring road trip through Tasmania"

Don't worry mom, we made it out alive. AND the important thing to note is that I had a great time AND I got to see so much of Tassie that no one ever gets to see. I saw massive waves, massive spiders, massive mullets and massive abs (thank you O'Niell surf tour).

So now I am back in Hobart. Home sweet home. I attended one of my various psychology lectures today and I finished and turned in my first research paper of the year. Tomorrow I will be finishing the other two massive art projects I have due on Wednesday, and later I will be attending a Seder. It is being held in the back of a church by the oldest synagogue in Australia. I think I may be the only one attending plus my 4 other goyim friends who insisted on coming--probably out of curiosity. Seriously, what is it and me being the first Jewish friend of people? When I talk to the Aussies here and they find out that I am a Jew, they freak out! Partially because some of their ancestors were SS, but partially also because they are so happy to meet a Jew. My American friends here also have never met Jews! It's like there arnt many Jews in the world or something. But no worries. I will not be fooled by this illusion. I know the truth. Thanks to my Jewish school upbringing in Los Angeles, California and my somewhat frequent visits to the East coast and Israel, I know that there really are tons of Jews everywhere. I just happen to find the only places in the world where no one has ever seen one!

Wednesday at noon starts my Easter break, speaking of Jewish inspired holidays, and I will be heading off on a different kind of adventure. Corey, Mattie, Tess, Corey #2 and I are heading off to Melbourne and then Sydney to tour city life. This will be so significantly different than to what I am currently used to. I have this awful feeling that it will be very similar to Beverley Hills Hillbillys, but Melbourne/Sydney invaded by American Tassies...

Hag Sameach for all you passover people! I am a day ahead of you so this is my first night of passover. Lets see if I can make 8 days without eating grains or breads...there is no matzah here so I may or may not have the resilience to last the entire time.

OH! MOTHER! I know you read this so I know you will get this message. Thank you so much for the package of shirts. I am so excited to have more than 5 wearable t-shirts. More importantly however, thank you so much for those three family photos. You know, the adorable ones with you and Sam, or of Dad in his 1970's pale blue button down, or my personal favorite, the one of you wearing my prom dress....ahem. ahem. hag sameach ;)

Bicheno, Wineglass, beaches and friends galore!

Guess what? I made friends! I know, I know. You were all very worried about my social abilities but worry no more! About two weeks ago I was invited to go on a trip to the East Coast of Tasmania and I suggested that perhaps we make it a surf safari. Good thing there is another girl from California here, because a surf safari the trip became!

Last weekend, 8 friends and I piled into a mini van and began on an epic journey to Bicheno and Wineglass Bay. There were 8 Americans and one Swede (Victor/ambitious, fearless surfer). The only two people who knew how to surf were Mattie (fellow Cali girl) and I. We rented 3 boards and strapped them to the top of the car. Two and a half hours of driving on the left side of the road later, we arrived in Bicheno. It is a very small but breath taking beach town. The beaches were deserted except for some mini waves and bleached white sands. That afternoon, the newly befriended 9 UTAS students went surfing for 4 hours. The newbies to surfing all caught waves along with the veterans.

The next day, Mattie, Carmen and I woke up at 7 to check out the waves (or lack there of) and decided a bush walk around Bicheno would be a great idea. The rocks by the sea were painted orange with algae. Lush brush surrounded the sea only to open up and expose secluded bays of transparent waves. Muscles and barnacles decorated the edges of boulders closest to the breaking water. Because it was early, the reflection of the sun shattered into a million pieces atop of the waves like broken glass on a tile floor.

Mattie, Carmen and I finally mozied our way to the beach where we surfed the day before only to find no waves. We found some local surfers and asked where was another good spot and they pointed eastwards towards the Bay of Fires. As we were loading our boards, those locals came by and started to load boards of their own. They were blasting Bob Marley so everyone in the car park could hear it. Little did we dumb, ignorant, Americans realize that we had left our volume on super high before shutting off the car. As we were all buckling up and shutting the doors of the trusty van to leave, Tim turned the on the ignition. BLASTING out our windows were the lyrics of Enrique Inglesias: "YOU CAN RUN, YOU CAN HIDE, BUT YOU CAN'T ESCAPE MY LOVE". Yea. The American stereotype was furthered when we tried to change the song to redeem ourselves and it was the vulgar "Do it like we do it on the discovery channel".

So, we took their directions and ended up in a national park. We took our boards off from the van and walked to the water and found mega waves. Though these were not surfable waves, the gang decided to test out the waters anyways. We first asked a local fisherman how bad the great whites were in the area and he assured us that we wouldn't get eaten.

I have never laughed so hard in my life. Mary, a girl from UPS, jumped on a board, paddled out, saw the size of the waves and decided to give up and try to come back to shore. As she was letting herself be pulled in by the tide, a massive wave picked up her and her board and she managed to do the most ungraceful nose dive onto the beach known in modern history.

Wait, Im sorry. I am going to dedicate this paragraph to the one true love of my life: tuna fish in a can. I am so sorry for the change in the topic, but I am currently eating dinner while typing, and can I just say how much I love Australia?? They have hundreds of differently flavored tuna in cans. They are small enough for snacks and you can have two mini cans and make it a meal. My goal is to try every flavor before leaving. This is my heaven. My first can for dinner was a Spanish-styled tuna (with tomatoes, olives and some lemon) and right this second I am munching on the sweet-seeded mustard flavor. My favorite thus far is the onion and tomato tuna. Tuna melts are in a whole other ballpark of taste-budded bliss. My aussie friends think I am the weirdest person on the planet for two reasons: I love their possums (they are adorable and fuzzy...way different than the American possums), AND I am an avid tuna enthusiast.

Following the wipe out brigades and my sunburning (typical), the gang and I hopped into the car and went to "NATUREWORLD!" home of the Tassie Devils and much more! In this animal park, Mattie and I decided to sit and play with the kangaroos while everyone else wandered about the vicinity. I think the animal kingdom had a biff with me that day or something because in one sitting, Mattie and I were attacked by a white elk (what was that doing in Australia?) and a male goose. That goose straight up charged us. Then, as we were walking away, a kangaroo about the size of Sam hopped over to us, (probably wanting food) but we decided to carefully walk away as quickly as possible. When we made it to the kiddie farm, I started playing with baby goats while Mattie went to pet the mother. Okay, the mother got mad and head butted her horns into Mattie's left knee. We ran out of there and into a man who worked there. He asked us if we wanted to see some Devils close up and of course we nodded yes! We got to pet a Tasmanian Devil! They are so cute!

So back into the van for another hour drive and off we were to Wineglass Bay, the most photogenic beach in the world. We repacked our packs and trekked up the 300 stairs and the hour hike on the sand to our unbelievable camp site. Though we were attacked by adorable fuzzy possums, camping out there was definitely worth it. The sunset was something that rivaled Hawaii. There was no one on the beach or at our campsite. Mattie, Tess, Bobby and I walked out onto the shoreline and laid on our backs. We watched the stars for hours. You could see the Milky Way. You could see planets. There were so many shooting stars we just lost count. While listening to the subtle crashes of the waves, we watched the stars in awe. That was when we decided, well, I decided to invent my own Southern Hemisphere constellations. We laughed and talked for a while and then headed back reluctantly to our tents and passed out.

That very next morning was gorgeous. We woke up to watch the sunrise and then explored the beach. At around 10am, we started our trek back up and around the mountains to where we parked the van. Before heading directly home to Hobart, we stopped at Friendly beach to see what the fuss was all about and trust me, there should always be fuss about that place. It was as if god read my mind about how I wanted my heaven to look like and made it appear before me. There was no one on the beach. It was our own private, white sand, crystal blue water, beach.

We then made it home, returned our rentals and slept.

That was my epic weekend. It involved various near deaths with Americans trying to drive on the left side of the road, some dancing on some beaches at midnight, and some singing of Garth Brook's "Friends in low Places". Apparently, Garth Brooks is a well known country artist loved by many college students. I had no idea. I thought it was just Steve.

For more current updates on my life: this week was hard. I had a lot of class and had to celebrate my friend Corey's birthday and St. Patty's day. (Okay, I didn't HAVE to do anything. But I felt it would be against my youth hood to not partake in the celebrations). Tess and I baked Corey cupcakes for his birthday and Carmen and Mattie helped make home made pizzas. So good. There was a fair amount of drinking on St. Patty's day around the city and everything was green. I had no idea that there was even an Irish community in Australia. Apparently it's pretty big.

The morning after St Patty's, I had the pleasure of attending class at 9am to draw a naked yoga instructor for 3 hours. God, Thursday's are hard. After that 3 hour session, I get an hour break and then head off to metal shop. I started making my chair! It's going to be a chair for midgets because it's super short, but at least now I wont have to use more metal. Friday I had my e-media class and it's so hard. I want to cry after leaving that class everytime. We learned how to edit our movies and I am in so much trouble if he wants me to construct a decent film about myself. Oy VEY!

Alrighty. I am off to begin preparing for a very familiar party being hosted by my rival dorm John Fisher. It is an 80's themed boogey down and I am so ready. Really, an 80's party? Could it GET more original? I mean, I am pretty sure the 80's only hit the States and Europe and no other country. Who are these people going to dress as? The girl from Pretty in Pink? A guy from Night at the Roxbury? or perhaps a Europop sensation...I rest my case: the 80's only happened in two areas. As if a koala would look good with crimped hair.

Until next time,

-Alie

Where have all the Jewish Mothers gone?

This was the first week that I actually had all of my classes. Last week, my Intro to Fabrication class was cancelled because the metal professor broke his foot, in the studio, while metal working. So it wasn't until this past thursday that I was actually able to attend my Intro to Fab class. The entire class consisted of 23 students of all ages. We were split into two sections: metal workers and wood workers. Apparently it's too difficult to learn both metal and wood working simultaneously. Of course, I was blessed enough to get into the smaller group: the metal workers. Oh holy Jesus mother of Christ, what did I get myself into? If rugby tackling doesn't get me hospitalized, then this class will. The lecturer spent 2 hours explaining what tools did what and how to work them. Then he spent another half hour going over the many different ways you can get hurt. "Your hair will get caught in this, your necklace will decapitate you, your ring will lose you your finger, your loose clothes will get you stuck in the grinder, your pants will light you on fire, and the fact that none of you know what you're doing means that all of you will suffer various booboos".

But alas, I had forgotten what country I decided to study in: the land of Steve Irwin, the place where the butterflies will give you malaria and the possums will jump out of trees to attack your face. My new Aussie brethren truly believe in the philosophy that injuries are nothing because hey, you're still living, right? Australians will tell you that shark infested waters are safe to swim in because no one had died from a shark bite in over 80 years. What they forget to mention is that people still get bit, they just are still alive.

After my 2 and a half hour lecture that scared me enough to never want to touch stainless steel, my lecturer gave us each a leather suit and leather gloves and told us that it was time to learn to weld. HA HA best joke of my life! Firstly, each student was wearing a heavy suit of leather that constricted body movement. Secondly, each student had a pair of heavy leather gloves that constricted body movement. In conclusion, each student was incapable of picking up a pencil, let alone welding. We were very much like the American action heros in the movies: walking in slow-mo away from an explosion or fire, appearing cool but not able to actually move.

So the lecturer looks over my way and gently guides me to my own personal welding station. He debriefed me, gave me one of those horror movie masks that are iron and cover your entire face but have one tinted slit out of which you can see. Anyways, he gives me two strips of metal and tells me to weld them together. Simple, right? Well, as it turns out, I am not a welder. I am a naked man drawer. I am so good at drawing a naked man (thanks to my figure drawing class) that my professor even stopped the class to notice my "gift"(we all have them). With that being said, as I took my welding device to the two slabs of iron, the lecturer/prof started yelling at me but I couldn't hear because the machine was so loud. And then I couldn't see his arms flailing begging me to stop, because my mask only has a tiny tinted sliver to see through...in other words, I am one disastrous welder. I managed to kind of get the two pieces stuck together, but while burning something or another(I am not entirely sure what it was). But, on a positive note, my two pieces of iron are officially one metal slab! What worries me however, is that my FIRST project, due in a few weeks, is to weld a CHAIR. If I can't figure out how to weld together a piece of scrap metal, how am I to weld a chair? For the sake of the safety of myself and of the rest of my fellow classmates, I would highly recommend my professor to give me private lessons or just to send me to the wood shop. This class was the highlight of my week. And just for a side note: there are obviously no Jewish mothers in the city of Hobart. If there were, then this class would not be in existence--that is fact.

Other than class, it was my American friend's birthday (Emily). She turned 21! I told her that we HAD to go out. Just because Aussies drink when they come out of the womb, doesn't mean we shouldn't celebrate this momentous mile stone in Emily's life. Prior to the outting, I thought it would be a great idea to cook dinner instead of buying it. Corey, Bobby, Tess and I had an ambitious menu of pancakes and eggs. While cooking, some people in suits entered the Christ College kitchen. One of the more friendly people came up to Tess and me and started chatting up a storm. Tess looked at him while I was flipping some pancakes and asked: "so, who are you and what are you doing here?" Silly American! It was the Tasman GOVERNOR. Sorry Arnie, you've got nothing on this man. I can understand his accent! He shook our hands and asked our names and continued with questions. There was a camera guy snapping away photos: Tess and I in the foreground with the governor cooking the cakes, and the two boys eating the cakes in the background. In Christ, we are all for supporting gender stereotypes. If only they knew I am the worst cook in the world: having the ladies cook while the men nosh.

Following dinner came the night out. We boogied down to some pub music, had some jugs of sider, one or two meat pies, and one short cab ride back up the hill to school. At 9AM the next day, I caught the bus to Salamanka Market (our weekly farmer's market) and met up with the IFSA Butler advisor for some coffee and produce shopping. At 1 or so, the 4 other Butler program students and I headed off on a sailing adventure around the Hobart estuary. It was beautiful. It also was pretty nice because we were served lunch, tea (snacks) and tons of coffee and fruit. I miss watermelon so much, but they actually had some on this magical sail boat! We passed by a ship called "The Steve Irwin" and as you would have it, it is a famous ship! It is one of the two most aggressive anti-whaling ships that actively attacks the Japanese whalers in the Antarctic. I also saw another ship that goes to Antarctica and its sole purpose is to slice through thick sheets of ice!

After two and half hours out at sea, all I wanted to do was take a nap but instead, I made it to dry land and hiked around Hobart and up the massive, pain in the arse hill of hell. I walked with Lisa, the most fit person in the world and she didnt even break a sweat. Of course myself on the other hand, having my Baba and Zadie's genes, was drenched in sweat and was bright red. I better have buns of steal by the end of this trip, that's all I'm saying.

Well, it's Saturday night and I decided to spend it in my room and actually try and start on some of my art projects, homework and papers. I obviously am doing a great job at it too, considering this may be my longest blog to date. I also have to do my washing but I really don't want to. I am such a lazy American. However! Tomorrow IS Sunday AND I have no classes on Monday due to a national Australian holiday AND I have no class on Tuesday, so I think I will be just fine. I miss you all. Please come on skype sometime and talk to me, or send me a facebook message!

*Oh and Sarah, I wrote this in your message but I feel that this is something everyone has been asking me. For the record: there are in fact hot Australians in Australia...Surprise! They exist. They are prevalent. They are very different from American model-like men: they are not as self obsessed and they love being chivalrous. I was "escorted" last night to one of the pubs because god forbid a lady walk without an arm of support. Some of them refuse to curse in front of women (which never lasts) and they love dancing (like twirling and dipping and tango-like moves). On the flip side, they talk about the strangest things. For instance, I have yet to meet an attractive Aussie who isn't proud of almost running over a cat. They talk about eating kangaroos, the weird rules of footie, and how each American woman reminds them of either Hillary Clinton or Michelle Obama. Last night, I was Michelle Obama, Emily was Hillary Clinton, and Temi was Oprah. Yes. Last night, in the Bay Hotel, were the three most powerful women in the States, if not the world. Anyways, I have yet to meet a rude or unfriendly Aussie whether male or female, ugly or beautiful. I am waiting for the day that someone cuts me off or doesn't ask me how my day is.

On that note, I will write another blog soon. I miss y'all! In the words of my most epic hero, (Steve Irwin) I will end this stream of consciousness: "By Crikey!" what a week.

At this point, Why not?

These past few days have been ridiculous in the sense of transitioning from an American Uni to a Tassie Uni. Ask any Tassie or Aussie and they will tell you straight off the bat that nothing is quite as Upside Down as UTAS. With that being said, let me tell you about my first week or so of classes.

I am taking four courses: Introduction to fabrication, Figure Drawing, Social Psychology and E-Media. The first class I attended was Social Psych. The teacher talks to us like we're not native English speakers. She puts commas places where there is no need and smiles to herself as if she just made a joke throughout her lecture. Figure Drawing was better. It was following my "Society's Day" night, so granted I was exhausted. *Side note: Society's Day is the day you sign up for your clubs. I signed up for White Water Rafting and Sailing. For each club you sign up for, they give you 3-6 beers (depending on the popularity of the club). What does this translate to? The biggest, most crowded, club signing up festival known to Australia.

Next, I attended my E-media class. This class is intense and will probably be my hardest course here. It involves screenwriting, filming, directing, lighting. Anything that is remotely related to media in any form is what we will be learning about in e-media. The lecturer is pretty dry but the studio we work in and the equipment that we are supplied with really makes up for boredom. We have a fully varnished TV studio in the basement of the art building! There is a massive green screen, professional lights, multiple cameras, an editing room, an sound room. It will be the hardest but most rewarding class.

Can I just mention really quick how cool the art building itself is? Sure, sure the outside is lovely because it is on the water front of Hobart Harbor, but this place is art heaven. Every studio, every floor, is dedicated to a certain artist or art form or even genre of art. The building was made to appear as a giant art studio with various sections. There are the painting studios upstairs above the drawing studios. On the main floor there is an enormous art library, a state of the art lecture hall that could fit 150 easy. Down below there is a TV studio, a wood shop, a furniture making facility, a ceramics studio and a sculpture studio. Sure, Whitman has a great art building: it is new, fully furnished, lots of space. But this art building in Tassie truly has a life of its own. It has been lived in. It breaths. It has passion in its walls and it exudes artistic expression. Inspiration leaks out of the ceiling and students drink it up all day long. Sometimes I get nervous because I don't look like or think like the rest of the art students, but then I look at the building and take a breath and realize that this place is meant for the product of art, rather than the artist. Art can come from any person and this building allows people from all walks of life to enter and to create. So then after my wave of anxiety dies down, I take a breath, shrug my shoulders, and create.

Besides class, my life has definitely simmered down (thank god). The only thing is I cannot get away with what I could back in the states. By living in Christ College, everyone knows about everyone's whereabouts and gossip. It's like living in an American dorm with a cocaine addiction: Christ will do anything to score the whereabouts and news of all its residents. This being said, I have joined every bloody sports team known to man kind in Australia. When I said that I would "consider" joining the softball team, I got yelled at and was forced to put my jersey size on a piece of paper. I am now on the Softball team, the Rugby team, the Netball team, and god only knows how much time it will take me to join the Debate team.

We had our first practices and god are these teams fun. The girls are amazing and I really have missed participating in team sports. Softball practice is like watching my little cousin's peewee league back in the day when the kids would clash heads while running towards the popfly. The girls have NO idea how to throw, catch or even hit a baseball. A popfly was hit to Zaf in the outfield and as the ball started coming down, she ran her legs out AWAY from the ball, in fear of getting hit. I have never laughed so hard while playing a sport. The coach seemed less than impressed, but I really don't think he was surprised (this isn't his first time coaching Christ girls).

Now Rugby. That is a different experience all together. Last night was my first rugby training. We did some running, we did some basics, we threw an oversized football around. Rugby. That is a fantastic sport. Or maybe it's that I have a great group of girls playing with me. None of the freshers have any idea how to play, granted, but the lifers are more than happy to lend a hand. I love rugby! It's so much fun! We are learning how to tackle! So many girls in Christ, of all sizes (there are some TINY girls out there) joined the team and we may actually be able to win some games this season. Win or lose however, there will be no lack of enthusiasm or aggression. Following each practice, we sing our "Christ ladies are superior" chant and get on with our evening.

Alrighty. It is lunch time and I am famished! Dramatic word, yes I know, but Tess has these GRE vocab flash cards and why not? The word of the week for me is "fatuous"-stupid, or foolishly slow. Why limit my learning to my classes? ;) Arrevadercci!