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.
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