Dear Sydney,
Your sunny days have acquired cool breezes, and your surfers have pulled their wetsuits out from their summer hiding places, reflecting the chill in the air and the water. And, hence, my sundresses hang wearily in the closet reminiscing the warm summer nights on which they were showcased. Those perfect beach days offered only weeks ago now beckon from the northern hemisphere as rainclouds settle over your coast. And so my Australian sojourn ends.
Our time together has seemed short, perhaps because we accomplished Mission Non-Stop Fun, and it’s been a roller coaster of delight—lounging lazily on your sandy shores by day and attempting dance moves to your double-time techno beats by night. Your enjoyable pace of life put lines of accomplishment across my book list, and it’s to your credit that my fear of heights (and bugs) has waned. But why is it that the last few days and nights before departure always seem to be the best? Why does the DJ play all the best songs in a row on your last night at his stompin’ ground? Why does the sunset suddenly showcase oranges and pinks like you’ve never seen before?
Leaving is not entirely sad, as more beaches, more sun, and most importantly, my family and friends await me at home. Still, if the bank account, plane ticket, and thermometer in Sydney read differently, I’d welcome a few more months on your Gold Coast. I could go for a few more sangria-soaked nights, a few more lazy Sundays at the markets, a few more long dinners at that favorite Thai place of ours, and few more exhilarating adventures in your natural playground. I should say however, that it’s Larsee Lu, MCG, Meesh, Mito, Steph and Caro (better known as the Mag 7 when I’m included) that made this experience what it was. In years to come when I think back on this Sydney stopover their faces are the ones who will come to mind.
Physically, I have to leave, but mentally, I know a part of me will always keep Australia close. I hope I don’t turn into that annoying person who returns from abroad and pretends that the new country’s lingo and customs are now second-nature, but in my head, when I hear a well-wisher say “good for you” or “best of luck” I’ll think, “good on ya.” I’ll rock out to techno remixed eighties songs in your honor, and when I see a California-sized spider in my room, I’ll laugh and think of the B.F.G. or the number of cockroaches I stepped over on the sidewalks outside The Lodge nightly. The first time I go to my favorite Santa Cruz beach I may reminisce on how soft your sand is, but as I look out from the other side of the Pacific, I’ll give you a little wave, a genuine smile and a wistful sigh in appreciation of the best semester of my life.
Cheers to you, Australia!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Adventurooing
Sometimes life is too good. Sometimes amazing adventures come in three-day packages, and you wish you could drink the adrenalin-endorphin cocktail that your adventures provide more slowly.
We headed to Cairns for the long weekend. Cairns (pronounced cans) is a three-hour plane ride north of Sydney and an adventure sport haven. Obviously, in the Southern Hemisphere as we travel north the weather becomes more tropical, so higher temperatures and humid rainstorms awaited us in Cairns. However, the beach wasn’t an option. “Salties,” or saltwater crocodiles populate the shores of Northern Australia deterring Australians and tourists alike from the refreshing coastal waters. So the seemingly ironic community pool that sits nestled along the seaside actually sees a lot of action. We spent our first afternoon playing Phase 10 poolside.
On Saturday I woke early to head out on an ATVing adventure; the magazine I work for sent me to test the adventure sport for a feature article in their July issue. At the pick up spot, Todd introduced himself in a manner that only California boys can—lips barely parted, barely moving, and tone barely fluctuating. After discovering we grew up within 45 minutes of each other, we were pals for the day, which was a good decision on my part as Todd came to my rescue later in the afternoon. Upon arrival at the ranch we mounted our quad bikes and took off down the muddy, sheep- and cow-lined path. Zooming along in fifth gear through puddles the size of small swimming holes I couldn’t stop thinking of that country song my mom used to sing. Something about a boy named Tommy “splashing through the mud and the muck.” It took about five minutes for me to get acquainted with my bike (which my leader referred to as “a feisty one”) and then my adrenalin got the best of me. I was handling those curves like a NASCAR racer…until I wasn’t. A turn came too quickly and I headed straight for The Bush. More like I gunned it into The Bush as I mistook my gas throttle for the handbrake. Doubled over in laughter, I looked back at the group to find them 1) stunned and staring and 2) stifling laughter. Then they joined in on the giggles as my buddy Todd pulled me out. Thanks Todd.
The next day was one I’ll never forget. I like to post pictures of places and things I want to see in my life on the bulletin board behind my desk. A panoramic picture of the Great Barrier Reef that I found in a travel magazine is one of the many things that has been pinned there over the last few years. As of last Sunday, I can take that clipping down and retire it to the “Done” box.
After a VERY rocky boat ride out to the G.B.R. that left three of my four travel buddies with their faces stuck to paper bags, we arrived at our dive spot. Caitlin and I geared up and jumped into our introductory dive with our Canadian instructor Kim, and for a half hour that felt like two minutes I was on the set of Finding Nemo. There were Nemos everywhere and even a Gill! I didn’t, however, see any Dorys. The beauty of the coral and the calm existence of the bright, peaceful fish were complemented by the quiet of life below the surface. I enjoyed that I couldn’t taint the experience with the usual “this is unbelievable” chant. We became part of the ocean’s secret world. Certification is definitely in my future as I have never felt so peaceful as I did pretending to be a fish on the Great Barrier Reef. What a spot to start your diving career at, eh?
Our trip ended on an extreme white water rafting tour. We signed up for the extreme tour mainly to be bad asses, but a hidden benefit was the small size of our group. We had nineteen adventurers and five guides to be split up among four boats. When the burly guides noticed our group of five girls and heard our American accents they were vying to by our guides. Bez, who looked like a long-haired AC Slater, and Benny, with blue eyes and biceps to kill, won. We spent the day under the pouring rain, maneuvering gnarly rapids by raft. We swam through rapids when we were thrown from the raft, jumped off rocks, and blushed at the sexual innuendo-filled conversation from our Kiwi guides. Only as we pulled our raft ashore at the end of the day did Benny confess that the river is croc infested. Laughing and finally accepting Australia’s inherent danger, I just shook my head. We left with our limbs still attached, and oftentimes in Australia that itself is something to be proud of.
I’m back in Sydney, writing papers as classes come to an end, packing a suitcase to send home and dreading the end of this adventure. Two weeks in Thailand and a few days with friends in New Zealand keep the adventure alive, but still, I feel the best semester of my life coming to a close. Looking back I see that living abroad has changed me, or perhaps it’s just forced me to get to know myself better. Either way, I’ve realized the important role travel and living abroad will play in my life. Some might diagnose it as the Travel Bug, but that implies that it’s a temporary condition. I hope to employ travel as a philosophy and a lifestyle, not a hobby. So I’m not looking for a cure...just for some like-minded travel buddies.
We headed to Cairns for the long weekend. Cairns (pronounced cans) is a three-hour plane ride north of Sydney and an adventure sport haven. Obviously, in the Southern Hemisphere as we travel north the weather becomes more tropical, so higher temperatures and humid rainstorms awaited us in Cairns. However, the beach wasn’t an option. “Salties,” or saltwater crocodiles populate the shores of Northern Australia deterring Australians and tourists alike from the refreshing coastal waters. So the seemingly ironic community pool that sits nestled along the seaside actually sees a lot of action. We spent our first afternoon playing Phase 10 poolside.
On Saturday I woke early to head out on an ATVing adventure; the magazine I work for sent me to test the adventure sport for a feature article in their July issue. At the pick up spot, Todd introduced himself in a manner that only California boys can—lips barely parted, barely moving, and tone barely fluctuating. After discovering we grew up within 45 minutes of each other, we were pals for the day, which was a good decision on my part as Todd came to my rescue later in the afternoon. Upon arrival at the ranch we mounted our quad bikes and took off down the muddy, sheep- and cow-lined path. Zooming along in fifth gear through puddles the size of small swimming holes I couldn’t stop thinking of that country song my mom used to sing. Something about a boy named Tommy “splashing through the mud and the muck.” It took about five minutes for me to get acquainted with my bike (which my leader referred to as “a feisty one”) and then my adrenalin got the best of me. I was handling those curves like a NASCAR racer…until I wasn’t. A turn came too quickly and I headed straight for The Bush. More like I gunned it into The Bush as I mistook my gas throttle for the handbrake. Doubled over in laughter, I looked back at the group to find them 1) stunned and staring and 2) stifling laughter. Then they joined in on the giggles as my buddy Todd pulled me out. Thanks Todd.
The next day was one I’ll never forget. I like to post pictures of places and things I want to see in my life on the bulletin board behind my desk. A panoramic picture of the Great Barrier Reef that I found in a travel magazine is one of the many things that has been pinned there over the last few years. As of last Sunday, I can take that clipping down and retire it to the “Done” box.
After a VERY rocky boat ride out to the G.B.R. that left three of my four travel buddies with their faces stuck to paper bags, we arrived at our dive spot. Caitlin and I geared up and jumped into our introductory dive with our Canadian instructor Kim, and for a half hour that felt like two minutes I was on the set of Finding Nemo. There were Nemos everywhere and even a Gill! I didn’t, however, see any Dorys. The beauty of the coral and the calm existence of the bright, peaceful fish were complemented by the quiet of life below the surface. I enjoyed that I couldn’t taint the experience with the usual “this is unbelievable” chant. We became part of the ocean’s secret world. Certification is definitely in my future as I have never felt so peaceful as I did pretending to be a fish on the Great Barrier Reef. What a spot to start your diving career at, eh?
Our trip ended on an extreme white water rafting tour. We signed up for the extreme tour mainly to be bad asses, but a hidden benefit was the small size of our group. We had nineteen adventurers and five guides to be split up among four boats. When the burly guides noticed our group of five girls and heard our American accents they were vying to by our guides. Bez, who looked like a long-haired AC Slater, and Benny, with blue eyes and biceps to kill, won. We spent the day under the pouring rain, maneuvering gnarly rapids by raft. We swam through rapids when we were thrown from the raft, jumped off rocks, and blushed at the sexual innuendo-filled conversation from our Kiwi guides. Only as we pulled our raft ashore at the end of the day did Benny confess that the river is croc infested. Laughing and finally accepting Australia’s inherent danger, I just shook my head. We left with our limbs still attached, and oftentimes in Australia that itself is something to be proud of.
I’m back in Sydney, writing papers as classes come to an end, packing a suitcase to send home and dreading the end of this adventure. Two weeks in Thailand and a few days with friends in New Zealand keep the adventure alive, but still, I feel the best semester of my life coming to a close. Looking back I see that living abroad has changed me, or perhaps it’s just forced me to get to know myself better. Either way, I’ve realized the important role travel and living abroad will play in my life. Some might diagnose it as the Travel Bug, but that implies that it’s a temporary condition. I hope to employ travel as a philosophy and a lifestyle, not a hobby. So I’m not looking for a cure...just for some like-minded travel buddies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)