A Grand Slam

The crowd in front of me watching the Men's Grand Slam
Championship of the Australian Open in Federation Square
in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia.

So, Sunday rolls around as it usually does at the end of a weekend, but this is no ordinary Sunday. This Sunday, the 30th of January 2011, is the Men's Grand Slam Australian Open Tennis Championship, and being in Melbourne and a mere tram ride away from the tennis venue my roommate, Tony, said he was meeting his girlfriend (and my other roommate), Lina, and several of her friends in Federation Square (The main square of Melbourne and right next to where the Australian Open is being held) to watch the match and he invited me to accompany them. At this point I feel the need to pause and mention that the temperature outside on this day is 40 degrees Celsius, which translates into roughly, 104 degree Fahrenheit. Thus, you could probably understand my reluctance, but I enjoy the company of Tony and Lina, and being that I am in Australia and I made a decision a long time ago to try and embrace every opportunity given to me, I found myself a few hours later on a tram heading toward the architectural oddity known as Federation Square. We met Lina at the train station and all three of us went to a local pub where we had a lot of water. I had the fish of the day (which I am not sure what it was), and it was a good dinner, though I do not know if it was A$20 good. As I have tried to reiterate in the past, this is a very expensive country.

By 7 pm we had taken some of the free (and very uncomfortable) cardboard seats offered by the good people of ANZ bank and found some spots on the baking brick courtyard facing the giant plasma screen TV that adorns Federation Square. Within a short time, Lina's friends arrived and we managed to squeeze them into our small section, and I watched as they had their beer confiscated by security. They were very nice people and during the second set I even had an extended talk with one of them, who is an Indian-Australian banker in Melbourne, about the ideas of globalization, the banking crisis, the Obama administration, and how the regulation of the market is really a joke that allows several very rich people manipulate the system for their own benefits. (Sufficed to say he gave me a lot to think on... and be afraid of)

The game itself seemed interesting enough (though I have never had an undying passion for tennis). There were a lot of people holding British and Scottish flags and with face paint rooting for the player, Murray (who seemed very preoccupied with at yelling at his mother in the stands). A smaller section was waving a Serbian flag and was routing for Djokovic (which I am pretty sure was the name of the bad guy on the last Call of Duty). The game was interesting enough, and thankfully, not too long as Djokovic won it in three straight sets and there was no need to prolong it any further. It is not that I did not enjoy my time there or the game, it was just that I spent 3 to 4 hours sitting on an uncomfortable cardboard seat on a boiling hot brick pavement in 100 degree weather and surrounded by a couple thousand people. The Serbian supporters were very happy, but as for me I got a back cramp and a sunburn, but I can now say I went to the Australian open and watched from the cheap seats. How many people can really say that (well I guess a couple thousand).

The Great Ocean Road

Click the Picture above to access the photo
album for my day on the Great Ocean Road.

So now we come to how I spent my Australian Day. My plan was to spend a quiet day on St. Kilda Beach with a book and some sun, but my friend Lauren (aka Loz) decided that it would be an excellent day to road trip the Great Ocean Road (or at least part of it.) So it came to pass that I found myself sitting in her 1985 light blue Mitsubishi whipping around blind corners over sheer rock faces on the Shipwreck Cost. My anxiety came, not so much from her driving, but from the fact that I had no idea where we were going and because I was sitting in the seat of the car which I normally associate as being the driver's side.

So as we traveled down the wrong (left) side of the road and the view just opened up in front of you. All you could see was beautiful coast line, rolling green hills, and a crazy curvy road cut through it all. We hit several beaches (both rocky and sandy), visited Apollo Bay Beach, saw wild Koala's outside a trailer park near Kennett River, and finished up the day visiting the 12 Apostles, which are huge standing rock formations just off the coast near Princetown. Unfortunately there are no longer 12 structures as many have fallen down over the years, but there still are some standing. I even had my first "Fish and Chips" lunch. Basically you order and assortment of fish such as flounder, calamari, scallops, etc, and fries. It comes all fried and wrapped together in a big thing of paper which you rip open and pick at. It was quite good, but very hot.

All in all it was a beautiful day, and I have never seen water look so blue or a coastline so amazing. Though I miss the Jersey Shore there is no comparison. This is what Australia looks like and I simply cannot describe it in the meandering clumsy way I have with words. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, if you click on the picture of me at the left you should be directed to an album I set up of several pictures I took that day. Look at them for yourself and be your own judge. I promise you that you will not be disappointed.

Australia Day

Australia's national seal. The six sections on the shield
represent the five states and one territory that make up the
nation of Australia, and it is flanked by the country's most
well know and represented animals, the kangaroo and emu.

Every 26th of January the Aussies celebrate a holiday known as Australia Day. It was described to me, by one friend, as a day where we celebrate being Australian. It was also described to me by another friend as a day off of work. I know to many Americans you may equate the celebration of Australia Day with maybe the celebration with Independence Day, with fireworks, barbecues, and traditional flag waving hoopla... The truth is that the holiday seems closer to President's Day in forms of celebration. In other words it is a day to sleep late, watch TV, and maybe get a good deal on a matress. My own celebration of Australia day will be covered in a subsequent blog, but for now, I did some digging into the start of this holiday and it has a very interesting story to tell.

Namely the story of the First Fleet. Australia day commemorates the arrival of the First Fleet (the first ships carrying soldiers and prisoners) to the continent of Australia at Sydney in the year 1788.  The fleet was commanded by Captain Arthur Philip. Approximately 1,000 people were under his care and more than 700 of them were English prisoners. The rest were sailors and royal marines. They were an assorted and curious lot. According to accounts the original settlers included even a boy of 9 and a woman of 82. It was clear they were in trouble from the moment they set ashore... When Australia was discovered in 1770 by Captain James Cook, he wrote accounts that seemed to describe it as a vibrant and bountiful place to rival any English countryside... What Captain Philip and his crew found was sandy soil, harsh conditions, reversed seasons, and animals they had never before encountered. Even worse, the original colonists had almost none of the skills needed to actually cultivate and settle a remote and inhospitable environment. They had only 1 experienced fisherman and only 5 people experienced in construction and building. No one seemed to know how to grow crops or how to hunt the new and strange creatures they found in this land at the bottom of the world. The "Indians" as the original settlers called them, were even more strange. They seemed generally, friendly but had a bewildering tendency to viciously attack settlers for sometimes no discernible reason. 17 people were lost to attacks in the first year and many more wounded, including Governor Captain Philip, who took a spear to the shoulder while he was talking to a native he met along the banks of the river.

Bill Bryson writes, "Everything was against them. They had no waterproof clothes to keep out the rain, no mortar to make buildings, no plows with which to till the fields and no draft animals to pull the plows they didn't have." Worst yet the ground refused to accept any seed or crop planted in it and at the height of starvation half of the settler's herd of cattle wandered off never to be seen again. For years the prisoners and their captors had to do without even the most basic of necessities, blankets, nails, shoes, etc. Development of the colony was further hindered by the need to rely on prisoners, who, for the most part cared only for their own self interest.

Most prisoners learned that they could lie their way into easier labor and my favorite story is about one particular prisoner named Hutchinson. One day he came across a rather complicated and scientific piece of equipment meant for the mixing and infusing of dye into products such as wool. Lying to his captors his convinced them that he was experienced with dyestuffs and spent the next several months making elaborate experiments with beakers, chemicals, scales, etc... until it eventually became clear to his superiors that he had no idea what he was doing. Most prisoners got by by swindling their fellow prisoners, such as selling them land maps to China or products meant to ward off indigenous predators, neither worked and some prisoners where never seen again.

All in all the story of the first fleet is remarkable in the fact that from these 1,000 or so people the sprawling metropolitan modern country of Australia eventually developed. Walking around the streets of Melbourne or Sydney you cannot picture there having ever been a harsh winter or lost cattle. It seems the biggest problem is a spilled cup of cappuccino or being late to catch the bus.

So that is the story of Australia Day. It was originally called Foundation Day or Anniversary Day, and in celebrating the arrival of those first Australians (even though they were still British), we are celebrating the millions of Australians that have followed after them. The story is quintessentially Aussie in nature. It is funny, honest, incredibly endearing, and even a little amazing. This truly is an incredible country.

One of Life's Great Mysteries

A typical Aussie "Loo"

So one of the great mysteries to me and (I know) to many other Americans is What direction does the toilet empty in Australia? It is a question that has plagued our kind since the mid-90's. Even now that I am in a position to answer such a weighty unknown, it has taken me over two, very puzzling, weeks to answer this question, but I think I finally have something. First of all, you need to understand what it took for me to come to this epiphany. Since my arrival, and that first toilet in the Sydney Airport, I have been on a mission to finally learn the truth of the anomaly of the southern hemisphere toilet, but what should have been a surprising simple matter became a lot more complicated.

It all started with my first Australian toilet. It was in the Sydney Airport, and I found need to relieve a certain pressure after 15 hours on a plane over the Pacific Ocean. I cannot even begin to describe the amount of joy and anticipation I had as I reached for the button to flush my first Aussie Loo (toilet). I compressed the button and was dumbfounded to see a powerful cascade of high pressure water spout out over the hole, and suddenly the whole tank of water disappeared without even the hint of a swirling motion... "Okay," I assured myself. "This is just one airport toilet. I am sure there are plenty of swirling toilets in Australia to try." (I mean it is a huge country). My next attempt came at Melbourne Airport, but with similar results. Another high pressure toilet, another lost shot at seeing even an inkling of a swirling motion. Again, I assured myself, "This is a modern airport with modern facilities. Once I get out into Australia proper, I will find a swirling toilet."

My next stop was the hostel, but they too had a high powered toilet with a cascading effect instead of a swirling motion. The same was true for the toilet in the Melbourne Museum, the apartment I am now staying at, the sandwich place on La Trobe Street, the public toilet on Chapel Street, the toilet at the Prahan Shopping Centre, and even the toilet in the gas station near the Victoria Market. In desperation to solve this enigma I have tried several locations throughout Melbourne to no avail. It seems the toilet technology of this city is way beyond anything I have seen in America where we are still stuck in the 1950's with our centrifugal aquatic technology.

Finally, my search came to an end yesterday when I was doing the dishes in my new flat. I had made pasta and I put my bowl over the drain of the sink. The bowl made a seal which held the water in the sink until I was done doing my dishes. I was blissfully unaware of this until I removed the bowl and watched in amazement as the water swirled its way down the drain. It was a beautiful sight, and I shed a tear as I watched the water drain in a perfect circular motion. I can now stand before you, my fellow Americans, and proudly claim that in Australia the water spins counter-clockwise.

Everybody Needs a Little Change

The money currently found in my wallet/pocket. There is a
20 dollar and 50 dollar note, and A$6.80 woth of of coins.

So let's talk about money, more exact, let's talk about Australian money. As the current exchange rate stands, the Aussies dollar is about equal with the American dollar. Great for Aussies, not as great for me. Mostly because this is a very expensive country to live in. A bottle of Coke costs A$3.30 in some places. I treated myself to a Slurpee at a 7-11 the other day (7-11's are everywhere and no one has ever heard of a Wa Wa), and it cost A$2.80... and I didn't get the ridiculously huge sized clear plastic cup ones either. Those were upwards of A$3.50. I got the tall thin paper cup kind. It is very expensive over here, but that is not what this blog is really about.
Aussie money is a bit funny... excuse the rhyme... What I mean to say is that it should be straightforward, as the amounts of each bill and coin are clearly written on them, but growing up in America I am finding the whole system a bit counter-intuitive. Their "paper" money or notes are actually plastic. Apparently you cannot rip them in half. They are smaller than American money, more colorful, and have transparent windows in the bottom right corner. They have pictures of people like Queen Victoria, Mary Reibey (an English convict and Sydney businesswoman), and David Unaipon (who is known as the Australian Da Vinci, and invented the basic concepts used in today's modern sheep shearing machine.) Aussie dollars come in denominations of 5, 10, 20, 50, and 100. However, as the observant American can probably see, there is no 1 dollar note listed. Now we get into my real confusions I have with the money of this great country.

The real problem of the whole system to me, is the coinage. Unlike American coins, Aussie coins are actually worth something. There are silver coins which run in denominations of 5, 10, 20, and 50 cents. In Australia there is no such thing as a penny. These "silver" coins are often large and clunky. In fact, the 50 cent coin is so big it could probably be uses as a makeshift throwing star if you were ever in a pinch and found yourself needing to do combat with a band of ninjas. Next, we come to the gold coins. There are 1 dollar coins and 2 dollar coins. They are much smaller than their silver brethren and are commonly given as change to every purchase. This is the real taxing part of the whole endeavour. When I come home at night I cannot simply put my spare change aside in a jar or other receptacle to accumulate till I have enough to exchange it for valuable dollar bills. No, now I must take my change which me (regardless of how bulky, heavy, and noisy it is in my pocket) because I might actually need to spend them. It is an amazing concept to me that coins are actually used as currency and not just for being thrown in the odd fountain here or there. Worst yet, it seems like the more valuable a coin is the smaller it gets. The 2 dollar coins are roughly only a little bigger than a dime. It seems to be a system that is designed to bolster the pants and sewing industry, because if you have a rip in your packet you could loose hundreds of dollars a day.

Regardless, it has taken a lot to get used to, both in concept and in practical use. It is not a bad system, it is just a system that seems to favor the use of a purse over a wallet. As a man it is not always easy to find a place to store the scores and scores of change I am accumulating with every purchase. I am starting to feel like a cow with a bell around my neck. Maybe that is how the country keeps track of it foreigners... through the sound of jingling change... I guess when you think about it, it beat wiretapping.

Back to the Future

When talking time zones, Australia is ahead of the US Eastern Coast by 16 hours, yet there is an overarching feeling, when you come to Australia, that you have somehow managed to step back in time. All in all, I would say the entire country seems to be in the grips of the early 1990's. Walking down the streets of Melbourne, more often than not, you can spot someone with a grunge punk haircut, pink died hair, sleeveless bleached shirts, a sports jacket and slacks paired with white sneakers, large sunglasses and a fedora, almost anything. Sometimes I expect to see someone walking by me with a huge boombox on their shoulder. Yesterday, I even saw a man with a "Flock of Seagulls" haircut while on the tram. (Hey, you like Flock of Seagulls... No, but I see you do). Yet, its more than just the dress of some people. It is a feeling that things are just a bit slower here. People are not rushing around as much. They are not fighting their way from one point in life to another. In a lot of ways it is relaxing. You don't see huge American SUV's or Trucks everywhere you look. In fact, it is not unusually to see old European style cars or vans. There are not as many huge department stores around. I have not once seen a Borders or a Barnes and Nobles, but I have found a lot of little picturesque book shops around. There are less brand names and more personalized businesses. There is a coffee shop on most corners, but they are not usually Starbucks.

I have also come to the understanding (from what little Aussie TV I do watch) that the entire country is about a half of season or a season behind America. Shows that have been playing in America since last September are just premiering over here. To compound the problem we seem to be exporting some of our worst TV shows to Australia. Shows, which I never heard of like "The Middle" (Which stars the janitor from Scrubs and the wife from Everybody Loves Raymond), or "Brothers and Sisters," (which has Callista Flockhart). We need to get shows out here like "Psych." Additionally, movie release dates seem to be at least a month or more behind the USA. That awful "Yogi Bear" movie just came out, and all I have been seeing is posters for it everywhere. I thought I was done with all that and here it comes back to haunt me. "The Green Hornet" does not come out till next weekend. (which I am excited to check out).

Also Aussie technology seems to be behind in certain areas. WiFi, for instance, which is so plentiful in America seems a scarce commodity (at least to me). In the Hostel I had to pay A$1.00 for 15 minutes. I have since moved into a "flat" that is without wireless and I had to purchase a USB modem that has an antenna attached to it. The modem an 20 days of Internet cost me around A$50. However, it is slow and reminds me slightly of the days of AOL dial up. At least it is cheaper than hostel wireless. There are certain cafes and restaurants that offer free wireless, most notably McDonald's (as weird as that is), but for an American on a budget my time online has been severely lacking in the past few weeks. My phone has downgraded as well. I went from a beautiful and very useful Verizon Droid phone to a Nokia that boasts the wonderful new innovation of a color screen. Of course, I have seen smart phones and even iPads (bleh) so I know they exist in this country, but my technology has been noticeably reduced. (And if I ever needed a smart phone with GPS it is when trying to navigate the streets and trams of Melbourne.) I am not trying to be down on Australia, actually I quite love this country and my lack of technology is helping me return to a simpler time. I am finding more peace as I am forced to read a book instead of watch YouTube, or when I have to rely on my wits and navigational sense, instead of an electronic GPS. So until I find a Delorean back home, I must learn to adapt to my new low-tech existence, but as frustrating as it can be sometimes, I am starting to enjoy the peace that comes with it.

Look Daddy a Rhinosaurus

So I spent my day at the Melbourne Museum. Say what you will, but it was only 8 bucks to get in and I saw a lot of interesting things. I learned about dinosaurs, and minerals, and even about the human body. Mostly I spent a lot of time in the Australian history wing.

Phar Lap in the flesh (sort of speak).

I found a lot of interesting tidbits specifically in the Melbourne history section. Melbourne was founded by John Batman in 1835, who settled a treaty with the Aboriginals that secured him 600,000 acres of land. Of course that treaty was conveniently voided by Australian government later, but that’s another story. It was named by Governor Richard Bourke in 1837, in honor of William Lamb, the 2nd Viscount Melbourne. Melbourne was officially declared a city by Queen Victoria in 1847. In 1851, it became the capital city of the newly created colony of Victoria. During the Victorian gold rush of the 1850s, it was transformed into one of the world's largest and wealthiest cities. After the Federation of Australia in 1901, it then served as the interim seat of government of the newly created nation of Australia until 1927. Today it is the capital of the Australian Arts movement. It consists mostly of cafes, bistros, and car dealerships. It is where the Australian Movie Industry started, and they seem oddly proud of the fact that the movie Ghost Rider was filmed in and around Melbourne. Sufficed to say there is a lot of history here.

The museum had a rather large and interesting display set out on a horse named Phar Lap. This horse is one of Australia's biggest heroes (I'm not kidding). You must first understand that horse racing is a big sport in Australia, especially around Melbourne. During the great depression this horse was the hope of the entire nation. "Between September 1929 and November 1931, the champion ran 41 races, winning 35 of them and becoming Australia's first sporting superstar." (That is an excerpt from the plaque near Phar Lap's case) The horse itself died in South America while competing in an international horse race. It was poisoned by arsenic. Poor Australia, they finally get a sporting superstar and it is brutally killed at the height of its career. The country was of course crushed, with people openly weeping on the streets when they heard the news. So in memory of Phar Lap, they removed his skeleton, his vital organs, preserved everything, and stuffed the hell out of him. Now he is sitting in a glass case in the Melbourne Museum. I actually think this is a great idea. I'm now of the mind that we should dig up Babe Ruth and Johnny Unitas and see if we can put some sawdust and stuffing in them.

All kidding aside the museum was very informative. My favorite story comes from the 1966 visit of Lyndon B. Johnson to Melbourne. I watched the original footage and it was just thousands upon thousands of Aussies waving American flags. I am sure Johnson liked it. God knows he never got that kind of reception in America. (Truthfully it made me a little homesick.) LBJ was in town to thank Australia for their support in sending troops to Vietnam. As you can imagine, not everyone was too thrilled about that. I am just going to quote my favorite part of the plaque at the exhibit. "During his visit to South Yarra, the President's limousine was pelted with red and green paint by anti-war protestors... The protestors were charged, and... apologetically wrote to Johnson that they had been 'excited to a fever pitch by your presence and the consequent air of exaltation and triumph.'" I love Australia, because they are some of the nicest people you can meet. I mean even their anti-war protestors write apology letters. Again, I am sure that’s more than LBJ ever got back home. So once again, and I'm sure not for the last I marvel at this odd and wondrous country where they apologize for protesting and idolize horses.

Wine and Sherry

Let me tell you about Sherry (like the wine as she explained it to me), but I am getting ahead of myself. In the lounge of the YHA a travel auction was being held where trips and special packages were being given away at reduced prices. Their was also free wine being served. As I have been feeling slightly lonely lately I made a commitment to myself that I would try to make a friend. So with that goal in mind I headed down to the lounge to check out some of the trips and maybe meet some people. When I arrived all the seats were taken, except for one, that was offered to me by a kindly old Australian woman. (I tell you I don't know what it is, but for some reason the elderly are drawn to me on this trip). Sherry quickly engaged me in the usual conversation of where I came from, what I am doing here, where I am going, etc... For my part I learned that Sherry grew up in South Yarra, married a frenchman, moved to Paris, and has returned to persue a lawsuit which she is a part of in regards to some botched drug she took. In her youth she was an avid drinker of wine, but has since been forced to give it up as she had health complications, and has since sworn off drinking on recommendation of her doctors. (I hope through all of this you can get a sense of exactly what type of woman, Sherry is.)


Found this while walking the other day. It is
good to see that Kool and the Gang are still
alive and well in Australia.



So her untouched glass of wine went to me and we continued a very lively discussion. Mostly, she spoke of the things one would expect when talking to the older generation. "The streets were growing more dangerous," "What ever happened to all the railroads," "And the argumentative disposition of Germans." All in all, I had a very interesting time talking to this rather excentric but interesting woman. She spoke of her one son (who she felt was too French and not enough Aussie), and of the wrong doings of certain politicians. She even helped me pick out a good trip to purchase which helped save me almost A$300. Moreover, my selected journey will help me conquer three of my goals in one trip, but I will save that for another post.

 She was amazingly helpful in the trivia part of the night. When questions about Australian geography, wildlife, and other such facts were mostly being met with blank stares by the rest of the atended audience. She was able to coach me in several answers. Together we won a bananna, two bars of some candy called a "Picnic" (Chocolate, nuts, honey, and peanut butter), a koala holding an Australian flag that attaches the end of a pencil, and a sleeve of pasta and a jar of tomatoe sauce. At the end of the night I bid her farewell with an exhcanging of emails a promise that maybe would meet again to try make a pasta dinner. You never quite know who you are going to meet on these sorts of trip.

A Learning Experience

As I have been doing so often, after running a few errands I decided to just let myself wander a bit. I had no real idea where I was going, but soon enough I found myself in front of Melbourne University. On a whim, spurned maybe from my longings for the better days of college I stepped inside the campus. I rather enjoyed the place, as it had a large smathering of a varierty of architecture, leaning mostly toward an old victorian and elizabethian style. I also found myself surrounded by well manicures courtyards and of course the smiling hopes of college students. It is the look that says I have not yet entered the real world (and I have no idea what is waiting for me). The campus did feel a bit enclosed in areas, but it was still very pituresque. All in all I would compare it to Drew University (as much as that pains me). As I walked i noticed that it seemed to be high school day as there were a lot of small groups of high school students exploring the campus and engaged in one assignment or another. Idly, it reminded me of my days in high school when we would go to Montclair State for math day. Those were the best days, because mostly we ditched out on the lectures and fooled around on the campus all.

However, my greatest discovery was yet to come as I stumbled upon the section of campus containing the student union and the general eateries. I found a pizza place that charged only A$2.50 for a slice of pizza. I know that by New Jersey standards that may seem a little high, but by Aussie standards it was a great value. Please keep in mind that this was college food and I (nor you) should just Australian pizza based upon this experience. The peperroni pizza I ordered was a bit on the salty side (and that is saying a lot from a person who covers most meals vigorously in the white spice before ever taking a bite.) All in all, it was farily standard pizza though, even if was more like the pizza you would get out of one of those cardboard boxes at the supermarket. Still for A$2.50, who can argue.

After devouring my slice I took my Aussie tasting Coca-Cola and continued my wanderings. My next stop was the athletics field, where I sat for fifteen minutes and watched the university's cricket team practice. I still do not understand the game or what they were doing, but they certainly seemed good at... whatever it was they were actually doing... It was at that point that I decided it was time to start heading back.

A building found on the campus of the
Universtiy of Melbourne

So I left the cheerful campus and meandered my back to the hostel. On the way I allowed my wanderings to bring through the Melbourne Royal Park. This scenic patch of land is simply amazing. It is totally out of place in the middle of a large metropolitan city. It was like I was suddenly transported to the African savanna. The illusion would have been almost complte except for the few buildings I could see rising just above the distant tree line. I was not able to linger long as the sun was coming out from behind the overcast sky, and I felt myself beginning to dehydrate. I am comitted to going back and this time with a camera at the ready, and with sunblock. However, I was not quick enough getting back to the hostel, as I sit here typing I can feel the burn starting to set in around my neck. I certainly won't let it happen again. So it appears my trip to Melbourne Unversity was a learning experience (really bad pun).

It's The End of the World

People stranded on top of cars while caught in the flooding
in Queensland, Australia.

I think the world is coming to an end. For the past few days it has been doing nothing but raining and raining and raining in Melbourne. According to the Aussie Weather channel it is the same storm system that is causing flooding in the Queensland area, and today they have started to evacuate some of the northern suburbs of Melbourne, though there is very little concern that any flooding will reach the city. So I have been spending a lot of time watching the TV in the main lounge of the hostel. (So I have been mostly watching news, cricket, and tennis.) What I have been seeing though, is rather disturbing (and I'm not just talking about the cricket). It seems like the whole world is going crazy. There is massive flooding in Australia, volcanoes erupting in EUROPE?! of all places, flooding in Brazil, and back home I know there is feet and feet of snow piling up, and a deranged gunman shooting congresswomen. I know that the newscasters have a propensity for over exaggeration, but I mean this is getting a little ridiculous.

The flooding in the Brisbane area is getting really severe. The water is rising up to above 12 metres... which is almost 40 feet. There is a lot of incredible footage being shown and now there is talk about the Brisbane damn breaking. It is reminding me a lot of the Hurricane Katrina coverage in America. Newscasters, apparently, are fairly universal. Once they get hold of a disaster, they won't seem to let it go. When I say this coverage is the only thing on TV, I am not lying. Every 2 minutes there is another estimate of death tolls being made, or another piece of footage of cars being washed away in the flood, or some expert comparing this disaster to one thing or another. Mostly it is being compared to the 1974 flooding in Australia, to which as an American I am afraid to say, "There was flooding in 1974." (Granted I wouldn't be born for another 9 years, but this is news to me.) It really highlights how far Australia is. It suffered major flooding and I had no real idea.

The rain itself has been sporadic, yet hard. It comes and goes throughout the day, sometimes heavy and sometimes only a small drizzle. It, however, has been enough to deter many thoughts of venturing outside. I have since broken down and decided to buy a full-day Internet card to pass the day away. I have been trying to catch up on my emails and other Internet related tasks. I have also spent the past few days looking for an apartment and even a job. I sent out some emails, but I have only been met with rejection so far. As you can imagine that has a way to darken an already rainy day. I even ventured across town a few times in hopes of seeing an apartment only to be rejected upon reaching it. Walking in the rain is not fun, whether you are in America or anywhere else.

So you will have to dismiss my pessimism at the state of the world, because from where I am sitting it seems like we may be coming to the end of days. After all, as I am typing this I am sitting at a table with two Frenchmen. I mean me sitting with the French, I am pretty sure that's one of the signs of Armageddon.

Movie Night

So I was sitting quietly in my room reading when I just so happened to hear an announcement blaring outside my door over the hostel's loud speaker. Apparently, it was a movie night and the movie for tonight was "The Blindside" starring Sandra Bullock. Free popcorn was to be served... Free Popcorn!... Being that I am trying to maintain a budget and (since I may have skipped dinner that night, because) I am trying not to eat myself out of a bank account, I figured I could not pass up the chance for some free snacks. Besides I had never seen "The Blindside" and I was actually interested. So I put the book aside and wandered down to the 3rd floor TV lounge to check out what was going on.

I didn't think about it at first, but it gradually dawned on me as the opening credits began to roll in the darkened TV room. "The Blindside," when you come right down to it, is a very American movie. Think about it. It has to do with racial divisions of the South, American professional and collegiate athletics, and of course football. So as I sat there and watched, I looked around at my fellow viewers. There was one very lively Aussie, who could not stop talking about how the popcorn was not buttered, two Chinese sisters, a very silent man who walked with cane and gave away no hint of his nationality, a young French couple, and two rather old British women, one of which sat next to me. It was quite a surreal experience and a good movie.

Of course, the first time I opened my mouth I was pegged as the American in the room. This led to many questions, most of which revolved around the holiday of Thanksgiving (as there is a Thanksgiving scene in the movie). Most people thought it must be some sort of religious holiday. I could only reply with, "Only if you are devoted to football, which many are..." I also found myself explaining the geography of the American South, as the movie takes place in Memphis.

All and all it was an interesting night. I mean when else can you start out just going to get some free popcorn, and end up taking part in a cultural exchange.

Walking in Melbourne

My first day in Melbourne I spent mostly trying to get settled. However, I did arrive at the hostel around 2 PM and even after an hour nap, it left me some considerable time to kill before I would allow myself to go to sleep for the day. I spent a good part of that time reading "In a Sunburned Country," by Bill Bryson. He is a very hilarious and entertaining travel writer who never fails to disappoint with interesting facts and antidotes of his time in places. This book, as you can guess, was dedicated to his travels around Australia and is forming the basis for a lot of my travel goals while in the country. Mr. Bryson, however, has a propensity to go wandering around exotic cities and locales when he has nothing better to do, and so on my first day in Melbourne I felt inspired to do likewise.

Australia, when experienced for the first time is a country apart from others. Bryson himself describes it as "an American-like society hung on a European frame." What I discovered for myself in my wanderings that day and since is that it is a place filled with both the familiar and the exotic. Melbourne is a city, much like any other. I have come to accustom it to a "less-angry" Philadelphia (and I say that with the utmost fondness to the city of brotherly love). Melbourne has a lot of pride about itself, parking in the center of the street, no major subway system, and many back alley streets that look like even a smart car would not be able to fit through. So in that sense the whole place has a strange familiarity to it. It is an English speaking city, after all, with street signs, road-rage, shopping centers, world class restaurants, and a fervor for sports, but there is an unknown strangeness about it as well. For example, here the populace is in love with cricket, horse racing, and a sport called "Footy," which is unlike soccer, rugby, or American football. (I will explain more about the sport in later posts, once I figure it out myself.) The trees are not elm or pine but gum. The parks have even more exotic plants and trees. The bird calls you hear while you walk around are those of birds with funny sounding names like Kookaburra. They do not make the kind of noises and sounds one would hear walking through any city in North America. The street signs are confusing, cars drive on the wrong side of the road, and a public tram system runs down the center of most major streets. That means that when crossing you not only have to make sure you look out for cars coming from unfamiliar directions, but be aware of trams. It is something I am still learning and more than once I have had to quickly move to avoid an unexpected car or tram, (Watch the tram car please).

Even the cars have to give way to the trams and they do so by making a hook turn. This was explained to me by my favorite Aussie, Loz, as a car, when making a right-hand turn (remember that means the car must cross traffic, like one does when making a left in America), that at first the car must pull as far left as possible, so as not to be on the tram tracks, and then proceed to make the right turn when the way is clear. This of course, Loz further explained to me, is why she refuses to drive in the city, which seems a reasonable argument in my opinion.

I have even learned that people here are accustomed to walking on the left as opposed to the right. It was another small detail that takes some getting used to. When walking down the street and approaching another human being coming at me, my initial tendency is to go right (as I am American). My oncoming friend, however, has the initial tendency to go let, which leaves us in a bit of problem as we are still heading for a collision. So I have had to adjust not just the direction I look when crossing a street, but also my habits when walking in general. This is also compounded by the fact that apparently jay-walking in enforced in the city of Melbourne. People can and have gotten fined for not using cross walks, or going while the little red man on the street-light tells you not to. So in other words, I cannot walk like I am in New York City. I cannot afford it.

Victoria, the Garden State? The More things are the same
the more they are different.

Melbourne is also a very cosmopolitan city. It has a large population of immigrant Australians, mostly Indian, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Korean. That makes it a decidedly diverse city, and it also means that I have a lot of other accents to contend with when when ordering dinner. (Interestingly enough, a Chinese-Australian accent sounds similar but slightly different than a Chinese-American accent.) As for my own opinions, I have come to accept it as sort of mixed blessing. It is always great to see such diversity in the world, as I have always believed that in such diversity lies the key to humanity's success, but on the same token I did come to a country expecting to be surrounded by English spoken in that almost hypnotic Australian accent. I mean if I had wanted to go to a city to experience cultural variety, I could have stayed in New York. After all, my first official meal in Australia was Chinese food... and to answer the questions, it tasted like regular "American" Chinese food, except I could not find any General Tso's chicken... Apparently I am not the only one who has mixed emotions over the situation as, much like America, there is a lot of talk about the immigrant population. Many signs and announcements are written in several languages to cater to the non-English speaking population. The arguments are almost the same that I have heard for years in the States. "Immigrants should be made to learn English." As an outsider from a nation of immigrants, I find it almost amusing, as this discussion seems both familiar and all new. The complaint seems almost universal. However, unlike in America, the arguments here are more likely made over the speaking of Vietnamese rather than Spanish. The variety does give the place a very worldly feel, and as much as I joke it only lends to the feeling of a place with the intermingled familiar and exotic... Besides, maybe this country still needs a bit more diversity, at least until they get a decent General Tso's chicken.

Open Hostelities

A very shakey picture of the Melbourne skyline taken at
night from the YHA rooftop lounge.

I did meet my first Aussie on this trip and ironically enough, it was the guy driving the transfer shuttle at San Fransisco airport. However, since my arrival I have obviously met several more, and my overwhelming first impression of Australians, as a whole, seems to boil down to one observation. I think they are all blonde, or at least dirty blonde. They all have a vague british surfer look to them that is strangely endearing. However, more than anything the thing I notice most about Aussies is that they are generally happy people, and not just in that momentary happiness one may feel when opening a birthday present or in some other superficial manner. I mean that they are content and just generally happy with life. I have had several thoughts on this and my biggest theory on this cheery state is the lack of what in the States we call the American Dream. I am not suggesting that the Aussies have no drive to succeed or improve themselves or even aquire wealth, but I think that it is not so ingrained in their cultural identities that they feel such a constant pressure to always desire more and more. They have a quiet contentedness with life, which I think a lot more of the world could do with.

Still I miss America and its familiarities. I am only here a few days now and I know I am still in those initial stages of homesickness, and uncertainty. As I sit here writing this it is pouring outside the window. I am in the lounge of the Melbourne Metro YHA (Youth Hostel Association), but do not let the name fool you. Just because it is called a "Youth" hostel, I have met people ranging in age from 8 to 80 staying here. Mostly, I have come to learn that staying at a hostel in Australia is a cheap alternative to a hotel. I must confess that staying in a hostel is a sureal experience. I am inhabiting a room with three others, most of which, so far, have not been as fluent in Enlgish as I would prefer. Actually, I think that defines the majority of the clientel of the hostel. Even as I sit here and write, I am hearing conversations in Russian, German, and Chinese. At first I wasn't sure if my American sensibilities could stand staying in the hostel for very long, as it is a place where I am continually out of my comfort zone. I must keep my valuables locked up at all times  and I have no real personal space... but the place is starting to grow on me. It is interesting to meet and talk with so many diverse people, even if our conversations are sometimes small and carried out mostly in broken English.
My first night was a bit hectic and frightening, but thankfully my jet lag forced me to not really care as I passed out in my bunk fully dressed. My original roomates (roomates change sometimes on a daily basis) was a German and Swiss. Ironcially enough, the German had annexed two of the locker spaces for himself. As an American I was unsure if I should correct the prolblem. I assumed I would wait for the Japanese kid down the hall to attack me while I slept before I was spurred into action. The Swiss of course remained neutral in the whole thing... but very quickly things were cleared up and I was able to get my own space with very little problems.

I also did have a lengthy conversation with my Swiss roomate (who is here to attend an English speaking school and did so because he was unhappy with his job at home) and learned that I was the first American he had ever met. Apparently not many of us make down under. (This of course made me feel a bit proud and alarmed at the same time.) I did meet one Canadian today, my first North American. they seem to be more of a common sighting as I am coming to learn. However, the only other fellow Yankee I met was the guy juggling fire for money near Flinder's Street in downtown Melbourne.

Overall though, in response to many questions and comments I received in regards to the movie "Hostel," I can assure you it is nothing like that. The Melbourne Metro YHA is very clean, has excellent facilities, and most people I have met here are very friendly. It even has a rooftop lounge where you get a really awesome breeze and you can see the Melbourne skyline. It is my favorite spot to take book to and read. My only complaint is the lack of AC in the rooms themselves (it reminds me of my freshman dorm room), but life is beginning to settle into a sort of normalcy for me. I am still planning on looking for a flat or apartment, but I have realized that staying in the hostel a few more weeks may not be a bad option, especially since it is cheap.

The Customs of Customs

1-8-11: For some reason my biggest fear throughout my entire trip was Australian customs. For the last few hours of my flight time, this was my one and all consuming thought. I was prepared... I was over-prepared. I had every sort of document t you can think of, ranging from my birth certificate to my bank statements to my 2nd grade report cards. I suppose living in the United States you grow accustom to a certain amount of state-sponsored paranoia toward immigrants and I just sort of expected it from the Australian government. My mental images consisted mostly of being led into a dimly lit room where I would be asked to prove that I was not a terrorist or would be a drain on the Australian social economy with the most suspicious part being my lack of a return plane ticket and my attempt to smuggle a box of pop-tarts into the country (a gift for a friend).

So eventually I disembarked my rather uneventful flight from Sydney to Melbourne. The only thing to report from the flight being that I ordered a Coca-Cola and surprisingly discovered that it tasted funny. On further inspection I realized it was an Aussie Coke bearing the tag line: "Real Taste. Uplifting Refreshment." My best description is that it has a sort of Diet Coke twang to it...

Regardless, I stepped off from my flight and immediately proceeded to customs. I first had to fill out an Australian customs slip and report where I was coming from, where I was going, and declare any foreign products (like pop-tarts). I filled out the form dutifully and proceeded to talk to the customs agent. I started with a friendly greeting and an apology for my lack of skill with paperwork. He very deftly countered by saying it was okay since I am from New Jersey; (He was looking at my passport.) The next revelation came when he checked my visa and realized that my surname and my given name were reversed on the paper work, (effectively I was Brunner Adam). This made me a bit nervous and I was asked to step aside into a small waiting area where another person already stood. Another customs agent then took my paperwork and disappeared into a back room.

Meanwhile two more customs agents in rubber gloves approached the person I was standing with. The first words the lead agent spoke were, "So you might have Yellow Fever."

After overhearing this, I very noticeably jerked my head to look at the man and then slid as faraway from him as possible. Soon enough though, my customs agent returned, handed me back my papers, and said, "Welcome to Australia, Mr. Brunner."

I felt almost giddy walking away, and the feeling continued as I discovered that my checked bag had not been lost in transit (as I assumed it probably would have). My stomach again dropped as I got into a line where bags were being inspected, my thoughts turned again to the box of wheat and processed sugar I had in my bag. Soon enough I was approached by another customs agent who took my paperwork and looked it over.

She then looked at me, "What sort of food are you carrying?"

"Pop-Tarts," was my reply.

"That's it?" She gave me a look like, why would you even waste my time and stamped my slip of paper with a green stamp. She handed it back to me. She did not even ask me to open the bag to make sure that I was telling the truth. She just okayed my paperwork and the next thing I knew I was out among the general population wondering why I was so nervous about the whole damn thing.

My next step was to approach the airports information desk and present my voucher for my shuttle ride. The desk clerk gave it a once over and summoned a shuttle which took about 20 minutes to arrive. When it did I was directed to Bus Port 2, where the shuttle driver informed me that I was not in the right bus port as he was heading in the opposite direction. He pointed me to Bus Port 5 where I presented the voucher to another bus driver. He looked at it in confusion and asked for my ticket. I responded with saying that the voucher was all I had. He simply shrugged and loaded my luggage. That is the thing I am coming to discover about Australians, in general. They are very easy going. I have no idea if I was even on the right shuttle for that voucher to be valid, but the driver accepted it with hardly any question. It was something that in America, I am sure probably would have elicited a lot of huffing and puffing and maybe even a radio call back to headquarters followed by a 15 minute wait for confirmation. In Australia, all I got was a simple shrug. I found myself thinking -and not for the first or last time- that Australia really is a remarkable country.

Theories of Relativity

The farmland surrounding Melbourne as seen from the air.

1-8-11: I am now into the second leg of my trip, cruising at 33,000 feet above the black and unforgiving Pacific Ocean. Surely, if we were to crash into the dark, shark-infested depths we would all be lost forever. On the brighter side, my pilot's name is Captain Sullivan. I am sure it is not THE Captain "Sully" Sullivan, but it is still comforting to know that if this plane needs to make quick u-turn, head 8,000 miles in the opposite direction and make an emergency landing in the Hudson River, we will all be fine. You know, it is those small comforts that I need to hold onto when the plane hits those extreme pockets of turbulence. Mostly, however, I have been trying to not think about it as my main goal has become to combat my sleepiness. I have set all my clocks to Australian time and my goal is to hold off sleeping till a decent and respectable Aussie bed time. By my current count that is still at least 3 hours away, even though it is nearing 4 in the morning on the east coast of the United States.

Crossing an International Dateline is an odd thing. I understand the principle behind it and I get that there has to be a dividing line somewhere on the globe that separates it all, but speaking in strictly rational terms... it's an odd thing. Its what might happen when one enters a wormhole or travels faster than 88 miles per hour in certain cars. I mean how else can a person cease to exist for a single day, and vice-versa. For the majority of the world January 7, 2011 has come and went like any other day. For me it will never. So to anyone who has celebrated a birthday, an anniversary, or other special occasion deserving of well-wishing, I do apologize as I was just not in existence on that day to express to you my congratulations on your joyous day. You know, according to Einstein's theory of relativity, the closer to the speed of light you travel the more time slows for you, but it still remains a constant for the rest of the universe. Thus, you live one day while several may pass for your friends and family back at home... I think Einstein must have taken frequent trips to Australia...

For me, however, one trip is enough. I am growing weary and frustrated with this entire process and I am not even halfway through this daunting trip. I suppose it could be worse. At the height of Australian immigration in the 1950's a flight to Australia from England took 3 days to complete and a round trip ticket cost nearly as much as modest house. Even when Qantas (the premiere aussie airline) introduced their new Constellation-class plane (warp factor 6), the trip still cost as much as purchasing a new car. So, understandably, most immigrants traveled the 12,000 mile journey by boat. Imagine a trip where you spent every waking moment for weeks on the deck of a ship slowly watching the familiar sights of countries and continents drift away one by one, till you found yourself arriving on the almost forgotten continent of Australia. And of course what makes it even crazier is that this happened not in 1880 or 1902, but in the 1950's. When the rest of the world was being introduced to rock n' roll, James Dean, and was preoccupied with thoughts of the great Red Menace, there were still people on freight liners steaming their way toward a new continent in search of a better life. It seems an experience that would be almost out of place in the mid twentieth century, but as I am coming to realize Australia runs on its own sort of timeline. Time zone speaking it is a country ahead of the world, but in a lot of ways it remains a country comfortably settled in an idyllic past. Australia really is a strange and wondrous place when you think about.

I can almost relate to those early immigrants. I feel as if there is still so far to go and still so many challenges ahead, many things yet to accomplish.

Safety First

During my long flight I was reviewing the safety manual given to all passengers. I cannot speak for all my fellow passangers but I found some of the pictures to be not as universal as maybe the authors originally intended.

On some aircraft: you may be killed in a horrible watery crash...

Note: The floor may become slightly radioactive.

No cigarettes, no briefcase, no shoes, no service...

In my opinion, this is just kind of suggestive.

First try to use your laser vision to break open the window.

Remember, when hiding the key to lift the mat first.

In case of the plane diving head first into the ground, your dead. In case of the plane diving head first into the water, your still probably dead



Do not sit. Do squat thrusts.

No lighters, no cellphones or AM/FM radios made before 1985, and most importantly no remote-controled cars. I can only imagine the chaos that must have ensued on flights before the "no remote-controled cars" rule was enacted. Curiously though, the use of remote-controlled helicopters is perfectly fine.

When floating in the middle of the ocean with nothing but a life-vest, only a bright-idea will probably save you.

Leaving on a Jet Plane...

1-6-2010: And so we have come to it at last. I am currently somewhere over the United States, (Missouri, if I were to wager a guess), winging my way to sunny San Fransisco on the first leg of my journey. Before sitting down to write I was contemplating how I should approach writing this blog as I begin my journey. The answer I came up with, was simple honesty. So far I have had an emotional journey, and quite frankly I have only been in the air less than an hour. In the most general sense I am tired, nervous, excited, and hungry. Of all those emotions, my hunger seems to be most prevalent. Mostly because my seat mate (a blond woman who has a passion for cross words and with at least one child waiting for her at the end of this flight -As I surmised from evesdropping on her phone conversation- just ate a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich and it smelled very good, even though I am not a jelly fan. It also raises the question of how she snuck a homemade sandwich in a plastic bag past airport security. This is a major concern, as what if had turned out to be a C4 and jelly sandwich.) As for myself, my meal options are fairly slim. There is a brochure featuring overpriced and undercooked airline food which I am debating, but there seems to be nothing truly appetizing, other than the chocolate dipped cheesecake. If there is time I will try to grab a quick bite of food in San Fransisco... if there is time.

This of course brings me to my other emotional states. In accordance with Adam's Law, less than two hours before departing for the airport I discovered that United Flight 95, my flight to the Golden Gate City, no longer existed. Instead I received a cryptic response from United as I checked in electronically. All they advised was that I talk to Continental. Of course, a talk with United's home office in Mumbai, India, revealed no answers. So after 25 minutes on hold I finally reached a representative at Continental, and after another 10 minutes of heated discussion in a thick Indian accent (his not mine), I was finally able to determine I was scheduled on a Continental Airline's flight out of Newark. All this was accomplished while the family (mine not his) yelled suggestions and questions in my ear. Thankfully, I am the one that caught this little oversight, because if it was up to United and Continental, they would never had notified me. However, what kind of story would it be if it stopped there. I next spent an hour at the Continental check-in counter rehashing out the problem with several airline representatives. (To their credit they were very nice and helpful, it not a bit stressed.) After straightening the mess out a second time, I finally received my boarding pass, checked my bag, and made my way to the correct terminal... to wait as the flight was delayed. Apparently the plane was just fresh back from a foreign land (It was either, Belfast, Costa Rica, Portugal, or Cybertron, I cannot really remember.) So the plane had to be cleaned; inspected by customs for dangerous materials and Decepticons; loaded with food and baggage; and finally boarded. All of this took time. I occupied myself with reading a magazine I found. Apparently, TV Land president Larry Jones, feels that true TV success comes from targeting the 40 to 65 demographic with classic TV and contemporary sitcoms created in the classic manner. According to the article it is working very well.

My last view of New Jersey, lovely Newark Airport. You
can see the smoke plumes of pollution if you look hard
enough.

I think I am digressing a bit, but I will try to head toward a point. I am on a plane heading toward the west coast... and I think the person in front of my is stealing food from the food cart... Also I am using one of those U-shaped airline pillows, and I do not quite yet know what I think of it. Regardless, I am nervous for the coming journey. There is still so much that can go wrong. What if Australian Customs decides that I am not welcome? I can be thrown out the country before I even arrive. Maybe I should just stay in California... I hear it is kind of like Australia. However, I think an even bigger worry looming in my mind... What if I make it past customs and everything goes as planned? What if I actually make it into Australia? What next?... For now it seems that everything is still very much "up in the air" (if you pardon my pun), so I will continue to write, though I cannot know when I will get a chance to actually post these thoughts.