Faerie Land

On our last full day of spring break in Cairns, Queensland, we were to take what was described on the itinerary as a “rainforest walk.” As I had moderately injured my foot several days prior, I was slightly concerned that I would have difficulty maneuvering this activity. As it would be revealed, it was less of a rainforest walk and more of a slippery-rock-river crawl.

The “walk” was actually on a concrete path at a minor incline for about ten minutes; this was not the difficult part. As we marched onward, the view around us became increasingly scenic. A river appeared to the right and began to unwind itself before us as our path climbed higher and the river remained at its original elevation. Before long the blemished surface of the opposite cliff had grown lush and verdant. At the end of our walk awaited a picturesque surprise: a cascading waterfall and accompanying still water pool. The only problem was getting to the spot.

We first had to climb down off of the walkway, down the side of the cliff, and leave our belongings on dry rocks. Then the most difficult part (at least for me, as my center of gravity was off) was climbing over hundreds of feet of slippery, mossy rocks. The action required to do so was a hybrid of crawling, leaping and swimming, and it did not do much for my foot. Finally my crippled self reached the serene area of the waterfall. A friend of mine described the place as “faerie land,” which were the most accurate pair of words one could use. It felt like a scene out of a fantasy film. The water was crisp and clean, and unfamiliar trees stretched as high as the eye could see. Heaps of people were gathered on the rocks and in the water, and I imagined that this would have been a more popular spot in the days before technology restricted us to the indoors. Though it was a struggle getting to and from the waterfall, it was positively worth it. 

The Not So Great Barrier Reef

If my mother could visit any place on the planet, she would choose and always has chosen the Great Barrier Reef. I feel guilty for stealing her dream, but I reached the Reef before she had a chance to. Hopefully some day she will forgive me.

It is hard for me to admit, however, that the GBR was somewhat of a disappointment. It is no longer the magnificent wonder that it was back when my parents were planning their honeymoon; of course it is still beautiful, but climate change has killed much of the aquatic life forms. Unfortunately the reef has lost large amounts of its color and richness, and I could tell with my own eyes.

The declining state of the reef was not the only upsetting factor of the day’s experience; the two-hour trip by boat to our reef spot of choice was unsettling to my stomach. The ocean and my stomach had much in common this day, as they both reeled and swayed. But when I was able to look past my nausea, some pretty wonderful things were right before me including clear blue water, endless coral and exotic fishes. It was bizarre to be out so far in the ocean, saddening to see one of the world’s wonders dying before my eyes, and humbling to see such an awesome natural structure up close. 

I was sure to tell my mother that she wasn’t missing much (almost entirely truthful) and bring her back some pieces of washed up coral. Both actions appeased her just enough. 

Tonka Trucks and Dingoes on a Sand Dune; or, Fraser Island

Australia is home to some of the most beautiful places on Earth, and I was lucky enough to visit several of these on my spring break tour up the coast from Brisbane to Cairns. The most beautiful of these sites, in my opinion, would have to be Fraser Island. Made entirely of sand, Fraser is the largest island off the eastern coast of Australia. Its unique structure lends to its fame; Fraser Island is the Katy Perry of Australian getaways.

To navigate the island requires transport by ferry and a vehicle equipped to function on sand.  The rest of the tour and I boarded three large black trucks of the strangest appearance; a friend of mine described them as “Tonka trucks.” We cruised up the shore of the island like tanks heading into war, but our destination was quite the opposite.

After turning inland away from the shore, we encountered a bumpy ride through a rainforest. Our amazing Tonka trucks navigated narrow paths, tree roots and ditches. Finally we arrived at Lake McKenzie, the most serene and surreal place I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. Since Fraser Island is essentially the world’s largest sand dune, Lake McKenzie’s water is crystal clear. Dingoes run rampant on the island, and it wasn’t before long that I saw a rusty-colored pair of pointed ears stick out past some trees. Those ears eventually found their way into a beachcomber’s bag and pulled out a sandwich, which caused quite a stir.

I don’t consider myself to be a beach person, but I loved Fraser Island intensely. I couldn’t imagine any type of person who would not enjoy the island, and if there were such a person I would never care to meet them.

Lake McKenzie

Driving Along the Beach

The Legacy of the Late Great Crocodile Hunter and Other Australian Staples

As someone whose childhood found its home in the 1990’s and early years of the new millennium, I spent a great deal of time learning about wildlife from the late Steve Irwin. The Crocodile Hunter was my first connection to Australian culture, and his pure enthusiasm (and ridiculous uniform) had a lasting impression on me. So when I found out that my spring break tour included a stop at the Australia Zoo (founded by Mr. Irwin), my inner child’s heart soared.

One of the first things I noticed about the zoo was just how strong Steve’s presence still is even though he has passed away. His picture and name are plastered all around the zoo, and I couldn’t help but be saddened by this. His family still works at the zoo, and the thought that they still have to see his face everyday made me think that it must be very hard for them.

Speaking of his family, I was lucky enough to see Terri, Bindi and Robert perform and feed crocodiles, and it was quite the thrilling experience. They ran out to pumped up rock and roll with the help of a fog machine; it might have seemed juvenile to others but my friends and I were ecstatic.

Next came the koalas and kangaroos. My friends and I jumped at he opportunity to take a souvenir photo holding a koala. I handed over the twenty dollars it cost to take the photo as if it were a five-cent napkin. I had been looking forward to holding a koala since I chose to study abroad in Australia. Though only about eight people were in line ahead of me, I could not wait. When the zookeeper finally placed the animal into my arms, I was surprised in two ways: by how heavy the little thing was and by how incredibly not soft he was. Still, my obnoxious smile in the resulting photo was entirely genuine.

Another surprise came in the form of the lacking security around the kangaroo section. You simply buy kangaroo food out of a vending machine (yes, a vending machine) and walk up to the kangaroos lounging around their field. There are no fences and no zookeepers watching over them. At first I was taken aback, but considering the fact that kangaroos are such commonplace animals to Australians the setup makes more sense.

We only spent about two and a half hours at the zoo, but this was plenty of time to check off a few items on a typical Australian must-do list.

Beautiful Brisbane

I suppose that it is atypical for one to have spent less than 24 hours total at their favorite travel destination, but this is true for me. Although I was only in Brisbane for such a short stay, the city exceeded my expectations. We arrived in the afternoon and would leave the next morning to start our spring break tour, so I had not anticipated gaining much from the city. Later that night while we were walking around, an overwhelming feeling that I was home swept over me. It reminded me of New York City in the late spring, only cleaner and slightly more relaxed; a crowd gathered around a street artist as he created impossibly striking pieces from spray paint, happy people conversed over drinks at an outdoor bar, and the music of Cat Stevens played through city speakers. In this moment, I couldn’t help but repeat to myself, “I love this city.”

We spent the few hours we had of sunlight at a man-made beach on the edge of the river; it reminded me of the lazy river part of a water park. After dinner we sat at the edge of the river and watched a magnificent light show that utilized the river as a sort of canvas. I was sad to leave Brisbane in the morning, for I could tell that it was the sort of city I could gain so much from. I wanted to squeeze all of the life out of the city and absorb everything I could, but my time limit did not permit for such a pleasure. Hopefully at some point in my life I will be able to return and gain all that I can from Brisbane.

What You Didn't Know About The Outback

Imagine, if you will, a vast dry landscape that unravels itself in front of you. Areas of cracked, brick-red earth and light, loose sand are also met by mass quantities of patchy, green shrubbery—though it is not the rich kind that produces morning dew or attracts pollinating butterflies. These plants are just as dry as the land they grow from, and their brittle appearance provokes within you urges to water them, as well as a terrible thirst for a tall glass of water. The land is largely flat, though there are a great number of sizable hills that require stamina and perseverance to climb. This dessert boasts the largest wild camel population on the planet, and you encounter a number of road signs that warn of their presence.

It might come as a shock to many that the aforementioned place is not located in the Middle East or Northern Africa but right in the heart of lovely Australia. Oz (as it is frequently referred to in an effort of abbreviation) is the planet’s driest inhabited continent. The entire center of the country is not farmable and lacks water sources, making it practically inhabitable—hence the entirely coastal population with upwards of eighty percent of Australians living within fifty kilometers of the coast. And yes, although camels are not native to the land, there are over a million wild camels in Oz.

Welcome to the Outback, the place known to many but understood by few. I was graced with the opportunity to visit the great Australian Bush (named after those dry green shrubs) as part of a class trip. Our outback location of choice was Broken Hill, a once-great mining city turned desolate town surrounded by nothing, the residents of which are mainly descendants of the miners who just have no desire to leave. Broken Hill is the closest bona fide outback area to Melbourne, and it requires a 12-hour drive each way.

This trip might sound like a bore, but it was actually a great deal of fun. My friends and I climbed down into one of the old mines (which was actually quite difficult and claustrophobia-inducing), rode camels, visited an old aboriginal territory and watched the sun set over the sprawling bush. I saw wild camels, wild kangaroos, and wild emus. It was one of the places I least expected to visit in my lifetime, and the fact that I did makes me feel accomplished.  Though I cannot imagine living in the outback, the experience of my visit was incredibly unique and, for lack of a better term, pretty darn cool.

P.S.- We turned about four kangaroos into road kill with our bus over the course of the trip, something that greatly disturbed us students but did not seem to faze the bus driver in the slightest. Apparently kangaroos are the equivalent to the American squirrel, though I will argue that kangaroos are indubitably cuter.

About Australians

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Australians in my past few months of residency here, it is that they are proud of their country. But while they are proud of their accomplishments, they are also aware of their faults, including the mistreatment of Aborigines from the earliest British settlements up until the 1970’s. Aboriginal studies have played a large part in my college curriculum here at Monash, and I find it to be a noble feature of Australian society that they not only no longer attempt to hide the injustices done to their indigenous peoples, but they in fact bring the subject to light. This is the sign of a country trying to come to grips with their mistakes in an effort to reconcile and move forward.

At first, I had thought that the Aboriginal segment of Australian history was unique and enthralling, but then it struck me that my own country also had a history of mistreating its indigenous population. What saddens me is the fact that I have learned much more about the Australian Aborigines in the past four months than I have about the Native Americans in all my years of American schooling. Perhaps this suggests the difference between where these issues lie in the respective countries’ contemporary societal issues.

Another issue that Aussies see as important is making clear exactly who they are. Upon our first few days in Australia, they made sure we were aware that they were not all like Steve Irwin, Crocodile Dundee or Barry McKenzie. They were not Britain’s little sister or the delinquent descendants of prisoners. They don’t all know how to throw a boomerang, and not every Australian citizen has held a koala. Australia is in fact one of the world’s most urbanized countries, and most Australians are no different than the average American (apart from the difference in accent). This struggle to convey an accurate national image is one that this country faces, but I hope that through my blog I may make it known to more than a few people.

Surprises and Such on the Great Ocean Road

On our arrival to Melbourne in the beginning of July, we Loyola students received an envelope containing mailbox information, bus passes, and among other things, a ticket to an included two-day trip to the Great Ocean Road. We did not know how many other students would be attending or what the trip even entailed. After Googling the place, I made the educated guess that we would be taken to some pretty cliffs where we could snap some cliché pictures to send home to Mom and Dad and maybe do some souvenir shopping.

At eight o’ clock on a Saturday morning we all gathered in the residence halls parking lot to find a very small bus—or rather a glorified van—waiting for us. It then came to be known that there would be no other Monash students joining us on this trip. Once we were all on board, our tour guide Jai welcomed us. He was a curiously handsome young man with unique features: wide-set squinty eyes, a cleft chin, tan skin and short dark hair. Jai began to tell us, “Once we get down to the beach in about an hour we’ll start our surf lesson—“ and then I panicked. Excuse me? You want me to get in the ocean right now? I was wearing jeans, a fleece jacket and boots; it was winter, for crying out loud, and I had certainly not packed a bathing suit. But, as everyone else was excited to surf, I too pretended to look forward to the frigid conditions and wet dog appearance I was sure to adopt.

Mid-winter in Melbourne is no time for a swim. By the time we were on the beach, head to toe in black wetsuits, the sky was a cool grey to the north and brightened up towards the south. Rolling white puffs streaked through and created and interesting contrast. Still, focus needed to be directed to the sprawling ocean. This section of beach sat beneath towering cliffs of rock and green flora. The dull, tan sand faded under the surface of the dark water.

Glassy and green, the ocean’s predictable waves crashed in a repetitive pattern.  Pale foam rushed the shore and then fizzled out, though by now it was clear that it would rush up again. The water’s most striking feature, however, was its lung-crushing temperature; it was the kind of cold that almost feels hot and causes the body to ache, air to escape from the lips, and finally to create numbness throughout.

As long as I was already cold and wet, I decided to try to surf as well as I could, but to no avail. I continuously flopped off of my board and into the water with several successful attempts at boogie boarding. My peers were whizzing by me left and right, but I was unable to replicate them.

When the surf lesson was done and I had taken nearly eight minutes just to peel the wet suit off of my body, I was not as grumpy as I had imagined I would be. Though I was physically uncomfortable and tired, I could at least say that I had surfed in Australia (or at least tried to), and what a great story that would be to tell the grandkids. 

A Very Sydney Weekend

No trip to Australia is complete without a stop in the country’s most prominent city, Sydney. I learned this at an early age thanks to Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s film Our Lips Are Sealed, which is jam-packed with kangaroo household pets, vegemite initiations and other Aussie stereotypes. What the film failed to mention, however, is what an interesting and historically rich city Sydney actually is. Thanks for nothing, girls.

 This weekend excursion actually counted as a class trip, though to my dismay we had to pay for our own plane tickets. We arrived as a group of about fifteen on a Thursday afternoon, and we were off to a rocky start. None of us had ever encountered a hostel before, so the dingy, unattractive style of our outdated rooms, clad in questionable bunk beds and peeling wallpaper was unsettling to us all, to say the least. But, we were determined to make the most of the weekend, so we dropped our bags in our ghastly hostel and headed out to explore.

We were quickly met with another challenge: Sydney’s weather was unforgiving, consisting of rain and dark clouds for the majority of our time spent in the city. August is typically a time for hot sun and beach days for a New Jersey resident, but winter in Australia is contrarily accompanied by cold rain. Luckily, not everyone minded the weather; as my friends and I turned the corner to walk up a city street, we came across a large patch of grass covered with wild cockatoos. I had previously thought that these majestic white birds with yellow-crested headpieces could only be found in pet stores, but to see these beautiful creatures flying about the city of Sydney (where I perhaps least expected to find them) was an experience all its own.

The next day—a rainy one of course—we met our professor at Circular Quay station for a walking tour of the city. Our tour guide was Sarah, a quirky older woman with a bland grey bob of hair and a bright red trench coat that I assume she wore in prevention of the group misplacing her. In her lispy Australian accent, she taught us that Sydney was the first British settlement, showed us some of the city’s oldest standing buildings, and even brought us to Sydney’s oldest pub where we conveniently ended the tour.

We had all day Saturday to ourselves, which we filled with shopping, eating, and a visit to Australia’s most famous beach, Bondi. That night, we walked around Darling Harbour, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was back in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, only a more grandiose version. There were restaurants on the water’s edge, bright lights reflecting off of the helms of many boats, and the skyline in the background. I absorbed this moment as feelings of both homesickness and pleasure in my current place filled me. Unfortunately, as all good things must end, early the next morning it was time to board a plane back to Dry Toast Township.

P.S. Don't think I forgot to take an embarrassing picture in front of the Opera House. What kind of tourist would I be if I had done such a thing?

Life at Monash

I want my blog to serve as a resource for other students that may consider studying abroad in Australia, specifically in Melbourne and at Monash University. Therefore I must not solely focus on the exciting trips and the positive aspects of this experience, but I must encompass a variety of pros and cons that cross my path. Now, let me preface this by expressing just how much I love the country of Australia; the people are warm, often outlandish, and this creates a unique and stimulating environment in which to learn and grow. However, I have found that Monash University exists outside of this unique environment, or rather inside of its own mundane bubble within said environment.

Monash is located in a suburb called Clayton, and to get to the city of Melbourne requires a bus, a train and forty-five minutes of boredom. Saying that we study in Melbourne is like saying you live in Manhattan but really live on the east side of Long Island; it is most certainly not the same place. There is nothing immediately outside of campus with the exception of industrial warehouses and a McDonald’s, or “Macka’s” as the Aussies call it. Over 27,000 students study at Monash Clayton, but there are only five residence halls, leading it to be quite the commuter school. This leaves little fun to be had on campus, requiring my friends and I to venture out to the city for any sort of worthwhile experience.

Though it might sound as though I have been complaining up until this point, the blandness of life at Monash may serve as a blessing in disguise, for if it was as much fun as I had hoped it would be, I may have never left. Monash University is the dry toast of the breakfast buffet that is the beautiful country of Australia, and sometimes you need dry toast just to realize how delicious everything else is.