Australian Wildlife: Penguins and The Roo

What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Australia? The Kangaroo. 

our Roo friend

Endemic to Australia, these marsupials live what appears to be a pretty great Aussie life. They get to hop around through the bush all day and are found extremely exotic to those who live off the continent. Portrayed as kind and lovable through the cartoon Kanga and Roo in Winnie the Pooh, it is not uncommon to have the desire to envelop them in a cuddly hug. However, that is unadvisable because they pack a wicked punch and have extremely powerful hind legs. 

Even though I was forewarned that because my University is in the suburbs of one of the largest Australian city there would not be kangaroos running through campus, I was still a little disappointed not to have one greet me at the airport. My obsession with finding one grew as they taunted me on the one dollar coin, in the media advertising, and upon finding out that I would be missing a chance to see them at the Healesville Sanctuary for a trip to Sydney. Being in Australia has felt so incredibly unreal that I knew when I saw a kangaroo the enormity of the trip I was on would finally hit me. 

me with the Kangaroos

So when the chance to spend a Saturday at the Melbourne Zoo came about, I jumped on the opportunity.

After taking the wrong bus, sitting on a train for over an hour, and wandering through a poorly laid out zoo in the pouring down rain, reaching the kangaroo pen was like finding the prize at the end of a particularly unflavorful cereal. 

We entered the pen and was immediately greeted with an emu making its way along the  path with the other human guests of the zoo. The enclosures in the pen were no more than a simple log fence, with no wire or ability to restrain any animals, so they made their way as freely as the guests. The emu’s massive body, long neck, pointy beak, and beady red eyes did inspire some fear as it stared into my soul and made its way directly for me, only to divert its path at the last second. 

However we soon reached the kangaroos and all the perils of the day were gone as a brief ray of sunshine shone and we waited patiently for the annoying teenagers to leave and the roos to come out and play. And come out and play they did. One smaller guy seemed to take a particular interest with us and got close enough to touch and take pictures with. Unwilling to turn my back on the creature, I did not get a picture taken with it, but did get to touch its fur quickly before backing up and pretending I didn’t just violate it’s personal space. 

 kids the kangaroo almost punched

Others were much bolder with their endeavors to befriend the creatures; especially a group of young children who got so close the roo raised up to its full height and I was sure it was going to punch the plucky young kid right in his chubby gut. But of course, the roos seemed to enjoy the attention and hopped about happily unafraid of confrontation. 

It struck me how a place like this could never exist in America as there would always be security guards telling you not to touch for fear that one animal could be provoked and would attack, resulting in a nasty lawsuit for the zoo. 

Extremely pleased with the day, I finally felt content with Australia. They had not disappointed me yet. 

The next weekend we went to see another important part of the Australian wildlife, the penguins of Philip Island. 

These little guys, no bigger than the seagulls who stood fearless and proud on the beach as if we were there to see them, tumbled out of the surf, waddled a little farther along only to be swept up by the next wave and drawn back into the ocean. After their struggle against nature they battled the line of seagulls blocking them from the dry land where their homes and food lay. The group of five or six little penguins formed a single file line and darted for land like a group of nerdy high school students making their way through the halls dodging the jock bullies. Luckily they all made it home safely, avoiding whatever the wildlife equivalent of being stuffed in a locker is. 

As awed by cuteness as everyone was with these unique little penguins, we all still leapt into a frenzy at the sighting of a wild kangaroo. Outside of the bus window, if you looked hard enough, one or two could be seen standing in the tall grass watching carefully. On the way out of the penguin center a wild wallaby stood grazing on a tree planted for the walk into the center. We all stopped and tried to take a picture as close as we dared, toying with the possibility of using a flash for fear of scaring it away. 

On the way home, before falling into a deep slumber, I realized that these moments of pure happiness have hit me at the weirdest of times. Sitting in a basement on St. Patrick’s day debating what game to play, on the bus gazing at the familiar-feeling countryside pass with movie soundtrack-like music playing, walking back from class alone on a nice day, falling asleep soaking in the sun when visiting the beach for the first time, getting lost in the vibrant stars; these moments are not ones to write home about, but will been the ones I remember most because for me they are the kangaroo: my wildest expectations of this Australian experience come into fruition in ways better than I could have ever predicted. 

Carol with the Kangaroo

Sam with the Kangaroo

In the Land of Sunshine

When I asked previous participants of the Australia trip about what there is to do and see around Melbourne, I always was told of the graffiti walls. 

In my past experiences graffiti was the crude messages splayed across overpasses or on the sides of old buildings that criminals doing required community service scrubbed off. It was not something you went out of your way to see and admire. 

However, after arriving in Melbourne, I began to see the differences in their graffiti. One, there was a lot more of it. Two, it wasn’t offensive and didn’t devalue the area it was in. The graffiti was interesting, colorful, and invited the eye to try to decipher its meaning. Just riding the train from the suburbs into the city you are able to see walls painted in these modern hieroglyphics all along the way. Walking around a popular beach town the cement walls and wooden fences are tagged and decorated. I get the feeling that the removal of the graffiti is not on the top of the city’s priorities and that it does not have the same connotations to the people here as it does in the States. 

So one saturday as we were looking for a cheap but fun activity to do we decided to find these graffiti walls we had heard so much about. Shortly after arriving in the city we walked down a nearby street and immediately recognized the sly, knowing smile of the Joker from Batman spray painted on a dark cement wall. I could not believe that I had been on this street several times before and had never noticed the large white face staring at me until I began to look for it. 

We turned down the once ominous alleyway and entered a world of color.  Instead of the dingy, prison-cell, cement gray walls and abandoned, boarded up windows, this hidden gem of an alley exploded with the designs and dreams of street artists in vibrant color. Large murals covered the walls requiring a step back in order to take in the full grandeur while small details scribbled in window sills and crevices needed to be examined up close to appreciate their value.

Traffic cone orange, bubblegum pink, electric blue, and race car red designed geometrical patterns on one wall while the other was inscribed with inspirational and thought-provoking quotes framed in the blues of the Greek Islands. Distorted faces expressing fear and pain and joyful faces pouring love from their eyes watched as you made your way through their home.

Every inch was covered by beautiful depictions of  Indian elephants, ferocious lions, oriental fish, and dragons; comical images of the monopoly man, garden gnomes, sleeping beauty, Frankenstein, and buzz lightyear painting the words “toys will be toys”; paper posters of quotes were placed saying things like: “Welcome, you have nothing to fear” and “I don’t love you”; small doodles of cheeseburgers and hearts; more prominent quotes painted and framed in shades of blue said: “They’re not mad at you babe. They’re mad at the world” and “You look terrific babe” and You + Me wont be unhappy” and “could be worse, could be raining”; colorful bubble letters of names and slogans I couldn’t decipher. 

Stamped on a manhole cover on the ground was the slogan: “Land of Sunshine” which made me smile are realize how special and unique this whole city is. What was once crude acts of vandalism, they have been transformed into a powerful works of art.

Sydney

doing something “cultural,” not wasting a minute, and visiting a major tourist site. 

Only 11 days into my Australian adventure and I was already on a bus on my way to Sydney.  The previous days had been packed with excursions around Melbourne, from visiting the beach and the mall, signing up for clubs on campus, exploring the city on multiple occasions including an Ice bar, sky deck, beer garden, casino, and a few other evening festivities, I was already getting a good feel for the city in which I was going to spend the next few months. Now, embarking on a 12-hour bus ride to Sydney, the second great Australian city (a rivalry exists between Melbourne and Sydney for the title of greatest and having been dubbed a "Melbournite" I have to agree with its superiority), I was thrilled to be experiencing so much in the first two weeks of my great adventure. 

My initial thrills were frozen during the overnight ride on an uncomfortable bus with the AC blasting. My first impression of Sydney was the hostel where we stayed. The welcome room was covered in colorful streamers and chalk designs, a means of distraction from the cockroach in the corner and green stagnant fish tank. We left our luggage in a crowded basement room that was covered in warning signs not to leave our valuables there. I was more concerned with the questionable red liquid dripping from a raw-meat-like substance inside a grocery bag onto the floor and surrounded by flies. The bathrooms were worse (if possible), the showers were covered in slimy water and hair, the faucets barely worked, and the sinks were stained a variety of colors. Luckily the bedroom smelled fresh, so either it had just been cleaned or they use some good Lysol spray. 

Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge

Excitement was not reignited upon our arrival in the great Harbour City as it quite literally rained on our parade through the city tour. Because I am a simple American tourist, I forgot that it actually could be cold in Australia and neglected to bring any pants on the trip resulting in goosebumps and frozen legs for most of the adventures. Needless to say, I now understand that if rainy and 65 degrees means cold at home, it means the same thing in Australia. 

View from top of the Pylon

After a walk through the botanical gardens and an old church, we reached the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge. Seeing the iconic sights made me appreciate how lucky I was to be here experiencing a classic Australian moment. Climbing the pylon of the Harbour Bridge I was able to see what felt like all of Sydney even through the haze and foggy weather. I was on top of the bottom of the world, and the thrill of the journey had finally returned. 

Harbour at Night

The rest of the day was spent finding our way back to the hostel and spending the evening on a cruise around the harbour. At the end of the night being lost and trying to find our way back to the hostel did not bother me as much as it should have because I was so happy to be in this cool city and had a feeling of peace that everything would work out alright; and it did. 

Blue Mountains

The next day we took a hike through the Blue Mountains to see the Sister Rocks. Although there was more rain and mud, the sights were still amazing. It can be compared to the scale of the Grand Canyon in Arizona, but with lush green forests and trees rather than dry, dead, deserts surrounding. Walking down the steep, slippery steps to touch the rock was very frightful for someone with a history of falling down, but the luck from the rock guided me back up safely. Wishing it was nicer out so we could hike farther, we were forced back to the bus for the ride back to the hostel we had come to call home. 

That night we took part in the cultural experience of Sydney's Mardi Gras. Unlike Mardi Gras in America, the event was focused on a gay parade of celebration. Watching floats go by with members of the military, police force, lifeguards, local schools and clubs, all show support for the gay community made me love how the culture in Australia is much more accepting than in America. In America, this parade would have been a fight for rights, defending differences; in Australia, it was a celebration of differences. 

Shelly Beach, Sydney

The final day of the adventure was spent on a variety of beaches, absorbing the sights of beautiful beaches and the long awaited sun rays. First seeing Manly Beach and Shelly Beach we were able to test the waters (overcoming fears of jelly fish and other sea life) and watch the surfers fight for waves. Next, we walked from Bronte to Bondi beach, and sights along the mile walk was worth the entire trip. Every shade of blue was visible from the bright tops of the waves, to the dark deeper waters, to the sky blues extending forever along the horizon. Wisps of clouds mirrored the white breaks of the waves, as sunbathers dotted the shoreline and surfers caught some waves. We walked above them all on a cliff walk, snapping pictures every few feet in an attempt to captures the feelings of awe of nature in a permanent way. 

Bondi Beach, Sydney

Heading to the bus at the end of the day a double rainbow spread across the sea posing a perfect ending to a packed weekend in Australia's second greatest city. 

My hour as an astrophysicist

Arriving home at 6:30am off a 12 hour bus ride from Sydney gave me little time to prepare for my first class of the semester beginning at 9am. I was already a little nervous about starting classes in a foreign country, then add the fear of being in a science class after having exclusively english/writing based classes for a year, and the lack of sleep, and you can begin to understand the fragile mental state I was starting the year on. 

I arrived early and sat outside the science lecture hall ready for Intro to Astrology: Earth to Cosmos. As I debated whether or not to make friends with people in a class I was 70% sure I was dropping, I ended up just listening to conversations. Still enthralled by the accents, I was absorbed in conversations I was not a part of until I heard the wordastrophysics dropped consistently. 

My heart began to race and it suddenly dawned on me that this was not the “let’s look at star constellations and how the earth spins” Intro to the Universe course taught at Loyola, but a “let’s study dark matter, how and why galaxies form, and string theory” first step in the astrophysics track course. 

As people finished their conversations about the pains of organic and molecular chemistry and how they really weren’t even good at calculus and actually despised their anatomy class, I began the emails to drop the class. 

However it was too late for me to leave the lecture hall and so I remained for the class, curious for a glimpse into the world of intellectual science-minded people. The professor had Irish/Scottish accent, was skinny, pale, light-haired, and wore light colored clothing, pretty much what you could expect someone who has spent most of their days in a tower observing stars to look like. It only took him 4 minutes to make the obligatory Big Bang Theory TV show joke. It was very well received, probably because these students actually understand what they are talking about half of the time on the show unlike the rest of us who laugh at Sheldon’s social awkwardness instead of the science jokes we know are in there but just don’t understand. 

He began with an overview of the course, putting up pictures of splotches and blobs, dots and bubbles that were all supposed to be galaxies but would forever remain a child’s work of fingerpaint art to me. He said he knows that this isn’t a math/science major course, but calculus was needed: I didn’t make it past pre-calc junior year of high school and I’m pretty sure my scientific calculator is still in my locker. I knew my only chance to ever participate in the class was to answer the question what is plagiarism? as my years of english education had engrained in me the perils of plagiarism. 

At one point we had to turn to our partner and try to figure out how fast a lightyear is. She was stumped on how to convert meters into years, I was stumped on how to convert yards into meters and what a light year actually was. I laughed and tried to explain that I was dropping the class because it was different than at home. She looked at me and asked “astrophysics?” because how could something so scientific be different across the world? I said that the course at home is about looking at constellations and how the earth spins and then I laughed at myself because the idea that I was in an astrophysics class was an absolutely hilarious joke that nobody else could possibly understand. 

So because I was unwilling to spend the required 10-12 hours a week learning the inner workings of the universe I will never really know what a light year is. I still can’t answer “off the top of my head” the question“how old the universe is?” even though the response was given in class. And I will never know the answer to the cliffhanger question“are there more collisions between stars and stars or galaxies and galaxies?” 

In conclusion, to quote the astrologist professor, “the best way to learn is through physical pain,” and from that physically painful hour class I have learned that that hour I will be the only hour I ever spend as an astrophysicist.