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. 

Queen Victoria Market: “eat authentic food”

On most mornings, the Queen Victoria Market is a hub of Australian fare; offering a wide selection of local fruits, vegetables, meats, fish, delicatessens, and handmade gifts. But on summer wednesday nights it becomes the UN of food, a meeting place for vendors of every tradition to celebrate their favorite dishes.  

Banjo's BBQ and Menu

As soon as you step into the open air market you are hit with a wall of smells. They make your mouth water and stomach growl, even if you were full before arrival. Big signs advertising signature meals catch your eye and the small fractions of your heritage are sparked alive at the sight of a dish your grandmother used to make. It is impossible to identify what you are smelling, as the vapors from each booth are in a constant competition to be the strongest and win the favor of your stomach. The combination of smells from food around the world combine into something magical and you think: this is what peace smells like. 

Deciding what to eat is a challenge; as soon as you are set on the Mexican stand, hear the sizzling of the German sausages, then you catch a glimpse of a spicy looking rice dish on the biggest frying pan you have ever seen, then the Polish pierogies and Asian dumplings make you think you want something doughy, until the Lebanese and South African stands make you want to try something different, then someone walks by with fried potato circles on a stick and you need to find those, the stick reminds you of Greek kabobs, the Greeks want to give you lamb, and then you see the big sign that says Emu! Croc! Roo! and you know you’ve made your decision. So when in Australia...you eat the kangaroo. 

Roo Burger

The juicy burger is grilled right in front of you, along with some sausages and other bits of meat that you don’t ask about. You order the Roo Burger with confidence (and a diet coke, just in case), forgo the sauce in order to get the full flavor, and wait with anticipation. Upon arrival it looks harmless, like any other burger. Because you can’t find a seat in the crowd, you stand off to the side (trash can near by) and take the leap. On first bite it tastes like all the other burgers you’ve had before, then you sense its a little bit sweeter, a little chewier and tougher, cooked to perfection, and actually quite good. It just similar enough to not startle you, but different enough to enjoy the change of flavor. You continue to eat, trying to identify exactly what is different (and not picture the beloved Winnie the Pooh characters Kanga and Roo), and by the time you’re done you’re glad you ate it and think you might even want to do it again sometime. 

The Queen Victoria Market also has to be one of the best places to people watch in the world. Couples of all shapes, sizes, and genders stroll hand-in-hand, sipping drinks, trying each other’s food, and looking extremely happy just to be together. After absorbing all the different faces around you, you close your eyes for a second and listen. All the skin colors and eye shapes, body types and hair styles have disappeared and you hear one accent. Australians may look very different from each other, but they all sound the same. They are Australian. They are accepting of all, encouraging of the differences, and proud of who they are. 

Queen Victoria Market summer nights capture the very best parts of the world and allows you to experience them all at once. Amidst the chaos of the crowd, you feel a sense of peace, happiness, and appreciation for the diverse world we live in. 

Melbourne City night

"Saint" Kilda

In February of 1841 the schooner the Lady of St. Kilda harbored in one of Melbourne’s suburbs: Port Philip. The area was soon named after the ship and became a popular Melbourne beach destination with an eclectic crowd. 

On a hot day 172 years later the small stretch of sand quickly became dotted with blankets, bathing suits, and dogs running through the shallow waters. The crowd is a mix of locals and tourists all looking forward to the calm, refreshing water. And after one hour and two busses later, our group was ready to join in the fun. 

Coming from a continent where there is snow on the ground and the average temperatures are currently in the low 50s, being on a beach in 90 degree weather was unreal. After laying out our towels, taking pictures, jumping in the water, and lying down to soak up the much needed sun, we all reflected on how amazing it was to be there. We all agreed this was one of the happiest moments in our young lives and we cannot imagine a better place to have come to live for the next 4 months. 

A little while later a friend and I went for a walk along the water and to explore a pier on the other side of the beach. We walked in our bikinis, enjoying the water and people watching, listening to the local accents and soaking up the culture like the sun. As we walked along the pier we watched jet skiers fly by and became enthralled with a man using a water jet pack to propel himself into the air. We were soon interrupted by an older gentleman walking in the opposite direction who pointed at us and told us, “It is called Saint Kilda for a reason. Saint Kilda, it’s religious,” insinuating that walking along the pier in our bathing suits was inappropriate. His friend than told him that we were obviously not from here. 

Even though there is actually no Saint Kilda (the beach was named after the ship, which was named in honor of Lady Grange who was imprisoned by her husband on the largest island in the St. Kilda archipelago on the western shore of Scotland) we were very taken aback by this accusation. We were immediately embarrassed, turning around and heading back to the beach where everyone else was similarly dressed. On the way back we looked for signs saying no bathing suits allowed, but could not find any and came to the conclusion that maybe the culture is a little more different from our own than we had initially believed. 

We also came to realize the reputation Americans carry in other parts of the world. 

This was not the only instance we received different treatment for being Americans. As a group of us tried to enter a club with American passports a $12 cover charge suddenly appeared following the comment, “oh you’re from America?” Another bouncer gave us a history lesson on how the money America received from selling their gold when they changed currency tenders went to support the Nazi party in Germany. And I can not even count the times people have immediately known we were from Loyola after saying we were from the States because of the reputation past Loyola students have left. 

So while the general population of Australians have been extremely welcoming to us as guests in their country and interested in the culture we come from, some have their judgements and are not willing to change. Now it is our responsibility to not confirm their opinions, but work to help them see Americans in a better light.

First Impressions

Fearless bugs. Quiet beaches. An endless city. The accent that has both the sophistication of the British and the laid back attitude of the American South. Unpredictable and frequently changing weather (but mostly pretty damn hot). And the nicest people you will ever meet.

 Australia is a complex and unique place. It is the largest island and the smallest continent. They have a culture that is not entirely their own; borrowing bits and pieces from all over the world and putting their own spin on it to form something “Australian.” And what they have created is amazing. 

In my short time here I have already come to 

feel at home. Melbourne is a place with an endless amount of entertainment, from a different pub on every corner to the museums and arts festivals, from the sandy beaches with refreshing water to the clean city streets lined with shops and churches--I don’t think I will ever be bored here. The people are the nicest I have ever met. They apologize when you bump into them, offer directions when you appear lost, introduce themselves on elevators; even their street signs and trash cans are polite saying “give way” instead of yield and “rubbish please” instead of trash. The graffiti says “smile” instead of obscenities.

City at Night from SkyDeck view

Walking around the city, swimming in the water, riding the tram, and even just sitting at a picnic table on campus I am overwhelmed with the promise of adventure. I feel my throat close and the threat of tears come as I realize how happy I am to just be apart of this amazing place, even if it is just for a short while. 

Adventure is out there!

This last week before my departure I have had a lot of mixed feelings. Nerves about leaving, fear of forgetting important items or my luggage being too heavy, excitement about everything I am going to experience, and anticipation, just being ready to finally go. I think by this point I truly am ready. Now that my “to do before I go” list is complete, I’ve decided to make a “to do abroad” list. Just a general outline of the things I would like to accomplish in order to make the most of this once in a lifetime experience. 

To Do Abroad:

-do something that scares me

-eat authentic food 

-make a new friend

-meet someone interesting

-do something “cultural” 

-learn something

-see and experience as much as I possibly can

-don’t waste a minute

-write about it all

Making lists has always helped me feel calm about any major task ahead of me. However, this one has made me more excited and ready to leave. I know the waves of nerves and fear and anticipation will still come and go, even long after I arrive in the land “Down Under,” but there is one silly thing that has kept reminding me to be excited. When I think of all the adventures I am about to have, all I hear is the voice of little Ellie from the Disney Pixar movie UP saying: “Adventure is Out There!” It reminds me of how as a kid everything is an adventure, and that is how I want to view this semester: one big adventure.