“A new world calls across the ocean… a new world waits for my reply… a new world, louder every moment… time to fly- time to fly”
A wave of loneliness washed over me as I spent my first Friday night in a foreign country alone. I gave myself little wiggle room in the expectancy to make new friends and start my adventures. I was upset I didn’t have 17 new friends who wanted to go out with me, regardless of the fact that it was my second day in this new world. And a new world it is!
After wallowing in self-pity for a night, I woke up early Saturday and decided to explore a little on my own. The area around campus is bustling with activity on the main drag “Glenferrie Street”. Shop after little shop, boutiques, countless numbers of coffee stops and pastry kitchens. Too many bakeries to count! And so many people… just swerving in and out of each other in a beautiful waltz. I was very proud of my awareness and assimilation as I remembered to walk on the left side of the sidewalk when passing others. I took myself down side streets and through the suburbs that surround campus. Every house has some sort of intricate detail in the architecture- I can’t help but stare (an obvious tourist). Almost every home has a gated fence to walk through, a faux sense of privacy- seeing as the houses are literally spaced a mere few feet apart. Fruit trees hang over the sidewalk and the crows (which sound much different from the crows back home) squawk, annoyed with my presence. I walked for almost two hours- and managed not to get lost (another feat I hold pride in). Just a simple act of exploring opened my eyes up to the world of which I am now a part.
Saturday night was another night of firsts. I bought alcohol for the first time- and didn’t even get carded! I was so nervous I forced my fabulous roommate to accompany me- she laughed at my butterflies, but was sympathetic and patient. I went over to a friend’s apartment where a bunch of international students were. I met a number of new faces- and by the time we headed to the pub (at the early hour of 9pm!) we had a crew of about 20- most international, but a few Aussie tour guides we had recruited. We had a great time at The Hawthorn—three girls and I decided to play pool (of which none of us can do very well) and they had a live band along with a DJ and dance floor. Too bad we started so early- two of the girls and I headed home around 11pm—apparently we need to work on keeping up with the Aussies!
Today (Sunday) was a glorious day of exploring downtown Melbourne. With my roommate as my tour guide, we jumped on the train and headed into the city. She showed me an adorable side street filled with cafes on either side- and down the middle rows of umbrella covered tables to sit, people watch, and drink coffee. And what I’ve forgotten to mention is how absolutely stunning the city truly is. Just stepping out from the train station, the architecture and diversity is overwhelming. Immense churches loom over you as you walk on the sidewalk, like a protective shield- and yet then you turn a corner and are the midst of a gigantic shopping center. It’s utterly incredible.
Millie and I walked through Federation Square to investigate the Tim Burton exhibit that is being shown. The art and artifacts in the exhibition were simply breathtaking—there was so much information about his life, his history, his art, and his mind. Millie and I have decided we need to have a Tim Burton movie marathon very soon.
Another thing that is crazy in this “new world” is the weather! Raining buckets (or as Millie says… “pissing rain”) this morning, opening up to a blue sky and shining sun, a mid-city exploration drizzle, and hail by the time we got back to Hawthorn (the suburb in which I am living).
I’m getting the hang of things, even if it is a slow process. I have yet to take a single picture (whoops), but I know I will soon! I have the start of orientation tomorrow, so that will certainly be an experience and hopefully I will meet more people and get to know the campus, the city, and the Australian atmosphere a little bit better day by day.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Horse Races- A New Brain
"And their off... and they move in a herd, like a four letter word... and their off"
I was promptly turned away from the Red Carpet Club as I meandered in through the concourse. Which, I suppose, is a toast to myself- I don’t come off as the lonely, lost little girl that I fear I appear. Instead, I must show off (at least a slight) air of confidence, or else I would hope that the mean old lady behind the nice wooden desk would have taken a little sympathy upon me. So instead, I tried to make my way through the United terminal and finally found myself posted up against a wall where I could people watch (my favorite to watch being a little girl, not more than a year or so, tottering away from her parents at every chance, running into people and fearlessly exclaiming “Hi!” at each of them, giggling, and moving on to her next victim—my Dad made the forecast that this adorable, bite-sized, little piece of heaven would soon be a screaming baby on my plane- and, like most times, he was right. The adorable, bite-sized, screaming banchee sat directly behind me and I continued to receive fairly constant abuse via the back of my chair) and plug in my computer for some quality Skype time with Mom and Dad. Not too long after I found my spot, I had a companion.
Matt had quickly and madly fallen in love with the girl he had driven out to L.A. They had taken a road trip from Virginia Beach where he is a bartender and she was a waitress—she needed to get away and L.A. was her pick. She broke up with her boyfriend and left her job, friends, and any life she had to move out to Cali, where the only person she knows is her brother. He detailed their love affair, leaving out most details (thankfully), but I couldn’t help but “ooh” and “ahh” at their story and feel a little twinge at their necessary split. Although, he did hint at a possible move of his own. I never nabbed his last name, so I can’t keep tabs via Facebook, but I wish him (and her) all the best.
Aside from the tiny terror seated behind me, the flight wasn’t all bad—simply long. I did manage to meet a very nice woman originally from Phoenix who, six years ago, married an Australian man (whom she met on a Christian dating website) and moved a few hours north of Melbourne. A total doll, she gave me tips on living in Australia and even gave me her card if I ever “needed some American support”. Downright adorable.
We were supposed to stop off in Sydney before heading to Melbourne, but the fog at 5am was too dense and we were sent straight to Melbourne. For a while the airline told us customs would not let us deboard in Melbourne- instead we were simply there to refuel and we would have to sail back to Sydney, only to be taken again to Melbourne’s airport. That illogical situation did not happen, thankfully. Instead, we simply sat at Melbourne Airport for three or four hours waiting for something, anything, to happen. Eventually it was announced the Sydney flight was cancelled and all the passengers would be getting off in Melbourne. I silently cheered, even though I did pity the Sydney passengers who were left to find alternate flights to their destinations.
By this time it was around 9 am Australian time. I was picked up by the complimentary airport service and had to wait about three hours to actually get picked up. There were about 10 of us who were driven to our residences. The driver decided to drop me off at the wrong building and I spent a good 15 minutes hauling my luggage from place to place trying to find where to check in (it was a grand old time).
But here I am. “Home” for the next few months. My closet is empty, the immense desk is empty (save for a few books), and my bedding is lavender and maroon (the only colors in my bed size that I could find on such short notice). The room echoes it is so empty, but I have started to put pictures up on my bulletin board and the familiar faces help make me feel at ease.
I have made a few friends- the boys from California, the girl from Mexico, and the girl from Texas… my roommate is great and all of the people I have met are very helpful so far. I guess I can just keep my fingers crossed that I can make some lasting friendships so my fear of being alone for the next few months will subside.
I was promptly turned away from the Red Carpet Club as I meandered in through the concourse. Which, I suppose, is a toast to myself- I don’t come off as the lonely, lost little girl that I fear I appear. Instead, I must show off (at least a slight) air of confidence, or else I would hope that the mean old lady behind the nice wooden desk would have taken a little sympathy upon me. So instead, I tried to make my way through the United terminal and finally found myself posted up against a wall where I could people watch (my favorite to watch being a little girl, not more than a year or so, tottering away from her parents at every chance, running into people and fearlessly exclaiming “Hi!” at each of them, giggling, and moving on to her next victim—my Dad made the forecast that this adorable, bite-sized, little piece of heaven would soon be a screaming baby on my plane- and, like most times, he was right. The adorable, bite-sized, screaming banchee sat directly behind me and I continued to receive fairly constant abuse via the back of my chair) and plug in my computer for some quality Skype time with Mom and Dad. Not too long after I found my spot, I had a companion.
Matt had quickly and madly fallen in love with the girl he had driven out to L.A. They had taken a road trip from Virginia Beach where he is a bartender and she was a waitress—she needed to get away and L.A. was her pick. She broke up with her boyfriend and left her job, friends, and any life she had to move out to Cali, where the only person she knows is her brother. He detailed their love affair, leaving out most details (thankfully), but I couldn’t help but “ooh” and “ahh” at their story and feel a little twinge at their necessary split. Although, he did hint at a possible move of his own. I never nabbed his last name, so I can’t keep tabs via Facebook, but I wish him (and her) all the best.
Aside from the tiny terror seated behind me, the flight wasn’t all bad—simply long. I did manage to meet a very nice woman originally from Phoenix who, six years ago, married an Australian man (whom she met on a Christian dating website) and moved a few hours north of Melbourne. A total doll, she gave me tips on living in Australia and even gave me her card if I ever “needed some American support”. Downright adorable.
We were supposed to stop off in Sydney before heading to Melbourne, but the fog at 5am was too dense and we were sent straight to Melbourne. For a while the airline told us customs would not let us deboard in Melbourne- instead we were simply there to refuel and we would have to sail back to Sydney, only to be taken again to Melbourne’s airport. That illogical situation did not happen, thankfully. Instead, we simply sat at Melbourne Airport for three or four hours waiting for something, anything, to happen. Eventually it was announced the Sydney flight was cancelled and all the passengers would be getting off in Melbourne. I silently cheered, even though I did pity the Sydney passengers who were left to find alternate flights to their destinations.
By this time it was around 9 am Australian time. I was picked up by the complimentary airport service and had to wait about three hours to actually get picked up. There were about 10 of us who were driven to our residences. The driver decided to drop me off at the wrong building and I spent a good 15 minutes hauling my luggage from place to place trying to find where to check in (it was a grand old time).
But here I am. “Home” for the next few months. My closet is empty, the immense desk is empty (save for a few books), and my bedding is lavender and maroon (the only colors in my bed size that I could find on such short notice). The room echoes it is so empty, but I have started to put pictures up on my bulletin board and the familiar faces help make me feel at ease.
I have made a few friends- the boys from California, the girl from Mexico, and the girl from Texas… my roommate is great and all of the people I have met are very helpful so far. I guess I can just keep my fingers crossed that I can make some lasting friendships so my fear of being alone for the next few months will subside.
Leaving on a Jet Plane- John Denver
This is all too surreal. Here I am, seated next to a friendly elderly couple on my way to LAX. I have named them Maude and Clifford and I’ve taken a liking to them. It might be Clifford’s adorable lisp, or Maude’s faux-leather with faded cheetah print jacket, but whatever it is, I get the loving grandparent vibe from them and feel a little less alone. The couple is on their way home from a 2 week cruise which ended in Amsterdam- they have also been to Australia and New Zealand. They spent 32 days in that area of the world and loved every minute. They also have 4 grandkids in college in California and an additional aspiring division 3 baseball player (current senior in high school) who is very bright. A talkative pair, but friendly and adorably in love.
The airline has decided to play “Diary of a Wimpy Kid”, which leaves a lot to be desired. But, its more attractive than my other options- staring out the window at clouds or listening to one of seven basic radio stations with the cliché options of pop, rock, country, techno, and oh la Latina! (I think that last one is my first choice).
Welp, here’s to a quick, easy flight and a similar five-hour layover in Los Angeles. I’m going to keep my fingers crossed I’ll be allowed into the Red Carpet Club, even without my Dad’s company.
If only the lady in front of me would move her seat up an inch and the weird smell that just wafted into my area would please dissipate… Oh well, no pain no gain!
The airline has decided to play “Diary of a Wimpy Kid”, which leaves a lot to be desired. But, its more attractive than my other options- staring out the window at clouds or listening to one of seven basic radio stations with the cliché options of pop, rock, country, techno, and oh la Latina! (I think that last one is my first choice).
Welp, here’s to a quick, easy flight and a similar five-hour layover in Los Angeles. I’m going to keep my fingers crossed I’ll be allowed into the Red Carpet Club, even without my Dad’s company.
If only the lady in front of me would move her seat up an inch and the weird smell that just wafted into my area would please dissipate… Oh well, no pain no gain!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Road Trippin- Red Hot Chili Peppers
I’m titling my blog “Have a Little Faith in Me” not just to pay homage to my favorite song from childhood to present, a John Hiatt rendition of a beautiful sentiment, but also as a quiet and constant reminder to myself. As I depart I am allowing myself the opportunity of self-discovery and the independence of starting anew, all the while with the knowledge that just a little faith in myself can carry a long distance. I also know I have my friends and family simply a skype call, e-mail or facebook message away and I can take a little sigh of relief.
I wanted to begin my blog on a short, simple note in hopes that my travels and adventures will slowly gain more vivacious material. I promise to keep this updated and current (to the best of my ability) and to keep in touch.
But, my number one goal is to “go get lost” (hence the title of this first post… “let’s go get lost” is a lyric in RHCP’s Road Trippin). Farewell Kalamazoo, toodles Deerfield, see ya later America—I’m off to explore the unknown. Ready or not, Australia… you’re about to get PLASTERED.
I wanted to begin my blog on a short, simple note in hopes that my travels and adventures will slowly gain more vivacious material. I promise to keep this updated and current (to the best of my ability) and to keep in touch.
But, my number one goal is to “go get lost” (hence the title of this first post… “let’s go get lost” is a lyric in RHCP’s Road Trippin). Farewell Kalamazoo, toodles Deerfield, see ya later America—I’m off to explore the unknown. Ready or not, Australia… you’re about to get PLASTERED.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)