If you are reading this, you’re way behind. Even I don’t read this blog anymore. Heck, I stopped writing about studying abroad while I was studying abroad.

If you’re visiting this year-plus-old blog to fill your mindless down time, you are – honestly – not that creative. Perhaps consider the related videos feed while perusing YouTube.

Think about it, you could be watching things like this or this all day instead.

What I’m really here to do is post the last entry on this blog. While wrapping up my life-changing semester living in Australia, I wanted to savor everything and squeeze out every experience. This left a limited amount of time to dedicate to blogging.

I had the photos I wanted to share. I had the stories I wanted to tell. But between final papers, last-minute trips, and family visits, I just never got to it.

So this blog simply stops. Sadly, I have neither the time nor the brainpower to complete it per my original intentions.

I did, however, upload the remainder of my photographs documenting everything that happened to me during my last days in Oz.

Simply click here.

Thanks for taking the time to read and spend some time at the Peacemaker Attempted: Down Under Edition. I still can’t believe what essentially started as a digital journal for my life turned into something people would want to read. (Albeit, most of those people were directly related to me.)

You can return to my regularly scheduled blogging here.

We got my pimp front door. Room 2080, represent!

And yes. That gorgeous yellow tint is the realistic depiction of crappy lighting that adorns our hallways on floor two.

Next up, I demonstrate how I must access my abode.

Super high-tech. I know.

To keep consistent the theme of realism my roommate Jessie and I were going for, I decided to show you our room in it’s natural state. Here’s the awesome roomie, by the way. Isn’t she cute?

Anyway, realism. It’s messy just like a college apartment should be. (Paige, if you’re reading this, look away now!)

Just to note, most of the stuff on the floor is the roomie’s. My stuff is pretty much all the junk on the table and drawers.

Also note, the sweet spacious living area. Bath room and kitchen to your right hand side as you enter.

Next we my fave little hideaway. My side of the round-desk, behind of which is the plastic tub holding my extra purses, bags, and things with shoulder straps. The dresser with some of my toiletries and our trusty room phone that should like a fire alarm. Please also note our free Footy poster donated to us by my boss at A Current Affair. You’re welcome, ladies.

Here we have the main working area, from the perspective I usually take from sitting at my chair in the previous photo watching the television – a very key item with it’s 5 free-to-air channels. That’s right, baby! Five full-on channels!

Next we head up the death-defying spiral staircase to the loft/boudoir. Sweet stuff. Check out the steep view that Jessie and I conquer every morning.

Here’s the highly decorated loft railing, looking down on my chair and nook. I try to be patriotic.

Who wants to see where all the magic happens? Of course you do. Here’s my bed, then that of the Jessie. I have the fortune of having a bed on wheels. It rolls around when I jump on it. I often go to sleep with my arm touching our railing and wake up the next morning with a nice foot between it and me. Fun times. Yes, the clothes are the roomie’s once more.

Well, that’s all for today’s tour, folks! Any requests, such as the Cribs fridge shot, will be produced based on audience feedback – so feel free to smack those suggestions in the comments section!

PEACE!

I bought a Nestea Lemon-Lime Iced Tea a few weeks ago. Quite delicious.

I found the bottle’s label lying around the apartment the other day. Apparently I thought it worthwhile to keep it. And I’m quite glad I did.

A little background, just in case you weren’t aware. Australia is a Commonwealth, meaning that the Queen of England – at least in official writing and title – acts as monarch though Oz operates with complete independence.

My Nestea label serves as a prime, artful summary of the unique relationship existing between Australia and England.

It reads:

“In England where they’re fond of hot tea, they’re also rather fond of warm beer. Exactly. When it comes to refreshment don’t trust the English, trust your tastebuds.”

I’m sold.

To read the details of that harrowing day, check out the original blog post.

Back on track now. At the entrance, I donated some money at the gate to get a sticker promoting the awareness of the dangers of binge drinking, which is becoming an ever-increasing issue here (especially with all the athletes punching people up). The rest of the day, you could recognize who was coming from Surry Hills because they had that “Binge Drinking: What Are You Doing To Yourself?” sticker on their lapels. The first event that catches our eye is the “dog show” that’s taking place, hosted by a drag queen. Only here in Australia. The dogs, of course, adorable, made us want to buy a puppy just to have for the next two weeks we’re in the country.

We shopped for a good while, so many things I wanted to buy. Surry Hills and the festival carried an artistic independent vibe that was different from any of the other markets I had visited so far in Sydney. The clothing was alternative (in the good way), the collection of stalls was unique, and not to mention, this was people-watching heaven for me. I snagged some cheap jewelry and surprise gifts for my brother’s and my cousin’s new babies.

Rachel and I had then planned to hit up Paddington markets one last time to buy some last minute gifts and souvenirs. We caught a bus from Central and made it in time to do a quick once around. Honestly, compared to Surry Hills, I was kind of disappointed with Paddington…maybe also because I’d already visited the first week we were in town. God, things come full-circle don’t they?

I got some sweet U2 single LPs for my collection and some bookmarks for friends. We walked back down Oxford Street some ways, reliving that first week we all walked from Paddington to Hyde Park. We found a bar that was converted into an indie vendor free-for-all, musky and dark, a live DJ even spinning music. We popped in for a bit to browse the vintage clothing, sunglasses, and jewelry. The back room even had a woman reading fortunes and tarot cards in case you needed some shopping guidance.

Exhausted, we headed back, not before trying to find some cupcakes. Hey, when you have a bad, sweet tooth craving, that’s all you can think about. Unsuccessful in finding a bakery in Paddington or Oxford, we got all the way back to Broadway and bought not only a cupcake, but a thickshake and French fries to dip them in. I know. It’s a bit embarrassing. We had a little powwow in Rachel’s room and ate the heart-attacks waiting to happen. Delicious, once more.

The evening was punctuated by the fact that we were going to a NRL game between the South Sydney Rabbitohs (WHOO!) and the Manly Sea Eagles. Mark had told us that Rugby League is the closet to our American football, and that it shouldn’t look to foreign to us. Rachel and I caught the train to Olympic Park, the ANZ stadium glowing in front of us, competing with the Ferris wheel from the Royal Easter Show right next door.

Meeting up with Lyle, Kyle, Marie, and the some of the other students who had signed up for the match, we got our tickets and headed on inside. The stadium was pretty empty, quite sad.

I’m sure we would have gotten more riled up had we been sitting in the more expensive seats with the bulk of the crowd. However, our general tickets put us right behind the goal posts. We were rooting for the Rabbitohs.

The Rabbitohs are Russell Crowe’s team, and last time they had a home game, I believe he was in the stands cheering them on. Not today. And he wouldn’t want to be in his box seats. We lost horribly, only scoring I believe 4 points. But the good news is that we did get to see the controversial Manly player Brett Steward – he’s the guy in the maroon number 1 jersey.

It was still a very cool experience that I recommend anyone do if they have the chance. I really want to watch a Footy game live now…

The train ride home was filled with recounting 30 Rock quotes and laughing about Tina Fey’s Sarah Palin impression. What a day.

Trying not to succumb to the temptation to nap and screw up my sleep schedule, I do dreary tasks such as laundry and grocery shopping.

The afternoon present us with the option of heading down for the Easter weekend Hoopla, commemorating the 21^st birthday of Darling Harbour. The Darling Harbour Hoopla pretty much resembles a circus. Tents and stages are set up around the harbour where different street performers, acrobats, and sideshow acts are constantly performing all day.

Amidst our snack break at Mackers, we wandered around to check a few free shows out. We saw everything from acrobatics and theater with temporary rigging under the motorway, hip-hop and break dancing, and comedy contortions under the big top. Our traveling that day left us beat, and we could feel it…so we peaced out early, where I later crashed at a healthy 9 in the evening.

We’re a bit early for the service, so we head to the promenade along the water to see families with young children running along and playing in the extensive kid’s playground. We decide to join in. Who knew swinging on a zip line while your weight pulls you to about two inches off the sand would still be fun?

The cathedral at St. Monica’s has gorgeous stained glass that I couldn’t stop looking at during the Easter service. There were cosmos scenes out of my astronomy books from tenth grade, the colors seamlessly intertwining with scenes of ocean and underwater sea life, a definite sign that we were in a beach town. In addition to Great Barrier Reef references, the glass had depictions of the outback, kangaroos, kookaburras, wallabies, the rainforest lizards, as well as Aboriginals hunting and gathering food. Nowhere else in the world can one find such stained glass in a Catholic church.

The service was over, we depart in the pouring rain in search for an Easter brunch feast. The original plan of getting Thai or Indian food falls through when all the restaurants are closed. (Now, why didn’t we think of that?) So the two of us end up walking around too much until we are too hungry to care what we eat. The solution was P.J. O’Brien’s, a classic Irish pub with dark paneling and footy and the Masters on all television screens. Becky had the most amazing Irish stew on the face of this planet…I seriously need to go to Ireland now.

After stuffing ourselves full, the next logical activity was a swim in Cairn’s well-known lagoon. Basically, people can’t swim in the ocean water due to deadly box and irukandji jellyfish (among other things that could kill you, like sharks or poisonous fish). The man-made lagoon is like a fun giant pool for those of all ages. There’s a sandy beach, fountains, and fish statues that spill out water. There are shallow areas for kids and a deeper end for adults. Becky and I swim, crawl on our bellies, act crazy, people-watch then lay on the grass to dry and catch some rays.

We decided early on that the day would be about eating and being lazy. So more food was ordered up at the local Maccers (aka – McDonalds). Frozen Cokes and ice cream never hurt. Becky gets a kick on her juice and spirits while marveling at an adorable Asian girl who mimes to us how she is about to enjoy her ice cream cone. She even waved goodbye.

Now to tackle the lazy part of the day, all with cheap massages. The back corner of the Night Markets provides us with ten dollar Chinese massages. Becky gets a neck and shoulders pounding, while opt for a foot and spa combo.

More food! Passionfruit gelato for me, fries for Becky. We chill near the Domain and the lagoon and chow down while a local, small-town trio on a rickety tent-stage played Irish-Aussie tunes. It was all perfect as the sun came out, and people came out to enjoy the holiday weekend playing footy and laying out.

We then conquer my souvenir shopping, buying pins and postcards. Becky, pretty much intoxicated by now, stops at Woolies for some blueberry muffins. We walk to the mall to check movie times since we didn’t know what else to do with ourselves. But timing was bad – why can movies be played around 7 pm – so we walk back to Calypso.

As we arrive home, the girls are there, having showered and cleaned up after their cycling adventures. We all grab some dinner, and greet Marie and Jane who return from Cape Tribulation. All of us crash early for our 4 am wake up for our flight back to Sydney.

It’s day two of my Cairns adventure. Wake up early again. This time, for some Great Barrier Reef action.

It’s raining hard Saturday morning, not what we really think of as ideal for viewing sea life underwater. But we catch a super quick brekky at Calypso before shuttling to the reef terminal. We check in, get our Passions of Paradise boarding passes for the boat and load up.

Radar, the 1st mate who looks exactly like Andy Samberg, hands us pens as we board to fill out a sign-your-life-away-and-we-warned-you-about-your-medical-conditions form. The boat sets off, we get some muffins and tea, and the crew collects our forms. Rachel unfortunately had to suffer through some dramas of not being able to dive due to some of her meds. We all agree they still should have let her go and she would have been fine. Anyway…

There is two-hour ride out to Paradise Reef, so we sit back as the crew puts us through various orientations and briefs. We get an introductory dive orientation as well as snorkeling orientation. Arriving at our first reef location, I rent my stinger suit, get fitted for flippers and goggles, put them on and spend an hour in the water.

Rachel sporting the latest in snorkeling fashion wear.

It was amazing how close we were to the reef, the coral was so intricate and intense, like I was in the largest tank in the aquarium, close enough to touch everything.  But it was about to get even better.

From the water, we hear a guy shouting out “Anyone else in Group 4?” Lisa’s hand shoots up as I realize it’s time for us to head back to get ready for our scuba. The four of us that are diving get into the 3^rd group, the crew nice enough to let us go as a team together. We sit on the benches at the rear of the boat where the tanks are placed in specially make racks behind the seats. We’re strapped in and our flippers and goggles secured. Radar reminds us the first rule of Scuba we were educated with during orientation. “Always breathe. Never hold your ____?” I answer ‘breath.’ He thinks I said ‘breasts.’ There was a moment for us all.

Our instructor is Dicky. He tightens up our scuba device and tells us how to step off the boat into the water. One by one we jump in where we hold on to a rope tied on the back of the boat. Mouth pieces in our mouth and heads down, we get used to the apparatus as the instructors grab our hands and bring us down to a rope a bit farther below the surface. Dicky checks if we can say ‘two’ to clear the mouthpiece in case water rushes in, if we can push back our goggles and blow out our nose, and then under the water, he asks if we are good to go further down. All of us make the ‘ok’ sign, and we’re off.

Becky and Xu link arms as a pair, Lisa and I pair up. Dicky is in the middle of the four of us. I grab his arm and Lisa’s, and off we go as a big happy diving family to about 5 meters below the surface. We adjust our ears, and Dicky shows us around. We confront walls of reef and moving coral, swaying with the motion of the ocean. Fish are right in front of our faces, one of them later swam directly at my face – one of the most surreal moments of my life. Everything was more goregous than you could imagine. Leading by example, Dicky showed us that we could touch some of the coral, all of which was extremely soft. Yes, I did accidentally brush up against some with my hip and destroyed some of the Great Barrier Reef. Ugh. It’s harder to maneuver with all that gear on than I thought, and it definltey took some time to get used to. Dicky shows us a sea cucumber, like a giant worm that we got pet and hold like a guinea pig. I’m just going to say it…it was  soooo cool.

After lunch, we travel to another reef spot to snorkel again. Then we take a smaller glass-bottom boat to Michaelmas Cay, an island that’s a bird sanctuary. After some problems with my snorkel gear, we finally get a chance to explore the reef around the island. It is absolutely amazing how close to the surface all the clams and coral are. I kick my foot at a giant clam and it closes shut, the oddity of such a cartoon-like clam alive in front of me throwing me into giddy hysterics that I have to pop my head out of the water to breathe. All the fish are barely scared of you; you just want to reach out and touch them all. We snorkel all the way back to the boat without a second thought. The guys then feed some of the giant fish next to boat, and we get a show as the fish jump like mad out of the water and on top of each other to grab the first bite.

We dry off, get a snack and chill out on the deck the rest of the way back to Cairns, laying in the sun, spotting shapes in the clouds, and chatting about all kinds of great things. Everything from music to religion.

Back in town, it’s now such a beautiful day. We have dinner at the Night Markets’ food court. Feeling completely sandy, salty, and gross (my hair can best be described as in dreadlocks), we head back to the hostel to clean up and chill.

Becky and I check church times  for the next morning while I do some emails. As I said earlier, we stayed at Calypso, probably the best hostel I’ve been at yet. The facilities are clean, the staff really nice and helpful, the whole place colorful, the rooms spacious and have tons of clothes hooks, the brekky and dinner buffet awesome. Seriously, go stay there if you visit Cairns. It’s cheap and has everything you could need.

** UPDATE** The photos of our good ol’ float down the Tully are up and can be seen HERE!

Thursday presents me with the task of getting through work yet still reserving enough energy to survive my hour and fifteen minute commute, grab my luggage, and meet the girls for the tightest run to the Sydney Airport. While this all came to be, our cab driver didn’t help. He had to ask us, the Americans, how to get to our destination.

Late night flight over, we arrive in the pouring rain and grab the antithesis to Sydney cabbie man in the form of super nice and helpful Cairns cabbie man. He drops us off at our hostel, Calypso, where we check in with the night shift, eagerly shower and crash.

5:45 am, the phone alarm jolts everyone in our room awake, including the Dutch guy sleeping on the bunk below me. Raging Thunder’s coach bus picks us up at a crisp 6:30 in the morning to shuttle us to our whitewater adventures of the day. After a few more stops at some other hostels to pick up some fellow adventurers, big bus coach takes us on a two-hour jaunt down south to Tully. There, Raging Thunder and company owns a café renovated from an old firehouse where we grab a snack and rent some sexy waterproof footwear.

Being the crazy young backpackers that we want to be, we signed up for the ‘Extreme’ rafting package. So we get on our small little van to drive to the Tully river, grab our helmets and life vests, then break into groups. (Side note for myself: that task in itself was crazy dramas enough for the entire holiday.) Once that finally was settled, five of us hopped in our raft with our instructor and headed to a day of … (you can insert your favorite adjective here after reading the rest).

The rapids were amazing and not as crazy as I thought. Perhaps that’s because we mostly survived all of them and didn’t manage to flip our raft, which we had been warned against many a time by the multiple guys running the show. Sure, I was sore after acting like any crew skills I had were being put into practice, plus my butt getting bounced around in all different directions, but it was worth it. Definitely want to do it again.

Our raft of five was headed by Johnny, a Kiwi – one of many that made up the staff. He wore his ever-recognizable green helmet, always chill and knowing what to do. Basically, you do what he commands, and you’ll be golden. Rachel was quite impressed that we got the guide who seemed to be in charge of the game plan (or at least act like it).

After going through what he said was one of the more worst for wear rapids, he gets us to stay back for safety for the group of rafts behind us. Good thing, too. As we were anchored on the side of the river, Lisa and I holding on the rocks, holding the rope, we saw guides jump out and perch themselves high along the craggy sidelines. Johnny takes his tow rope and tells us to try to catch anybody that might float by. Indeed, we see one upstream motioning to a guide in the raft downstream from us that a raft has flipped over. Soon, we see people (aka tourists freaking out) floating down the river past us. Becky makes some valiant attempts of a rescue, but with no takers. We then see a guide and passenger riding on the overturned raft screaming at us to throw him a paddle, which the raft behind us did. Exciting day….

“Forward paddle team!” Johnny’s back in the raft and he pushes us onward. In addition to watching the precise rescue coordination of the team, we get to take swims in the calmer parts of the river, jump of rock cliffs into the water below (so cool! – I don’t care if that’s an overused word), and of course paddle like mad.

Thank God for Rachel and Marie being wonderfully talkative. Their banter brought out the best in all of us so that Johnny agreed that we were the craziest group he’s ever had. Check!

Lunch was at a campsite midway down the river, a nice burger with all the buffet fixin’s that the South needs to catch up on – beet root, sweet chili sauce, and the best grilled onions on the planet.

The best moment of the day was when we approached some rapids where one of Raging Thunder’s staff was taking our picture. Johnny told us to wave, which we did. As we did so, we went over a more than average rough rapid, and with my hand being preoccupied in the waving motion and thus not holding on to the rope beside me, I became a little wobbly. By a little wobbly, I mean I fell backwards and into the Tully.

It all happened in slow motion. My train of thought was roughly as follows: “Woah, that was a rapid to remember. But I’m okay. I’m still holding on to my paddle and I’ve got my balance back. No, wait. Crap. Lost balance. Falling over. Whoops. Sliding off the raft now…”

This compared to the account of everyone else was the calmer perspective. I see people’s faces flip out. Becky said I fell in slow motion, but all I heard while I was hanging on to the side of the raft in the water was people screaming at Lisa to pull me up and out by my life vest. All I could see through the watery haze in front of my eyes was Liza braced in the bottom of the boat, her back completely straight back, her arms just a line  between my vest and her shoulders. I wasn’t going anywhere. Then Becky apparently grabbed Liza’s vest in the vain attempts to pull me out.

Marie goes into action and pulls me up by my butt, as Johnny instructs everyone to make sure my bum is in the boat. Poor Lisa. She was trying her darnedest to pull me out. Johnny was saying the entire time, “Okay, pull her out. Now. Nope. Okay, now would be nice. Okay, pull your friend out of the water now…okay…” He said he was about to come over and do it himself, but he wasn’t that worried when he saw me hanging on with a smile on my face. We spent at least five solid minutes laughing about it afterward.

All too soon, the ride was over. We hopped out and carried the raft on our heads to the roadside where we met up with the rest of the team. We piled up the gear, headed back to the cafe, peeled off our wet swimsuits, and went to the merch counter to purchase a CD of all the pics from the day…including my head first splash into the water. Watch for a sequel post.

The bus ride back from Tully really emphasized any exhaustion we had. Shower, change, then we headed into town for dinner at The Heritage. Steak and more for 9 dollars! Always our kind of backpacker fare.

We walk around, get some Cold Rock ice cream – the Aussie version of Marble Slab – and return to Calypso to fall into a deep sleep.

In the spirit of Jesus resurrecting and whatnot…figured you could spend any chocolate bunny-induced comas by putting some clothes on our Savior.

Click the link below and have fun.

http://www.jesusdressup.com/