Have you heard? I'm a college graduate.

Town of 1770, Queensland

Australia

G’Day mates! It’s me, your American correspondent on the Australian East Coast writing you again. So, let’s just get into it: today I went to work. That’s right, after 3 months in retirement I came back like Jordan, baby! Ok, now to be fair, it was only a one-day gig and I didn’t get paid, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

In my hostel there was a sign requesting one day of work in exchange for a free trip to Lady Musgrave Island. Now I had looked into this tour and it’s like an $150 tour. $150 in one day is kinda a lot; like that could get me and everyone in my dorm drunk for like 3 days. Ok, it’s expensive, so I was enticed. I signed up and was promptly picked up at 7:30 this morning to go to work.

My job was to cross out 3 lines that were no longer applicable, from the Lady Musgrave Cruises brochure. I went through about 700 brochures crossing these three lines out.

Now a straightforward assignment, sure. But oh my god the dullest job I’ve ever had. My high school teachers and college professors used to stand up in front of the class preaching that, “we were intellectuals, destine to do greater things with our minds. To serve in occupations that utilized this intellect.” And before today I always thought that was a little snobbish and frankly untrue. I swiped cards and folded towels at a gym for a year and a half, and I had a great time. Nothing was beneath me; I cleaned toilets and beat the dead skin cells off of the Martial Arts mats – True. Also, to avoid a wicked case of pink eye, WEAR GLOVES when cleaning said Martial Arts mats.

So when I snagged a job crossing out a few lines on a brochure I thought “Sweet!” Next thing you know they’ll be paying me to just sit here and breathe. But how wrong I was. Doing this from 8 in the morning until 5 in the afternoon, not sweet. Almost sour.

As I sat there flipping each brochure open and close I couldn’t help but think, “I’m a college graduate…” UCD 2009 and I’m crossing print out of brochures… I mean come on, I have a Bachelor of Arts in Communication, and I am essentially the ANTICOMMUNICATION blacking out what was once communication. What would my Communication teachers say? Would they add to the irony and be speechless? It was a low point and about half way through my nine-hour day. At one point I was so board I thought my brain was going to fall out of my head in utter disuse.

On the upside, I was aloud to keep my iPod in while working. So I reminisced with some of my favorite music from my high school career. If I may be so bold, I would like to make a music suggestion. Now I don’t really know your guys taste in music, but Matchbox Twenty’s third album “More Than You Think You Are” - well, Andrea knows what I'm talking about.

not so subtle product placement

A little dark at times, but if you can get past that and give it a few listens, I really enjoy the album in its entirety. The lyrics and the sound....

Anyways, I realized, I am destine for greater things. Who knows, next it could be posters!

Ok, dull work but worth it but for a free tour. I wish that that was an option for all my tours. Actually, that would be ideal. You know, “oh it’s $300 for the Fraser Island tour? Ok, I’ll just work for three days on Fraser and then tour.” But no, instead it’s a purging of money accompanied by a desperate hope that they’ll be a job waiting for me when I take a break from traveling. It’s a risk, but right now it’s worth it. Even if it comes down to it and I can’t get a job and have to come home, at least I will have had an adventure.

So I am currently in the Town of 1770. I know. Seriously? But I love it! As I’m going north I find that the cities are much smaller, and I really enjoying that. I get to know the city so much better and I like recognizing people in town. It’s comforting and familiar when not much is ever familiar.

BUT, guess which residents of 1770 just LOVE lil ol' me??? The bugs! Mosquitoes, ants (did you know the ants bite here?), you name it, they love me! Just can’t get enough. I went and bought bug spray today and what started as a gentle mist of bug spray manifested itself into an oxygen sucking, vindictive cloud of bug spray that I found myself choking on. At one point I actually fled the dorm leaving my seven roommates under the attack of the bug spray cloud. As you can imagine, they were pleased.

So now, in the aftermath of Bug Spray Cloud ‘09, I’m laying in my bunk. The fumes have made me somewhat drowsy so I’m going to bed at 9:03 PM. True.

hello HELLO

Town of 1770, Queensland

Australia

Today I took an acrobatic plane ride. That’s right, the girl who goes to Six Flags to see the shows, paid and voluntarily got into an acrobatic plane.

Now before you read on, I need to apologize in advance for the incorrect airplane terminology. There are people who actually fly planes *cough* Uncle Ron *cough* who are probably cringing reading this entry – apologies.

They picked me up and brought me out to the plane. Now first of all, this plane was tiny. It definitely stood there for a second and thought, “Maybe I should have thought this one through….” But I mean I felt that way about scuba diving, horseback riding and Scooteroo. Worrying about it just takes away from the experience. So I got in anyways.

So we’re in the plane, and we’re just cruising down the grass runway and the pilot tells me to steer. Now I did not want to do this. Surely this is why you pay someone, so that they will steer: hopefully well, and hopefully the whole time.

But the plane is veering towards the trees so in the name of self-preservation I grabbed the wheel and desperately tried to steer us. Now ok. We’re all over the place. Back and forth down the runway, while the pilot’s telling me “Careful of the wings, you’re gonna clip the trees!” and his super studly son is in the back seat going, “You’re overcorrecting!” And I’m just thinking, “Why is no one helping me??? I’m steering a freaking plane!”

Then the pilot’s like, “Ya know what you’re problem is?” never so desperately had I actually wanted to know the answer to this question. He goes, “I’ve been steering down here the whole time.” After I was done picking my jaw up off the floor, I couldn’t help but laugh my face off in relief. I’m all panicking like, “How am I going to pay for a freaking plane if I crash it?” and the whole time the pilot was steering and the studly pilot’s son was totally in on it. Boo.

This is all before we’ve even left the ground.

We take off and initially I’m lured back into trusting the pilot as he’s showing us the sights and we’re all chatting. Then he asks me if I want me to take my picture. Now, in retrospect, I probably should have been concerned that the pilot was going to be preoccupied with my camera and not flying the plane. But I wasn’t.

Actually, later in the flight, he answered his cell phone. Can believe, we can’t talk on a cell phone or answer a text message while operating a car, but he’s up there in the friendly skies on his cell phone. And he got reception. I don’t even get reception in the hostel. Not fair.

Anyways, I was down to have him take my picture. So I handed him my camera, and he lines it up as if to take a picture of both of us, and he says, “You smiling?” To which I answer, “Always!” and he sends the plane into a nosedive.

Oh my god. OH MY GOD! I let out the loudest shriek; it was the biggest stomach drop of my life. I just, wow. So then he recovers, and they all have a hearty laugh at my expense. And just when I thought we were all cool and having fun HE DID IT AGAIN. Now THIS was the loudest shriek and I grabbed his arm. I couldn’t help myself, the plane was going down! He said that in the past people have pushed down on the wheel, thrown up on him, and the like, so I guess an arm grab isn’t too bad.

And he let me steer. Like actually. He starts out, “Now you don’t have to do much to steer the plane. Just be gentle” At first I didn’t even touch the wheel, until he was like, “Too gentle. Ya gotta at least…” and he took my hands and showed me. It was sweet but super scary.

We landed on the beach and went for a walk, which is where I gashed my foot open. I feel it throbbing right now just thinking about it.

We took some sweet pictures with the plane. And then the pilot was showing me a sand crab I think, and for a picture put it in my hair. Anything for a good picture. Now this was all good and fun until it got stuck in my hair. And of coarse the pilot wouldn’t get it out, so Studly Jr had to. All the while, he’s like, “it’s little claws are clamped on your hair” and then it’s, “It’s trying to borough into your head” to which it’s was like, “My parents paid a lot for that big sexy brain, get the crab out of there!!!!” Many pictures and a lot of squirming later, we got the crab out and continued our beach walk.

We saw a ton of Warrior Crabs. So freaky, they look like big blue spiders and they travel in

packs. The boys are all playing with them and scooping them up, taunting me that they’re going to put them down my pants while I run away, when something hits me in the arm. And I was just like, “Did you just throw a crab at me?” Studly Jr totally threw a crab at me!

Then we headed back to plane, leaving a trail of blood behind me while my cut filled up with sand. Throbbing. So we got back into the plane, and of coarse there were a few more tricks, but this time I was in the back seat with Studly Jr. Didn’t mind the dives as much. And we safely made it home. In one piece.

Finally, safe, in bed with my bandaged feet, regularly applying Neosporin. I lead a sexy life if nothing else. I was supposed to try kite surfing tomorrow. But I just don’t know if that’s gonna happen if I’m still hobbling just to get to the toilet.

XOXO

All You Need

Town of 1770, Queensland

Australia

I am now a Californian that can surf. Kind of.

What it lacks in ease, it makes up for in fun. My first lesson was actually in Noosa, this was the lesson where I couldn't get up, but instead mastered the: sit on the board, spin around and wave to all the surfers while I drift onto the shore. My instructor was less than amused. Through gritted teeth, he’d be like, “I know your having fun now, but it’s much MORE fun if you stand up. And you’ll look cool.” I deduced that he was calling me uncool. But you know it was one of those things where we were this big group of goofy girls and were just having fun falling off our boards and getting pounded by the waves. Oh, and I think I wasn’t able to get up that day because I was attempting to surf “Regular,” which is when you surf with your left foot forward, like when snow boarding. However, I surf with my right foot forward, which is called “Goofy,” appropriately enough. So I fault that for the failure of my first lesson.

My second lesson was much more successful. We were practicing our stance on the board and our instructor was trying to get us to loosen up. Next think you know, he’s calling me out, “Shake your ass woman!” This coming from this 50-year-old surfer dude with a meticulously shaved head, and yet white ear hair that I kid you not wrapped around his ear lobes. A note for the men, if you ever reach the age in which white ear hair is enwreathing your head and threatening to siege the rest of the face, please trim it. Please. I don’t care how, just maintain; long white ear hair is offensive.

Anyways, I was shocked; you would never get away with that in the States, but that kind of set the tone for our lesson. The whole time we were making fun of how bad we ate it, but then cheering when we stood up. And I totally stood up. I don’t even remember if there was cheering because there was so much adrenaline running through my veins. It was like I blacked out; I was so shocked to be up that I kind of don’t remember it. But I was so happy. I am from California AND I’M TAN, AND I KNOW HOW TO SURF (kind of). Hooray for stereotypes. Now excuse me while I whiten my teeth.

On a confidence high, I decided to take a board out on my own. It was a few days later and my oh my was it a windy day. Even before I got in the water, I could tell the waves were different. But I had gotten the board and dragged it all the way out to the beach, so I couldn’t not go surfing.

By the way, I really must get better at surfing so that I can carry a smaller board. Beginner’s boards are huge and heavy. Plus my arms are too short to properly carry the board. And trust me when I say dragging your surfboard and parting the beach does not look cool. I’m essentially surfing on a door at this point.

So, big, multidirectional waves and the wind. This, as they say in the Wizard of Oz, “was a horse of a different color.” But I’m feeling good you know, I’m talking the surfer talk, with the “gnarly” and the “sweet” and throwing around “dude” like Grandma’s at the Thanksgiving table. So I drag my board out into the water and these waves are slamming me. The wave knocks you down, but you have to remember that I’ve got a board tethered to my ankle, dragging me back under and to the shore everytime I go down. This makes it that much more difficult to get out to where the waves are breaking. I’m out there for like an hour and even when I try to catch a wave, I’m losing it beneath me. The wave comes, I paddle paddle paddle and the wave keeps going under me. It was so frustrating, especially after my champion success the other day.

At one point I find myself getting too close to shore so I try to walk around the edge of the cove to get further out, and I get knocked down again. But this time I’m closer to the rocks that shape the cove and there are rocks beneath me only shallowly covered in sand. When I went down I went down on the rocks. Now really, this sounds worse than it was. I nicked my knee and got a tiny piece of rock stuck in my foot. And not due to it’s size, but probably just by virtue of being in my foot the rock was hurting me the whole time I was out there. So I dragged my door surfboard out of the water, which I might add is bright yellow so really it looks like a big banana, sit on it and picked the rock out of my foot.

Now this rock was so tiny, really it was like an overgrown piece of sand, but I had to peel back a flap of my foot skin and pull out the rock. And it felt so much better that I just sat there for a while.

Just me curled up sitting in the center of my huge yellow board, looking like a banana split.

Unfortunately, I totally lost my nerve and just sat there for a few hours waiting for the other dude

to finish surfing. With my foot mutilation there was no way I was carry that board up the hill by

myself.

I came home that day complaining about my cut. Little did I know that today I would slice my other foot open. These ones a beauty: roughly two inches in length and jagged like I did it with a can opener. And there’s sand in it. “Well of coarse,” was what my roommate said when I told her

that part. She had a point. There is sand everywhere here. We’re talking when you go for a hike the trails are often sand. I’ve never seen such a thing in my life. And it’s forever in your suitcase. Even if I bought a new one, it would probably already be sandy by virtue of being in Australia.

Not the point, so just when I was getting ready to throw my feet a “pity party” I saw a girl with her arm in a cast. Guess it’s not that bad.

XOXO

For Her

Rainbow Beach, Queensland

Australia

When Making Foreign Friends:

Noosa, Queensland

Australia

YOU WILL BEGIN TO SPEAK LIKE THEM

“I make picture?” (German English)

Translation “I’ll take a picture” (American English)

“I can’t be asked to walk up that hill” (British English)

Translation “There's no way I'm walking up that hill” (American English)

“Aww mate, what’s wrong?” (British/Australian English)

Translation “Dude, what’s up?” (Californian English)

And my favorite, “How ya goin'?” (Australian English)

I don’t know what this means exactly; but this expression is widely used. I usually respond “I’m well, thanks.” But lately, I've taken to trying to beat them to the punch. So like if I walk into a shop, I'll ask the salesman, "How ya goin'?" before he can ask me. You run the risk of coming off overly friendly, but no complaints yet.

ENTIRE MEALS AND SOMETIMES NIGHTS PASS WHEN NO ONE UTTERS AN ENGLISH WORD

Unfortunately I have no examples. Inherently, I could not understand what they were talking about.

EXPECT TO BE MISUNDERSTOOD OR IGNORED COMPLETELY

Once my hostelmates and I were walking to the beach when I overheard a nearby girl talking about horses. I inquired, "Do you like horseback riding?" To which she replied, "I don't know where beach is." Fist of all, that just wasn't my question. Second, really? Because were walking towards it.

Another time at the canoeing camp, my partner and I had just pulled onto shore. I asked, "Hey would you mind taking the front of the canoe?" To which, not only did she not respond, but instead walked up the shore and bought and ice cream. It's okay, I'm "strong like ox."

MOST DIFFERENCES ARE QUICKLY BLURRED BY A GLASS OF THE CHEAPEST BEER OR WINE AVAILABLE

Fortunately, the English speaking world likes to party. And buying the next round is next to godliness.

REACTIONS THAT STILL SURPRISE ME

"You're accent is so strong."

"Where in Canada are you from?"