The Best Weekend Ever

I started this morning completely oblivious to the fact that today would be an unforgettable day.

Over the last week or so, I sent out a few Facebook and text messages asking people to support Kenny Slattery and the Heilbron family in the Boston Marathon by wearing red to class on Monday (today). I knew my closest few friends would gear up without blinking an eye, but I had no idea more than thirty of the students on my program would excitedly rush over to BUSC to support Kenny and the Heilbrons.

I walked into our computer lab at about 12:15 and was dumbfounded by the sea of red in front of me. I was in my red shirt, carrying a poster and a heaping bag of candy, but I truly had no idea so many people would match my effort. I am so humbled by the support everyone showed today; a few students even ran back to our dorm to change because they'd forgotten. One anonymous mate even wore his red shirt two days in a row! All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you times a million to those of you who participated. I can say without hesitation that it's for a wonderful cause and an even more wonderful family, so your efforts will not go unappreciated.

That being said, I should touch on the equally as amazing weekend I had. Friday night was Melanie's birthday (woohoo 21!), so we all went to King's Cross to SoHo Lounge and danced the night away. Saturday we went lawn bowling, which is essentially the Australian version of bocce ball, and barbequed at the Coogee Lawn Bowling Club. It's a really bizarre sport, but we all had a ton of fun eating burgers and lounging in the sun all day.

Saturday night, I was so excited to meet up with Jess and Alaina, two wonderful girls from Sydney who are heading to Wohelo as counselors this summer. Neither of them have been to the States before, so they were keen to hear all about camp, the weather, and Maine in general. I can't wait to see them again before we meet at camp! After this, I headed home and got some much needed sleep.

Sunday was BU's Global Day of Service. We went down to where the end of Glebe Pt Road meets the Harbour and did some clean-up! Fortunately, Australia is extremely clean, but we still managed to dig up a good amount of trash. There were about 25 of us, including some alumni who now live in Sydney. After the clean-up, we were rewarded with a free barbeque-yay!-at Glebe Park. While we waited for food, 12 of us played a round of ultimate frisbee, in which, I might add, I scored 3 goals. Yeeeah! The food afterwards was amazing, and then we all collapsed on the grass and hung out for a while.

Sunday night we gathered the leftover meat we had from Lawn Bowling and Day of Service and had meat night. It was just as good as it sounds. There are two grills on the roof that face each other, and they don't work very well so we kept having meat relays to keep it warm. You put one dollar coins in to get it started, but the gas kept turning off so we would have to scoop up all the food and run it to the opposite grill every ten minutes or so. Needless to say, it was entertaining.

Today, as I said, was an awesome day. Actually, let me take that back. This whole weekend has been amazingly fun, and I am now wishing we had more than 10 days left here. The good news, though, is that today our last paper was due, so the only thing we have left to worry about is our final exam next Tuesday. This means I will be sleeping a lot for the next two nights, and then not at all so I can enjoy every last minute in Sydney. I'll be honest and admit I probably won't get another blog post in until I move on to the next phase, so apologies if you're eager to hear stories before I get home.

Thanks for reading, and again, a thousand thanks to my amazing, wonderful, fantastic, awesome friends in Sydney who decked out in red today. You guys are the BEST!!!!!! GO BU!!!!!!!

InspiRED by Joseph Crew:


Global Day of Service Crew:

But, I'm not an intern at all!

My days in Sydney measure 89:17 done:left. How this ratio became so out-of-control unbalanced is beyond me, and I can't seem to pinpoint exactly what has happened to the last 3 months. That's the trouble with college; it goes by too fast for anyone to keep up.

Looking back over my previous posts and thinking about my travels and experiences, I realize I've left out a huge portion of my Australian life, my internship. I work at the Sydney Dance Company doing publishing, marketing, and anything else that comes my way, and I've failed to tell pretty much everyone a single thing about it. Oops. It's not because I don't enjoy reliving it, but rather because it has been such a huge part of my journey here that I assume people automatically know about it. Clearly, that's not the case, so I am here to rectify my error!

Sydney Dance Company is a contemporary dance company founded in Sydney in 1969 by Suzanne Musitz, a former dancer with the Australian Ballet. Following Musitz, Graeme Murphy and Janet Vernon took over the company and ran it until 2007. After the duo's departure from the company, it was decided SDC needed to revamp its image and mission, so visionary choreographer Rafael Bonachela was named the new Artistic Director in 2009. Since Bonachela's appointment, the company has grown and changed drastically, but maintained its respected name and reputation. In January 2010, Anne Dunn took the position of Executive Director of SDC, and together Bonachela and Dunn are working to further advance SDC's functionality and innovative vision. Their primary goal is to remain artistically innovative and appealing while increasing accessibility to the public.

In a small office on the Harbour, Sydney Dance Company's dedicated team works long hours in Australia's stifling heat. The office overlooks one of the company's three studios and sits on top of the Sydney Dance Cafe; reverberating with the teachers' music around the clock. Students, company members, and employees dart in and out of the office throughout the day, always smiling and usually sweaty. It reminds me a lot of NEAD (my studio in New Canaan) on a considerably larger scale.

One thing I have to say about internships in Australia is that they're not really internships. I feel like my colleagues have high expectations of me and delegate me to complete much more substantial tasks than an intern in the States might encounter. It's a great feeling knowing comments I make or ideas I have are taken seriously by everyone in the office.

I work mainly in publishing and marketing, but occasionally I'll hop around the office and help others with student workshops or ticket sales. I was privileged to see this season's show, New Creations, three times, and each time I loved it more than the last! I have also been to various photo shoots/interviews, watched the filming So You Think You Can Dance (Australia) live with Rafael Bonachela, and I've met some amazing and well-known dancers. This week, I am interviewing each of the company members and then putting together short videos of each to post on the website. I will paste the link here when I complete the project.

All in all, working at Sydney Dance Company has been a fantastic experience. I've learned so much and become friends with such amazing, talented people. I've learned through this internship that despite my rotten hips and knees, I can be a part of the dance world for as long as I want to.

I've got eight days of work left at SDC, which will no doubt be busy and rich in opportunity, and then a few days before final exams to pack up my things and get ready to move on from Sydney. I will post stories as they come up for the remainder of my trip. Lots of love to family and friends in the US, and to friends wrapping up their time in Australia with me!

We're off to the Blue Mountains

Buon giorno, mi amici. I am registering for classes this weekend, and after realizing there's no way out of a last semester of Italian, I'm trying to remember what I've already learned so I can pass. So, hopefully I can recall enough to make this blog post bilingual! Useful for me, and fun for you!

After my week a casa, I came back and immediately began my internship at the Sydney Dance Company. I mostly work in publicity and marketing, but I have been passed around il ufficio to almost every department. It's been una esperienza fantastica so far, and I have high hopes for my last tre settimane there.

One thing I have struggled with, however, is the office environment. I don't mean the people or the atmosphere, I mean the physical sitting/desk/computer environment. If there is one thing I have learned about myself questo semestre, it's that I do not have the capacity to sit at a desk and work in an office tutti giorni. Come Fridays, I do everything in my power to get outside and see as much as possible to avoid going stir-crazy. So, last weekend, I thought what better way to get out and about than repel down cliffs and waterfalls?

Mi amica, Katelyn, and I woke up at 5 am Sunday mattina to catch a 5:45 train. It's only a 2 hour viaggio, and both of us fell asleep about cinque minuti into the ride. When we arrived, we had una ora to kill before our tour met, so we got some eggs and bread for colazione at a small cafe in the town of Katoomba's tiny centre. An hour later at High n Wild's headquarters, we tried on wetsuits, helmets, and gloves before packing up our waterproof backpacks and heading out. There were about 12 of us total with guides Kieron and Jacindy. Un altro gruppo di studenti Americani left Katoomba at the same time, but we were happy to be with some older, friendlier tourists.

First, we had an intense safety lesson with Kieron. This made us all feel more at ease, because l'idea di repelling down rocks on ropes was a little scary to some of us (read: Katelyn). We learned how to strap our gear up properly, what words to shout below to our spotters, and generally how to avoid death. Here I am in my helmet and harness (aka "modesty pouch"):



Aussies know how to look GOOD. So, sporting our cute attire and ready to tackle our first 5 meter descent, the group suited up. We did the 5 m twice, then a 15 m twice and a 30 m twice. Last and most exciting was the waterfall canyon, which was also 30 m. Once you got the hang of allowing your weight to pull the rope through your hands, it was easy to get used to the dangling in midair part.

It turns out abseiling is extremely easy if you 1) trust yourself, and 2) trust your teacher. There really isn't a way to die unless you have nobody spotting you or you're just a fool looking for trouble. You start standing backwards on the edge of a cliff, clipped into a safety rope that doesn't reach past the edge of the cliff. Once you're strapped in to the descending corda and undone from the safety, you slowly edge backwards and lean all of your weight into your harness. Perfect form is an L-shape with your feet flat on the cliff and your back perpendicular to the ground. You let la corda slide through your hands as you repel downwards and basically passeggiare backwards down the cliff. Easy peasy! Some of us tried jumping a bit, where you let the rope slide through your mani quickly and sort of bounce down the cliff. Again, it's all simple as long as you loosen up enough to trust your spotters. Here's a shot of the view from the top of the 30 m dry abseil:



The first six abseils were down regolare cliffs at the heights I mentioned. The last drop, the waterfall canyon, was one of the coolest things I've ever seen/done. We had to weave through a maze of rock pools, caves, and streams to get to the fall. This journey took about an hour in itself, and then we spent another ora or due at the fall. Sadly, I didn't have a waterproof camera, so I have no photos of il viaggio to the canyon. However, we did befriend un uomo svedese with one, and he offered to send us his photos once he returnded to Sweden. I will post some of those when they come in.

I can't really describe our experience at and after the waterfall canyon, but it was unforgettable. I can say that to return to our starting point we had to climb 732 stairs, which was fun but exhausting. We were all seeing spots by the end of the hike. Also, Katelyn and I felt really cool because we had rope burns on our backs for about a week after that day. We felt like rugged Aussies (which probably makes us huge losers).

Anyhow, moral of the story: go abseiling. It's a great way to exercise and a new way to experience the outdoors. This might be easier said than done in New Canaan or Boston, but make a note to visit High n Wild on your next visit to Sydney!

Stories from Easter to come. In the meantime, buonanotte amici e famiglia! Devo dormire. Solo un mese finché ritorno a casa, e posso dire più storie. Ciao a tutti! Baci baci.

An island of a different color

I feel like I should start this post, the mother of all my blog posts, with a big AH-HEM and a toast. Basically I have more to say than I can possibly fit into one reasonably trimmed recount, so I'm going to go ahead and let the words flow. My apologies to those of you who fall asleep, faint, or simply lose interest while reading, but at least I forewarned you.

Why Tasmania?
Many of you may be wondering why. the hell. you would ever, ever, EVER go to Tasmania? The answer is simple: I have absolutely no idea. Early in the semester, I was discussing possible spring break with friends, and the usual destinations sprang up: Fiji, the Gold Coast, and the Whitsunday islands. None of us were too enthralled by these options, so Mallory suggested Tasmania offhand and we pounced on it. I had no idea, so I will mention for everyone's benefit, that Tasmania is an Australian state. It basically has a ton of national parks, hiking, and wildlife, and no people. It's about the size of West Virginia (roughly 25,000 sq miles), but Tasmania's population is about 500,000 and WV's is about 2 million. 40 percent of the entire population lives in one city, Hobart. These numbers more or less indicate the vast emptiness of the island. I use the word "bizarre" to describe it.

Pre-Departure Drama
Do we stay in hostels? Are there buses? What is there to actually DO? These were all important questions we researched the crap out of. It turns out Tasmania had quite a few hostels to offer, but most of them were in over-hyped towns or small cities that had little natural beauty to offer. Additionally, the roads in Tasmania are arguably the windiest and most remote on the planet, so a seemingly short drive from city to city can take an uncomfortable six hours. There is virtually no public transportation, and little in the way of civilized activity to partake in. About five days before our scheduled flight, we agreed renting a car and camping was the most cost-effective and sensible way to go. The great thing about Australia is that oftentimes it is cheaper to wait until the last minute to book vacations, unlike the USA. Our indecisiveness paid off! Not to mention a patch of dirt good enough for a tent is monumentally cheaper than a hotel room.

Day 1
I hopped out of bed at 5:30 am on Sunday, February 28 to catch an early flight to Hobart, which is in the Southeastern center of Tasmania. We landed at about 10:30 am and were greeted by the following sign at the airport:



We got a huge kick out of this, and knew immediately we would love Tasmanians!
The airport is almost as small as the one in Byron Bay, so after about a three second walk we found the car rental place and picked up the car. It was TINY! It's called a Nissan Tilda, and it's really meant for a set of parents with a maximum of two young kids. We stuffed that car to the brim, and were a little nervous about its ability to drive on unpaved roads, but it turned out to be okay. Well, not okay, but we managed to handle all the problems it gave us with relative ease. After purchasing a map at a nearby gas station, we started off for the Tasman National Park in the most Southeastern peninsula of the island.
The approximately two hour drive was smooth, and we were completely psyched and confident until we got to the park's "entrance." There was a sign bearing the name of our campsite, Fortescue Bay, so we turned onto the gravel road it indicated. Here's where we ran into some trouble. This gravel "road" was LONG. The going was SLOW. And there were about 50 turnoff points that may or may not have led to our destination. We maintained our faith in the existence of our campground, especially considering I had a printed confirmation of the booking we made, but were still extremely nervous until we stumbled on the "visitors centre" about 30 minutes later. We had lost cell phone service about an hour earlier, and hadn't minded until we entered the deserted park.
I should mention that at this point in the day it was about 2 pm and freezing cold. By freezing, I mean mildly chilly in Boston terms, but for five college kids with one backpack full of tee-shirts each, it was disconcerting. The woman in the "centre" was bundled up and had a fire going, and seemed as though she had suffered an extremely lonesome weekend. She told us we had pretty much free choice of any of the campsites, so we piled back into our car and picked the most homey mud patch. Here it is:



I know, it's beautiful, right? In all seriousness, though, we were all so excited for our first tent-pitching experience. This was also the only campsite we were spending two nights at, so it was great that it was one of the best.
After we had everything set up, we piled back into the car to visit Port Arthur. Port Arthur is the oldest historic convict site in Australia, and is Tasmania's biggest tourist attraction. It was only about 35 minutes from our campsite (25 of which were spent getting up the driveway), so we didn't mind the quick trip. We arrived about an hour before closing time, so Kate, Mal, and I paid a reduced price to get in while the boys went fishing nearby.
I have never been one to believe in ghosts or anything similar, but I will admit that I felt a haunting presence in Port Arthur. Though the day was clear for some of the time, the air felt thick and the buildings crowded, despite the fact that we were the only people on site. Here's a photo of the view from the grounds, which looks beautiful, but keep in mind it was the most brutal convict colony in the European world.



You might notice the rainbow in the photo, which acts as a convenient segue into my next topic. The weather in Tasmania, but specifically Port Arthur, was unbelievably wild! As I mentioned, it was chilly and sunny when we first arrived. Within 20 minutes of being at Port Arthur, it started to pour rain. This quickly turned into hail, which was blown away by strong winds before the sun came out again! It was surreal. Even more strange, the boys were only 15 minutes away fishing and said it stayed sunny where they were the whole evening! How weird! We asked a woman at the front desk if this was normal, and she said Tasmania is known as the land of four seasons in a day. This made us slightly nervous for the week ahead, but other than a few rain showers this was the most inclement weather we faced.
When we met up with the boys a little while later, our plans to return to camp and eat dinner were temporarily forgotten. We were shocked to see one of our tires was completely flat, and the others were all losing air quickly. We had noticed that the tires were bald when we left the parking lot, but the mechanic at the Budget stand assured us they were safe for the week. He was WRONG! We called Budget from the front desk at Port Arthur, and learned we were basically on our own unless we wanted to backtrack to Hobart and swap cars at the airport. So, we slapped the spare tire on the car and prayed we made it to camp in one piece.
After a slow, bouncy ride to camp, we built a fire and shared soup and beans. We all shuffled to sleep early after the long day of traveling, excited for the next day of exploring.

Day 2, Cape Hauy and A Wallaby Attack
As I mentioned, we were spending two nights at Fortiscue Bay, so Monday was the only day that didn't begin with a scramble to pack up our tents. We visited a mechanic shop quickly in the morning to see about a new tire, but the only mechanic on site had taken off for the day, much to the confusion of his saleswoman.
Tasman National Park offers several trails, ranging from extreme beginner to expert, so we picked one somewhere in the middle that started near our campsite. It ended up taking us about six hours roundtrip after we added several detours. The trail ran along the coast for about a quarter of a mile, then turned inland as it climbed upwards. At a lookout point somewhere in the middle, the trail veered almost 90 degrees left and steeply down. We shrugged this change in direction off as nothing, not realizing that we would have to go up again to get to our final destination. Needless to say, we all got a good workout that day!
The hike was beautiful. As many of you can attest to, it's hard to describe experiences like this in words, so here are a few photos that do a better job of illustrating the day than I can articulate...







As you can see, the sights were amazing, and we had a fantastic day. It was sunny and about 80 F all day, so we really lucked out. When we descended back to our campsite, we decided to dive in the ocean for a bit to cool down. What we were not expecting was to freeze in the absolutely bitter cold water! We forgot that the part of Tasmania we were in was the closest piece of land to Antarctica, so the ocean is notoriously cold there. Oops! We had a great time swimming around to stay warm, despite the risk of hypothermia. After that little jaunt we were in desperate need of a shower and fire, so we "showered" in a water faucet (which was just as cold as the ocean) and then bundled up by the fire. It was almost a full moon, too, so we walked down to where we swam when the sun set to see the moon and stars. It was amazing.

Day 3
After surviving a midnight wallaby attack, we quickly packed up our tents and sleeping bags to head to our next destination: Freycinet National Park. Freycinet is about two and a half hours North of Tasman, and on the coast as well, so the drive was quite scenic and pleasant. We managed a detour to the airport, where we swapped cars after insisting ours was not safe to drive. Luckily, the second mechanic we dealt with was extremely kind and accommodating, so we barely lost any time.
We passed numerous beautiful beaches on our drive North and tried to stop for a quick swim, but it was harder to find a pullover spot than we expected. Finally, we slipped into a tiny parking lot and found ourselves inches away from a completely empty, clean, beautiful beach. The water was still cold here, but much more bearable during the day and brilliant sunshine. I went for a run along the sand and then played around in the water with the others for about 30 minutes. We finally realized we were on our way to another beach at our campsite, so we were less sad to desert the random paradise and pile back into the car for the last hour.
Most of Freycinet's campgrounds are beachside. Our reserved sand patch was on Richardson's Beach, which is located in a quiet little bay on the Western coast of the park's peninsula. The grounds were very clean and much more populous than Tasman National Park's, which was great because we felt less nervous about potential death by animal attack.
Ramsey and I swam for about 20 minutes along the coast while the others collected rocks. It was a beautiful, warm day, and the beach was quiet despite the presence of several other campers and caravans in the surrounding area. As evening neared, the boys started to get antsy and decided they were in desperate need of meat for dinner, so they took the car and drove back towards a grocery store we had stopped at earlier. They promised us they would be gone for a maximum of 45 minutes, so, naturally, they were gone for about two hours. When they returned, we noticed the car was splattered with something. Sadly, that something turned out to be quail guts. The boys took the car for two short hours and managed to hit a quail. Needless to say, we were glad it rained the next day to wash away the "residue." After we took absolutely FREEZING cold showers, we heated up the meat they found and had a lovely steak and beans dinner. It was a very clear night, so we sat on the beach star gazing for a while before we turned in and burrowed into our sleeping bags.

Day 4, Part 1
Freycinet National Park has tons of amazing hiking options, so we woke up early to take advantage before we had to move on to the next park. We opted to take the Wineglass Bay circuit hike, which takes you up to a lookout point and then down towards Wineglass Bay. The Bay is named for its shape, and it is widely known to have some of the clearest water and fine, white sand. This hike was much more challenging than we anticipated, so it took us a bit longer than we'd hoped. However, it ended up working out great that we were delayed, because we ran into a wallaby in the parking lot and became friends with him! Yes, by wallaby I mean small kangaroo. And yes, by friends, I mean we hung out with him for a solid 30 minutes and only left because we were pressed for time. Here are photos of the bay and our new friend...





We said goodbye to our wallaby and clambered into the car at about noon. The next national park we were headed to was supposedly only 30 minutes away, so we were quite excited to get there and continue trekking. About 45 minutes into our drive, we started to grow concerned. About an hour into our drive, we concluded Mapquest was probably wrong, because, after all, we were in the middle of Tasmania. After two hours, we started thinking we should ask somebody where we were. I should mention that the "highway" we had been on for 60 km was dirt. By dirt, I mean dirt. So the going was slow, at best. At around two and a half hours, we had the sense to pull over when we saw the first human we had seen since we left the campground. The farmer we spoke to was exceptionally friendly, and was probably very helpful, but sadly his accent prevented any understanding on our part. He waved his arms around and said something about Elephant Pass, which was new to us, but finally pointed back where we had come from and said we needed to backtrack at least two hours. So, bummed but amused, we loaded in the car again and proceeded onwards, or at least backwards.
To make a long story short, it took us five hours to get to a place that was, in fact, only 30 minutes away from our initial launch point.

Day 4, Part 2
Douglas-Apsley National Park is the most remote place on Earth. I am confident in making this statement, especially after visiting two other national parks in Tasmania. We had experienced serious isolation and three days without cell phone service, but the amount of nothing and no one in Douglas-Apsley was ridiculous. There were literally three, yes THREE, other humans in the entire park. This was the only free campsite we stayed at, and the most (you guessed it) isolated. All of the other campsites had space to park cars and caravans in each individual campsite, but here the car park was a solid ten minute walk away from the designated clearing. We had to walk back and forth several times to stow food and other items that would potentially attract wallabies in the car. Technically, fires were restricted in this park, but the other three people we ran into assured us there was nobody around to yell at us if we decided to bend the rules, so, we did. There was also a "watering hole" about five minutes down the path from our tent with fresh water. It wasn't drinkable, but it was extremely refreshing (read:freezing) to be out of salt water. We sat around the fire eating chicken sandwiches and sharing music and stories before falling asleep. We were woken up in the middle of the night by wolves or dingoes howling, but they sounded fairly far away so we shrugged and went back to sleep.

Day 5
Thursday, March 4 began as the average day in Tasmania did: alarms sounded at 8, we woke up at 9. We ate granola bars, brushed our teeth and spat in a bush, and packed our car to bursting point. I felt content in a way that only stems from a quiet morning in nature. It's fitting that this was the start to the day my Grandpa passed away.

Day 6
After much see-sawing between wanting to stay in Tasmania and wanting to fly home to the States immediately, I realized my Grandpa would want nothing more in the world than for me to enjoy the rest of my time in Tassie- a place he would have loved with every fiber of his being. So, on Friday morning, I leaned on my wonderful friends and headed to Cradle Mountain National Park to enjoy one last day and night in the wild.
Cradle Mountain is Tasmania's most famous hiking spot. The park is located in the island's Northwest center, and is one of the biggest. Its popularity was evident by the presence of other people in the visitors centre. In fact, I reckon we saw more people in the Cradle Mountain National Park Visitors Centre than we did at the Hobart International Airport. Not to mention we passed about thirty other people on our hike, which surpassed the amount of travelers we saw on all our other hikes combined. The park offers several walking trails and hiking circuits for explorers of all levels, so we chose a 2-3 hour circuit around Dove Lake.
It was a beautiful day: not too sunny, but not overly cloudy. We trudged slowly around the lake, pausing often to take in the views and breathe the clean air. I haven't mentioned this yet, but Tasmania has the world's cleanest air. We tried to absorb as much as possible since the likelihood we'll return is, sadly, small. The lake's perimeter was spotted with pebbly beaches, so after a long bout of walking, we found one we liked and relaxed there for a couple of hours, sharing stories. Ramsey and Daniel cast a few fishing lines, but the lake was so quiet that it seemed unlikely any creatures lived there at all. We finished the circuit late in the afternoon.

We camped in the park that night, got soaking wet inside our sleeping bags despite our tent's rain cover, and woke up early the next morning to drive five hours back to Hobart and the airport. We were fortunate to find vacancy in a hostel for the night, so after we checked in there we walked around the city and opted to see a movie. Sunday morning, we flew back to Sydney. We were sore, exhausted, and probably smelled terrible, but all that paled in the wake of our unforgettable time in the wilderness.

So to Tasmania: you are weird, you are empty, and you are beautiful. We thank you for a great week. And to my readers: thanks for staying interested. I appreciate your attention more than I can say, and I hope you are able to experience Tasmania someday for yourselves!

Dedicated to Peter Bowles O'Brien

I've a feeling we're not in Sydney anymore...

I just looked at the date of my last post, and I am ashamed to see my most recent update is a month old! If Mrs. Katz were here, she would give me a big tatzen. Luckily, I have an excuse for this deficit. My day planner acts as physical evidence of the fact that the past four weeks have been some of the busiest of my life. I am honestly surprised I can still stand up straight. Better than that, I am refreshed and ready for the next series of adventures! So, let's get down to it, shall we?

We returned from Melbourne on Wednesday, February 17, and on Friday the 19 we flew out to Byron. It was just Mallory, Kate, and me, and we were very excited to break off from the group for a bit and relax away from the city. Kate flew out of Sydney earlier in the day, but Mallory and I had class until 2:00 so we left in the evening. The moment we hit the tarmac, we knew we were in for a quiet weekend. This was our plane:



Luckily, I am very comfortable on tiny planes after flying to St. Barths so many times, so I was not too nervous. We landed in Byron Bay at about 8:15 pm, and were planning on catching a shuttle bus we had heard about to our hostel. However, we got off the plane, and immediately found ourselves alone and feeling lost. The other passengers all had prearranged rides or family members there to meet them, the flight crew evaporated, and one of the two taxis waiting for arrivals hurried away. We did not get the memo that the airport shuts down at 6 pm. Luckily, one taxi remained waiting. We asked the driver what our "options" were to get to town, and he said there was only one: to take his cab. After learning the ride would be about 8 times as costly as the shuttle we anticipated, we accepted the fact that we had no other way out of the airport. So, off we went! It took us about 40 minutes to get there, but we were relieved that we made it.

After our brief panic at the airport, we were delighted to discover our hostel is known as the nicest in Byron Bay. It's called Nomad's, and it's brand new and in the center of town. We unpacked our things and met up with Kate, who had explored all day and led us to the main street (which, by the way, was about 10 feet away from our hostel's front door). We walked around for a few minutes, but soon the essays we had just turned in caught up with us, and we retired pretty early.

On Saturday, we were out the door by 8:30 am. We started the day with some delicious yogurt and muesli smoothies, and then headed for the beach. I should probably explain the layout of the town to make things more clear...

Essentially, Byron Bay has one street that reminded me of a hippie-esque Nantucket, because in both towns, the main street is the only one worth perusing. There are multiple restaurants, clothing stores, souvenir stands, and swim/surf shops on it. There are also several agencies of sorts offering kayaking tours, surf rentals, snorkel equipment, etc. This main street runs perpendicular to the beach, and opens up directly into the beach's parking lot, so you can walk from the top of the street into the ocean. There is little to do in Byron out of the water, which, for me, was ideal. Here's a picture of the main street...



As you can see, it's pretty small. Anyways, for Saturday, we had pre-booked a dolphin kayaking tour. We were expecting a van or bus of some sort to come pick us up, but we were amused to see our ride was a rugged Jeep with two other girls thrown in the trunk. We piled in alongside them, laughing, and headed for the beach, not really knowing what to expect.

I was horrified to learn that we were required to sign a release form, which promised we wouldn't sue the company if we drowned or were eaten by sharks. Our tour guides seemed amused by our (my) fear of potential death by shark attack, so they kindly pointed out that it had been a full two days since the last shark sighting, and we "should" be okay if we stay with the group. Needless to say, it took a lot of willpower and few pushes from Mallory to get me into the kayak. We had an amazing time, though we didn't see any dolphins, and only capsized four or five times. Everyone else managed to stay in their boats a little better than we did. Here's a shot of the beautiful beach we launched from (also the only beach)...



After our sea kayaking tour, as we renamed it, we returned to the beach and then the hostel to regroup for dinner. We had some delicious kebabs and hummus, and then made our way towards the water to watch the sunset. When we got near the beach, we heard a drum circle going on, so we went to check it out and ended up staying for about two hours. There were around 12 musicians playing consistently, and others would drop in and out of the circle as they pleased with various instruments. Everyone involved in the circle and around it was extremely friendly, and people felt comfortable enough to dance and lose themselves in the music. Kate, Mal, and I danced on a cliff overlooking the beach while the sun set. It was beautiful, and the music and laughter surrounding us made it an unforgettable experience. We checked out a couple of bars after this, but didn't last long.

Back at our hostel, we chatted with our roommates, Kate and Ellie, who are from England and traveling around Australia/New Zealand for a year. They were so friendly and fun, and we quickly became friends with them. We also got to know a Swiss guy named Rafael pretty well, and the six of us had a lot of fun together. It was refreshing to hang out with people outside of the BU program, and we've managed to stay in touch with all three of our new friends!

On Sunday, we had no plans but to explore the various shops and restaurants in the town. We made friends with the owner of a vintage store and ended up chatting with her for a couple of hours as we modeled clothes for her. The woman who sewed the clothes together wasn't there, but the salesgirl told us all the fabrics were taken from vintage dresses, tops, and skirts. They were beautifully made and very original. I was the only one of the three of us who didn't make a purchase! After our little fashion show, we headed back to the beach to relax one last time and take in some more sun. We were reveling in the chance to lounge, because we had final exams and essays due later in the week.

Sunday night, we ate some of the best sushi I've ever tasted. In the middle of the restaurant was a sushi train, where they have a sushi-making island in the middle with a train with plates on it circling around the bar. It tasted so fresh and rich, and the chef nearest to us got a big kick out of how excited we were! She kept laughing and refilling the plates with our favorite pieces. Here's a picture of my favorite one, which might look gross but it was AMAZING!! It's salmon with some sort of veggies on the inside, and the wrap was tempura with some yummy sauce on top. Mmmm....



That pretty much topped off our weekend in Byron. After dinner, I went and sat on the beach for about an hour after the sun had set, stargazing and enjoying the fresh air. The next day, Kate flew out early and Mal and I explored some more before our evening flight. The quiet weekend was exactly what the three of us needed to rejuvenate our tired brains and brace ourselves for the busy months ahead! I haven't sat still since that last day on the beach, but I think the most memorable part of the trip was the genuine friendliness of the people. I must admit I'm biased towards Tasmania for sights after spending a week there, so I might not be doing Byron's views justice! Thanks for reading! Stories from Tassie to come...