Here, Loving Each Other and Fearless

Travel Card

laurfish — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 01:16:00 GMT

life is this.

the carved victorian banister

the swishing of a dress

the soft rain on the ocean

the ladybug crawling on the window

the fogginess of sunrise

the leafy shadows

the gurgling thunder

the singing streetlights

the ladybug crawling on the window

the clinking of falling keys

the fireworks behind your eyes

the cat scurrying across the road

the prickly grass

the rainbow on the wall

the whipping of my hair in the wind

the ladybug crawling on the window

the restless clouds

the stars the stars the stars

Life is This

laurfish — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 01:12:00 GMT

Hi friends and family!

Welcome to my travel log, where I hope to keep you updated as I make my way around this big, beautiful world. A little bit of background: this trip was inspired by my Australian friend, Patrick, who I met while staying at his hostel (in a tent in the backyard!) in Melbourne. We have stayed in touch since I returned to the States, and when he couldn’t make it over here for a road trip in the U.S., we worked it out so that I could join him on a promotional trip for his hostel up the east coast of Oz. The rest is history! (Or future, I suppose…)

Here are my plans so far, broken down by months:

June

I’ll be home in Haddonfield, New Jersey, loving the free room and board, Jersey shore, and hangin out with friends and family. On the 30^th, I depart for my 17+-hour journey to Melbourne, Australia…

July

Patrick and I will be driving his van up the east coast of Australia. (Itinerary TBD.)

August

Up in the air – I’ll likely be hanging out in or around Melbourne, or perhaps already crossing borders early…

September

For at least one month, I will be working at Mistletoe Bay, an eco-village on a peninsula between the north and south islands of New Zealand. For free room (my own self-contained unit) and board (wine and calling cards included), I will be doing basic care-taking duties: picking organic veggies; taking care of their goats, pigs, and two alpacas; driving visitors to the site via boat; stocking shelves of their small shop; and the like. Mistletoe Bay is just outside Picton, the south island’s major port where the ferries from the north dock. More importantly, Picton is in the Malborough region – one of New Zealand’s major wine-producing areas. The next time you’re in a wine store, check out their collection of Sauvignon Blancs. If the place is any good, they’ll have some from Malborough. So I’ll be updating you on the development of both my self and of my palate.

November

This is where it gets a little fuzzier. For November, I’ll either be hanging around Mistletoe Bay or traveling around New Zealand, hitting up the places I missed the first time around, notably: Tanagriro Crossing, Christchurch, Dunedin, Stuart Island, and perhaps even the upper reaches of the north island.

December

For the middle of this month, I hope to be entertaining or traveling with my best friend Sarah, depending on what we both can afford! We’d love to spend the holidays and New Years together, where ever we may be. Mistletoe Bay has asked me to return to help them with the busy holiday seasons and this seems like a likely prospect.

...So now you know what I know! This itinerary will surely change as time flies by, and I hope to add entries to this journal once a week, depending on the Internet’s availability. So… feel free to post comments and stay tuned!

Photos: Byron Bay

laurfish — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 17:17:00 GMT

Byron Bay Sunset

laurfish — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 17:12:00 GMT

How can one describe a Byron Bay sunset?
impossible, I think, in words. impossible in photographs.
alas, I will try.

it's as if the water itself is glowing.
there is a golden haze floating atop of the water.
swirling over and around the surfers,
catching them on fire.
it's hard to see them in this golden mist but they're there, bobbing with the pulse of the ocean
like your hand rises and falls on your chest.

the sun hits the water near the shore, lighting a blazing path from my feet to the horizon, as if beckoning me to join her in her descent.

everything is alive.
the roaring waves
the blinding sun
the misty mountains framing the bay, fading away into the distance
the battered rocks are alive
the air is alive with the smell of cooking fish and the sound of bongo drums
and so is your heart
thumping, rocking, swelling, lit on fire

disbelieving yet believing everything

there is nothing finer than this moment
where the past and the future converge.

creating a bang of light
called the present.

and since there is nothing more I can say so that your mind's eye will see what I see
I will sit here and live this sunset for the both of us.

The Big Update (p1): Christchurch to Little River

laurfish — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 09:44:00 GMT

Hello Mom, Dad, friends, family and strangers, too.

Here’s part one of the big update. I’ve spent seven sunny weeks in New Zealand so far, four in the Marlborough Sounds and three traveling NZ’s various coasts. I will attempt to recreate my journey that took me to where I am today: Motueka.

It All Began at a Church…

Christchurch

Although it’s New Zealand’s third largest city (after Auckland and Wellington, the capital), the term “sky line” doesn’t apply here. The tallest building is probably, what, oh, seven stories high? (Although the buildings may lack in height, its art makes up for it. Christchurch’s (here forth fondly referred to as “Chch”) prolific public sculptures are often taller than the buildings; one temporary installment was a crane set up in a park with a sail boat hanging from it, three stories up – how high water may rise due to climate change.)

Still, it’s a city never the less, and what a quaint one it is! Most of the buildings are picture-perfect Victorians, and you can spend hours roaming the well-designed Botanic Gardens. (Which I did.) One of my favorite parts was the river. You can walk along the lush riverbank, following its meandering path through the Gardens and the city. It’s not a long walk – nothing is a long walk away – but it will bring you past or near many of the interesting sites. One of my favorite bits, which is why I love Let’s Go guidebooks, was walking around the Parliament Buildings. They are these old stone buildings, almost like gothic cathedrals, that you can wander in and out of, with passageways that make you feel as though you’re in a Nancy Drew mystery and should be carrying a torch.

Although Chch is lovely, there’s not much for tourists to do. One day I took the bus to the Port Hills and, with a Canadian that I met on the bus, walked up the very steep Bridle Path that the original settlers created when they first arrived. From the top you can see suburbs stretching into the distance, but then the great snow-capped Southern Alps loom in the background. Beautiful.

Just over the pass lies the town of Lytelton, which was named that for a reason. We didn’t find much (or anything) to do there, so we just took the bus back into town. By the end of the second day, I was ready to leave.

Heading to Akaroa (Little River)

Before I headed up to the Marlborough Sounds, I wanted to take a detour southeast to the Banks Peninsula. It was the presence of three volcanoes that gave it its shape, making it look now like New Zealand’s elbow. And this began a brand new adventure for me – hitchhiking! Mom and Dad implored against it, but I wanted to give it a go. I took a public bus to the outskirts of the city and stuck my thumb out. The rule of thumb (haha) is to get right on the very edge of the city; country folk are much more likely to pick you up than citysiders. Apparently I wasn’t far enough out because it was a long wait – about forty minutes to an hour. Fortunately I had a warm sun, some rabbits, and a nice countryside to keep me company. The first driver to pick me up was an eighth generation Kiwi who took me about twenty minutes down the road. The second (only waited about ten, fifteen minutes) was a man and his son who invited me in to their farm for tea (I declined, I wanted to get to Akaroa). But it was the third driver who was the noteworthy one.

Introducing Dags. He looks like one of the last people you want to get into a car with, but is in fact one of the kindest people I have ever met in my life. He’s a late-thirties-something who lives on the peninsula and is contracted to tie poi knots for a living (for fire twirling). In fact, he was on his way to Little River to pick up his five year-old son and attend the annual Little River Fire Festival, and so he dropped me off there. Before sticking my thumb out again (about a half hour from Akaroa), I decided to check out the festival for kicks. It was just a few buildings and tents along a river, and there were only a few people loitering around, but the prospect of fire throwing seemed pretty cool… the tickets weren’t that expensive so I decided to postpone Akaroa and camp out at the Festival for the night! Now don’t get the wrong impression – this was a small event. Think thirty to forty people camping out, drinkin’ beers, huddled together watching people do crazy things with fire. (One thrower, Nick, had a whip that he lit on fire! When he cracked it, a big fireball erupted and dissipated into the sky.) There was also a hot air balloon that I helped raise and pack up, though it didn’t get more than a foot off the ground due to the wind. It was definitely a very country event. One thing I was already starting to notice was how friendly Kiwis are. A couple women took me under their wing, giving me beers and offering me their tent to stay the night! This is why I love traveling with a loose itinerary!

Dags and I had exchanged info because I took some adorable photos of him and Jimmy, his son; he mentioned for Jimmy’s school holidays, they were planning on doing a tour around the Banks Peninsula and would I like to come along? Heck yeah! I told him I’d give him after a couple days in Akaroa and we parted ways.

next: Akaroa and the Banks Peninsula

My Progress So Far...

laurfish — Thu, 6 Nov 2008 19:44:00 GMT

This photo follows my travels in NZ since I arrived in October.

This photo showns my current traveling, from Mistletoe Bay in the Marlborough Sounds (where I've been WWOOFing), through Nelson (where I am now), to Motueka and Takaka (circled)

I made it to New Zealand!

laurfish — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 10:11:00 GMT

I'm here! Here's a brief catch-up...

I was off to a slow start upon arriving to Christchurch, but I'm beginning to pick up momentum.

I just spent two and a half days in Christchurch and I'm heading out today to the Banks Penninsula to a small town called Akaroa. Get used to seeing "a"'s and "o"'s... town names have a lot of them!

Photos I've posted so far can be found here: http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2096339&l=4d463&id=1705228

Whew! OK, off again!

Some Details That May Or May Not Interest You

laurfish — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 10:19:00 GMT

Down the street from the Ahern’s is a front yard with a walkway lined with lavender. Every time I walk by it, I lean through the gate and run my hands along the leaves so the scent stays with me all morning.

The bike ride from the Ahern’s to Pat’s hostel takes about an hour along the Yarra River. It once took me an hour and a half to take the train home.

A while ago Adrien and I made pain au chocolate from scratch. It took us over five hours. Our current mission is creating the perfect stir fry.

During the road trip with Pat, I consumed three jars of peanut butter... usually directly from the jar.

In both of Sally and Steve's houses — in Melbourne and in Lorne — the primary purpose of walls is not to hold up the roof but to provide room for fine art. Their collection is quite extensive... and if you ask Steve about any painting, he can tell you the artist’s inspiration for the painting as well as her or his life history.

Every night for dinner at S&S's, I have two or three glasses of fine Australian or New Zealand wine.

Numerous people have remarked that I don’t have a strong American accent. Several times Sally has even mistaken my voice for her daughter Phoebe’s.

Almost everyone who smokes here rolls their own cigarettes.

One of Sally and my traditions is playing Scrabble after dinner. We’ve played over ten games and at times get quite competitive!

They call Melbourne "the city of suburbs"... or if they don't, I'll coin the phrase; beyond the tall buildings lie small suburban streets lined with small suburban houses, each one-story, with a front yard and driveway.

Due to the trolleys, there are times where I’ll be riding in the heart of Melbourne city with no cars or traffic of any kind around me – I’ll have the road completely to myself! That’s why it’s so easy and stress-free to ride in the city.

I have yet to become jaded by the beauty of Eculyptus trees.

I was finally awarded the opportunity to see kangaroos! Last time I was in Australia I saw tons of wallabys, koalas, wombats, goanas, an emu, and the shadow of a platypus, but not a kangaroo! The largest one I saw was in a mob of about twenty 'roos, and standing up s/he was certainly taller than me!

Patrick's brother had a Zoolander themed party a couple weeks ago... To pay hommage to the state I know and love, I dressed up as a coal miner from South Jersey.

Australians say "I reckon" more than a midwestern corn farmer.

Cookaberras' calls sound like monkeys’.

Fly bites don't itch here. (Mosquitos "mossies" excluded.)

It has yet to rain in Melbourne without there being a visible patch of blue. In addition, this corner of Australia houses the phenomenon of rain falling from practically clear skies, lasting, at most, fifteen minutes.

Qdos – My Ten-Day Stay in an Artist's Paradise (Lorne, Great Ocean Road)

laurfish — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 16:43:00 GMT

Lorne is easily everyone's favorite town on the Great Ocean Road. A modest 900 live here year-round, but the population swells to a roaring 30,000 (yes, 30,000) once the summer rolls along. With arguably the GOR’s best beach and hippest restaurants, easy access to the tangled and humbly majestic Otway rainforest, a plethora of million-dollar homes overlooking a winding coastline… every town along the southern coast has a right to be insanely jealous. And there’s another part of the small town that makes it especially worthy of an extended stay. Not many venture far from the happenin’ coast, but if you do climb the steep hills, past the roar of the ocean, past the beach-facing windows, past the construction sites, and wind about a half mile down a gravel road, you’ll reach a driveway neatly sheltered by the encroaching rainforest. You’ll know you’ve reached your destination when you get to a silver metal stenciling magically floating above a bolder along the side of the road; this whispers your arrival to Qdos, one of Lorne’s best-leaked secrets.

“Qdos” is, I was told, a postmodern spelling of “kudos,” which Aussies pronounce, as the name suggests, [QUEUE’-doss]. And you can’t help but murmur the word to whoever envisioned this living, breathing celebration of art. Because the first thing you notice is that everything here is art – the bulbous, distorted sculptures seem to grow out of the soil; the light that falls on the small human-made pond is dappled by the canopy of eucalypts; what looks like a sting ray that just swam through a black hole hangs on an exterior wall; mounting the stairs you notice that even the stone path is a work of art -- you’re walking on a hand-designed repeating pattern of thin slate rock stemming from a blue stone, forming a cluster of stars…or bouquets of artsy, post-art-deco flowers… or light streaming through holes poked in the sky … or spotlights that you’re squinting into. But, hey, this is art; it’s whatever you want it to be.

Standing before you is a wide, flat building that looks like it’s either going to take a helicopter landing or fly off itself. You push open the heavy glass doors and immediately know you’re somewhere neat. To the right is a small café, offering gourmet “brekkies” and lunches, coffees and teas, and an exquisite selection of wine and homemade goodies. To your left, you can mosey around a three-room art gallery, admiring the fine collection of mostly impressionistic portrayals of Australian scenery. It’s not often that I see a piece of fine art that captivates me, that says to me, “Laur, buy me! Hang me on your wall, look at me every day. I’m worth the thousands of dollars you’d spend on me! We’d have a fabulous life together, I promise!” But, shockingly, the Qdos gallery has five of them, four of them by the impressionist artist Mark Payne. Now to me, that’s impressive. (But no gallery would be without its weirdoes, like one that is a very round, very orange face of a cartoon cat; or a yellow and red world of cars puttering around houses and factories; or a cartoonish portrayal of a crew team rowing on a beach.)

The theme here is art, windows, and nature. Any direction you face, you’re either looking at a $12,000 painting or at the humble yet stunning eucalypts of the Otway forest, or the proprietor’s architectural interpretation of them. (All the colors of the buildings can be found in eucalyptus trees.)

Walk out of the gallery and around a bend and you’ll find the pottery studio, half inside a bright open room, half outside under a corrugated iron roof (or bright blue tarp). The studio’s organizational and spatial perfection is one achieved only after years of living and working in the space. Recently thrown bowls; cups; teapots; plates; and massive curving, distorted sculptures take up every available shelf, every counter top and corner. A fine powder from dried clay coats the room, dusting everything (and everyone) a milky gray. Upon entering, you feel humbled, as if you’re among great talent, great professionalism, among the product of sturdy dedication and practice. You feel simultaneously a part of yet apart from this place; feeling at home and comfortable, yet knowing you have no right to. So is the enticement and mystery and elitism of art.

Walking outside, you’re impressed by how each tool has a place… and that each tool exists. Everything a potter, carpenter, and gardener could possibly want – but nothing they wouldn’t -- can be found here, neatly hanging on a wall or stowed properly on its shelf. It is obvious that this is a place that took years to build.

Walk just past the wood pile around the corner and before you, you have the pumping heart of any pottery studio – the kiln. Five meters long and two meters wide at its widest point, the kiln looks more like a giant wasps’ nest than an oven. The outside is made out of a mixture of clay and sand, and though it looks delicate, what you can’t see is two feet of brick and newspaper insulation. I came twenty-six hours after the last day of the firing: during this annual five-day event, all of the pieces thrown during the last half-year are loaded into the wood-fired kiln, which is heated to 1350 degrees (Celsius!) and tended by volunteers and staff for one hundred and twenty straight hours. After the festivities are over, everyone goes home and the kiln sits for seven to ten days as it cools down. (Three days later, the kiln is still hot to the touch.) Everyone goes home, that is, except me; this is the point in the story where I arrive at Qdos, with the intention of lending my talents as a WWOOFer, one who works four to six hours a day in return for food and lodging. (WWOOF stands for Willing Workers On Organic Farms, though there is an open definition of the “OF” bit.)

So here I am, writing this on my fourth night at Qdos, after three days of hard, dirty, but not terribly unpleasant work – mostly gardening. Already in my short time here, what I’ve grown to fully realize, though not appreciate, is that work is nothing but moving materials from one place to another, occasionally – though not often – transforming it from one shape or form into another. For example, my first day’s task was to move wood from close by to far away. My second day’s task was to move mulch from this place to other places around the property. For my third day’s task, today’s, I moved slightly-wet-but-drying clay from crates to the table, then wet clay from the barrels to the crates, then dry clay from buckets to the barrels to become wet clay, to someday beyond my scope of vision become slightly-wet-but-drying clay. Very interesting to read about, I’m sure, and not all unpleasant and unnecessary work; but still, distilling it all down to “moving things from here to there” certainly puts your work in a certain kind of perspective. (And I know, I’m intentionally ignoring the value-adding aspect of work that happens through the application of knowledge and experience. Shh.)

Oh but I certainly am rewarded for my hard work. At night I get to go home to my very own Japanese bungalow. Yes, Qdos also has eight or so one-room pagodas perched on a steep hill behind the gallery. You open the door, take off your shoes, and walk into bamboo and parchment paper paradise. The wood smells fresh and new, one inside wall is lined with ash-colored skipping stones, and the single light dims to just above sight. It’s the perfect romantic getaway. Uh… for one!

The luxury doesn’t end there. To all those who wish to WWOOF someday, my word of advice is this: choose a place with a built-in café. For breakfast, it’s homemade muesli (like granola but replace crunchy with oats), fruit, and soy milk, with OJ (freshly squeezed by yours truly). Tara, the waitress and practically assistant manager, makes everyone coffee lattes, and though I still largely refrain from coffee, occasionally I ask for a soy chai latte. Mmm… For lunch, it’s a fresh pumpkin and rocket (what Aussies call arugula) sandwich on fresh sourdough, or rocket pesto pasta, or a fresh veggie wrap; finish that off with a slice of cake or a gourmet, homemade cookie. (Honey coconut, perhaps? Or how about dark chocolate-date?) Dinner is a roasted vegetable salad, or Asian pasta stir fry, or whatever Graeme and I throw together from the day’s leftovers. Again, as at Sally and Steve’s, they’re feeding me so much good food that it’s hard to resist eating too much of it!

Qdos is the brainchild of Graeme Wilkie. The following adjectives have been used to describe him: grey-haired pony-tailed jaded ex-hippie-turned-capitalist new-age Buddhist philosophizing mumbler. FACT: the first day I came, I could understand approximately 40% of what he said to me. Fortunately, 40% was all I needed to survive the first day, and I’m getting better at understanding him as the days pass.

At night it’s just Graeme and myself – the two people who live on the property. We throw some amalgamation together from the café refrigerator (mine was usually stir-fried vegetables with a rocket pesto) and chat. Our topics of conversation (really, more aptly called whole-hearted discussions, sometimes verging on arguments) have centered around paradigm shifts, metaphysics, and spirituality. Sometimes they got pretty heated… he certainly was a challenging person to talk to, but it was a great opportunity to listen and learn, not only about his philosophy but also about myself, what my opinions are and how I feel, as well as how I react to rigorous attacks on my lifestyle and profession passion. At a later point, I may post a synopsis of one of our debates with my reaction and reflection to get some feedback from you guys. It was a pretty interesting one and it bugged me for a couple days so I’d love to hear what you think. Anyway, more about Qdos upon my return!

(The following was written after returning to Melbourne.)

Though I was living in practical paradise, after ten days were up I was ready to head back to the great city of Melbourne. I definitely could have stayed longer, but it just felt like the right time to leave. For those ten days, it was great to wake up with a clear purpose, knowing I would be outside and active for a healthy portion of the day. Most of my work was gardening (burying drip irrigation hoses, adding mulch, planting asparagus, pruning trees in the orchard, e.g.) though I did help with moving clay around and cleaning up the studio. And – Dad, you’ll be pleased to know! – I was able to score some time on the pottery wheel! It is officially confirmed that I am no potting prodigy, but it was a thrill to learn what it’s all about. And lemme tell ya – potting is hard work!! Between transporting, preparing and kneading the clay, glazing, storing, firing, recycling broken pieces and the loads of other chores you need to do, the actually throwing of each piece is a miniscule part of the arduous process. Truly, potters deserve a “Qdos” (haha [kudos]) for all this hard work. And man, clay is HEAVY! I actually built some arm muscle (!!) over those ten days!

I capped the week off well, too; Adrien came down on my last day and I got to show off Qdos and Lorne. We splurged on dinner and took some short walks along the beach and into the rainforest before heading back together for the 2½ -hour bus & train ride to Melbourne.

Overall: everything about the experience was beautiful: the environment, the people, the food, the accommodation, the weather, the art… it was a wonderful opportunity and I’d recommend it to everyone! Who knows, I might even go back and do it again one day!

For now, I’m back in Melbourne with Sally and Steve. I can barely believe it, but I leave for New Zealand in a little over a week! My life will completely change then. I’m excited to start this new adventure, but until then, I'm more than happy to chill out in this lovely city with people I've grown to love.

It’s the American Way

laurfish — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 16:36:00 GMT

I completely forgot to mention this... I have a business!

Several weeks after Pat and I returned to Melbourne, Maxime and I bought used bikes. We got em from a bike rental shop that was trying to get rid of its old generation bicycles to make room for its new shipment. The owner, Murray, was selling for an incredible $80 each... an outrageous deal considering the good quality of the bike and that the price included a lock and helmet. (This is important as it is illegal to ride without a helmet in Oz.)

Meanwhile... reality kicks in. As I only have a tourist visa, it is illegal for me to work while I’m here. I was (achem… am) running considerably low on cash and was looking for any way to make a couple bucks so I wouldn’t have to tap into my New Zealand stash. Patrick casually mentioned that I should try to profit from Murray’s situation and after sitting on it for a few days, I worked out a plan...

I approached Murray and made him a business deal: I’ll work to sell off his bikes if he sells them to me at a reduced price, say $60 each, including a lock and helmet. I guess he must have been up to his neck in bikes because we had a deal! The next day I designed and printed out flyers, and rode my bike around to 14 hostels and community boards in and around the city. A few days later, the calls started coming in and business was booming!

Here's how it works: when I have an inquiry, I tell Murray a day before I need to pick up the bike. He gets everything together and I pick it up and pay him $60. (A bargain!) Then I ride it to meet whomever to make the sale. So far I’ve sold six or so bikes at roughly $100 a pop. (Pat bought one and I only charged him $60, and one bike was in great condition so I sold her for $120 to a very happy customer.) And I still have four or so to sell off. Yep, business is good. Since I have some cash in my pocket now, I can once again pay for public transportation and go out to dinner! It’s a great feeling. Plus, the major perk, I get to ride around the city making easy money, and I get to keep the best bike!

New Photos Posted!

laurfish — Wed, 3 Sep 2008 13:14:00 GMT

Check out my photos by clicking the links listed in the bookmark section of my journal!

Mes Amis En Australie

laurfish — Wed, 3 Sep 2008 12:32:00 GMT

I wanted to take the time to pay homage to my best friends here in Australia, so you know a little more about with whom I'm spending all my time.

My best friends here are mostly backpackers that I've met through Patrick and his hostel. Though I'm not living there, I make an appearance generally every other day, to hang out, chat with Pat, or just drop in to say hi. The backpackers don't know me well I think just assume that I live there. I have three best friends here, Patrick (whom you already know about), Maxime, and Adrien.

Unfortunately, I don’t see Pat nearly as much as I’d like to, and we haven’t had good one-on-one time in weeks. I miss lounging on him on his couch after cooking a long, involved dinner, watching movies, eating Tim Tams and drinking wine. Hopefully we’ll remedy our mutual absence soon cause I miss the bugger. So I’ve been spending most of my time with these two:

Maxime is, no doubt, my best girl friend here in Melbourne, the one I'm in all the photos with on Facebook. She's from just outside of Versailles (near Paris) and is staying in Melbourne for a year and a half to fulfill a Masters in Commercial Law. Over the past three weeks, we’ve frightened ourselves by how similar we are. Unlike many others in the hostel, we don’t drink much, don’t smoke, love being outside, love getting off of our butts and doing something, love walking, love exploring, love being far away, love learning, love creating… so we speak English and speak French and ride around Melbourne and along the Yarra River (reminiscent of the path along the Schuylkill River in Philly); pumping on our used bikes that we bought together, talk about life and money and boys together, try on terrible clothes in department stores together; I share with her my secret spots in Melbourne, she shares with me the secrets of her past; we quiz each other in our first-languages, the Aherns love her and she joined Sally and me to Ecucha. We’re the same height, the same weight, she’s two months younger than me and she looks like a model. The third day I met her, she asked Patrick and me, “Am I very French?” and Pat and I looked at each other and laughed and laughed to her scrunched eyebrows, “You are the EPITOME of French!” and she is, she just oozes it, but without all the negative stereotypes. She’s loving and giving and fun and has a stupid laugh and never wants to live in Paris again. I love her. She’s great.

The other main person in my life is my beau, Adrien. Yes, I picked one up, what can I say. He too is French, so you, OK, two of my three closest friends here are French. I like to consider it a coincidence, though I can just imagine Haddon cocking an eyebrow or two. In any case, he too is from outside of Paris (but met Maxime traveling) and does IT work to fulfill an internship requirement for uni(versity). (Haddon, I told him your stories of students bringing in keyboards reeking of vodka and he totally relates.) He’s a dorky, quieter, sweet soul with true heart and a boat-load of passion to do things right in this world – whether it’s perfecting his stir-fry recipe (he studies the chefs at a local Chinese restaurant intensely nearly every day) or making sure his girl’s dark chocolate cravings are satisfied.

And get this: Adrien just revealed to me that his father is a count. Yah, as in, there’s a family ring and exclusive special events and they can trace their family name back 800 years. His ancestors sailed over with Lafayette to help the Americans win the revolution. So, uh, thanks!

Oh, and of course this means that Adrien is destined to be a count someday. Hmm…

Mississippi Meets Wild West Meets... Australia?

laurfish — Wed, 3 Sep 2008 12:06:00 GMT

General Update:

Still living with Sally and Steve Ahern in a historic suburb of Melbourne. To recap, I was put in touch with Sally through our family friend, Diane Arnold, who went to boarding school with Sally for a year. The Aherns have been generous beyond belief, letting me stay with them as a member of their family for the past three weeks. Sally has taken me on two-day trips to Lorne, their beach house on the Great Ocean Road, and to her parent's house in Ecucha (more about this later). As I mentioned before, tomorrow I’m heading out to Qdos, an art gallery/cafe/pottery studio in the forests of Lorne, a beautiful town on the Great Ocean Road. I'll be working four to six hours a day for room and board, taking walks, and living a very different lifestyle than here in the city.

Echuca!

Imagine if the Mississippi River ran through the Wild Wild West in a sleepy town in Australia, and that’s Ecucha. In its hey-day, in the mid- to late-1800s, Ecucha was the largest inland port in the southern hemisphere. And though the industry has been replaced with railways and trucks, fortunately, a section of the city has kept its historic charm. Heading to the port, you walk down a wide dirt road lined with buildings that looked largely as they did a hundred years ago; you can visit a Penny Arcade, taste fresh fudge, or buy souvenirs made from Red Gum trees; paddle steamers puff down the Murray River, amazingly now over fifteen meters lower than it was when the port was in full operation. Ecucha is cute and historic and very country without being overly touristy or kitsch, thank goodness. Sally treated us to a ride on a paddle steamer that is over a hundred years old, and it was wonderfully relaxing, puttering down the river, breathing in the smoke from the wood-fired engine, watching it puff in all directions and disappear into the blue sky. The name “Echuca” comes from an aboriginal name meaning “the meeting of two waters”, but I couldn’t help hearing “eh-CHOO-ka, eh-CHOO-ka” coming from the engine as we floated down the Murray, tracing the boundary between the states of Victoria and New South Wales.

We stopped off at a vineyard to have lunch, and waiting for her parents to join us, Maxime and I laid in the grass, thankful for the warm weather and shining sun that apparently had been here, hiding from us in Melbourne all this time. After a delicious lunch (vineyards always have the most fabulous food), we boarded the boat once again for our peaceful ride back.

That night, Sally, her mother and I played Scrabble, and Maxime, not yet confident enough in English to play, helped me win! Her family was delightful and Sally’s mother, Jill, nominated herself as our Australian grandma!

Hm…well…there’s really not that much more to say about Ecucha… so, uh, enjoy the photos!

Twenty-Two and Much the Wiser

laurfish — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 18:58:00 GMT

As my e-invitation read, yesterday was a day-long festival of "food, friends, film... and good ol' fashioned fun!" Around noon, my friends Maxime (my best girl friend here; French), Leif (Vancouverian) and Adrien (French aussi) and I set up a blanket at the Royal Melbourne Botanic Gardens and so began our five-hour Picnic in the Park.

To go through the four "F"s mentioned above...

Food
On Saturday, Maxime and I made over thirty crepes; they were devoured throughout the day accompanied by Nutella, sugar and lemon, avocado and salt, or toute seule (plain). (Maxime was good enough to make them with rice milk.) We also brought tons of veggies and dips, apples, wine, chocolate, peanut butter, and other munchies. We were going to go out for dinner, but everyone was so stuffed so we just lounged around afterwards, digesting and feeling happy.

Friends
I invited almost everyone I knew in Melbourne and told them to bring food and friends and games. In all, I think about twenty-five people stopped by the picnic, most of them being backpackers from Pat's hostel. Off the top of my head, there were at least two Japanese, two Mexicans, four Frenchies, one Italiano, one Canadian, one Cameroonian, one Englishman, and two Americans (including me) present. My homestay family, Sally & Steve Ahern and their daughter, Pheobe (and Archie the dog!) came as well; they brought wine and hung out for an hour, meeting my eclectic assortment of friends.

Certainly, a highlight of the day was when my friends Hiromi (from Japan) and her Italian boyfriend Tori brought brownies, and then proudly announced in front of everyone -- including my homestay family -- to be careful because they were pot brownies. (Also known as "space cakes", I learned.) Thankfully, Sally and Steve are pretty easy-going... I laughed as Maxime and Adrien looked at Hiromi, horrified!

Ahh.. but all in all, we ate, talked, napped, played Uno, and tossed a frisbee at every opportunity we had, including over our terrified blanket of picnickers, and in side streets and parks during the twenty-minute walk back to the Lodge.

Film

At 7:30pm eight of us trekked to the Astor Theatre for a Charlie Chaplin double feature -- Modern Times and The Great Dictator. We watched the original physical comedy film genius on original 35mm film, from the balcony of a 1930's original art-deco one-screen theatre, complete with overstuffed cushions and a grand curtain. That's pretty much as close as you can get to experiencing Mr. Chaplin as the people of his era did seventy years ago. Incredible.

Fun
It was a great day and I think everyone had fun. The sun actually shone for a good portion of the day, and it was actually warm.. certainly the warmest day we've had in a long while. (About 58 degrees F.) And the day was very "me" -- some people suggested going out to a bar or having a traditional party, but I'd prefer a picnic and Charlie Chaplin any day! Woohoo!

And now, for the..
Future
...the hidden "F"! This Thursday, Sally (the family friend I'm staying with) invited Maxime and I to her parent's house in northern Victoria. It's along the Murray River, the longest river in Australia, and we'll be passing through wine region (wink wink) to enter a historic town called Echuca (eh-CHOO-kah), the "paddlesteamer capital of Australia." Seems like it will be a hootenanny and a half.
After that, I'll head back down to Lorne along the Great Ocean Road, where I visited just over a week ago. I'll spend a week or more working for room and board at Qdos, a potting studio/art gallery/cafe/sculpture park owned by a friend of Sally and Steve's. (Check the place out at www.qdosarts.com.) It will be a bit strange to leave Melbourne, especially since if I go for two weeks, I only have a week back in the city before I leave for New Zealand. Even so, I'm really excited to get my creative juices flowin'...

Check out photos of Philip Island (a day-trip to southern Victoria), Maxime et moi, and Lorne at: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2092790&l=2c916&id=1705228

(birthday photos coming soon)

Me!bourne

laurfish — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 16:03:00 GMT

I moved!

Earlier this week I left Patrick's apartment in the funky St. Kilda neighborhood for the quieter, more posh surburb of Hawthorn. I'm now living with Sally and Steve Ahern, their 18 year-old student daughter Pheobe, and their adorable (and tiny!) puppy, Archie. I met Sally just a week ago through our American family friend, Diane Arnold, who attended boarding school with Sally right around the corner from here. Fortunately for them -- and for me! -- they stayed in touch after all these years, and Sally was kind enough to invite me into their home.

So, life is fantastic! My adopted family is absolutely wonderful; we eat me-friendly dinner together every night, and Sally has grown rather fond of baking banana bread and apple pie recently, which I have grown rather fond of eating in great quantities. This weekend, we're heading down the Great Ocean Road to Lorne, where they have a shore house, and next weekend we're planning a trip to Sally's parents house in the Victorian Highlands. And last weekend I took a daytrip with three friends to Philip Island (http://www.visitphillipisland.com/... my photos will be on Facebook soon), a sizeable island two hours from the city with great walks -- only one of which we took due to the rainy weather. (But we did visit the Chocolate Factory and did wine tasting at a vineyard!)

Ah, so, but day-to-day I'm living in a beautiful house in a historic neighborhood fifteen minutes from the city and about forty minutes from my former neighborhood.

I usually spend my days wandering around the city, exploring its nooks and crannies, walking around the Melbournian suburbs, doing nothing in particular. Some days I'll have a mission (get hair cut, buy a warm sweater) but often I'll just head out and see where I get to! Next week I'm buying a used bike to expidite and stretch the perimeters of my explorations.

For the first week I felt as though I wasn't making the most of my time, that I was wasting resources by not being productive or accomplishing anything. But the realization came to me: I am having a wonderful time! And when in my life am I ever going to be able to do this again? I am completely content to aimlessly walk around the the beautiful streets of St. Kilda, Prahran, Balaclava... I realized that THIS is life: feeling healthy and strong and independent, noticing the funky architecture, taking free samples from the markets, the feeling of being completely free, hearing sound of crumpling paper across the street, getting ideas from antique stores... it's not what I'm doing or what I'm accomplishing or producing that matters. It's this moment!

(Even so, I am getting my dose of intellectualism. I'm currently reading literature on citywide bike share programs. Can't let the ol' noggin get rusty now, can we??)

So that's what happens when you don't pay rent, don't have a job, and don't know how long you're hanging around a place. Well, that's not totally true. I have a ticket to New Zealand for 23 September, which gives me a lot of time to do... whatever it is I will end up doing!

Also! News! I have a flight back home: 2 May 2009. For two weeks Air New Zealand convinced me that I couldn't get a flight back later than mid-February and I was crushed. But then I sweet-talked an operator and she booked it in May!! Oh it made my week.

More exciting news! Last night, I was given a ticket to Wicked and saw that marvelous show in the Melbourne city. Woohoo!

That's all for now! I'll try to upload photos soon. Much love!

Wham Bam Poetry Slam

laurfish — Thu, 7 Aug 2008 12:19:00 GMT

So I haven’t yet described Patrick and my “mist”-ical trek through the Blue Mountains or our snowball fight in the Victoria Highlands, but I simply must share this experience as soon as possible:

When I entered Bar Open, it was as if I were stepping into a Bohemian alleyway – dark, artsy, local, underground… I immediately liked the place, humming with good friends, good beer, and good ol’ underappreciated – albeit well-directed – passion. I bypassed the pre-postmodern couples laughing at each other on maroon loveseats to seek my evening’s entertainment – slam poetry night.

I had never been to slam poetry before. But, like karaoke or a Wild West rodeo, I have always been curious about them. Furthermore, I like to think I have some talent in the poetic sphere. (Though this is quite unlike my talents for karaoke or rodeo.) This week carries the distinction of Melbourne’s Poetry Festival and I perused the flyer for free shows. I set out last night to Brunswick Street, arguably the best hip, alternative side of town (as there are several), and arrived at Bar Open not knowing what to expect.

I climbed the stairs, hearing bursts of laughter and clapping coming from above me. I drew aside a heavy curtain to reveal a room dimly lit with soft red light. The room was filled with as many couches as could be wedged into the space, reminiscent of a college apartment, and the audience – as I could not yet see the stage – was facing to my left, listening to the Emcee goof off at the mic. I sneaked by them to the back and snagged a couch armrest as my seat. I looked up, and guess who I saw on stage; none other than our dear friend Batman.

“Clap! Clap ya hands above ya head! And give a welcome to ah next reada – the Riddlahhh!” Batman extended his arm in the direction of a skinny, mohawk-ed goblin who mime-punched the Emcee before stepping onto the stage. “BATTERANG!”’s were heard around the room, the audience’s chosen interjection of approval and the Riddler grabbed the mic and cackled into it.

“Ha-ha ha-ha!” He chortled maniacally, prancing around the small stage. “I. Am. Tha. RIDDLAHHH!!” And my God, I believed him. Think the insanity of Jim Carrey with the creepiness of a goblin and that’s what was onstage before me, full out in a long-sleeve Kelly green shirt with a question mark hand-drawn on it. “You’ll ah, have to let me know if my trackers fall down…” He said, adjusting his gym shorts. “I didn’t ‘av green so I’m wearing blue ones…” And I knew I was no longer in Kansas anymore.

Bar Open’s monthly Wednesday poetry slams are themed, so while not everyone was dressed up – and no one more so than the Batman Emcee and the poet Riddler – most readers have a pseudonym, e.g. Aquaman, a bald, middle-aged ball of energy who for his first act wore black underwear above tights and for his second act, above nothing; and Cat Woman, actually quite rotund man with a wispy voice that was a few registers above what I would have expected.

Oh but it wasn’t freaky or strange or uncomfortable or “too” anything. The venue was fantastic and the people were even better. Everyone knew each other, squashed into this medium-sized room, yelling out Batterang’s of approval, booing and hissing when a judge gave out an unwarranted low score. (The highest was 10.5; the lowest, negative 50.)

The stage was wedged into a corner, giving the artist just enough room to take three or four steps in each direction. It was crowned with a garland of flowers and red and purple lights, and a man with a bull nose ring, Justin, played movie stings and theme songs from the sound board. (Including “Dance the Magic Dance” from the Labyrinth, Marilyn Manson’s remake of songs from The Nightmare Before Christmas, and Prince’s cinematic pieces from Jack Nicholson’s legendary Batman.)

And [some of] the poetry was actually quite good! Here’s a sampling:

~ The eventual winner of the Slam performed his first piece about his favorite super hero: Jesus. All his pieces were memorized, and he had a fantastic deadpan delivery, reminding me of Flight of the Conchords. Just when you think you know how he’s going to finish his sentence, he takes it in a completely opposite direction:

“When I tell people that Jesus is my favorite superhero, they usually respond… you’ll have to pay for those sandwiches.”
“Jesus doesn’t have super powers like other super heroes do. He doesn’t have x-ray vision or the ability to fly. But he does have the super power of… shooting remarkably strong web from his wrists.”

~ The only black person in the room was a woman, probably in her mid-twenties, who had a strong Australian accent and a strong desire to get into Barack Obama’s pants. She spoke in a sort of rhythmic jam, in a smooth, slow voice…

“Pres eh dent Bah rack O baaaaaama. I want to be the Secretary to the House of your Affairs.”
“I want to cuuuuuure your ee lect oral dis fuuuuunction.”
“Mr. O… Mr. Oooh… Mr. Ooooooh.”

I made some friends, had a few drinks, met the Batman, and vowed to come back next month, where the theme, as we all chose last night, will be Mafia. Now, where can I get a Red Sox hat...?

Photos!

laurfish — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 15:12:00 GMT

...are not posted on this site. Check out my photos on Facebook by following these links:

To be able to look back on one's life with satisfaction...

laurfish — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 19:33:00 GMT

...is to live twice.
(marcus valerius martial)

I have a ticket to Christchurch, New Zealand for 23 September! What am I doing until then? I guess we'll find out soon enough...

Fraser Island: dunes, dingoes, and da beach

laurfish — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 18:05:00 GMT

If you’re looking for an all-in-one nature paradise get-away, Fraser Island is it. The biggest sand island in the world (with more sand than the Sahara desert!), Fraser has over fifty miles of straight, postcard-perfect beaches; extensive sand dunes; lush rainforests; the purest lakes in the world; and, of course, dingoes – and if you time it right, you feel like you have it all to yourself. For three nights, my party of four (Patrick, me, Pat’s sister and his two friends) camped out right behind the dunes and watched the breath-taking sun and moon rises every day. (Especially impressive since it was a full moon.) We drove to the trail heads down the beach in 4WD landcruisers, dodging the rising tide and small flocks of birds. Although it was my second time on the island, it was still as remarkable – if not more so – this time around. Oh, and I learned to drive manual! In a 4WD on one of the most remarkable beaches in the world!

Byron Bay: get out quickly or you'll stay forever

laurfish — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 17:51:00 GMT

Byron Bay: As the hippie-backpacker-touristy-surfer town that everyone in Australia knows and loves and yearns to live near, Patrick and I found it difficult to leave Byron Bay. We spent our four (extended from three) days giving into Byron's siren call into its lifelong holiday: we lounged on the beach (yup, northern-Australian winters are hot!), got up two hours before dawn to hike to the lighthouse for sunrise, discovered beaches in the nooks and crannies of Australia's rugged coast, drank with friends, ate good vegan food (finally!) and super-saturated ourselves with the peaceful, cleansing nature of one of the world’s greatest places to be. Now I understand why it was important to visit all those nothing-towns along the coast… to be able to truly appreciate how remarkable Byron is, being so full of life!