Australia's favorite sport, "footy"

Australians love two things: sports and abbreviations.  It's only fitting, then, that they give their favorite sport a nickname, "footy."  Australian rules football, or AFL, seems like a weird combination of different sports we're familiar with in America.  Except for having no laces, the ball is basically the same as the ol' pigskin.  It's played on an enormous oval cricket pitch with 18 players per side.  You score by kicking the ball through the goalposts on either end--six points for the center goal and one point for the outer ones.  Passing is done either with an underhand throw, like rugby, or by drop kicking the ball.  Like any good contact sport, there is plenty of tackling (and occasional fighting) in between.  The rules are pretty simple.  The game strategy, though, is not.

I got my first taste of footy with MUSEX.  We got tickets for only $5, and headed to the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG) for a Saturday night game between the Melbourne Demons and St. Kilda Saints (that juxtaposition is just a coincidence).  The MCG is a huge--scratch that, enormous--100,000-seat arena next to the river just south of the CBD.  It's been around since the mid-1800s (renovated, of course).  They say the waiting list for cricket season tickets there is so long most people die before ever making it to the top.  Kinda like Fenway, huh?

The MCG is titanic.

Melbourne in blue/red (far); umpires/linesman in yellow (center), St. Kilda in white (front)

Because I'm geographically closer to Melbourne proper, I took the Demons to win, even though they were the definite underdog (St. Kilda was in second place).  It took me a little while to figure out what was going on, but eventually I had the hang of the rules and how the scoring worked.  Still, it just looked like a free-for-all, with seemingly much less structure than any American sport (especially NFL).  And oh, did I mention it goes on forever?  30-minute running quarters!  We didn't actually stay for the fourth, when St. Kilda finally won, because we went to an after party on Brunswick.

I must admit, most of the time they're just fiddling around in the middle of the field.  Since the stadium is so big, you're a mile away from the field, and after a while the game can get pretty boring.  But when they get near the goal, the whole atmosphere in the stadium changes.  It's the same feeling you get when the puck goes near the goal in hockey--I was jumping out of my seat screaming for a team I didn't know existed an hour before.  I had a great time.

You'll get a general sense of the "free-for-all" gameplay form this video.

Before the game they paraded a couple 'we will remember' banners for ANZAC (armed-forces memorial) day earlier that week.  Expecting the patriotism to continue, I was quite shocked that they didn't even sing the national anthem after that.  I mean, at least at the Grand Prix they managed a half-assed rendition.  It's weird coming from a place like the USA where we take every opportunity we can get to proudly sing the SSB and turn sports into huge displays of patriotism (case and point: baseball).  I guess Australians just don't associate sports and patriotism in the same way, which is, in my opinion, too bad.

Melbourne Museum

I went to the Melbourne Museum to see the geology exhibit as part of an assignment for my Earth Science class.  I had been meaning to go there for a while, and this finally gave me an excuse.  It's only about a ten minute walk from where I live, and admission is free for students, so I'm not sure why it took me so long to do this.  It was well worth it.

The Melbourne Museum falls somewhere in between natural history and science.  It's got your usual "stuffed" animals, dinosaurs, insects, rocks, and minerals.  But it also has a couple other unique exhibits: a psychology exhibit about optical illusions and brain perception; an exhibit of the history of Melbourne from settlement until today; a display of inventions by young engineers; and a simulated living forest in the courtyard where you could peek into the various ecosystems--logs, ponds, burrows, etc.  It was all really well done.

Stibnite (antimony sulfide) from Banat, Romania

Rhodochrosite (manganese carbonate) from the Capillitas mine, Argentina

Dinosaur foot (paw?)

The mighty Ari!

We're going to need a bigger boat.

In the young inventors exhibit there were a series of really impressive machines that high-school age students had put together.  One kid had put together an internal combustion engine out of old cans and other household junk.  Another made a remote-controlled rocket launcher.  The third-year engineering student in me was a little jealous of their accomplishments, I must admit.

The high schooler's homemade engine.

It's funny how museums become more fun when you're older and have more patience for them.  The ones I've seen here--the Australia Museum and MCA in Sydney, and the Melbourne Museum--have all been well worth the trip.  And over the past couple years I've revisited a lot of the museums in Boston with a much greater appreciation than I had when I was little.  I could spend an entire day in the MFA, for instance.  And the Science Museum--well, it never gets old.

A Scout is Cheerful

A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.  

This week I got tragic news.  My friend and Boy Scout leader colleague, Steve Ash, passed away peacefully from his valiant battle with brain cancer.  I had been thinking about Steve quite a bit, wondering how he was doing, and this news hit me pretty hard.

But Steve's death also gave me a chance to reflect.  A chance to reflect on his life and my relationship with him, and also a chance to reflect on how I want to live my life.  The night I wrote a little something for Steve on facebook, and I thought I would put it here, too, for the sake of permanence:

Every once in a while the world loses a true hero. This week we lost someone whose last thought is himself; someone whose actions speak louder than words; someone who lived as a testament that optimism, faith, and good cheer are the most powerful forces of the human spirit. This week one of those heros moved from this life to the next, and he will be sorely missed.

I had the enormous fortune to know and work with Steve Ash and benefit from his kindness, wisdom, selflessness, and generosity. Steve taught me that even in the face of horrible misfortune it is possible to see the bright side and to focus one's attention on helping others. He showed me the importance of dedication and demonstrated the power of humor. He taught me that even brain cancer is not strong enough to extinguish the passion of a truly righteous man.

May Steve's legacy continue to inspire others in Scouting, in sports, in science, and beyond. May his memory continue to invoke kindness, laughter, and dignity. And above all, may he rest in peace.

Steve Ash (center) wore that smile with him everywhere he went.

I was still a scout when Steve 3 first came to our troop.  I also had the privilege of being an Assistant Scoutmaster with him at the 2010 National Jamboree. At meetings and on camping trips he was always the fun leader.  He loved teaching new things.  He loved joking around.  The only thing bigger than his sense of humor was his heart.  His school teaching, his work as a Boy Scout leader with Troop 54 and at J.N. Webster in Connecticut, and all he did for the members of his community--things he only stopped because when doctor made him, if then--were examples of how he lived his life to help others.

If you met Steve, you would probably never have known he had terminal cancer.  Like Jim Bloom, another T54 leader who lost his brave cancer battle a few months before I became and Eagle Scout, if you asked Steve how he was doing he'd always respond with a smile, "I'm good."  No matter how sick he was, how much chemo he was about to go through the next day, he was always optimistic.  A Scout is cheerful.  Steve helped me realize how important that is.

My first Australian test

The day after I got home from Sydney I had my first test in Australia.  I was a little nervous, mostly because I was still in vacation mode and had barely prepared (it was my hardest subject, controls), but also because I wasn't sure what a test would feel like at UniMelb.  Well, quite different, it turns out.

I should start off by explaining what a test is like at Princeton.  Inside the orange bubble tests are very organized and orderly.  Everyone starts at the exact same time.  Everyone follows directions.  Everyone finishes at the exact same time.  The seriousness of the Honor Code we sign on every exam means we are petrified to look like we are gaining an advantage in any way.  Because it's a self-enforced policy (as in the professors are not even allowed in the room during the test, and students are expected to police each other), we end up behaving quite well.  It all ends up fair.  Cheating on a test at Princeton is virtually impossible.  It is absolutely the best way to go about these sorts of things.

This test seemed exactly the opposite.  It was a complete mess--a balagan, a shit show, a circus, whatever you want to call it.  One professor handed out the exam to each row of the 400-person lecture, which took quite a while.  While he said, "don't start yet," the student next to me immediately opened his up and started.  Presumably people in the front started even earlier.  Normally this would have really bothered me, but I just let it slide.  There was also "reading time" for the first five minutes, in which you are supposed to read but not write.  Well, many people ignored that "rule," too.  By the time the professor gave us the okay to begin, I felt like most of the room was already halfway through their test.  The same thing happened when he told us to stop; people kept writing until he came to collect from their row.  At Princeton, that can get your exam ripped up (or worse), but here all it gets you is a little finger wave.

So the standards of fairness seem to have been left by the wayside.  It's a bit awkward and disappointing, I must say--I expected more.  Exams are such a horrible (yet inevitable) method of assessment to begin with, it's nice that at least at Princeton they're administered in the most comfortable way possible.

You may have gotten the impression by now that the Australian academic system is pretty stupid.  You're right.  It's ridiculous the way they do things here.  Nobody goes to lecture.  They barely work during the semester and then get slammed at the end for an enormous final, for which they have to study an enormous amount when they realize they haven't retained anything all semester.  It's an extremely inefficient way to learn.  Many Australians agree, especially the ones who have gone on exchange to places with sensical academic systems (i.e. America).  That being said, this system has allowed me to squeeze the most out of my experience in Melbourne, and in the end I'm grateful for it.  I wouldn't want my study abroad to be any other way.  I've been able to go out and see the city and the country in a way that would be impossible with a Princeton workload.  So while I'll be holed up at my desk for the last three weeks of the semester, until then I'll continue to live it up.

P.S.: I ended pulling a rabbit out of the hat with a 7.2/10 (class average was 6.5).  I guess there was no need to worry.

Sydney Museum of Contemporary Art

Balloons painted gold with mouse faces.

This is the rolodex piece; I stared at it for like ten minutes waiting for a specific one to flip (kinda like watching paint dry...)

Spiderman pondering.  Strange.

Road work signs, rearranged.

Aboriginal issues seem to make their way into every nook of Australian culture (in a good way)

Maybe this would make more sense if I was on drugs (like the artist)?

The view of the opera house across the harbor (harbour), as seen from the cafe on the MCA roof/patio. 

Pictures don't do Sydney justice at night (especially since my camera focuses in the dark like a cross-eyed drunk)

Australia Museum

Yangkurla! Let's go!

Here are some of my favorite aboriginal paintings from the Canning Stock Route exhibit at the Australia Museum in Sydney.  Enjoy!

P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney

I spent the week after the road trip in Sydney.  I figured since I was already there I might as well skip a couple days of class (all the lectures are recorded online, anyway) and see what the city had to offer.  The simple answer: more rain.  But really, it was a pretty fun time.  Still, I like Melbourne better.

One of the ways people explain the differences between Sydney and Melbourne is by saying that Sydney is more like an American city, while Melbourne seems more European.  Sydney is bigger, for sure, but feels less diverse than Melbourne.  Being the financial and commercial capital of Australia, Sydney definitely has a more business-like personality.  But it's a pretty city, nonetheless.

Ben (and most other exchange students) lives in Coogee (pronounced kuh-jee), a suburb about 25 minutes east of the city center by bus.  He shares a 2-bedroom apartment with two other roommates.  His roommates were gone most of the time because, coincidentally, they spent the weekend in Melbourne.  The Sydney exchange experience (University of New South Wales, I should say) differs from UniMelb in that students tend to live farther away from both school and the city, which affords them a more beach-y suburban lifestyle.  In fact, Ben's apartment is only a one minute walk to the beach (Coogee beach)--the same beach that you can see from the great view out his living room window.  The drawback, of course, is that you have to take a bus pretty much everywhere if you don't want to hike many miles a day.  This is actually more typical of Australian university students in general, because many of them continue to live at home in the 'burbs throughout college.  So I guess Ben has a more Authentic location, but mine is certainly more convenient.  I should also add, and you'll hear more about this later, that the public transportation in Sydney is not great.  It works, yes, but its not very efficient.  And it's even more expensive than Melbourne.  In fact, the whole city is more expensive than Melbourne (I didn't know that was possible!).

We didn't do much on Tuesday.  I was way too tired, anyway.  I used a lot of this Sydney time to unwind and catch up on the sleep I didn't get on the road trip.


Wednesday
I slept in.  I mean, really, slept in.  Ben had class pretty much all day, so to balance things out I spent most of my day on the couch.  When I did muster up the effort to go out, it was about 3 or 4.  I hopped on the bus to the city with virtually no plan other than to walk around and see Sydney.  I like to think I have a very good sense of direction, but for some reason downtown Sydney was a little tricky to navigate, even though it's a grid.  It was hard to tell which direction I was walking.  Luckily they have information maps at the major intersections and in phone booths, so I managed.  By the time I got to the city rush hour was starting, and people were scrambling around everywhere trying to get home.  I walked through the park in the center of the city (sort of a very mini Central Park) and scoped out what things I might want to do over the next few days.

Anyways, I ended up walking all the way down to the harbor.  In fact, I ended up right in front of the Opera House, which is just as striking in person as in pictures.  Now that must have been a fun construction project!  There are a lot more cars in the Sydney CBD than in Melbourne (probably because the public transit sucks), which made walking around a bit slower.  The upside to there being more cars, though, is that there are more cars; this week I saw a Tesla Roadster, a Lamborghini, and countless other fancy rides.  I must give credit where credit is due, Australians really do like cars.

Australian Occupy movements don't seem to be making any impression--probably because the economy here is thriving

The park.

Sydney CBD at night.

Also the park...

And some more park...

It started to drizzle.  No issue, actually, because I like rain (in moderation).  I thought I would wait it out down by the harbor, or Circular Quay (pronounced key).  So I went to a little restaurant type place for happy hour specials and got this really delicious focaccia bread with olive oil and spices and sipped a beer (I was making up for lost chametz) under a canopy outside.  I watched the ferries and other boats coming in and out of the docks.  I also had a great view of the Sydney Harbor Bridge, which is lit up spectacularly at night.

My delicious happy-hour meal.

Well, I had no such luck with the rain letting up, and it started to pour.  I mean torrential rain, to the point where it wasn't even worth trying to stay dry.  I took that as my cue to head back to Coogee, and after walking around in circles for about an hour I found the right bus.

The windows on the bus were all fogged up.  On top of this, the driver does not announce the stops or anything.  This makes the travel experience a bit difficult for a newcomer; needless to say, I got off at the wrong stop.  No big deal, I figured, I'd just wait for the next one and keep going.  But when I got on the next bus, the driver started giving me a load of crap.  Noticing that I did not swipe my ticket, he called back to me "do you have a ticket?"  I tried to swipe the soggy piece of paper, but it wouldn't go in.  I went up to him and explained how I was new here and got off at the wrong stop and just wanted to keep going to Coogee.  I showed him the timestamp on my ticket to try and show him I wasn't just trying to get a free ride, but apparently there's no such thing as a transfer (or courtesy, for that matter) on the Sydney busses, and he wanted me to buy a new ticket.  But I literally had no money.  He told me I was "wasting space," which was really confusing since the bus was practically empty.  I'm not sure why it made a difference to him at all, but I guess he just wasn't having a great day.  "You can't just go have a coffee with your mate and get back on the bus," he told me.  I was going to tell him I don't drink coffee, but there was no point arguing with an angry bus driver, so I told him to just point me towards an ATM so I could get cash to buy a ticket, and he finally just drove me to the next stop and I got off.  Soaking wet and quite frustrated, I decided to just walk the rest of the way to Ben's, which look longer than I thought.  Later, Ben's roommate assured me some of the drivers are actually really nice, and my snafu was not necessarily the norm.


Thursday
I made it out a bit earlier on Thursday so I could do things before they closed.  First I went to the Australia Museum, which is a natural history museum.  The ticket was only $10 for students, and it was definitely worth it.  Most of it was pretty standard museum stuff--rocks, minerals, bugs, animals, dinosaurs, etc.--both Australian and foreign.  But the really cool part was this aboriginal art exhibit called "The Canning Stock Route."

The Canning (that's a person) Stock Route was a trail built by the settlers to transport cattle from the grazing lands.  (See wikipedia.)  Along this route the settlers encountered the aboriginals, many of whom might have never seen white people before.  As you might expect, they didn't always get along.  The art in this exhibit is made to showcase what aboriginal life was like, and tell their stories of western encounters.

[Photos of my favorites to come...]

The art was really colorful.  Each piece had a description next to it that told about the aboriginal artist and explained the story he or she was telling in the painting.  I took my time to admire a lot of them, read the descriptions and historical comments, and watch the videos about the whole gallery project.  I stayed until the museum closed, and I would have stayed longer.  Australians deserve a lot of credit for really trying to connect with their displaced native people and the issues they face instead of shoving them onto reservations and gambling at their casinos.

My next stop was the Sydney Museum of Contemporary Art down in Circular Quay.  I had read online that Thursdays they are open really late, so I made it into a nighttime activity.  I bought a big baguette at the market so I could refuel while I walked.

Some old building... not really sure.

Lamborghini Gallardo, painted just for me!

Some of the works in the MCA were really cool and provocative.  Others I just didn't understand.  Some felt really creative and original.  Others felt like the artists were trying too hard to be creative and original.  Some was brilliant.  Some was downright creepy.  Some I could really relate to, and some I couldn't.  (I'm sorry, but a little red dot inside a big blue square is not art.  That's just a mistake.)  One of the ones I really liked was this moving installation of colored cards that would flip like rolodexes.  I watched it for a long time to try and figure out exactly how the mechanisms worked (nerd, I know), and what the pattern was.  See, that's an original idea.  The majority of the pieces, though, I really didn't get.

[I'll post MCA pictures soon; maybe someone can help me figure them out?]

One of the coolest things in the MCA is a 24-hour movie.  It's basically a collage about time, stitched together from a lot of different movies.  There isn't really a plot to it (not that I could tell, at least), but the movie represents real time.  In each scene, the camera either shows a clock or someone says what time it is, and if you look down at your watch or phone that's the actual time.  So the movie is always on.  All the seats were full, so I had to sit on the floor in the back.  It's cool that you can never forget what time it is while watching it.  Many of the newer movies I recognized.  Most of the older ones I didn't, especially the black and white ones.  I wonder how many different movies they got in there.

From the museum I took the bus to meet Ben at his school for some sort of Jewish Student Society mixer at one of the pubs on campus.  (There was free pizza.)  I met some of Ben's friends, who seemed to be quite an eclectic bunch, and did my share of shmoozing, but we didn't stay that late.  It's fair to say it wasn't the most thrilling social gathering of my life, but it was nice to see Ben in his local habitat.  On the way home I helped some kids change a flat tire, which earned us a ride home as thanks.  (It's funny, I end up fixing a lot of other people's flats.  I think changing a tire needs to be part of drivers ed.)


Friday
Friday followed a similar format to Wednesday except Ben did not have school.  We lazed around most of the day until we felt like total bums and needed to go outside.  Ben took me on a walk along the coast from Coogee to Bondi, a couple suburbs over (Bondi is a really Jewish neighborhood, and it was Shabbat so we saw plenty of Jews).  It's not far from Coogee to Bondi in a straight line, but since the coast weaves in an out with cliffs and beaches, it takes a while to walk.  The scenery makes up for that, though.  Ben showed me the cliff he likes to hang out at, but sitting there started to get a bit too romantic so we pressed on.  A lot of the way is along a boardwalk, which was nice.  The sun dropped out of the sky pretty quickly, so by the time we got to Bondi it was dark.  I gotta say, this is a pretty cool place to live.

This is a one-minute walk from Ben's apartmnet..

The cliffs by Coogee beach.

I guess they just skipped on the euphemisms.

En route to Bondi at sunset.

A note on graffiti...  Apparently Sydney is very anti graffiti.  In Melbourne it's everywhere.  Not the stupid name-tagging graffiti you see in slums, but legitimate artwork that just so happens to be made with spray paint on the sides of buildings.  (You might remember that alley I talked about from Melbourne Welcome).  But in Sydney they even have signs on the busses that tell you a hotline to call to expedite graffiti removal.  Apparently Bondi beach is an exception to this rule, though, and the wall at the back of the beach is covered with incredible artwork.  As usual, some of it is dark.  Some is realistic, some futuristic.  Some is really funny.  One of the things I like about graffiti is that artists know their works won't last forever.  It will get painted over, and someone new will come along and put something else up.  It's all part of a cycle, and there's something really cool about that.

The irony of swimming with sunscreen...

Saturday
On Saturday the weather was finally nice enough to go to the beach.  Ben and I met up with Jordan and Marina (friends from high school), who are also doing exchange at UNSW.  I guess Ben doesn't really hang out with them that much, but I wanted to see them so he was happy to come along.  We caught up about our breaks--Jordan and Marina had just been in Bali, which sounded incredible--and school and stuff.

Our plan was to meet up with Jordan and Marina at a club in Kings Cross (a very swanky club-filled red light district) later that night.  But Ben and I dilly dallied too much and missed our bus.  Since they only come once an hour on weekends, we hat to wait a while so that by the time we got to Kings cross we were late.  Not wanting to pay a ridiculous cover to go to a club that late, we sort of just walked around and never ended up meeting the girls.  Kings Cross was jam packed full of beautiful [scantily clad] members of the opposite sex, so walking around was not actually the biggest disappointment.  After a bit we took a taxi home and called it a night.  I could see myself really enjoying Kings Cross, so I'll have to go back there sometime.



Sunday and Monday
Ben had rehearsal all day Sunday for some performance he's in.  I took this as an opportunity to attempt to study for my controls test which would be the day after I got back to Melbourne.  Of course, since my study habits have been dissolved by the Australian atmosphere, I didn't last long.  I probably spent more time on youtube than actually studying.  Oh, well.

I flew home Monday afternoon.  After brunch I took a taxi to the airport.  Remember my remark about the lack of airport security?  Karma, people.  This time I got selected for my first ever random search.  But it was really a joke.  All the guy did was wipe that silly bomb detector cloth on me and look inside my backpack.  No pat down.  No questions.  No nothing.  I was on my way in a minute.  You could arrive at the airport ten minutes before takeoff in Australia and still make it through quickly enough to get on your plane.  So, at about 3 PM I was back in Melbourne, with enough time to make it to my lecture, and normal life started back up again.

The Great Australian Road Trip, Part III

DAY 3: 14 April
For breakfast the next day Ben and I made matzo bry.  (Until now we had been avoiding such extravagant uses of poorbread in order to ensure we'd have enough, but it was the last day and we had plenty left.)  I forgot how much I love matzo bry.

We asked some people who were launching their boat what there is to do in Rockhampton.  Not too much, apparently, but they suggested we drive by a bunch of old buildings on the other side of the river and then drive up Mt. Archer, which overlooks the city.  The old Victorian buildings were not very exciting, to be honest, but Mt. Archer was a different story...

Due to the jankmobile's rather pathetic powertrain, I had to put it in low gear to climb the steep, windy road to Mt. Archer.  As we got higher, the vistas got better and better.  At the top, we walked to two different overlooks, from which we could see the entire valley containing the tiny city of Rocky and its suburbs.  For the billionth time, I came to the realization that Australia is beautiful--it's funny how that feeling never gets old.  Being careful not to fall down the cliff, we took a self portrait and just hung out for a bit to admire the view.

Rockhampton and its suburbs, as seen from Mt. Archer

Ben and his bravery.

To one side there was  a city.  To the other, more mountains.

Ben drove on the way down, which was good and bad.  Bad because it was wicked scary to have my life in someone else's hands like that, but good because I didn't have to do it.  Of course, he drove fine--a little faster than I would have, maybe, but without incident.  But the car, jeez!  You've never experienced brake fade until you've driven down a twisty mountain road in a crappy rental car.  A car that, I must remind you, had no airbags.  But hey, a little adrenaline is good for you once in a while!

[Savta, you presumed correctly we must have said tefilat ha'derech with a lot of kavana after reading about the jankmobile.  Indeed, on the first day, when Ben was looking for my camera, he came across the little tefilat ha'derech card I keep in one of the pockets in my backpack and we decided to say it together.  That was certainly one of the better decisions I've ever made.  I'm glad I believe in God.]

With a new appreciation for our lives, Ben and I got back on the road and drove--you guessed it!--south.  Our trajectory was toward Bundaberg, a city Ben had heard of it that was supposed to contain a house made completely out of Beer bottles.  On the way, though, we saw a sign for "Lake Awoonga Recreation Area."  Figuring both of us like to recreate (who doesn't?), we made one of the best detours of the entire trip.

Lake Awoonga was formed--or at least enlarged--by a dam.  It's mass of blue water is surrounded on all sides by mountains.  When we saw the first lookout, we had a simultaneous "holy shit" moment and rushed down towards the beach for a swim.  A much needed swim, I might add, for a couple of funky-smelling travelers like ourselves.  We swam to a floating dock about 150 meters out (a firm reminder that I am out of shape) and practiced dives and flips.  I'm not sure why it took me so long to pass swimming level 5 at summer camp, because I'm actually a pretty decent diver nowadays.  Between the views and the water, this must be one of the most refreshing swimming spots on earth.  I honestly could have stayed on that dock all day, but, alas, we had to get back on the road.

Lake Awoonga.  Yes, it's as nice as it looks.

In one word, Bundaberg was disappointing.  There didn't seem to be very many people around when we got in at about 5.  We asked a couple people our age if they'd heard of the house made out of beer bottles, or if they knew anything fun to do.  Long story short, the beer bottle house doesn't exist, and there is nothing to do in Bundaberg.  Oh, well.  Figuring this would be a good opportunity to make up some ground, we did another long stint of driving.  Our destination: Brisbane, the capital of Queensland.

Our NASCAR-style mobile hydration system.

Wicked Campers, which also rents jankmobiles, decorates its fleet with crazy spray paint.  Each one has a lewdly funny and often wildly inappropriate phrase or joke written on the back...  (Sorry in advance if this joke is in bad taste!)

We were passing through a small town at sundown when we realized Passover was now officially over.  To celebrate the end of the celebration we thought of the most appropriate celebratory food in the world: beer--bread in liquid form--the ultimate passover-ending and l'chaim-making beverage.  So we popped into a small [and rather sad] pub for a one drink.  My stomach, full of matzo, expanded like a balloon when the liquid arrived, and I walked out of there looking like an oompa-loompa.  Me and my huge gut got back in the van and we headed for Brisbane.

We got to Brisbane at around 10 or 11.  Pretty late, but being a Saturday night this was an ideal time to arrive in a city.  My first impressions of Brisbane--well, what little part of it we saw--were that it's small, just big enough to be considered a major city, but adequate for our objective: to party.  We parked the jankmobile in a parking garage.  Believe it or not, since there was a possibility we wouldn't be able to drive we actually planned on sleeping in the garage.  (Luckily that wouldn't be the case.)  We jumped into more appropriate clothing and emerged into the muggy streets of Brisbane.

Since we had no idea where to go, we tagged along to a bar with a group of people (a couple years younger than us) we met on the street.  It wasn't a very fun place, though, so Ben and I left after a little while to find a better place, which came in the form of a downstairs Irish joint with a decent atmosphere.  So we took our talents to the dance floor for a while and had a good time.  Last call was pretty early, though (earlier than Boston, even), so eventually we left to find food.  Brisbane CBD has a big pedestrian-only street running through the middle where there are plenty of late-night eateries, a pretty handy feature on a Saturday night, where we ran into these two Scotish girls who we'd seen at the pub.  We attempted to find out what they were up to for the rest of the night, but with their thick accents I had absolutely no idea what they were saying.  As far as I'm concerned, Scotish English is a completely different language.  I honestly think it would have been easier to understand this girl if she was speaking Italian.  Oh, well.

In Brisbane we witnessed two semi-fights, both of which I found highly amusing.  Both involved chaotic groups of drunk people slapping and swinging at each other like little kids.  Neither fight was anything serious, I assure you, otherwise I might have made an effort to intervene instead of relishing in the hilarity of the situations.  They were more pee-on-the-tree/mark-my-territory fights than I-will-kill-you fights, and each ended rather quickly once the parties involved realized they had forgotten what they were fighting about.  Anyways, after I had my fix of schoolyard brawling, Ben and I returned to the camper, a bit disappointed that the night had ended rather early.  The benefit of the unspectacular night, though, was that we had consumed very little 'potent potables,' so we could safely move the car instead of staying in the hot and humid-as-hell parking garage for the night.  Figuring this was a good opportunity to get a head start on the next day's driving, we went about an hour farther south before I became exhausted and we pulled off at and went to sleep.

DAY 4: 15 April
Realizing we were no longer in a hurry because we had made up enough ground, we didn't set an alarm.  So we woke up by the side of the highway quite refreshed on Sunday morning.  Next stop: Surfers Paradise.  Even though I was driving, I don't remember the 'Welcome to New South Wales' sign, but we did, in fact, leave Queensland that morning.

I didn't exactly know what Surfers Paradise would be like.  I mean, what kind of name is that for a city?  Anyway, the first thing on our agenda was brunch, so we went to the supermarket and bough pancake mix, strawberries, milk, and chocolate cake (almost a balanced breakfast).  Immediately upon leaving the supermarket, it started to drizzle.  I had my first of two stalls trying to get out of the uphill parking space from the supermarket, which Ben found a little too gratifying.

Figuring the rain would let up, every time we pulled up next to someone who looked fun we would ask them what their favorite beach was.  Not everyone was very helpful, but one person directed us to the main beach where we cooked the pancakes and waited for the weather.  After an epic failure of an attempt to assemble the canopy over the tailgate, we just huddled under the door while Ben cooked.  In a moment of confusion, while Ben was holding the hot pan in midair for some reason, we both turned toward each other and I burned my arm pretty nice on the pan.  It eventually healed, but it was still great ammunition for my guilt gun.  Now I just have a funny smiley-face patch of non-tanned skin on my left arm.  The pancakes were good, though.

Well, it got really windy and the rain got worse, so we abandoned the beach plan and got back on the road.  So much for paradise!  The upside was that we had a ton of time at our next stop, Byron Bay.

Byron Bay is one of the most popular tourist destinations in NSW.  It's famous for its incredible beach, where you can surf and even scuba dive.  There's also a few bars and clubs.  We met up briefly with some girl Ben knows from Sydney, and took advantage of her hostel accommodation to have an actual [steaming] hot shower.  At a bottle shop in town, we picked up some "Amigos" tequila-flavored beer, which sounded a lot tastier than it was (I love beer, and I love tequila, but some things should just stay separate).  Because we planned to spend the entire next morning at the beach, tonight was a designated party night.  (Still PG.)

Byron bay is full of travelers, hippies, bums, etc.  You can tell it's a popular destination because everyone is walking around with backpacks.  At night the place seemed to fill with party-goers, people playing music on the street, and general shenanigans, albeit at a relatively subdued pace because it was Sunday night and the end of break and a lot of travelers were going home (back to school, or on to their next destination, or whatever).


We stayed at a campsite that night for the first time.  The lady at the front desk, who was very nice, informed us that we were risking a very large fine if we got caught by the ranger sleeping by the side of the road, so we shelled out the $35 for a tiny patch of grass on which to park the jankmobile.  I guess a "campsite" in Australia is not exactly what I had imagined.

We ended up at some half-indoor/half-outdoor club.  One thing I remember specifically is that when the bouncer handed back my ID he said, "thank you, Ari," which I thought was a really nice touch.  In fact, I've found that the bar staff in Australia is much nicer than in the US in general (um, not that I'd know...).  Ben was more into the dance floor scene than I was that night, but I had fun and did a bit of dancing anyway.  The place was not very full; it was mostly locals.  One of them informed us that the local kids in Byron Bay 'are all pretty stupid' because they spend all their time partying with the tourists instead of studying and going to school.  I guess that's the drawback of living by a 365-day beach party.

On our way home we watched a local girl play and sing "Colt 45" by Afroman on a harp.  It was actually an incredible performance, and actually the best rendition of the song I've ever heard.  (Warning: if you're not a member of my generation you will not want to look up that song.)  We all sang along because the lyrics are (imho) hysterical, but we left promptly when she started playing Wonderwall (what is it with Australians and that song?) and hit the proverbial hay at the overpriced grass patch.

DAY 5: 16 April
The next morning we drove out to the main beach, which had lots of surfers.  We polished off an entire box of cornflakes, three bananas, and a carton of strawberries before heading down to the sand.  Like Whitehaven beach, the sand was white and soft, perfect for a post-meal siesta.  It was cool to see all the tiny wet suit-clad kids surfing with their parents; they start at a very early age here.

Ben and I climbed some stairs to a bluff where we could get a better view of the beach and the surf spot below.  Some of the surfers were pretty talented.  (Some of them also happened to be very attractive girls.)  So it was an ideal spot from which to watch and convince myself I could ride waves like they could, even though I know full well I can barely ride a soft board in a straight line.  Also, in the vines below the stair landing there were a couple lizards poking their heads out and warming in the morning sun.  They were fun to spot because their green triangular heads camouflaged perfectly with the leaves.

Byron Bay beach

I'm glad none of the surfers cracked their heads open on these rocks!

What a view!

(Umm... how did that get there?)

Oh, I didn't see you there.

Hey, dude.

This is what happens when you use the flash on a cheap camera on an overcast day.  Came out pretty cool, though.

After the beach, we took a quick jaunt up to a lighthouse.  Because we didn't feel like paying a million dollars to park, we just snapped pictures and headed back down.  But the view from up there was spectacular.

A lighthouse, duh.

Byron Bay is about 800 km (approx. 8 hours) from Sydney, and we didn't have to be back until 3 pm the next day, so we opted for the scenic route out of Byron.  Again, our plan was to stop by anything that looked interesting.  After a while we spotted a sign for a "tourist route" and the "House with no Steps."  We turned off.

About 10 or 20 km down the road was the House with no Steps.  Because it was listed on the same sign as the tourist route, we figured this was some sort of attraction.  But there was a definite misunderstanding.  I should have realized there's nothing special about a house having no steps.  As it turns out, the House with no Steps is some sort of support/activity center for people with [physical, mental, and/or emotional] disabilities; it was definitely not a tourist attraction.  Not wanting to be inappropriate, we left promptly.

Also on the tourist route was a nature park.  We stopped there for a while and walked through the boardwalk.  We saw a few wallabies--actually, technically they were pademelons, but they look basically the same as wallabies and kangaroos--through the trees, so we tried to be as quiet as possible so they wouldn't hop away.  There were signs along the boardwalk with incomprehensibly translated aboriginal stories/legends about the bush (forest) and its native plants and animals.  We also bushwhacked through the trees on the other side of the park to see if we could find more pademelons, but we eventually ran into a barbed wire fence and had to turn around.  Luckily we didn't encounter any deadly snakes.

Bundoon, or Padmelon, in the nature aboriginal nature walk

We used the composting latrines in the parking lot before leaving the nature walk.  Normally, of course, I would leave this detail out.  But something happened.  Inside the stall I performed my customary spider check to ensure I would be left in peace while at my most vulnerable.  All was well.  I especially liked the cool pull handle that dispensed some biodegradable enzymatic chemical into the toilet so there was virtually no smell (American wilderness, we could learn from this).  But outside the stall was different.  Hanging in an almost invisible web under the eave of the outhouse building was the biggest spider I have ever seen (and will ever see) in my life.  This body must have been a good five inches, with eight strong, thin legs protruding from its jet black body.  Although we were petrified, we did spend a while trying to get a decent picture, but without success because our cameras could not focus properly.  It's probably a good thing, as you wouldn't have want to see it.  I can't describe how glad I am that thing was outside the stall.

No picture of the spider.  But I did get a shot of the  flush handle in the cool composting toilet!

Later than night we stopped in Coff's Harbor.  The place was pretty dead, again probably because vacation week was over.  We walked out to the beach and sat for a little while.  There were lots of little crabs scurrying around (they move pretty fast, surprisingly).  The beach was really flat, so we could go way far out without being in the water.  The waves just barely came up to our feet where we were sitting.  It was a really nice and relaxing spot, and a nice break form driving, but then we got back on the road to make the final push towards Sydney.

We basically drove until we were too tired to continue.  Per usual, it poured.  I think we had been following a storm front since Cairns.  Either that or we have really bad luck with weather.  There was a stalled truck in the entrance to the rest stop we wanted to sleep at, so we slept on a side road instead.  After getting stuck in some pretty bad mud (I was not very happy to happy to be the one that got to push us out), we found a better place.  (Before that we drove through the creepiest abandoned motel of all time.)  We spent our last night exhausted, listening to the rain beat on the thin janky roof.

DAY 6: 17 April
We woke up pretty early in the morning.  It wasn't raining as hard, but everything was still soaking wet outside, so I elected to climb into the drivers seat from the back without exiting the vehicle.  Truthfully, the last stretch to Sydney was not that memorable, and we only really stopped for gas and to switch drivers.  We arrived at Ben's apartment around one, which left enough time to clean out the camper (we had made it absolutely filthy in just five days), fill it with gas one final time, and return it to the Travelers Auto Barn where I gave the guy working there an earful for renting us the sketchiest and most broken vehicle in all of Australia.  Goodbye jankmobile, I'll miss you [sort of]!

The road trip was over.  It felt both long and short at the same time.  Long because we had driven 3000 kilometers and made countless stops.  Short because it was only six days.  It was full of ups and downs (and lefts and rights).  We saw some of the most beautiful places on earth.  Would I do it again the same way?  No, probably not.  In hindsight, we drove way too far in too short of a time.  I had figured it would be a perfectly manageable distance based on the time I drove from Boston to Miami in 24 hours, but I really would have liked to spend more time in each place.  But would I do it again a different way?  Yes, definitely.  Maybe next time on a motorcycle!

[Stay tuned for the Sydney blog...]