Typing This Out Or Else I'll Fly Away

Literally.

I don't know if it's this weather (27 degrees F, and snowy) or this month (December) or this age (25), or what, but I feel more like running away and joining the rest of the world right now than ever.

I had a great time last year, and I'm glad I went when I did.
I just also wish I could go now.

I'd probably do some things a little differently, like read up about some stuff and budget my time and money a little better.
Most of that is because I know myself better now.
Hindsight has perfect vision, as they say.
But some of that is also because I'm feeling more like I really need a trip now than I did then.

Again, it could just be this weather/time of year/life, but every time I'm in any sort of transportation vehicle, be it plane, train, or automobile, I feel a mix of trapped and rushed.

I miss aiports. I'd kill to get on line for security. I'd get there 5 hours early, even for a domestic flight. I'd walk around barefoot and empty my pockets a hundred times.

I keep having these dreams where I'm buckled into the middle seat on an 747, and I really need to pee, but I'm third in from the end and I can't seem to wake up the person in the aisle. So I try to make the flight go faster, because I need to pee so badly, and then, I wake up.

If I have that dream again tonight, I'm going to hold it and see where I end up.

First Of All

On The Mirth of Subway Journeys and Going Into Debt

Guess who's en route to somewhere on a bus along the east coast of a Westernized country in the middle of November?

It struck me two days ago--on the anniversary of my most free and most unaccountable and most experiential seven months (or so)--that perspective is actually what turns a routine journey into a "trip." I've been living in New York City for almost three months now and while I am in no way "used to it" yet, my time spent on subways has started to become negligible already.
To some people, that may not seem like a big deal.
But to me, that's depressing.
So, I've resigned myself to enjoying those "trips," short and expected though they may be.

Along the same lines, there's just too much to do in this city not to take advantage of it.
So, I've also resigned myself to spending (no more than) $50 a month to really live here.
Even if it's just going to a new place and ordering a new dish, there's just no sense in living here and staying in.


I'll save money later.

The Newest Colossus

That's right, I live in The City.
And by The City I mean the same City from Sex and The City. Also You've Got Mail. And Coming to America.

I officially live in the Financial District of New York City, the same Financial District that houses Wall Street and the New York Stock Exchange. Maybe you've heard of them?
For all intents and purposes, I live in New Amsterdam--what used to be the center of the world. Before people took planes and trains and automobiles, they sailed into the seaports of Southern NYC with the hopes of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

After seeing Lady Liberty in all her oxidized and rather zaftig glory (no disrespect), people from all over the place went through Ellis Island to become Americans.
Americans who could live freely and pursue happiness, as well as create things like The Clapper, the ChiaPet, and the Snuggie.

My apartment is too nice for me, but that's ok, so are most of my friends.
My commute is literally 40 minutes shorter now, which means I have no excuse to keep gaining weight and not exercise.

And best of all: I now have my very own FREEDOM.

For those who remember my NYC stint from last summer, you may recall my excitement over the prospect of eating ice cream for dinner in my underwear and being able to watch pornos with the door open.
Almost none of that ever happened, but still, options are beautiful, and I have them again!

More Importantly, Now Hear This

Boys with Mutli-Stringed Instruments

This is Water

'There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, "Morning, boys, how's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, "What the hell is water?"

If you're worried that I plan to present myself here as the wise old fish explaining what water is, please don't be. I am not the wise old fish. The immediate point of the fish story is that the most obvious, ubiquitous, important realities are often the ones that are the hardest to see and talk about. Stated as an English sentence, of course, this is just a banal platitude - but the fact is that, in the day-to-day trenches of adult existence, banal platitudes can have life-or-death importance. That may sound like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense. So let's get concrete ...

In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship - be it JC or Allah, be it Yahweh or the Wiccan mother-goddess or the Four Noble Truths or some infrangible set of ethical principles - is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things - if they are where you tap real meaning in life - then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you. On one level, we all know this stuff already - it's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, bromides, epigrams, parables: the skeleton of every great story. The trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness. Worship power - you will feel weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to keep the fear at bay. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart - you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out.

The insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they're evil or sinful; it is that they are unconscious. They are default settings. They're the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that's what you're doing. And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the centre of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the "rat race" - the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.

The capital-T Truth is about life before death. It is about making it to 30, or maybe 50, without wanting to shoot yourself in the head. It is about simple awareness - awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, that we have to keep reminding ourselves, over and over: "This is water, this is water."'

-David Foster Wallace

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Off to Work I Go

It's true, I'm employed.

Pros of jobs:
-paychecks
-free tea
-free air conditioning for 7-9 hours a day
-free pens
-generally just a lot of free office supplies
-ability to challenge myself/grow professionally

Cons of jobs:
-taxes
-commuting
-air conditioning so cold it hurts
-commuting
-my tan is fading
-can't spend a week watching Scrubs marathons in pajamas

Living After Living the Dream

Hello, faithful readers, ie: Serena and Aunt Marian and Uncle Barnett, and possibly up to five other people!

I've been back in the U S of A since June 4th.
It's nice to be back; it's weird to be back; things are so much bigger here.

Since my return, life has been uneventful to say the least.
I've seen some good old friends and met some good new ones, and that's always nice.
But I haven't gone on a beautiful hike through the wilds of New Zealand, or escaped the curiosity of an Australian Brown Snake in over 3 months, and that's terrible.

So the blog will continue as a means to continue highlighting the good stuff, and if nothing else, it's a good way to remember the other stuff.

So without further delay:

Upon my return, I slept for a week.
Then Serena and I had bagels at the Maven.
Then I went to Boston and surprised the pants off of my best friend in her favorite bookstore and we compared how tan I was and how incredibly cold this winter must have been in Boston.
We also watched the USA v. England game at a nice bar in Newton and were so boisterous that the other diners complained about us passive aggressively on a comment card.

Then it was mid-June and I decided it was really time to look for a job.
I spent a good amount of time looking on various websites and asking friends for leads and applying to everything that I was remotely qualified for, including one job requiring a master's degree in conversational Tagalog (oops).

Then I got a call from one of the jobs I applied to through the help and general hook up of a one Caite Burke, and scheduled an interview for that Friday.
That night I went to Serena's goodbye party. It was devastating, but so fun!
Then I went to Wendy's birthday party on Saturday night, which was both really fun and really culture shocking because I forgot how fancy some of New York seems to be/wants to be/actually really is.
That Sunday, I saw Grampa and my cousin Larry and we celebrated Grampa's 90th (!!!)

Then I saw Phish in Camden and realized that while I'm still a fan, some of those songs are just too damn long.
Maybe I've grown up, or maybe I've just outgrown it.
Maybe that's just two ways of saying the same thing?

Then I got a call from the job I interviewed for and I start work on July 19th.

[What recession?]

Aside from the job hunt and reunions with friends and family, I've been spending a lot of time in my room, going through a lot of my old stuff and getting rid of doubles of pictures of people and things I just don't need two of.

Being home feels weird; feels right; feels like summer without camp, which also feels weird and somehow right.

In short: wherever you go, there you are.

The Truth.

I'm Not Jesus Christ But I Can Turn Water into Kool-Aid

YESSS

http://vanillaslice.wordpress.com/

"Perfection Incarnate:

Gazing upon your empty plate with satisfaction, a perfect vanilla slice should leave you basking in the glory of its wonder. Resting between two buttery pieces of puff pastry the custard should taste of fresh eggs and have a consistency that is not overly viscous nor jelly-like. And if included, the icing should be a firm vanilla that is not too hard. The resulting confection should neither be excessively sweet nor impossible to eat with either the hands or a cake fork. Sampling from Australian Bakeries, this is The Custard Crusaders' quest for perfection and the battle of the bulge."

An Open Letter to Women Whose Thighs Don't Touch

Dear Women Whose Thighs Don't Touch,


I don't trust you for a goddman second.


Sincerely,


Baby's Got Back

You Were Not Supposed to be Back Until Sunday

WEEKEND AT RUMI'S.
BY Seth Weitberg
- - - -

In the early morning hour,
just before dawn, the two lovers wake
and sip from the leftover Franzia box wine.

She asks, "Do you love me or yourself more?
Please, tell the absolute truth."

He says, "Me.
But only because I have no clue who you are."

- - -

I see you through the night in the gathering,
but cannot take you openly in my arms,

so I put my lips next to your cheek,
and hope your boyfriend doesn't notice.

- - -

My love wanders the rooms, stumbling,
bass beating, strewn clothes
high on some good weed she smoked
on the way back from under the porch.

We are three. The moon comes
speaking to us in our ecstasy,
watching us take ecstasy as we
lay around the bonfire.

One of us kneels, pressing the hard dirt.

One drinks, cool to the lips.

One watches the gathering,
and says to any stern onlookers,
Please hold my hair back,
I'm about to vomit everything.

- - -

Stay together, friends.
Don't scatter and sleep.


Our friendship is made of being awake.
The waterwheel accepts water
turns and gives it away,
like the pills it gave us, that will
make sleep impossible anyway.
Seriously, we need to stay together.


- - -

A man was crying into the night,
Allah! Allah!
His lips grew sweet with praising,
until a cynic said,
"He left like an hour ago."
The man had no answer to that.
He drifted down and fell into a confused sleep.

- - -

A story is like water that you heat for your bath.

It takes messages between the fire
and your skin. You drink it in quickly,
like everything else you have touched.

Very few can sit down in the middle of the fire itself
like a salamander or Abraham,
except for your friend Tricky Pete
who will do anything for $20.

A feeling of fullness comes,
in the back of a county ambulance.

- - -

You that love lovers,
This is your home. Welcome!
You were not supposed to be back until Sunday.

In the midst of making merriment,
love made merriment that soon melts merriment,
with Jäger for the door,
tequila the vestibule.

Watch the headlights pour
in through the windows,
as everyone scatters.

Their dance is our dance.

We do not hear the inward music,
because the outward music sings from an iPod,

directed by the one who teaches us,
someone's brother, who no one really knows,
our music master.

- - -

I am morning dew
and evening wind.

I am the bits of dust in the light.
I am the tree and its deep roots.

Do you seriously still not
remember who I am?

Who's Gonna Buy Your Whistles?

Ben Gurion Airport, you're so delightful

Mostly I'm just really excited about all this free and totally legit wifi at my fingertips, so this blogpost is essentially without a purpose.

And in case anyone's reading the news or watching TV and is concerned for my safety, don't be ridiculous.
Israel is safer than anywhere else in the world---excluding Disney World.

See you all SO SOON!

This Has All Been Wonderful

But now I'm on my way.


In short: It's been a very interesting month and a half and while I intended to spend another month here, the kibbutz and I are breaking it off.
We both benefitted from the relationship, but it's reached its end.
No hard feelings.
No awkward glances.
I know what's mine and I'm happily packing it up and heading out.
The Seinfeld exit, if you will: leaving on a high note, somewhat unexpectedly and before the craziest of all the characters shows their true colors (by which I mean, Cosmo Kramer is a racist)


So, come June 1st, I will board an Egged bus (most probably stuffed with adorable and mature-looking Israeli 18 to 21 year-olds named Itai and/or Liron) due north for Tel Aviv.
I'm dealing with a salad of mixed emotions because I've made some really amazing friends and have had some really great times here.
But, when you know, you know.
And I know.
It's time.
I'll be heading home sometime before June 10th (13 days early, give or take) and I can genuinely say: I'm ready.
Just like ripe fruit only spoils if you don't eat it on time, I'm ready to go and delaying it any further would only cause fruit flies and mold.


In theory, this trip had a very specific purpose:
To Figure Shit Out.


At the same time, I had no fucking idea what I was doing, a lot of the time.
Literally, there were days when I'd just doodle for 2 hours or walk to a beach and stack sea shells until I got hungry.
Not that those days weren't terrific.
Of course they were terrific.
But they helped me realize that I prefer a little structure.
As uncool as it may sound, I like having a job.
I like knowing what's expected of me (it makes not doing what's expected of me that much more satisfying) and I like feeling productive, constructive, and useful.
I also really, really like Home.
I like You.
And sometimes, you need to go really far away to learn how much you like being really close.


(Cue the John Williams musical montage)

5 Weeks To Go, I'm Absolutely Counting

I come home in just over a month!!!
I am thrilled.
I'm ready to go and trying to remind myself to linger on the here and now at the same time...
Because it'll be gone so soon.
But 5 weeks seems like a very long time.
Especially when you've been gone since November and it's May 16th.


As for updates: I went to Eilat with my friend Sara from Canada and we had a good time not being on the kibbutz.
We met a lot of interesting men who offered us things ranging from drugs to the ability to Google at their house.
All in all, it was a lot of fun.


So now I'm generally doing what you do on a kibbutz in the desert...relaxing in air conditioning/missing the conveniences of home, such as: doorknobs.

Ponder This

"I love you sons of bitches. You’re all I read any more. You're the only ones who’ll talk all about the really terrific changes going on, the only ones crazy enough to know that life is a space voyage, and not a short one, either, but one that’ll last for billions of years. You’re the only ones with guts enough to really care about the future, who really notice what machines do to us, what wars do to us, what cities do to us, what big, simple ideas do to us, what tremendous misunderstanding, mistakes, accidents, catastrophes do to us. You're the only ones zany enough to agonize over time and distance without limit, over mysteries that will never die, over the fact that we are right now determining whether the space voyage for the next billion years or so is going to be Heaven or Hell."

-Kurt Vonnegut

Yesh Kipod B'cheder

(There is a hedgehog in the room)

It's been nearly a month since I've been at the kibbutz and oh, what an interesting nearly a month it's been.
For one, I've made some really good friends as well as more than a few really strange acquaintances.
For two, I no longer work in the hotel because although I was apparently perfect for the job, I also hated the living daylights out of the job.
So after a pretty succinct and terse conversation about my options with one of the most useless human beings I've ever met (not an exaggeration; I have references and am happy to expand upon that assertion if anyone wants to hear me whine), I was moved.

First it was to the kitchen with all of Latin America, which was an absolute ball.
I got to use my Spanish and listen to Israeli radio and watch all the Chileans and Argentinians dance whenever this one commercial for some alarm company came on.
Also I know where they keep the Nutella supplies now.

But alas, they needed another person in the noy instead ("noy" is Hebrew for beautiful or something; essentially it's landscaping work) and so to the noy I went.

Most of what I do is rake and prune and lift heavy things and eat like a 16 year old boy.
We've laid down sod for a new lawn; I'm excellent at pruning, weeding and sweeping dirt back into its designated pit; and I am also the new sprinkler and irrigation specialist.
Impressive, no?

In addition to being in charge* of all of the water, I'm also the only girl I work with.
My bosses and coworkers all comment daily on my incredible ability to amass large amounts of burekas and hummus on my plate and consume them like a lady, as well as how strong I am:

I can now lift almost 2 kilos of ice cream in one hand, while telling other people what else they can bring me.

And even though we wake up around 5:00am for work at 5:15am because it's already too hot to work after lunch, and even though it's only going to get hotter, and sometimes the rest of my coworkers just call me PMS when I whine about how heavy the tree trunks are that we have to pick up...I like the work.

I joke.
(I have always been able to lift that much ice cream in one hand, and they call me PMS no matter what I whine about)
I'm really enjoying the physical work and the guys I work with are awesome.
And attractive.
Also I'm tanner than I've ever been.

Win-win-win-win-win.

*I'm not in charge of anything, but I do know the computer code that sets off the sprinklers and have been having fun pissing off all the feral cats who sleep by our house by turning the water on sporadically.
Also, we're in the fucking desert and this place is so well developed that not only is there a sprinkler system set up to irrigate the plants and date trees (one of the kibbutz's main sources of income), they even have gardens with flowers and trees for aesthetic purposes! This blows my mind on the regular.

This whole experience has been really interesting, both socially and spiritually.
In a lot of ways, I'm at camp.
Almost everyone's Jewish, they have French toast for breakfast a lot, I share clothing with everyone I know, we have Shabbat as a community, the pool and the cheder ochel (dining room) are the central meeting places, and everyone uses golf carts to get around.
At the same time, there are no counselors and very little actual structure (except for meals which are the only real scheduled activities), so it's sort of a mix between camp and college.

And of course, whenever you put people together for an extended period of time, the middle schoolers in all of us come out to play.
I've never been that good at keeping up with the drama, but luckily there was a free beer night a few weeks ago which allowed me to participate in the general balagan (Hebrew for shit show) of the kibbutz.
Nothing too incredible happened, but I can now safely and confidently say that I am able to get free shots of liquor in every country I've visited on this trip.
Also I have been shot down not once but apparently four times in one night by the same guy.
Count it!

On that note, it's time to go to the pool; 43 degrees Celcius is almost warm enough to BBQ your spleen.

Mom, Stop Worrying

Everything's fine, I just hardly have a chance to use a real computer.
Quick update: people are all much happier, I still clean hotel rooms, my skin is the color of rich mahogany.
More to come.

2 Days In and I'm Already Constipated

Shalom from the Arava Valley, more specifically Kibbutz Ketura.
For those of you, like me, who still don't know where I am, I suggest looking at a map of the middle east.
First, find Israel.
Then find Jordan.
Then find the border between the two, and I'm essentially RIGHT THERE.
When I had my introduction walk-around-the-kibbutz, the volunteer coordinator told me I could jog to the border if I wanted, but only before sunset, as the army uses heat and motion sensors at the border which would be DANGEROUS.
(And thus I'm never going jogging)

I got here on Sunday, which was Erev Yom HaShoa (Holocaust rememberance day).
Additionally, Sunday was also the day that most of the garin* who were staying and volunteering here got kicked off because of suspected drug abuse.
The garin was apparently dating or BFF with half the non-garin volunteers, which means everyone I've met is either sad, leaving, or threatening to leave.
(*Garin = first year soldiers who go through a bonding experience like working on a kibbutz before boot camp, I think. Most are 18 or so and generally goofy and proud; Israeli)

So, as seems to be the trend during much of these past several months, I picked a bad moment to arrive.
I got here around 4pm and had to sit through a meeting about drugs at 5.
Then there was the Shoa event, which was entirely in Hebrew except for all the graphic Auschwitz and Treblinka photographs.
Needless to say, it's been heavy around here.

Everyone I've met is nice, though PISSED OFF.
That's not all true, but it's not that far from it.
Almost all of my new friends are from South America and came here through a program called Noam which sounds sort of like NFTY but in Spanish.
Most of the kids are 18-20 at most, with a few 21 year-olds for good measure.
There are also a few other people from NY/NJ and other places, though they're also mostly younger than me.
So mostly I've been speaking terrible Spanish and trying not to offend people with my horrendous Hebrew.
I've taught the group what a badonkadonk is; they've taught me that I don't really speak Spanish anymore.

This kibbutz wears a few different hats, if you will, so there are many different jobs to do.
I work in the hotel, cleaning rooms.
I would much rather not be cleaning rooms, just because I kind of already did that in Byron Bay, but whatever.
As I mentioned before, it's a very weird and high-stress time so I'm going to try and stir the pot as little as possible.

And now it's time for dinner.

...more to come.

Going Back Back, To Eilat Eilat

Guess who got her kibbutz placement?

http://ketura.org.il/index.html

(yes this is the kibbutz that Sarah Silverman's sister lives on; no I will not become famous for spending 3 months milking cows at 4am, I've already asked)

I'm going on Sunday and I'll be there until July, as it turns out.

EXCITED EXCITED EXCITED!

Unrelatedly, I worked as a translator for a nice Ecuadorian girl today at the kibbutz placement office.
(When I say "worked" I mean I spent 2 hours interpreting her and getting paid in butter cookies)
I just hope my experience isn't as traumatic as hers was, and from what I gather, hers was, indeed.

"El piso...el piso fue cubierto en la mierda! Y yo no podría encontrar un tenedor dondequiera."

Sesame Street Soul

http://www.waxpoetics.com/features/articles/sesame-street-soul/2

Prayers That Don't Eat Up All Your Time

"There was a Jesuit priest I knew once and somebody asked him, ‘What’s the shortest prayer in the world?’
And he said, ‘Fuck it’. That’s great, isn’t it?" -Anthony Hopkins

Herzilya, aka The Field of Wills nee Dreams

Chag sameach to those of you who are still eating matzah and happy Easter to those of you who haven't been eating meat on Fridays.
And if you're celebrating another holiday and you can't eat something too, I wish you all the best as well.
I never realized what a rough season Spring is for bread and livestock.

Writing to you from the couch of a one Julia Chazkel, who now lives in Herzilya (a town north of Tel Aviv) and who is currently in Italy with her dad, probably so full of pasta she can't even communicate, and she's letting me crash in her apartment until she gets back next Wednesday night. Incredible. But more on that later.

For those of you wondering how I spent my Pesach and where I went for seder, the answer is: Jerusalem but mostly, Randy Pressman.
Randy Pressman is a man who belongs in his own category of Great, and he's been awesome about letting me trail his every move since I got here.
First, I got to see Les Claypool with him in Tel Aviv---which was STUPID GOOD.
Then, after I asked if I could join in on whatever he was doing for Passover, he brought me to his friend's apartment in East Jerusalem (obviously we were in the Jewy part therein) and I got to make the turkey.
Literally, this year in Jerusalem.
What more could I ask for?
The seder was held at Randy's friend Ari's place and though Ari bought a 15 pound bird, there were only 5 of us there to eat it, as well as the other seven side dishes (not exaggerating---one of the other attendees used to be a sous chef).
Ari and company were excellent---funny and smart rabbis-in-training who were so warm and welcoming, I almost didn't mind all the matzah I had to eat.
We had a very nice, very casual seder and while I usually don't really love that oh-so-long To Do list that is the seder, I surprised myself with how much I enjoyed being around people who knew the same tunes and songs that I do, and mixing and matching the other traditions we brought to the table.
If I haven't made myself clear, it was a really wonderful experience.

Every time I come to Israel, I run into someone I knew/know/have met once or twice.
It's true what they say, wherever you go, there's always someone Jewish.
Sometimes they're from camp, sometimes they're from college, and it's always really nice to see them.
But this trip to Israel is the first time I have friends who are actually living here--friends who I can't make plans with to see when I get back home--so seeing them here makes being here feel like I'm not just wandering through.
I can't tell you just how necessary it was for me to meet up with some of these people, especially because I was beginning to feel more than just a little ready to get the hell home.
As Julia put it while Katowitz, Randy and I dove into the matzah brei we made, "it feels like home came to Israel!"
Yes, that's very cheesey, but it's also very precious, because it's true and I love them.

I'm still waiting to hear back about the kibbutz placement and since Passover's still going strong, I'm going to be waiting until beer and bread are again kosher. I'll keep everyone posted.

Love and matzah cookies!

One Time For Your Mind

Recent statements/questions/what have you's that need to be published somewhere:

(These will all be made into Them Vs. Me format)

Them: "Passover's like, a big deal for the Israelis, huh?"
Me: "Yes. Yes it is. Also for Jews everywhere."
T: "Every year, or just this year?"
M: "Every year."
T: "So what do you do for it? You eat the matzah-bread stuff, right?"
M: "Yeah. The matzah stuff. It's not bread, though. It's instead of bread."
T: "Sooo what, does it like, go on the bread? Or like, under the bread?"


T: "Israel is closed now? For big holiday?"
M: "Yes, many things are closed for Passover."
T: "And how long will Israel be closed? Will Israel be closed forever?"


T: "What does Passover have to do with Easter?"
T: "Nothing, it's for Jews."
M: "Jesus's last supper was a Passover seder."
T: "Um...are you sure? Because he was Christian I thought..."


Not all who wander may be lost, but not all who are lost should wander, maybe.

Manyanim?

Writing to you from Florentine in Tel Aviv, where I've been staying for the past two nights.*

*Actually now I'm on Ben Yehuda in Tel Aviv, I changed hostels because Florentine, though cool, is really fucking far away from shit I like.

So far I've seen Les Claypool and Randy Pressman, crashed a roof party and eaten more falafel and baklava than I ever expected to.
I also bought more earrings from my favorite jewelry vendor in the market on Nachalat Binyamin, and went to Shuk Ha'Carmel to eat all that baklava, which was, in hindsight maybe not the best of ideas.
Also I bought new naots and met a nice couple from Buenos Aires who humored me and let me try to communicate with them.
The only negative I have to mention is the weather.
It's been raining for the past two days and that is more or less bullshit.
Otherwise, I'm enjoying myself.

Best nugget of international English to date:
When reporting about some drunk Frenchman who came in late last night and how he couldn't find the right room, one of the Swedes told us:

"I told him where his bed was but he was just going around grabbing other people's privates."

(Privates = private double rooms)

I've been feeling pretty ready to pack it in, just because 4 months is a long time and as I mentioned, I think I've essentially gotten what I wanted out of my travels. I'm also still waiting for a definitive kibbutz placement and have heard more than a few atrocious reviews of the kibbutz program.
So...we'll see how much longer I stay away.

On that note, chag sameach v'l'hitraot.

This Year In [Ben Gurion Airport]

And now it's onto Israel.
I'll be flying into Tel Aviv tomorrow and hopefully placed on a kibbutz sometime within the next week where I'll spend the next two and a half to three months.
Where I'll be, I don't know.
What I'll be doing, I don't know.
But I'll definitely be somewhere in the [broken] promised land.
(Credit goes to Max Bemis, Google him)

This last leg of the trip is one I'm really looking forward to, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also looking forward to it because it is the last leg.
In some ways, I already feel very done.
I guess I could use the word accomplished, but it's more done than anything.
Done in the way a turkey is done: it's cooked through. It's not burned and it's not raw.
It's done.
I won't say I'm finished, because what the hell is finished?
Who's ever finished?
But I think I am done, or nearly done, and I'm eager to have some time in one place to collect myself.

Relatedly, I've been reflecting on the last 4 months of my trip lately and it just dawned on me just how much I've done;
I've done so much.
I've seen so much.
I've learned so much.

I think a big reason for that has been that I've listened, watched and generally experienced a lot more than I've spoken, which is a new thing for me.
It's amazing how much you can do/see/learn, and how many different types of people you can meet, when you're not running your mouth.
Not that I'm done running my mouth. Gimme a break.
But the fact is, sometimes, being a participant observer puts you in the best spot to experience what's there to experience.
Way to go, Bronislaw Malinowski!

Things I've learned:
-how to speak international English/how to curse in German and Swedish/how to incorporate the non-English speakers in a conversation so that no one feels left out
-how to gracefully bow out of the awkward conversation that results from incorporating non-English speakers after you've exhausted all of the German and Swedish curse words you know
-how to subsist on pasta, rice, white bread, carrots and peanut butter for 28 days straight
-how to pack a wet towel so that it does not mildew
-how to shower (including washing your dreadlocked Jewfro and shaving your legs) in cold water that drips from a hole in the wall that comes to your elbow at its highest point, for a week
-how to not get offended when people repeatedly tell you, "but you're so...you don't even look Jewish! I mean it!"
-how to [appropriately] offend overzealous English blokes when they fancy you a bit too much
-how not to absolutely lose it when you overhear your roommates discussing which of their stripper names (because they're all apparently strippers) are "too trashy" and which names are "too classy"

Things I've lost:
-super nice leather bound journal
-sleeping bag
-raincoat
-favorite Israeli flag Havaianas and 6 year-old naots
-shitty iPod headphones
-any sense of modesty when changing in 24-bed co-ed dorms
-countless loofas and toothbrushes
-maybe 5 pounds
-ability to metabolize tequila

Things I've gained:
-cheap cardboard-backed journal
-new sleeping bag
-new raincoat
-$3 flip flops with neon palm trees all over them
-new really nice headphones due to Tom's sweet Sennheiser warehouse job
-sensibility as to when it's appropriate to change in a 24-bed co-ed dorm
-countless loofas and toothbrushes
-at least 5 pounds
-ability to get free shots of gin*

*whether this only applies in the southern hemisphere remains to be seen

So, I'm back in Sydney for all of 48 hours.
Then I board my flight to Tel Aviv by way of Hong Kong then Istanbul.
Guess who's excited about spending the next two days in international airports!

Auckland, AKA The Land of Auck

Believe it or not, the end of March is nigh.
This nigh-ness gives me all kinds of mixed feelings, which is to be expected.
After all, I've fallen in love with New Zealand.
And since neither of us want to do long distance, one of us will have to leave.
I have a strong feeling it's going to be me...but what do I know? I'm terrible at relationships. LOL?

So, I'm spending my last few days in Auckland, which is the largest city in New Zealand with a whopping 1.2 million people, or 1/4 of the entire population of the country.
Everyone forewarned me about how sucky Auckland was as a city, but I think everyone needs to lay off the haterade because so far, I have no problem with it.
Sure, it's not earth-shatteringly amazing, like New York, but let's be fair.
There's only one New York. And it's in New York.

As you may recall from my last post, I was on my way to hike the Tongariro Crossing from Taupo.
Bad news: I didn't make it.
Due to a mix of very cold, rainy weather with 70-80 km/hour winds and general idiocracy on the part of my tour bus operators, I spent the day and night in a pretty sweet hostel at the foothills of the mountains, so things weren't a complete wash.
In order to get back to Taupo in time to catch my bus to Auckland, I had to hitch a ride and woke up at 4:15am to do so.
But, the woman who drove me was awesome and brought both her dog and cat along for the ride so all the stress and frustration caused by the bus company was absolved.

Let the record show: [domesticated] animals fix [all of] my problems.

So now I'm in Auckland until the 22nd, when I fly to Sydney and say hi to Justin and Amanda for a day until I hop a plane to Israel.
So far, I've done a lot of walking around and have been reintroduced to many of my previously dormant leg muscles because Auckland is one hilly sonofabitch.

Last night was St. Paddy's Day and since I woke up so early that morning, I only had it in me to put on a green shirt and drink 2 green beers before I headed to bed by midnight.
But I did meet a Californian who asked me to dance to the only Garth Brooks song the bar would play, and when I said no because I wasn't so into this song/rodeos/Sarah Palin, he told me to wait a second, spoke to the DJ, and the next song that came on was something by Nickelback.
He looked at me as if this was an improvement; I told him I needed to use the facilities, so I left the bar, went to another and used their restroom.

Then I went to sleep while the rest of the city drank and swayed in a collective embrace of Irish cultural stereotypes.

On that note, I'm headed to bed again.
It's been a pretty busy month.

Volcanic Activity/Everything Smells Like Beer Farts

I'm now in Taupo, which is a beautiful town that sits on Lake Taupo, the largest lake in all of NZ.
Before that, I was in Rotorua which is the most geothermally active place in the world, I think.
What that means is that in addition to being really cool and having these bubbling, boiling mud pools all over, it also smells like eggs and beer farts everywhere because there's so much sulphur in the air.
(Family---it smells like the entire town is engulfed in a cloud of Jane farts.)

Tomorrow I set off for the Tongariro Crossing http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tongariro_Alpine_Crossing, and I'm pumped.
Then I go back to Auckland for a few days and then back to Sydney for a second until Tel Aviv/the general land of Israel for 3 months.

Excited excited excited!

"My Nutrition Levels Have Disappeared."

Just re-read some of my old posts and I can't believe I haven't discussed the food I've eaten at length. What the hell.

In addition to all the jumping off of and out of things that NZ has been, this has also been a really delicious epicurean trip.

First of all, the meat (beef, lamb, pork, chicken, goat, ostrich, lama, venison...and kangaroo for Australia's sake) is legitimately free range and hormone free, because when your entire country only has like 25 people (give or take 4 million) living in it, you don't need to produce the ridiculous quantities that places like the USA does.
So, meat just tastes better because in my head, the animals are living happier lives.
With accents.

The fruit and vegetable selection isn't so different from home, except some things are cheaper because they're local, such as avocado, mango, kiwi, and apples. The apples here vary like crazy but for the most part, the Sundowners and Cox's Orange Pippin are my favorites. (If you were unaware, I have a thing for apples.)

There's a lot of trans-Asian cuisine so lamb/chicken/beef satay is big. I like that.
Also, sushi is big. And cheap. Because the fish is caught 20 feet away sometimes. And the sushi comes in these long rolls that are more reminiscent of an open-ended egg roll than the circle things I've had back in the States. I like that, too.

And, for the most part, the breads are just excellent. Not the sandwich shit you have to buy at the cheapo Pak N' Save because you can't afford the other cheap shit at the more elite supermarkets, but the breads you buy at bakeries, of which there are many. Bakeries are everywhere, and people use them. Daily-baked fresh bread is as easy to find here as unclear-as-to-when-this-was-actually-made-Chinese-food is in delis in NYC.

The sandwiches are typically ham-based. Ham and cheese and tomato, ham and cheese and pineapple, ham and cheese and cheese and ham. They also use a lot of avocados and chicken and tomato, which I think is a great idea. Eggs and ham and cheese and tomato, also common.

The meat pie is a big thing here, an obvious leftover from the Brits and the Irish and the like. I have to be honest, meat pie makes me dry heave. I've tried all kinds of combinations---steak and mushroom, mince meat, potato and meat, cheese and meat, whathaveyou---and they're all too salty and generally just too much for me. But if you're poor (I am) and you need sustenance (I do) and you have $3.50 most of the time (I hope), then meat pies are a pretty frequent meal.

The pizza here is generally a travesty, and any sort of "red sauce" dish is just unacceptable.
I miss Villa Maria's.

The side dishes are usually pretty potato-based; fries are called chips and chips are called crisps. They're all pretty good. Wedges are by far the favorite child of all potato sides. But let the record show that Fuel and Fuddle still holds the no. 1 spot for most incredible sweet potato fries.

Also---the sauces are worth mentioning. The sweet chili sauce is incredible. Ketchup, or "tomato sauce," is not. There's no mustard to speak of, which, in my opinion, is disgusting.

As for desserts, they know what the hell they're doing.

The ice cream is creamier---by which I mean, low fat and sugar free and diet-friendly ice cream is much harder to find. Which is good, because ice cream is not diet-friendly. If you're dieting, don't eat ice cream. That's a diet.

But they make this real fruit ice cream that has quickly become my favorite way to spend $5.00: it's either plain vanilla or plain chocolate ice cream with frozen fresh fruit---blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, boysenberries, blackberries, peaches, mangos, etc---blended in. Incredible. And if you want, you can mix them all in at once. Don't though, it's only going to let you down.

Moving on to other desserts, I should mention the Pavlova. I thought this was an Australian thing since Justin made it, but apparently it's originally a Kiwi delicacy. Basically it's just egg whites and sugar and cream and fruit, and I can't explain it in any other terms besides: diabetic.

I've saved the best for last, by which I mean: Vanilla Slice.

Slices are the general southern hemispherical term for what we northerners might call bars or brownies, and they're all Really Fucking Good. The Vanilla Slice, however, is in a league of it's own. It looks really plain and sort of boring, but it's not. It's not, whatsoever. On the bottom, it's got a sort of pie crust/pastry dough/cookie consistency that's really buttery and almost salty and flakey enough but not too flakey. Then it's got this vanilla pudding kind of thing but it's a bit firmer, almost a mix of pudding and batter. Then there's another layer of the pie crust/phyllo dough, then another layer of pudding. And then, it's topped with this incredible vanilla frosting that almost defies description: it's firm but gooey, sort of like carrot cake frosting mixed with whipped cream. Or something. If anyone knows where this can be procured in the USA, please let me know. It's the one reason I sometimes look at the real estate postings in the information centers in little out of the way towns we stop at to use the public toilets.

Unrelated to food, I recently went Zorbing (Google it) and caving and saw glow worms and taught our 19 year-old tour guides the correct chorus to "Juicy" by Biggie Smalls.
I also got to eat a traditional Maori dinner (which was pretty much picnic foods...?) and learned a little about their culture, which, like the aboriginal people of Australia, has been wiped out and then restored poorly, by white people. Go white people, go.

Unrelated to any of that, I also just got into a fight with a douchey gap year-aged Welsh kid named Paul who, after I told him I was from the USA, asked me if I knew where Wales was with a very smug look on his face, and when I said, "yeah, do you know where the States are?" told me, "Yeah, it's that country with all those [n-words], right?" Way to go, Welsh kid.

Your Heritage is Peace

I'm in Kaikoura again after 4 glorious days in Queenstown.
I do not hesitate or exaggerate when I say Queenstown is the coolest place I have ever and might ever see in real life.

It was everything everyone said it would be plus a really pretty rose garden no one told me about.
I spent the first night catching up on some relaxation and much needed re-packing of my bag. EXCITING.
The days were spent wandering around the city and various gardens and coastal walking tracks.
And it's a good thing I was so "active" because Queenstown is famous for one of the best foods ever created: the Fergburger.
The Fergburger almost defies description. Which is why I'm glad they have a website: http://www.fergburger.com/fullscreen.html
It's almost like a Fathead's sammich, except that Fathead's has a larger array to choose from and part of the Ferg-appeal is the size, which is massive.
Clearly, if I'm spending time recounting the experience here, it was deadly.

My last day was spent cruising through Milford Sound, which was a gorgeous way to see such a place.
My pictures will be up soon so you can all agree about how gorgeous it is.

My last night was spent visiting many of the 300 bars and clubs the city has to offer, and I learned the secret to getting free shots of gin from bartenders.
Part of the secret is knowing who Sid the Kid is.
There are more parts of the secret but like I said, I got free shots of gin, so they will remain a secret. To me, especially.

Needless to say, I got to experience both the natural beauty and night life Queenstown has on offer, and it rules.

Unrelatedly, I saw this sign in front of the Kaikoura Memorial Centre that said, "Your heritage is peace" (translated from a Maori saying) and it made me stop and think.
Very rarely do I think of my heritage in a way that doesn't involve civil unrest or war or immigration [due to war] or something along those lines. Not because my family is super contentious, but because the history I've been taught always focused on who was in charge of whom and when.
I guess there is a difference between history and heritage semantically speaking, but if you're taught to be proud of being peaceful, maybe your history wouldn't be so full of facts about wars?

And The Sweet Assity Continues

Hello, my adoring public.

So many things have happened since I started my New Zealand trip, I had to look through my pictures to remember everything...

I started in Christchurch, which was terrific. I really enjoyed that city and the people I met there were great. I also found the kosher bagel place.

Then I went to Kaikoura and started my Stray bus trip, which lets me jump on and off wherever/whenever I want to. Kaikoura was GORGEOUS, sort of similar to Byron Bay in Australia but much, much smaller and with much, much fewer batshit insane people. Although, I did run into Camilla (the crazy ass receptionist ho from Byron who ruined my time there) and I pretended not to see her. At first I stared to make sure it was her, then decided it was her, then feigned a fascination with the community notice board advertising bait and tackle.

Then from Kaikoura I went to Picton and headed down to Abel Tasman to hike a gorgeous and lengthy 28 km coastal walk. It took about 7 hours and it was absolutely beautiful.
I also met a group of Washington Staters who were great (my second group of Washington Staters thus far---they're such a nice breed!) and we went to the one bar in Abel Tasman and partook of the open mic night they had going on.
I don't know how to explain what I saw/heard/generally experienced unless I used the words heady, vegan, and patchouli and also wookie.
There was a marionette performance and a woman who sang Czech songs and a band that covered the theme song to "Fresh Prince of Bel Air" for about 25 minutes and also a song that goes, "I don't like cricket---I LOVE IT."

Then onto Punakaiki to see some pancake rocks, which was cool but not that cool, and then we went to Barrytown. Barrytown, like many of the towns along the west coast of the south island, used to be a big town with a lot of gold rushers but since the rush has died down, so has the population growth. In fact, Barrytown is now home to a whopping 42 people. So, we had a nice dinner and drank a lot of BazVegas homebrew beer and dressed up in ridiculous costumes and had a party. Theme: I Can't Believe You Came To My Party Dressed Like That. I wore a leotard and spandex pants and old-school Adidas sneakers and called myself Jane Fonda. People went with it. I taught people how to do the Running Man (Banin, you would have been PROUD). It was an absolute BALL.

Then we went to Franz Joseph Glacier where we were going to go on a full day glacier hike, but it was rained out and got canceled. I was really disappointed, since I was about to walk on a glacier, but we still had a nice time watching the USA lose to Canada in hockey. I represented the USA very well and reminded everyone I saw without being asked which country in North America was also called Just America. We drank that night away and had a general great time.

Then we drove to Makarora which was ehh. But! Early that morning, I JUMPED OUT OF A PLANE. I decided to do it a while ago and spoke to an Alaskan who told me that Fox Glacier was the most beautiful place to jump, so I went on his advice and he was right. Let the record show that he might be the only Alaskan worth listening to (THAT'S A PALIN DIG, DAD. READ IT AND WEEP). The jump was a lot more peaceful than I expected it to be, and I got to see the earth in a way I've never experienced before. New Zealand is a goddamn beautiful place, and after having jumped out of a plane and seeing it so personally, I feel so fortunate that I was able to come out here and experience the nature it has to offer. I jumped through a cloud into a circular rainbow which my Brazilian guide explained in broken English "happens not much often" and that was amazing. I also got to see Fox Glacier, Mount Cook and Mount Tasman, so technically, I saw a glacier up close and personal. Makarora was a bit of a let down after all that. It's a pretty place but felt kind of stupid to stay there when we could've gone straight through to Queenstown or Wanaka in an hour's time. We had a karaoke night and I sang a lot of Neil Diamond. Basically it was good.

Then I decided to take a day off from the crazy and spent a night in Wanaka which was BEAUTIFUL. It has so far been my absolute favorite part of the trip (scenery-wise) because it's just breathtaking. The pictures I took don't do it justice but trust me when I say it made me want to recycle so our future generations might have the chance to see such a place.

And today I JUMPED OFF OF A BRIDGE. I can't explain how incredible it was to just free fall off of a perfectly stable structure into nothingness and then water, but I'll try. Imagine learning that you have wings and that you can only use them for the next 30 minutes. Obviously, you're going to want to use those wings, especially because you know you won't be able to use them later (wings = balls, or guts) so you have a choice: fly or be lame. So, I flew and it was BRILLIANT. Very easily the most incredible experience I've ever had. The adrenaline rush was great and my video and pictures are pretty hilarious. I screamed a lot of obscenities and the watching public had to cover their children's ears. I spent the first half of the jump just screaming "FFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK" and then once I hit the water and came back up I [apparently though I don't recall doing so] ordered everyone to "SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" and when one of the staffers asked one of the others if I was ok, they replied with, "Yeah, I think she's just from New Jersey." And they all said, "oh."

Now I'm in Queenstown. It's beautiful and cool and though I've never been to Colorado, probably it's like some parts there? I really like being so close to the mountains and the terrain here is like nothing I've ever actually seen in the real. I've learned that I much prefer a good walk through the woods to a day at the beach (maybe a walk through the woods to the beach?) and am seriously considering becoming very rich so as to afford a vacation home somewhere here. It's just that incredible. I sort of regret spending so much time in Australia and not spending 2 months there and 2 months here, but, c'est la vie. Live and learn. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Just gives me a reason to come back and do what I haven't had time for or couldn't afford. Could be worse.

Sending love from all the way across the world!

NEW ZEALAND!

I'm on a glacier, it's March already, everything looks surreal and this country has officially become The Most Beautiful Country I've Ever Seen.

More when I'm not so busy doing SWEET ASS SHIT.

New Zealand? More Like Best Zealand

Hiya from Christchurch, quite possibly the youngest, drunkest city in the whole world!
Possibly not, too.
Regardless, IT'S GREAT.

The layout of the city is not so different from Adelaide in South Australia; everything is very close to everything else because it's pretty small but also, pretty absolutely gorgeous.
There are squares and parks everywhere and the botanical gardens are just beautiful.
And I don't even like flowers!

There's a city tram that runs through the center of town (there's a place called Cathedral Square which more or less is the center of town) and on a day like today (Saturday in February), it's almost a shame to use such a convenience.
The weather isn't much cooler than it was in Sydney but it is virtually dry, as in, not humid, and that makes everything that much more tolerable/prefered by those with curly hair.

So far, I've spent my time in New Zealand strolling through the gardens and street fairs and listening to so many street musicians.

Oh and meeting absolutely hilarious characters:

-Iraqi man who told me he was Chinese ("You believe me almost! Because my body is very small! I kid with you!!!!!!") and who had a travel journal of all the friends he's made while living here, and took a picture of me and told me he would call that page "Girl from the United States of New York," and I did not correct him.

-very hairy, skinny guy from San Jose/Santa Barbara who was here on vacation after working for 6 months in Antarctica "doing science." I asked him if he knew where my hostel was and he said he was on his way there but first NEEDED to get a Big Mac, so I accompanied him with a new friend I had made on the plane from Lincolnshire-near-London and we took his picture as he bit into his first Big Mac since 2007.

-then while we were in the Mackers (that's what McDonald's is called in the Southern Hemisphere), two extremely drunk and friendly older gentlemen approached us to ask if we could show them where the line to order was.
Punchline: they were already in line.

Finally, I made it to my hostel and promptly fell asleep.

Of course, this was all after a VERY eventful airport experience.

I was randomly selected to be late for my flight. They made me open every compartment of everything I own, and then they asked me to produce receipts from when I purchased my pear and banana. When I said I didn't get a receipt since it only cost me $1.20, they asked me a minimum of 5 times why I was leaving Australia and if I spoke and undersood English.

But, all in all, I have nothing but good things to say about my experience.

Some travel updates:

As it turns out, I will be here (in NZ) until March 22nd.
(As it also turns out, you can't just go places. You need to have a visa or a ticket of departure. The customer services representatives all over the airport will be happy to reiterate this information ad nauseum.)

Then I fly back to Sydney and fly back out of Sydney on March 24th, to Hong Kong, then from Hong Kong to Istanbul, then from Istanbul to Tel Aviv, where I end my flight on March 25th at 9:40am.
Plans are to be in the motherland, working on a kibbutz and reliving the summer of '07 until about June something.

And then!
And then!

ITALIA!!!

Maybe.

Looks like I'll be meeting up with Meg and Mere (and MiLF and LRN in spirit) sometime in mid to late June and then Bridey in the wee days of July.
How exciting!

I'm really looking forward to this leg of the journey, not just because New Zealand is Middle Earth, but also because I've been traveling for about 3 months now and it's just occurred to me how much me-time that's been. I really love my own company, but it can get a bit much when you're the only one laughing at your jokes and also the only one making jokes at all. Tom's been working in Sydney while I've been galavanting around, and though I've met some great people and had a lot of fun, you (I) forget how necessary it is to have a real friend around sometimes. It's been nice to go back to Sydney and recharge my batteries and reconnect with Tom and the barefoot shower and trustworthy beds, but the fact is that 3 months of traveling by yourself can get very lonely. I had a little breakdown when some of my plans got screwed up so I saw "Up in the Air" and that made everything worse before it got better. The good news is, my breakdown is over and I'm back on the horse, so to speak. I'm excited to be here. I'm excited to see some of the most beautiful things anyone has ever seen. I'm also excited to have a change of pace from Australia; I really love that country but it's also put me through the proverbial wringer and I think it's time to break it off between us.

In sum: I'm in New Zealand! How great is that! SO GREAT.

Mental Types of Health

In a world with so much uncertainty, it's important to know that there are some things you can hold onto.

Like grudges.

You Are Not Enough People!

Okay, now let’s have some fun. Let’s talk about sex. Let’s talk about women. Freud said he didn’t know what women wanted. I know what women want: a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything.

What do men want? They want a lot of pals, and they wish people wouldn’t get so mad at them.

Why are so many people getting divorced today? It’s because most of us don’t have extended families anymore. It used to be that when a man and a woman got married, the bride got a lot more people to talk to about everything. The groom got a lot more pals to tell dumb jokes to.

A few Americans, but very few, still have extended families. The Navahos. The Kennedys.

But most of us, if we get married nowadays, are just one more person for the other person. The groom gets one more pal, but it’s a woman. The woman gets one more person to talk to about everything, but it’s a man.

When a couple has an argument nowadays, they may think it’s about money or power or sex or how to raise the kids or whatever. What they’re really saying to each other, though without realizing it, is this: “You are not enough people!”

A husband, a wife and some kids is not a family. It’s a terribly vulnerable survival unit.

* * * * *

I met a man in Nigeria one time, an Ibo who had six hundred relatives he knew quite well. His wife had just had a baby, the best possible news in any extended family.

They were going to take it to meet all its relatives, Ibos of all ages and sizes and shapes. It would even meet other babies, cousins not much older than it was. Everybody who was big enough and steady enough was going to get to hold it, cuddle it, gurgle to it, and say how pretty or handsome it was.

Wouldn’t you have loved to be that baby?

-Kurt Vonnegut

Indifferent Cities

(Backstory: "Indifferent Cities" is the new Speechwriters, LLC album and it's essential listening. Make a note.)

It's Friday and it's hot and it's humid and it's February.
I've spent the better half of today wandering around The Rocks and sweating, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Things I've noticed since being back in Sydney again:

-I really like bridges.
-I really don't like humidity.
-I have a street cred surplus.
-I really like the way LeBron James plays basketball.
-I really like "The Big Bang Theory"

Music I can't get enough of:

Tally Hall
Ezra Furman and the Harpoons
The National
Nickel Creek
Cream
The Traveling Wilburys
Smokey Robinson and the Miracles
The Foundations
Speechwriters, LLC

If you can't tell, I'm mostly just waiting to go to New Zealand.

Quality Time With Couches

Because Nature's been spending a lot of time raining, I've been spending a lot of time on the couch.
Justin (Tom's cousin) has a movie collection meant for sedentary rainy days, so I can't complain too much. This weekend I watched:

-The Ladykillers
-Oh Brother Where Art Thou?
-Almost Famous
-Beerfest
-Baseketball
-THX 1138
-Star Wars Episodes 2 and 3
-Cool Runnings (this was on TV but still counts)
-Dark Knight
-Batman Begins
-Heat
-Blow
-Big Fish

Overarching verdicts: Almost Famous makes me so happy to be so sad; The Coen Brothers are so good; Katie Holmes is so bad; George Lucas should stick to his Star Wars; Baseketball is still such a good idea.

UPDATE

The weather's improved!
And the Saints won!
And because of the improvement in the weather, I left the apartment and watched the Saints win!

I decided to venture out into the fine city that is Sydney and stumbled upon an adventure.
I didn't exactly mean to watch the Superbowl at a bar at 1pm surrounded by Irish people (and of course a few Germans) but, you know.
These things happen.
I wandered by this one hotel on Pitt Street (sidenote: a lot of the bars are called hotels here, something to do with alcoholism, I'm unclear of the details, the point is: they're not hotels) and there was a mass of people by the door.
Easily 50 people, just huddled around this door.
So, I joined them, because I'm trendy.
Turns out, they were watching the Superbowl.
The bouncer asked me for ID, I told him I wasn't interested in going in, he asked me again, I produced my NJ driver's license and he announced to the bar:
"Got an American!"

And the crowd went wild.

So, in I went and Irish people I met.
One pair of Irish lads, Peter and Matthew (who called themselves "Machu Peters" which threw me back to when I hiked that trail in Peru with another Irishman who called it Machu Peters, too...ah, memories) bought me just so many beers.

Cut to the point: I saw the Saints win! And Porter's run! And Manning's frown. And Brees' adorable baby. And gave a very lean geography lesson to about a dozen international American football fans, who now know that New Jersey is a state and New Orleans is not, and most importantly, New Hampshire is NOT south of Georgia.

It was a great time and I'm so happy the Saints won, even if they aren't the Steelers.

Unrelatedly, I booked my flight to New Zealand and will be leaving on February 19th. Also, my insurance covered my diving accident (remember that?) SO! I'm relieved.
My new plan is to not work, ever again. Specifically before I return back to the States.
Ideally I'd like to spend about a month in NZ and then go to Israel for like 2-3 months and then come back to the US of A.
Maybe even fly through the Left coast?
And then either land in Chicago and stay there for a few months, or go all the way to the Newer Jersey and then double back to Chicago.
Orrrrr, buy a Winnebago and drive to the moon.

Suggestions encouraged; directions ignored.

This was so long and disjointed.

Bye!

Left and Leaving

I'm back in Sydney.
The weather is nice if humid and the Aussie teenagers are all back in school.
Thus the general atmosphere is better than it's been.
I'm planning to be here for like...a week or 2?
Then, New Zealand.
(Flights and rooms still unbooked)

What else? They show the Jetsons and the Flinstones here.

Also? I roadtripped with 3 Swedes back to Sydney, by which I mean, I drove a Mercedes campervan from Melbourne to Sydney.
Essentially all by myself.
On the left side of the road.
It was SO MUCH FUN (I had to capitalize it because exclamation points are contrite)

So much has happened in these past 2 months, it almost seems fake.
But I have pictures to prove it!
So it's not fake.

I read "The Hotel New Hampshire" and it was a great idea.
I saw "The Castle" which is an Australian movie, and it was also a great idea. Watch it.

And...

BAM and I may actually be meeting up somewhere in the world at some point.

Observe:

Bridey: let's look into a weekend on an island
a weekend to 5 days
somewhere in the mediterranean
me: yeah, good
Bridey: Yeah
so let's both research cheap greek/turkish islands
me: yeah!
Bridey: and let's aim for early July/late June
me: great
Bridey: I say 5 days
me: i say 3
Bridey: let's say 3-five
me: let's! let's say it!!!
yeah
ok so 4ish
Bridey: good compromise
me: good
Bridey: compromise
me: HUZZA

We make such a good team.

That Great Ocean Road

Back in Melbourne!
I got here via the Great Ocean Road, which is a stretch of road between Adelaide and Melbourne and is one of those must-do's for people who travel to Australia.
So, I did it.
It was really pretty and really windy and I saw and took pictures of so many rocks.
We also went to the Grampians which were beautiful and made me wish I had listened better/at all in my geology classes at Pitt, because I'm pretty sure we talked about Australia specifically.

This trip was a lot of bus-time which got kind of old right away, but the people on the bus were great.
To be honest, I think the pictures sort of speak for themselves as far as the itinerary goes so I suggest you just go on Facebook.

Because we were on the bus so much, I had some time to remember some things and write them down so I'll share them here.

Funny Things That Internationals Have Said [In Error]:

"Are you ready to crumble!?!?!"

"I have two sons, one of which is a girl."

"The waves are very bullshit."

"I think that all of the food in America is for stoned people. Everyone who eats is very stoned because the food is very crunchy. Ben's and Jerry's are ice creams made for people who only are stoned all the time. And no wonder, did you know you have to be over 16 to drink beer in America?"

Music I Keep Listening to Because it Reminds Me of Home or Seems Somehow Appropriate to Listen to Here:

-The entire "Graceland" album because it's a road trip
-Five Blind Boys of Alabama
-Minus the Bear
-Bob Schneider
-Cake
-Nickel Creek
-Paolo Nutini
-Say Anything
-Fountains of Wayne (New Jersey! New Jersey!)
-Speechwriters, LLC
-The Mamas and the Papas

Things I Keep Noticing About Being Here as Opposed to Being Home:

-people walk on the left side and pass on the right
-the locks and knobs all turn the opposite way and I keep thinking I'm locked in bathrooms
-also the "cold" and "hot" knobs are reversed
-the weather forecast is totally unreliable
-cricket is BORING
-water tastes weird unless you're in a city
-there are hardly any black people and when there are black people, white people stare

My plans for the next leg of my journey are as yet unmade, but look something like:

I'd like to road trip to Sydney and chill out for a week or two before New Zealand, where I'll be going at the end of February.
I'll spend all of March and possibly a little of April in NZ and then come back to Oz to work for like...6 weeks?
At this point, I think I'd like to do an au pair job for 6 weeks because I'd be making a lot of money and would have my room and board taken care of.
Also I could probably shower without sandals if I were an au pair.
(Sidenote: I lost my Israeli flag sandals during my flight between Brisbane and Alice Springs. Sad.)
After working for 6 weeks or so, I'd hop a plane to some part of Asia (which part is unsure) and spend a few weeks immersing myself in very old and very different surroundings.
Then I'd head to some part of Europe, probably, for a week or so and hopefully (!) reunite with BAM and thennn, Israel for maybe...3 months?

Now really all I need to do is book some flights and some accommodations and fund my trip.
No big deal.

Sheiss Fleiggen

That means "fucking flies" in German, and I learned it out of necessity when I was at Uluru National Park because:

1. Everyone, except for me, 2 Dutch people and 1 Irish person, was German. My group had 21 people in it.

2. There were just so many flies.

3. I feel out of my element when I can't curse to those around me and effectively communicate my frustration with the present situation.

The trip was absolutely great, and I'm still searching for the words to use to really describe just how beautiful/amazing/kind of frighteningly powerful the experience was. For those unawares, look up Uluru and its significance to the Aboriginal people, because I would butcher any sort of explanation here.

My group, aside from being overwhelmingly German, was much less excellent than my Fraser assemblage, but that's okay.
Uluru isn't really a place for boxed wine and tents and general camping fun, it's a place for spiritual reflection and personal exploration.
So, I reflected spiritually and explored personally.

This was a 3-day-2-night deal as well, though it was guided (due to the cultural significance of the place, I felt better going with a guide who could explain things than just winging it by myself) and generally just really cool.
Cool in the "wow, how awesome" way, not in temperature.
It was 43 degrees Celcius the whole time.
The coolest it got, at night, was 38 degrees Celcius.
Needless to say, I was glad I brought my fleece! (Sarcasm)

We "did" Uluru the first day, but due to the extreme heat we weren't allowed to be outside after 11am (not kidding) so we ended up spending most of the afternoon in a pool and at the cultural center, learning about the life and times of the Aboriginal people in Australia.
Not-so-fun-fact: Until some time in the 1960's, Aboriginal PEOPLE were considered part of the flora and fauna of central Australia. And, it wasn't illegal to just shoot an Aboriginal person until 1973 or something.
History like that makes me wonder how white people have been able to be in charge of so many things for so long.
We saw the sunset around Uluru (though it was supposed to be behind Uluru) which was nice but I'd suggest looking at professional pictures instead of mine.
We made a stir-fry dinner and camped at a site not too far away and it was so hot I slept above my sleeping bag and swag the entire night.

The next day we woke up at 4am to watch the sunrise, again not behind but around, Uluru.
It was really gorgeous and much more tolerable to be outside.
Then we hiked Valley of the Winds which was also great, though HOT.
We had to be out of the sun again at 11am so we were.
Most of the time out of the sun was spent at a pool or in the van with air conditioning.
Then we camped at a new site and cooked a nice meal of chili con carne (which the Germans called "chili with carne") and turned in early, for another early morning.
This night WOULD HAVE BEEN totally uneventful, except for the snake.

For those of you who don't know, I have a fear of snakes coming out of toilet bowls.
[Not just snakes in general, though]

It just so happened that on this trip, my fear was realized.
BY THIS I MEAN THERE WAS A SNAKE IN THE TOILET BOWL THAT I WAS ABOUT TO PEE IN.

Nothing actually happened, but I dare you to try to pee in the dark tonight.
Even in your own house.

The next day we hiked Kings Canyon which was my favorite hike of all.
We had to scale a steep hill called "Heart Attack Hill" but it was worth all the sweat in the world, because the view was unreal.
We toured around for a bit and were able to stay out a little later because the winds were strong and the red rock faces provided a good amount of shade.
We swam in some natural pools and then boarded the van back to Alice Springs, which took about 5 hours.
We made a few pit stops and at one of the stops, I learned all about Central Australia's long history with camel riding/racing/other things people usually do with horses.
If you didn't know about camels in Central Australia, I suggest you read up. It's not so much fascinating as it is just really expansive.

And now I'm in Adelaide, where I'll be headed to Melbourne along the Great Ocean Road from.
So far, Adelaide is pretty and very easy to navigate, though sort of boring.
And all the grocery stores are closed because it's Australia Day, which is more similar to Thanksgiving than July 4th because all it really celebrates is invading Australia and wiping out the indigenous people here.
But there are barbeques!

I'm probably forgetting a lot of things...

Oh, I saw "Funny People" last night and I have to say, I loved it.
It's got some really funny parts and also some really good music to go along with the not-funny parts.
I recommend a perusal.

Next time I update will probably be from Melbourne, so until then...

HUIIT BRAH

That's Swedish for "good shit" which is the only way to describe the experience that was Fraser Island.

Also I could describe it like this: AMAAAAAZING.

After 2 very nice and relaxing days in Noosa, I boarded a bus for Hervey Bay en route to Fraser Island.
Fraser Island is the world's largest sand island and there are tons of tour operators along the coast who promise you a memorable experience, so there's not really a wrong way to see it.
But I'm pretty sure the way I saw it was the most right.

After meeting some of my group mates (the hostel/tour operator throws together groups of 9-10 people at random) we drove our pink 4 wheel drive Landrover to the ferry, arrived on Fraser and began the journey.
My group consisted of me, 3 Chilean Jews who spoke Hebrew and Spanish, and 5 Swedes.
Because I missed the obligatory info session the day before and because I've never driven a stick-shift, I wasn't allowed to drive so I was able to sit back and enjoy the whole experience.

But there was one piece of information I was able to glean thanks to my new amigo, Jose Ignaki from Chile:

"There are too many sharks so you cannot swim in the salted water. Too many, which means, you will die."

So, I didn't swim in the salted water but I did swim in Lake Wabby, Eli Creek and the most beautiful place I've ever been, Lake McKenzie.
Holy mother of pearl, Lake McKenzie.
The water was so clear you could actually drink it, and the sand so clean you could brush your teeth with it.
And I did.

The whole experience was really amazing--we camped and cooked our own food and because my group was just so good, everything went swimmingly.
The Swedes were expert campers, the Chileans were expert jokesters and I am an expert at retroactively warning the driver about bumps.
We all got along great, pulled our own weight, and were just generally happy to enjoy the experience, which is unfortunately more than I can say for a lot of the other cars.
Observation: Some people don't like diversity, and most of those people are English.

In addition to some of the most beautiful landscapes I've probably ever seen, I made some really great friends from all around the globe.
And! I may or may not have met a distant cousin of mine from Chile.
Of the 3 Jewish Chileans in my group, all of them were wonderful.
They were all absolutely hilarious and while they didn't like Argentina, they were very warm and treated me as one of the guys.
I was quickly nicknamed La Gringa and they included me in all of their conversations, probably 90% of which I was totally able to keep up with.
So after getting to know one another better and exchanging favorite phrases (all of which are just not appropriate to recount here), we started comparing Jewish customs.
One of the Chileans, Daniel, asked me what my last name was and I said Lerner.
Well, Gabriel, another Chilean, nearly shit a brick:

D: "What's your father's last name?"
Me: "My father's last name is Lerner."
G: "Spell it! Spell it with letters!"
Me: "...L-e-r-n-e-r?"
G: "EN SERIO? ES POSSIBLE?"
Me: "What the hell? Why is he freaking out?"
D: "Because he's also a Lerner!"
G: "PRIMA!!! LA GRINGA ES MI PRIMA!!!"

And so, Gabriel, who greeted me with "what's up my brother from another mother? Where is the Cheesecake Factory?" after I asked him if he spoke any English, became family.
He invited me to his house for Passover and told me where to find the afikomen, so now I basically have to go.

As well, there was an Italian guy who could only say "I fart now" and did, all the time.
There were Germans and Scots galore and the nights around the boxed wine and iPod docks were absolutely perfect.

I can't think of a better way to spend 3 days and 2 nights.

Oh Also, I've Seen Some Great Stuff

WHOOPS.

Totally forgot to write about what I've seen and what I've done.

We'll start with Byron, since Sydney and Melbourne and Cairns were pretty well documented, I think. (If not, I'll be happy to elaborate)

Byron Bay is the most easterly point on the eastern coast of Australia. Its lighthouse is the first and last thing that planes and ships see when they're traversing the globe, so that's pretty cool.
The beaches are beautiful and the terrain is really diverse; rolling hills mixed with legit rainforests.
There are also rivers and sounds (I think? I forget the terms...) that are filled with Tea Trees, so the water is reddish brown and very good for the skin.

The town itself is very alternative and sort of stuck in a different time period.
Which period exactly is unclear.
It's both very reminiscent of the 60's and also sort of futuristic with a lot of new age influences, so in effect, it's where history stops and starts.
There's a tendency to just forget about the concept of time when you're there and I really had no idea what day or time it was the whole time.
(Turns out I stayed for 7 days--I thought it was only 4)
There's also a tendency to walk around hungover, barefoot and often sunburned.
The town is about 6 streets long so it's very easy to feel very local, which is nice.
The food is good and the nightlife is great, though a bit more expensive than would be logical for most of the people who frequent the establishments.
You'd think that if everyone's an unemployed hippie, they couldn't afford a $12 sandwich, but you'd be wrong.
Hitchhiking is the prefered mode of transport and I did it a few times from the supermarket to my hostel.
Only once did I feel like maybe I should've just walked, but that was just because the car smelled like burned hair. The people were all fine.
I also got the chance to hike through Minyon Falls which was about an hour out of Byron and it was amazing. Easily one of the most memorable activities thus far, with GORGEOUS sights to behold.

All in all, it's a very good surfer town with a cool atmosphere, though I'd suggest not visiting over school holidays. Teenagers are awful and Aussie teens are the worst.

Between Byron and Noosa I stopped over in Brisbane, which was a city I was originally very disinterested in.
However, after spending just one night there, I have to say that it was a very pleasant surprise and maybe even one of my favorite stops so far.
The city itself is cool and easy to navigate, with tons of street art and pedestrian areas to stroll through.
The botanical gardens and bridge walk are great and offer a really pretty view of the harbour, for free.
I didn't really get a chance to try out the nightlife but it seemed cool as well, if sort of generic (but really, it makes no difference which city I'm in; the drinks taste the same and they do the same thing)
The people were the friendliest in Brisbane as compared with any other city, and for that reason, and because I was so in need of a kind word after Byron, Brisbane holds a little piece of my heart.

Noosa/Noosa Heads is another pretty beach town, though as I'm learning, all the towns along the northeast coast are kind of the same.
They're small, there's a beach on one side and a lot of cute shops and expensive restaurants on the other.
Noosa has a gorgeous beach and some great national park space to walk and hike in, though I was advised not to walk through on my own as a female...after I did.
Don't worry, I'm fine and didn't run into any of the characters they warned against.
But there are quite a few parts of the park that are totally isolated and I can understand why it's not the best idea to walk through at night.
The sunrise here is renowned for good reason, but I think most sunrises are pretty sweet so I'm sort of impartial to anywhere.
Noosa is also the town of roundabouts (traffic circles) as there are about 200 in a teeny tiny area.
It's confusing for drivers and nauseating for passengers, but it looks cool on maps.

Ok that's good for now.

Spontaneity Has Its Time and Place

2 posts in 2 days.
This is what happens when the Australian sun just won't stop flirting with you.
[I am inside and out of the heat, is what I mean]

After the hullabulloo that was Byron Bay, I have decided to take some action and direct my trip just a little bit:

I leave for Hervey Bay tomorrow afternoon, get in at 9pm and go on my Fraser Island excursion until the 19th.
Then I go to Brisbane by bus at 4:40am and fly to Alice Springs the next day at 6:50am.
I get into Alice at about 1pm, stay there for a night and then go on my Uluru/Red Centre trip until the 24th.
Then I fly from Alice to Adelaide, where I stay for 2 nights, I think.
Then I drive the Great Ocean Road from Adelaide and finish the journey in Melbourne on the 28th of January, I think.
And then, I'll spend some time in Melbourne, maybe even work (?) until I decide to fly to New Zealand, for which I bought a Stray bus pass that enables me to see both islands on my own time.
But it also enables me to have some informational tour guidance and probably a lot of drunk 20-somethings to help me work on prejudging people.

And all this for the low, low price of $2,055! (Which isn't that bad when you consider that it includes flights/buses, accomodation, and trip costs)

The only things I still need to book/pay for are:
-my flight to NZ
-my accomodation when I get there
-food

Not bad.

I'd also like to road trip back to Sydney from Melbourne in late Feb, which will probably cost me a pretty penny, but it's supposed to be a beautiful drive so I say, to hell with pretty pennies.

It was fun winging it and planning as I went along.
Not having anywhere to be is sometimes really great.
But sometimes, it's sort of damning (at least in my view).
So I've decided that spontaneity and I, while we usually have a really great relationship, should probably see other people.
At least for now.

The new plan* is as follows, kind of:

Australia until...like...late February?
Then New Zealand until March or April?
Then either Bali or Thailand or Malaysia or anywhere that allows me to fly sort of cheaply from Australia to somewhere else, until about...sometime in late April/early May?
Then probably Israel?
Then meeting up with a one Bridey Aliza Maidhof either in Morocco, Ireland, Rome, or Barcelona, in, like, July?
Then probably the United States.
Probably.

So I'll probably be back sometime before 2011.

*this changes about every 25 minutes or so. Ask Tom.

Oh also!
While Australia is known for its amazing road trips and scenery (as it should be), the USA also has its share of beauty.
I propose that you (YOU) should join me in purchasing a Winnebago and driving from the east coast to the west coast sometime after I get back.
This has been a dream of mine since I was in middle school.
Please, help me realize it.

You Know What My Problem Is?

I'll tell you. My problem is that I don't judge people enough.

That's right. I said it. And here's why:

I have this tendency to expect people to be decent, honest individuals and am continuously shocked when they aren't. I used the word "continuously" right there because they indeed aren't, SO much. I really shouldn't be so shocked all the time, because as my highly intelligent mother likes to say, "common sense isn't so common." Mom, you're a goddamn soothsayer.

(Be forewarned, this whole post is one big rant about how much I dislike idiots/crazies/assholes. Feel free to skip it.)

My incredible Byron Bay stay was ripped apart limb by metaphorical limb due to two people whose identifying characteristics I can only describe as miserable and crazy.

The details of the story are so absurd and numerous that I'm hesitant to even attempt a recount here, but suffice it to say that by this past weekend, when the hostel owner went on a trip from Saturday until Tuesday (today), all hell broke loose.
Almost as soon as the owner left, the Swedish-then-actually-Polish-then-she-claimed-to-be-some-other-nationality-and-I-just-decided-she-was-full-of-shit receptionist-turned-dictator turned on a dime and became an absolute nutcase.

Bipolarity would be a sugar coating, but that's the easiest way to explain her mood swings and totally unpredictable states of mind.
When I met her, she was bubbly and sweet. She offered to drive me into town whenever I needed, she asked all kinds of questions about my travels so far, and was very happy to have some extra help. She also spoke in a very high-pitched voice that I found quirky if also really irritating.

But then, she turned a switch.

One second, we're laughing about stepping in an unidentifiable puddle, the next she's near tears because there are no more dish towels.
She has said twice that she HATES Americans, but she also loves meeting people!!!!!!
She threw Oklahoma girl's clothing out of their shared room in the middle of the night, for no apparent reason.
When asked why, the receptionist suddenly didn't understand English. And her voice dropped about 6 octaves.

The receptionist's ally is a whole separate species.

He's born and bred in Byron and a true Aussie bloke, which typically would be awesome, and was, at first.
He knows tons of weird information about various poisons and Australian animals, when the best times to see dolphins are, how to set up all kinds of tents, and my favorite, he drives an enormous 4-wheel-drive monster truck called "The Bullfrog."

But he's also absolutely crazy (not the fun kind) and speaks too freely about his gross and varied sexual and drug-ridden exploits, lives in the back of his van, wears a minimum of three pinky rings, and is equally as bipolar. He digs for gold, sells very shoddy cars on eBay, has a son in Germany who he is determined to get custody of because he has friends in the Polish mafia (as well as a best friend who is a Colombian cocaine producer, in case I'm interested), and is about as racist as Jim fucking Crowe.

So.

Greenland Guesthouse Resort became Survivor: The Byron Bay Edition.
There quickly became two sides: our side (me, Oklahoma girl and Brazilian boy, who both turned out to be really great compatriots), which we will call "REALITY" and their side, which we will call "BATSHIT INSANITY."

After a lot of very strange and uncomfortable tension, BATSHIT INSANITY decided that it was time.
Time for what?
Exactly.

The receptionist got Crazy Bloke to tell REALITY (me, OK, and Brazil) to "get the fuck out of the hostel" because they (BATSHIT INSANITY) were now in charge since the owner was gone.
REALITY resisted. We all just sat there eating our watermelon and apple slices and asked, "why?"
This got BATSHIT INSANITY angry, Crazy Bloke threatened to call the cops.
Brazil called his bluff, since Crazy Bloke most likely had more shit to uncover about his storied past and would in effect be screwing himself over (smart move by Brazil), but Crazy Bloke threatened that if Brazil didn't "get the FUCK off my property, you'll be sorry!"

(And this all in front of guests, which I'm sure the owner would've appreciated)

I quickly decided to go to my campervan and wait out the tension.

About an hour later, I walked back in and asked if things had calmed down a bit, to which the receptionist again suddenly didn't understand what I meant?
Receptionist: "What is 'calm down?'"
Me: "Relaxed. Not fucking tense. Normal."
Receptionist: "I don't know what these means? I work 14 hour days!!!!!!!!!!! I don't have time to deal with this shit! Fucking American beeeetches. No respect!"

I decided it best not to answer her, so I just booked a bus to Noosa by way of Brisbane (where I am now) and left this afternoon.

Part of me thinks this all could've been avoided had I looked past the too-friendly exterior of these people and seen them for what they really are: totally insane and looking to take whatever they can from others (specifically, energy).
The other part is just happy I'm not there anymore, though my campervan was prettttty sweet.

I'm sure my dad would say, "this is a good learning experience."
And I'm sure he'd be right.
But there are some life lessons, like how to communicate with crazy people, that I just keep having to learn and to be honest, I think I'll just never master that skill.

In Case You Wanted To Know

Commodoties I Miss From Home:

1. Good, strong hair ties. Australians just don't understand.

2. Mascara that costs less than $15.00.

3. Baby carrots.


Dating Tips for Australian Men from an American 24 year-old-not-yet-Woman:

1. If you are bald by choice, I am unavailable by necessity.

2. If you offer to buy me a drink after telling me that you are from Bourke (the Outback) and that you don't have a place to stay tonight, I will refuse that drink. Being from the Outback is not a trump card.

3. If you have a beard that goes to your chest, it will squander any chances of love I may have taken on you. I'm really, really sorry.

4. If you don't own other shirts besides tank tops, I support that, but from a distance.

5. Please, for the love of all things decent, stop calling me "doll" unless you're an octogenarian OR Patsy from "Absolutely Fabulous."


Observations I've Made About Other People Since Working as a Housekeeper:

1. There are 2 kinds of people who stay at hostels: those who have no money and those who hate spending money.

2. If you leave an unattended can of tuna in the kitchen, the contents will be consumed and the can will remain for days, with the lid replaced and can stuffed with paper towel to *look* like it's still full.

3. Rather than take out the trash, people will hide their garbage all over the hostel. Specifically people like to put trash in flower pots and underneath used towels.

4. Non-English speakers are generally nicer to "the help" though make grosser messes.

5. People from the UK are a crapshoot. Swedes are wonderful. Germans are everywhere. French women can kiss my ass but the men don't have to, and generally, Israelis are just out of their fucking minds.


More to come, I'm sure.