Ready for the BIG DAY!

With a bit of exaggeration, a good soundtrack and the right actress (dream list: Kate Beckinsale, Rachel Weisz or Katie Holmes), I think I could create a wedding comedy set the week prior to my wedding that would leave the ladies with stiches in their sides (as men won’t watch it anyway). For those of you who have not heard the full story, which is most of you because when you are the bride-to-be living in the moment it is not too funny, I will attempt to fill you in. Only after the wedding do you start to grin when you think about your ridiculous reactions and self-absorbed mindset similar to that of a 14 year old girl.

Near Christmas, my now husband, brother-in-law (who is my husband’s identical twin), their mother and myself all traveled from Norway to Orlando to spend the Christmas week with my parents in a two bedroom condo. Yes, six people in a two bedroom condo with no less than three mother tongues and various cultural views on humor.  Overall, I would say everyone did quite well for a set of future in-laws meeting for the first time and opting to do that in small living quarters over the holidays and hardly understanding one another. We all enjoyed the various parks at Disney World, portions of food that could easily serve 2 ½ people and some serious shopping- and I mean pack three empty suitcases to fill, shopping.

As this also happened to be the week before the wedding, and I had not been in the States for eight months, I took it upon myself to schedule several appointments to prepare myself for the big day. Now, one cannot stress enough how easy it is to fall into the illusion of the glossy pages in wedding magazines that you have been flipping through for nearly a year, that you have to look P-E-R-F-E-C-T. Perfect. With that in mind, I will recount the appointments that I had lined up the week before the most photographed day of my life.

My teeth. It had been a year since I had my teeth cleaned and I figured that not only was I long overdue, but I would enjoy a nice through cleaning. That was before they informed me that two of my fillings from 10 years ago needed to be re-filled and I had two more cavities- each was nicely placed in a separate quadrant of my mouth. One week to the day before my wedding I had all four sections of my mouth numbed (only after the dentist tried to fill the bottom two teeth without any numbing- oWWww). This left my mouth swollen and semi-paralyzed for about five hours, as well as, my cheeks, lips and chin void of any feeling. Which explains why at the dentist when they handed me chap stick, after having no less than eight hands in my mouth for two hours, I put it on my chin thinking it was my lips. For about a day my husband and brother-in-law asked me if I was sure I did not get lip injections and use the dentist as my cover!

My hair. Oh, the hair. My mother and I went to a nice enough salon in Orlando. I told the man that I wanted to keep my length, but he could give me some long layers and a trim along the bottom. He cut four inches off while having turned away from the mirror and chatting about how he hates cold weather and Norway would be torture for him. Many of my good friends and family can attest to the fact that four inches in my “hair time” equals approximately three years. So, I should get over it in three years when my hair is back to where it was when I stepped into that salon.

My skin. Naturally, when living in one of the darkest places on earth you begin to look not so much pasty as see through. Perhaps the only benefit to a vitamin D deficiency is that a nurse can find my veins now.  I managed to go to the tanning bed a few times in Norway before I left; although I think they were merely light bulbs as anything stronger would have fried me- just as it did when I used a tanning bed in Orlando, less than one week before my wedding. I know what you are thinking, that it was a self-inflicting and unnecessary consequence I had to bear. Perhaps you are right. But, I went into that salon knowing I had a base tan (or the closest thing to it that I had experienced in a long time), I carefully explained to the pretty blond that I would be getting on a cruise ship and wanted to avoid tan lines (because nothing screams Kentucky like a bride with tan lines) and I wanted a bit of color before my big day- nothing too strong. Needless to say I woke up the next day with a pink face and chest. Apparently I did have a base tan, just not where I normally apply sunscreen.  I forced my father to google home remedies for sunburn. Yogurt was a suggestion, and while it was soothing, the only thing it did was make me smell like milk. Alas, it turned out alright as I applied aloe every 20 minutes for 3 days and exfoliated regularly to prevent peeling.

From what I have been told, I looked great on my wedding day. But it is funny, because on my big day I was more focused looking into my future-husband’s eyes then into a mirror. I don’t think that was mentioned in the glossy magazine’s rabbit hole I fell down into- Alison in Weddingland. As I crawl out of that weird place and am coming back to reality, the only thing I can really do is laugh at myself and my expedition for perfection. So, take it from me and Bruno Mars, future brides-to-be, “you are amazing just the way you are.”

Please not this is not actually me. It is some girl from google search being excited too.

The anticipation of a leisure travel trip very often reminds me of the same feeling I used to get the night before the first day of school. You are not really sure what lies ahead, but you are very excited to see whatever that may be. So far, I have done a good job suppressing this feeling. That was until this morning. As soon as I awoke I had a smile on my face and now I can’t seem to ward off the tension in my chest and butterflies in my stomach. In the loud voice of Oprah, please image me saying, “I am excittttteeeedddddddddddd!”

Excited for what exactly you may ponder. I am looking forward to seeing my family, which as most my age now know, it sadly takes some distance and years to realize how great they have always been. I can NOT wait to hang out with my girls. I have been around to many guys between work and B’s friends and I need some giggles and nail polish. The whole flight over I may replay The Beatles “Here Come the Sun”, as seeing that giant, warm and tanning star could not make me happier when I currently enjoy 6 hours of light through grey clouds and tinted windows at work. Which reminds me I will enjoy a break from work, who doesn’t like to relax?!  I’m also pretty pumped about how cheap everything is in the US, as in we can afford to go to a mediocre restaurant, be served ridiculously large portions and drink more than 2 beers before we max out budget.

Oh, and I nearly forgot to mention the most important, the biggest, the specialist, best, most well planned, thought out day of my entire life in which no other day will ever compare in the whole history of the world and even the world will stop rotating for a split second and *spoiler alert* I arranged for a solar eclipse the moment we say, “I Do”, my wedding day. Yup, that day will be pretty awesome.

Naturally, when you get so many amazing things in one trip human nature only allows you to think about the things you don’t get. In this case, unfortunately, is the family and friends I will not be seeing on my trip. Those of you who fall in this group and are reading this should know that I will be generically thinking I wish you were here. Because I really do.

One more time though, I just need to emphasize how excited I am to get off that plane and sing “God Bless America” to my loving fiancé while we are going through passport control in Miami!  Wooooo Whoooo!

My colleague found 10 of these on her desk...hehehe

As Christmas is only a few weeks away, I have been enjoying learning more about Christmas traditions here in Norway. (As some of you may recall, I was not allowed back to Norway last December because I was an illegal alien). If my fellow Americans are looking to spice up their Christmas with any Norwegian traditions, or learn that not all Christmas traditions are universal, read on.

Stores began their holiday displays mid-November and now have extended opening hours and are EVEN OPEN ON SUNDAY! That fact alone makes me wish Christmas was year-round.

Homes are decorated quite modestly with perhaps a single strand of white lights on a porch or balcony. The colored lights are for the foreigners. I may buy some just to make a point.

One decoration that I can’t seem to escape is the hybrid Santa Clause/ creepy gnome called Julenisse. He hand delivers Christmas presents to the nice children. His close relative, Fjøsnisse, lives in barns and likes to play tricks on people such as moving animals around to different stalls and blowing candles out in the barn unless you leave him a large portion of porridge on Christmas Eve. I think I like him the best.

Christmas trees are normally brought into homes a day before Christmas; mind you Christmas is celebrated December 24 here, and decorated with the family. At a julebord (Christmas party) it is not uncommon for guests to gather around the tree, hold hands and sing Norwegian Christmas carols. I have two julebord parties this weekend- wish me luck. It is also quite common for children to sing carols, julebukk, door-to-door for candy. This now makes sense to me as when I was explaining the concept of trick-or-treating to co-workers, this is what they related the tradition to for themselves.

There are many choices for Christmas dinner depending upon the region you live in Norway. The most popular dishes are pinnekjøtt (salted & dried lamb ribs served with sausage & boiled potatoes), lutefisk (fish lying in water forever, then cooked in oven served with potatoes, bacon & mushy peas) and torsk (fresh cod boiled in salt water and served, naturally, with potatoes). Chocolate covered marzipan, sometimes in the shape of a pig, is a treat found everywhere this time of the year.

Christmas in the language Norwegian derives from a pre-Christian Viking drinking festival called “Jul”. It seems not much has changed as there are Christmas versions of every beverage. Christmas beer, juleøl, Christmas soda that is essentially Big Red but called julebrus, mulled wine known as gløgg and who can forget (or remember anything thereafter) drinking aquavit, a potato-based spirit flavored with herbs, dill and coriander served with dinner.

Hopefully you learned something, as it is quite rare that my blog is educational. Hopefully if you are not Norwegian you will try a new, Norwegian tradition. And hopefully if you are Norwegian you will now consider me an expert on juletid

Merry Christmas & God Jul!

This is not me. For so many reasons!

I felt motivated to write  another blog. Rare I know. But instead of spending the next paragraph apologizing and justifying my neglect of this page, I am merely going to write, because that I why I created this thing in the first place.

I will be married in a month, to the man of my dreams might I cliché-ly  add. People keep asking me if I am scared or laugh and say, “It’s not too late”. They act as if getting married is like I will be jumping off of a bridge OR out of an airplane OR suddenly finding myself in some unknown  environment OR making a large commitment to something vaguely known. I guess most normal people have not experienced those things, but since I have chosen extreme situations to “build my character”, I am familiar with the fear, rush, frustration and complete loss of control feeling from each situation. Just as Beyoncé sang beautifully years ago, “ I am a survivor”.

This is not to say that I am taking my vow to B lightly. No sir-re. I just want to clear up the fact that NO, I am not scared, and if you want to joke and say that it is not too late, then my friend, I will retort with saying, “It is not soon enough.”

Without getting too lovey-dovey, I will leave my readers with this: I am choosing to spend the rest of my life with the person I want to explore every facet of the world with, the person who inspires me to be the best version myself (without losing myself) and the person who makes me wish there was 25 hours in a day, just so we could have more time together.

I will be married in a month, to the man of my dreams.

Not to be worn inside. EVER.

Prior to me developing into a competent and independent traveler, I went to Europe with an organized travel group and I can recall our tour guide telling everyone when approaching new cultures to think to ourselves that, “…it is not wrong, it is just different.” Although my Master’s itself is in Cross Cultural Communication, I have found this simple sentence a key to acceptance in several different situations, in several different countries. With these words of wisdom in mind, I would like to dedicate the next few blogs (projecting to the future forces me to continue my futile attempt at blogging) to all of the “different” customs that I have encountered whilst residing in Stavanger, Norway.

Cultural  difference number 1: Shoes

I first picked up on this “difference” when I was living in Sydney and my boyfriend was watching me pack for a weekend trip to the Gold Coast. I had an early flight and I wanted to get an outfit ready to throw on in the morning, shoes and all. So, I picked out some jeans, a top and a pair of boots and I flung them on my desk mindlessly to make room in a not so roomy room. When I did this, a noise of disgust mixed with a shrill scream exhaled from him and I thought perhaps there was a huntsman spider- roughly the size of a hand- or maybe a four inch cockroach in the room. Once I realized there was no Jurassic Period insect in my room, I realized his attention was fixated upon the boots sitting upon my desk. (For those of you siding with him, I admit it now that yes, it was gross; but if you heard that noise, you would have thought he just watched childbirth on a documentary- as that was the only ever time that noise was replicated).  So, this was my first encounter with Norwegians, or at least my Norwegian, and their distaste with shoes, specifically the bottom of them.

For two and a half months I decided it would be a good idea to live with three Norwegian men in Melbourne. Shoes were required to stay in the entry hallway (which was about two feet wide and none of us had small feet); thus, making half for hallway serving its purpose and giving access to the entire apartment and the other half home to four shoe collections. Visitors were to abide by these rules as well, even if they just had to stop in to use the bathroom, or grab their jacket, or grab a drink, or defuse a bomb, no exceptions. This mentality may fly in the States if say the people are new homeowners, there is mud on your shoes, there is new carpet, or it is a home you are not familiar with and are not sure what to do. However, this apartment very likely shared the same birth year as me based upon its pink countertops, burgundy tile and teal carpet. When questioning these young men about their strong convictions about shoes they cited the primary cause of not wearing shoes in the house was because, “If some food falls on the floor, I want to be able to eat it and not think about my dirty shoes on the carpet before the food fell.” Hmm, yes, I did see their point; however I would not eat off of that carpet unless I was paid a substantial amount of money. At least, say, $12 AUD, as that was my hourly wage at the pizza shop I worked at there. Anyway, my point is, this was when I realized the shoe thing was not just my boyfriend’s freakish hygienic obsession; no, this was a clear cultural difference.

I thought I had my head wrapped around this whole shoe issue, but alas, I found an entirely new dimension to it when I joined a gym. When you first walk into the gym there are two large shoe racks, a bench and two buckets filled with blue plastic bags. The first time I observed these fixtures in the entryway (probably on my third visit) I did not want to ask as I like to pretend that I am fluent in Norwegian and if I ask then the secret is out. So, I did what anyone does who does not want to speak but needs to require information, I observed. While pretending to read the class schedules, I watched someone as they sat on the bench and took off their shoes. They then proceeded to pull out another pair of gym shoes and put them on and then entered the training center. I then saw someone grab two blue plastic bags and place one over each shoe, similar to a doctor I suppose, and then entered the gym. The third person took off their shoes, placed them on one of the large shoe racks and walked into the gym in their socks. Well, perplexed and with little option as I only had one pair of shoes and my socks had rainbows all over them, I placed one blue plastic bag over each shoe and proceeded towards the ladies locker room. During the walk I looked around and no one was wearing the blue shoe bags; I decided they must take them off in the locker room and change shoes in there rather than on the bench. So, now what was I going to do? Simple. Go into the corner of the locker room, cough to muffle the noise of the bags being removed and then proceed to shoving the bags in my locker so no one will notice my dirty tennis shoes. I would like to say that this was a one-time occurrence… I will not admit otherwise. And yes, I do feel guilty when I run on the treadmill and look over to see some chick in her socks on the elliptical as my shoes may very well have soiled that same elliptical machine twenty minutes prior. But come on lady, put some dang shoes on!! I know, I know, it is not very cultural adaptive for me not to adapt. At this point I am just trying to blend in and when I do stumble upon a small fortune, I will visit a store and buy that extra pair of sneakers for the gym. But, until that day, I will just stick to the blue bags and the corner locker

So, in a quick wrap up, as I can’t be bothered to configure a proper conclusion, and it is my blog after all (even though you suckers are reading it) I will finish with this:

Based upon several conversations with my boyfriend about this issue I have concluded that the origin of this shoe fear was not out of hyper-hygienic-sensitivity, but rather out of pure practicality. When living in a place in which a majority of the year, people are fighting to keep their feet dry, it only makes sense that no shoes are worn while inside to keep the house (or whatever other place) dry. In Hawaii they have a similar practice of a “no shoes” rule; but, this is so the sand does not scratch the hardwood floors. A bit depressing to compare, but alas, comparable. So, remember the wisdom I once received on a tour bus, rather than in a classroom, “It is not wrong, it is just different.”

Until next time…

Now you try.

It is hard to bring my cyber audience up-to-date since my last post, nearly a year and a half ago. I am willing to bet the vast majority of my 5 to 7 readers are well aware developments of my life since last April. And to be honest, every month that rolls by and event that may be blog-worthy is forever lost due to my slacker attitude. So, in one sentence I will erase all wrong doing of lack of blogging and catch those 1-2 readers who may be out there, somewhere in cyberspace, that need a fill-in. Here goes: finished my Master’s, fell in love, left Australia, backpacked through Southeast Asia, went back Down Under and worked casually in Melbourne, traveled the States with my boyfriend, moved to Norway and life is good . Now that everyone is on the same page and I have removed all of my blog failure guilt, we can start in the present.

October 2010.

I have been living in Norway for two months with my wonderfully supportive boyfriend and I have been on the job hunt. The Internet has been my shotgun, my resume has been my bullets and the job vacancies throughout the Stavanger region are my targets. Unfortunately, I have yet to get my foot in the door for one interview so although I have hit my targets; I have yet to get a “kill”. And after 60+ applications, the hunt can be very tiring. In fact, I am already tired of writing about it. So, until you hear further, I am an unemployed, Master’s diploma holder, English only speaker and a citizen not from an EU country fighting to squeeze my way into the ever competitive job market in which unemployment hovers around 2%. Yes, odds are that guy who plays the accordion in front of H&M has a day job, and until you hear otherwise I do not.

I am currently sitting in my living room watching 5 men in their middle twenties playing a video game. They are laughing, yelling, stuffing their faces with junk food and I can’t seem to put my finger on when exactly they made the transfer from kids to adults…if they even have. But it is nice to have people in the apartment so I will take what I can get.

It has been quite the experience living in a country in which you don’t hear English being spoken (and although Australians don’t often sound as if they are speaking English, they are)! I would say the majority of the people I come across do speak English, minus the elderly, once I say something like, “Hei. Du snakker engelsk? Jeg snakker ikke norsk.” And following this self-declaration of my inability to speak the native language in the country in which I am residing, one of three predictable things happens. 1. They give me a blank stare and walk away; 2. They reply in Norwegian and we try to go from there; 3. They respond in English. Although the third option is normally favorable, option number two has proven to have its benefits as well. For example, last week I had to go to the post office- a simple task. So, I put on my sweater, scarf, newly purchased down feather jacket and wool boots and began my walk to local post office which is located inside a grocery store. Once it was my turn, I handed the lady in her late teens/early twenties my card to mail overseas. From my point of view, the dialogue went something like this:

Me: Hei, jeg snakker engelsk. Kan du hjelp meg? (Hi, I speak English. Can you help me?)

Lady: alskfv djoeir wej lkandv lkdfu (Unintelligible)

Me: Umm… du snakker ikke engelsk? (Umm… you don’t speak English?)

Lady: asldkfjd lskdfioe klsdf (Again, I had no idea what she says here. Also, it should be noted there are three people in line behind me sighing and shuffling their feet.)

Me: I need to mail this to USA.

Lady: Ja. (Yes.)

At this point we understand one another and she weighs the letter and then hands me a stamp and tells me it will be 25 kroner, or roughly $4.00. I go to pay and since I don’t have cash I use a card, which fails, twice. I know I have money but I can’t figure out what the problem is as the machine is also in Norwegian. The man behind me reaches over me and begins to speak to the lady in Norwegian. I think that perhaps this good citizen is going to help sort out the problem and then I see him hand the lady an envelope and realize he has cut me and no, he is not helping me in any way whatsoever.

Me: I don’t know what the problem is and I can’t read the machine.

Lady: slkdff dfa lkjoie. ERLKJREOI NTEOIRE ETREJNRO. REKLKRJE!!!!! Sdfdk lkdfjd. (Did you get that? Me neither.)

I then just stand there for about twenty awkward seconds without saying anything.

Lady: asldkf fjdoi. Go. Ok. It ok. (Something. Go. Ok. It ok.)

Me: No, I want to pay.

Lady: Go. (Smiling and putting the stamp on the card.)Go! Go!

Me: Are you sure? Ok. I will go.

So I left, laughing. I was not sure that she actually put the card in the mail until I was thanked by the recipient.

I realize I can’t go around not speaking Norwegian and getting things for free, but it sure was nice! I recently finished my intensive, seven week Norwegian course that was levels one and two. It has helped me read signs in stores, labels on food, and know how to speak basic Norwegian. Although, as demonstrated at the post office, once I say what I want to say, it does not mean that I will understand the answer I receive. In an effort to further develop my skills I bought Norwegian scrabble, and in a city where a beer will run you $12 it is safe to say this board game felt like more of an investment. I have played it twice and so far am undefeated. (This may or may not be due to the fact that I was allowed to use the dictionary on every turn and would ask for assistance by my opponents, threatening that if I did not receive the maximum number of points available that they would be taking advantage of me and they would have a tainted win.) Despite the enjoying a healthy dose of competition, I am expanding my vocabulary as well.

I can’t promise I will come back and write more, because quite frankly I’m not sure I really have anything that exciting to share with the world. But, I will at least think about blogging more. And who knows, perhaps I will pick it up like a bad habit and then my 5-7 readers will all wish I was a bit less ambitious and that they really don’t care to read about me making a PB&J with green olives

Until next time…

I live here. Jealous?

Impressions of Australia

Living abroad, in a culture fairly similar to the States, has proven quite insightful in a short period of time. Although my surroundings are quite different, they are also very similar. For instance the architecture in the older sections of Sydney is quite European and downtown buildings could easily be relocated to Chicago. Or, hearing the tropical cockatoos squawk in the park, before walking past the various horse racing tracks that liter the city and could be planted in Kentucky. But I have to say, the people never cease to amaze me. They are friendly, kind, compassionate and extremely, EXTREMELY laid bad. For instance, the other day I was chatting with a local on my way to Coogee Beach about recent shark attacks at Bondi Beach. I told them it concerned me and they replied with, “Na, if a shark bites ya, just punch ‘em in da nose.” The best thing about it was he was serious.

Despite the fact that I no longer think Australians sound different, I don’t think I will adjust to their nonchalant attitude towards life, or death for that matter. The other day I was in the Department of Linguists getting a hard copy of a document I needed off of a bulletin board. As soon as I grabbed the sheet, a huntsman spider (think tarantula but slimmer and with longer legs) crawled down the wall next to my foot. My immediate reaction was to squeal like a five year old girl, followed by a little “there’s a huge spider on the floor dance”. To my horror, I realized I had an audience, of my future professors looking into what the commotion was outside their offices. I simply said, “There’s a spider.” They nodded as if to reply, “Yeah that’s Fred, our office pet. Now go away little girl so we can get some work done.”

Unfortunately, this was not a single incident with crawly creatures. I have encountered two cockroaches in my room; not your average cockroaches mind you, they are MASSIVE. Anyone who has ever lived with me knows that in situations like this, the only logical way of “taking care of” the bug is to have someone else do it for me. Since coincidently my wonderful roomie Deni (who will be discussed shortly in great detail) was not in the room I went to the closest door, explained my dilemma, and stood in the hallway watching my half Norwegian, half Thai neighbor capture and release (I personally believe it should have been killed) the disgusting varmint. Since having such close encounters with the super-species, I don’t even scream anymore when a beetle half the size of my fist flys into my face at a party, or if a bug that I can’t even describe decides to just hang out on the inside of the shower curtain while I’m trying to stay as far away from it as possible without touching the germ infested shower tile. Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about Australia or anything here. It is not that bad in the city, I have actually seen a picture of a spider so big it can consume a bird, so I suppose I can handle my “small” spiders, cockroaches and unidentifiable shower creatures.

Living in the International House

On a completely different note, I love living in the International House on campus. Sure, it’s not much to look at but everyone who lives here adds to the dynamics- I suppose that is the point. There are approximately 200 residents, and as I have recently learned as one of the new social coordinators in the house, there are 42 different countries represented within the house. When meeting someone I typically ask where they are from, discreetly write the location down on my hand and then refer to my world map next to my desk to figure out where the hell that particular place is located. Don’t laugh; I bet you didn’t know where Cyprus was on a map either.

Despite brushing up on my geography and picking up a few slang words in German or Arabic, the house has provide a great social avenue. There is always something going on, not that I have time to be distracted from my studies, but if I do procrastinate there are always people drinking on the roof which overlooks downtown, watching a movie on the projection screen or playing some ping pong. But all in all, the best thing about IH is my roommate, Deni. She is an Indian that is 20 years old, a nursing student, from Dubai who is pushing 4 foot 10 inches and she is freaking awesome. (That didn’t sound too much like a personal add, did it?) Although we look ridiculous when we are out together, we have a hell of a time, every time. We often joke that we could get married in Canada, although I would have to do some extensive research before taking that serious step.

My mild obsession with my roommate is quite enjoyable but there have been a few other people in the house that I have hit it off with as well. Since there are so many people in the house I have yet to hang out with everyone to extensively but there are a few I feel I get along with quite well. I just wrote out everyone’s names and countries of origin but figured it would be a boring read, so I decided spare you and deleted. Pretty much we are quite the eclectic crew and you never know what is going to be contributed to any conversation or social situation. The unpredictable nature has kept everything interesting.

One person I have to specifically mention is Megan “Skippy” Steffen. Skippy is also from Union (we have several mutual friends) and lived in IH with Deni exactly a year before I did. She just moved back at the New Year and is working here because she loved it so much. Needless to say, we get along quite well, it’s like we are the same person, just in two different bodies. Sometimes we just reminisce about home; bars we used to go to, restaurants we used to eat at and then we laugh and suggest cheap places to eat around campus to one another. The other day we shared an ICEE on the beach and it was glorious because it was the only place either of us had seen that sold them. The day was so random, I ran into a guy I knew from Georgetown outside of D.C. whom I had met in South Africa when I was visiting Steph. It really is a small world.

I know you all have been anxious to hear about a certain boy that I have been spending quite a bit of time with lately but I will keep it short and give you the basics. His name is Bjornar Lassen. (The only thing I can use the excuse of being an American is for my pronunciations of words, and specifically names. So, I know since my readership is essentially my family and friends, and I know you all equally suck at deciphering how the hell to pronounce his name I will make it easy- it is just like the name Fiona but replace the “f” with a “b”.) Now that we have that covered we can move on to the rest. He is a 22 year old environmental engineering postgraduate student from Norway, but he is half Thai so that rules out the Scandinavian blonde hair and blue eyes. We are quite enamored by one another but English as his second language can prove quite comical at times. Don’t get me wrong, he has been speaking English since he was 8 so he is extremely fluent; he is just not used to my American slang, but neither are Australians. I suppose they don’t teach Northern Kentucky slang in the curriculum in Norway; I can’t imagine why. Nevertheless, Bjornar and I always have a blast and that’s all that currently matters.

Generality—because I don’t feel like writing separate categories…

• Fall is here, supposedly. The weather is cooling down a bit, but nothing like the falls in Kentucky. We set back our clocks another hour so the short lived 15 hour time difference is now back to 16 hours.

• School is keeping me way too busy and interfering with my social life. I have submitted a few papers and am waiting to get them back and see how I did. The grading scale is different here, for the first week or so I kept wondering why all my professors were talking about how difficult it is to obtain a HD, which I interpreted as High Definition. I could not see how High Definition related to Communication in Professional Contexts whatsoever. I eventually discovered HD refers to High Distinction (100-85), D refers to Distinction-which the States should consider adopting (84-75), C is Credit (74-65), P is Pass (64-50) and below is fail.

• I saw an Outback steakhouse while on the bus the other day. I didn’t think they existed here, but sure enough they do.

• Speaking of busses, the bus system here is pretty ridiculous for the city being so large. The reasons are as follows: you have to hail them or they won’t stop, there are no signs in the busses of what the next stop is so you have to know or you miss your stop, busses tell their final destination on the front but some busses have limited stops so if you need to get off of a different stop on the route your screwed and last but not least they don’t have air-conditioning and the windows are never open. Thus, I frequently walk because I will get equally sweaty and smell just as bad if I ride the city bus than walk to my destination.

• I gave up chocolate. No not for lent, it would be seemingly pointless if that were the case with Easter only a week away. I have an addiction, so I am trying to gain control. I will never know what it is like to quit smoking, but quitting chocolate is a bitch. Or, maybe that is me without the chocolate. Either way, I have gone six days strong with a roommate that stockpiles it on her side of the room. The other day I caught myself staring at her Reese’s peanut butter cup, which I gave her, for a solid 2 minutes debating if I should quit my quitting and just eat the stupid thing. I didn’t. But I REALLY wanted to.

•I have yet to get a job. I would love one that would contribute to my resume, but unfortunately there is some financial crisis or something like that and for some reason people think American’s had something to do with it, so no one is hiring. Boo. I have been applying to jobs that I would never apply to with my qualifications at home and I cannot even tell you how depressing it is to be rejected from a company in which you were overqualified for in the first place. Nevertheless, the job hunt continues and I will (hopefully) conquer it.

On an End Note

It has been exactly 2 months since I have left Kentucky. Although I miss it, every day that passes has made Australia feel more like home. The people, my environment, sense of welcome and security have all contributed to this fact. Don’t worry, I am not forgetting about you all back in the States, if anything it has made me appreciate how special you all are to me and the roles you fill in my life. But, with 8 months still ahead, I have to fulfill these needs here as well. I am having an amazing time. I will try to update my blog at least once a month. Love and miss you all!!

Fish. Fish. And some more fish.

My first blog since arriving to Australia. I realize the expectations are high and I aim not to disappoint. So, let me start from the beginning and try to keep it as brief as possible…

On the way there-

The flight itself was borderline mentally torturous. I drove down to Louisville, flew to Chicago, connected in San Francisco and then sat in a window seat for 14 sleepless hours.  Well worth it however if you want to come for a personal tour by no other than myself!!

Sydney-

Upon arrival in Sydney, I was greeted by Gemma, Rance, palm trees and 106 degree heat.  Although this was a pleasant transformation from the foot of snow I left at home, it was shocking- like running into a brick wall shocking. Turns out I arrived in the middle of the worst heat wave in 20 years. Anyway, the three of us spent 4 nights at a BEAUTIFUL 4 story home in North Sydney overlooking a bay full of luxurious yachts. The down side? It was with a family friend of Gemma and he was very much a 60 year-old confirmed bachelor. Not a creepy old man, but an old man set in his ways – like make you reload the dishwasher because the bowls go on the left and the cups go on the right side type of guy. With his character flaws aside, I had a blast with the girls. We visited downtown, Manly Beach, Darling Harbor, the Harbor Bridge, the Opera House, the Royal Botanical Gardens, a few bars (naturally) and caught up with a few Aussies that we had met in Europe.

Cairns-

From there I traveled up to Cairns to meet some American students that would be studying at the University of Sydney (or Uni as called here) while I am here as well.  If I thought Sydney was hot, Cairns was Sydney’s hotter sister. The humidity was so think I would walk out of the hostel 30 steps and have sweat rolling down my back at nine in the morning. Most of the American students, no I take that back, literally all of the American students that I met were only studying abroad for the semester. Pansies. So, although I met some great people, they are all going to leave in June…which leaves me 6 more months. Regardless of that fact, I had quite an enjoyable time in Queensland. We took a boat an hour and a half into open water on the Great Barrier Reef (an hour of that journey I think I was literally green from sea sickness) to go scuba diving and snorkeling. Aussies never cease to amaze me; that boat had at least 100 Americans on it, some of which may have never even been in the ocean, and they let us scuba dive with minimal instruction. No Worries Mate!! So, with no certification or formal training whatsoever, I dove into water to view the largest living organism in the world. After I got over how unnatural it was to breath 30 feet underwater, I started to relax and enjoy myself. I saw a clam about 5 feet long that snapped shut as I wove my hand over it, a huge sea turtle that surfaced next to me and naturally all of the beautiful coral. The only thing a little disappointing was that the water was a bit murky. This was due to all of the rain Queensland has gotten; they have received 2 years worth of rain within 6 weeks so flooding is a huge problem up North. The next day we went up into the rainforest. I pet a few kangaroos and joeys, they were sooo cute. I also held a kola bear, as cute as it was; it had some serious claws on it-almost talon like. Later in the day, the part I enjoyed the most, was watching the aborigines do war dances, throw spears and boomerangs. It was quite impressive the distance and accuracy that they had mastered; I threw a boomerang and it went about 50 yards without returning to me.

Melbourne/Mornington-

I left steamy Cairns and headed south to smoky Melbourne. As many of you are well aware, hundreds of Australians have lost their lives to the wild bushfires in the state of Victoria. Thousands more have lost their possessions, homes, neighborhoods and in some cases entire city. The aftermath has shown me how devoted Aussies are to one another with millions of dollars donated and thousands of volunteers helping people through this trying time. Melbourne, being only approximately 30 miles away from the fires, was covered in ash and smoke. Despite the unfortunate surrounding conditions, Gemma and Rance planed a surprise welcoming party where was able to put several faces to names and meet up with a few old friends from Europe. The party included a spiked slushy machine, Australian drinking games (in which I later discovered everyone was cheating, resulting in my intoxication) and an evening that did not end well into the next morning. Since there was not much we could do in the city due to the conditions, we drove an hour south to Gemma’s beach house in Mornington. The beaches were beautiful; Australians have it rough! Soaking up the sun one day and sailing in the bay another, it was quite a relaxing excursion.

Sydney Uni-

Since my arrival back into Sydney, most of my days have been filled with semi informative orientation sessions while mingling with other international students. I love the eclectic blend of people from all areas of the world with different backgrounds coming together to share the same unique experience of studying abroad. Some will only be here  a semester, while others are completing degree programs that take several years; but all will be able to say at one time in their lives they removed themselves from their comfort zone and embarked on a personal, educational and life altering growing journey. The University itself is quite large on a 72-hectare site (whatever that means…I think it translates as pretty damn big), with 50,000 students and 8 other satellite campuses around Sydney. It is quite beautiful as well, with architecture that is meant to resemble Oxford’s. I am residing in the International House in a dorm style room complete with cleaning every 2 weeks and 3 meals a day, 7 days a week- the trick is actually being here to eat them.  I am looking forward to classes to begin, maybe then it will all start to feel more real and that this is my life as oppose to looking into someone else’s through a foggy mirror.

A few random things that have occurred since my arrival:

For whatever the reason, Gemma and Rance loved the fact (and by loved I mean they told every Australian they introduced me to) that I had never used a kettle to make hot tea. I, like most other Americans I know, would just pop my water in the microwave—an appliance I have yet to use or see.  

Vegemite is AMAZING. The trick is to spread it thin on buttered bread.

My bank manager’s name is Candy Moon. I find myself questioning her place of employment late nights and weekends.

Until next time….

February 4: 4pm fly out of Louisville
February 6: arrive in Sydney 8 am local time. Hang out with Gemma and Rance for the weekend
February 10: depart Sydney and arrive in Cairns at noon for an orientation with AustraLearn. This will include meeting other students from the States and Canada attending the University of Sydney while I will be attending. Activities include exploring the rainforests and snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef.
February 13: depart Cairns and arrive in Melbourne at midnight. Meet up with some friends from Europe trip for weekend.
February 17: depart Melbourne and arrive in Sydney at 5:45pm
February 18-19: Orientation for international, graduate students on campus
February 20: enroll in courses
February 21: move into International House
February 21-28: University Orientation
March 2: Lectures begin

So there you have it! I will try to keep everyone updated month to month. Love you all!!

Ready for take off.

19 days. That is how long until I depart for the land down under. After a year of preparation including research, meetings, phone calls, debates (both internal and external), and a handful of emotions; I am about to move to Australia to obtain my Masters degree in Crosscultural Communication. Am I excited? Yes, as well as anxious and nervous, but that is exactly why I am embarking on this journey.

Ever since I returned home from Europe, I knew something was different about me (as did most people close to me). I had become a travel junkie. It was not just the seeing the places I had studied in school in person, or meeting new people different from myself. It was not the sounds of foreign languages spoken in the markets, the distinct smell of hostels, or the taste of food freshly prepared that looked more like a piece of artwork rather than food. It was the sense of the unknown. It exhilarated me to discover what was around the next corner, who I would meet the next day and what I would learn from my experience abroad.

Although I enjoyed the each and every new stimulation to my senses, it was not until I returned home to my mundane routine and reflected upon my journals that I knew I had discovered a thirst that would drive me to the ends of the Earth, literally, to quench it. I have been to 15 countries and 3 continents the tender age of 22, yet I have not even begun to feel satisfied. However, I realize I have my entire life ahead of me and only look forward to what the future brings; the immediate future holds the University of Sydney. Residing and studying in Sydney will bring a slew of new adventures that I highly anticipate.

Until next time…