G’day mates! Or as they say here in Australia: Hi everyone!
Well, here I am in the Land Down Under. I was enjoying the surf and the sun and
a bit of the bevy, when I remembered that, I had said I’d write articles
about it! So, knowing the possibilities I have to make all of you poor kids stuck
in cold gray Michigan jealous of me and my tales of kangaroos and beaches, I decided
to get to it.
I’ve been here about two weeks and picked up some lingo, so bear with me.

After a thirty-hour plane ride, a thirteen hour lay-over in London, a very hot
and humid stopover in Bangkok, fourteen hours of uncomfortable Dramamine-induced
sleep and changing time zones about five billion times, I arrived in Sydney. By
the time I stepped out of the airport, I wasn’t sure where I was, what day
it was (it three days after the day I had left) or what language everyone would
be speaking.
The only thing I knew was that I needed a shower. Bad.
Fast forward to two weeks later. I’m settled in, living at the International
House at the University of Wollongong (in Wollongong) and having the time of my
life.
What happened in between is a blur of tours, activities, introductions and excitement.
Not to mention a lot of fun and very, very little sleep.
The place at which I live (I-house) is the best place I could possibly be. I made
friends right away, mostly with people from countries other than America. I’ve
made friends with many Australians, several Canadians (only the ones who don’t
say “yeah, aye?”), and people from Thailand, India, Japan, and a guy
who’s half-British, half-Italian. Everyone here is like a big family, welcoming
you to join them with open arms.
If I have a bad time here, it will be my fault. But I don’t think I’ll
need to worry about that happening. Three beaches are within walking distance
of my college (dorm) and Wollongong is a fairly large town about an hour south
of Sydney. Best part is: no cornfields or Waysides in site!
When I’m not being made fun of for my American accent (“It’s mum,
not mom,” or “Arse, not ass!”) I notice just how very different
we are. Not to mention how very wrong America’s idea of Australia is.
Sure, there’s the Crocodile Dundee types, called Auckers, out in the true
outback, but most people here prefer to wear baseball hats as opposed to croc
skin hats. And usually, a “hello” will suffice, not the “G’day
mate” we hear so much about.
I’ve seen and held kangaroos and petted a koala, but that was at an animal
park. Much to my chagrin, they don’t run about campus like CMU’s free-wielding
squirrels. However, campus (which is beautiful and lush) does have it’s share
of tropical birds and lizards cavorting around.
Between the Pub Crawl, Mardi Gras in Sydney and days spent getting hopelessly
lost in town for two hours in new, uncomfortable sandals while carrying heavy
parcels and burning my skin to a crisp (my first day here), I’ve almost had
no time to be homesick. Almost.
It’s not “home” that I miss, but rather, the people. Give me sunshine
and 85 degree weather on the beach over Michigan any day. But I miss a lot of
really special people back home (you all know who you are. Especially the ones
I cried on at the airport). At least the new friends I’ve made will help
me to get through the rough patches.
There’s always someone willing to take me to the pub and buy me a schooner!
Which brings up my final note. Australians are not only very easy-going, but also
very generous as well. It’s customary to buy a schooner of beer for whoever
runs out. No one ever goes without, even if they’re broke. It’s almost
a rush to see who gets to buy the next round. Ohhh, how I’ll miss that when
I come home.
Until the next update from the land-down-under; Cheers and enjoy the snow!

E-mail the author: Tricia WoolfendenLIFE Et cetera Writer