A Brief Escape
The next two weeks are shaping up to be extremely busy ones. It is that time of semester where mid-semester exams, assignments and regular study, coincide and merge together to create a behemoth creature, ready to devour the unprepared and unsuspecting student. For the nerds among us, it is kind of like a final fantasy game, where you are walking along (hours from the last save point), just about to finish the stage, then “BAM” out of nowhere that poignant boss battle theme music starts up and you’re smack bang in the middle of a boss fight. If you haven’t levelled up your characters you could be in serious trouble. Err… I’ll stop the nerdiness now, I swear.

I’ve observed a few things lately that have made me so amused, that I feel compelled to share them. Firstly, I saw a car the other day that had a Canberra number plate (strange huh…) with a slogan “Feel the power of Canberra”. And I thought Victoria’s motto was bad.

The second occurred when I was watching the Australia V Kuwait soccer match. The match was of abysmal quality, but the real gem came from the unlikeliest of places – the commentary. Football terms and commentary are notoriously full of innuendo and double entendres, but this one was simply too rich. The commentator in an English accent commented “Muscat applied the pressure from behind, while Dodd applied the pressure from the front, and the sandwich on the Kuwati player seemed to have good effect.” Anyway, enough of the sillyness.

I was lucky enough to get away last weekend and go back to Melbourne. I’d decided to take the train and thought it would be quite an enjoyable way of travelling. I’d always had a fondness for trains and thought it would be a romantic way to travel – rolling through the open countryside of our great sunburnt land as the carriage rocked gently with the soothing ‘clickety-clack’ sound of the wheels. I’ve now discovered that train travel, well on ‘country-link’ anyway, should not be romanticised; it is a horrible experience.

I’m sure I would have enjoyed the journey alright if it hadn’t been for the people on board. I don’t know why, but for some reason, train travel seems to be the choice method of transport of some of the loudest, strangest, most inconsiderate and boganish people in the country.

Despite this, the journey went relatively quickly though, partly because I made use of the down time and studied, but mainly because I was so looking forward, with each passing minute, to seeing that special someone. I kept imagining her warm smile as we first saw each other at the station.

After a tiring journey, the train finally pulled into Spencer Street. I must say, the station is a very impressive gateway to Melbourne, a bit like the Japanese stations but on a smaller scale. It is such a shame though that the only ones who are there to appreciate it, are such an undesirable mix of people.

Unfortunately a taxi strike had thrown the city tram network into disarray, so Sherly was going to meet me at Melbourne Central station instead. I transferred to a suburban train that was going through the loop.

You don’t really realise how small and insignificant Canberra actually is, until you’re smack bang in the centre of the city on a busy Friday night. So many people, so many shops open, so many cars. For the first few minutes I was feeling a little daunted and uncomfortable. I waited for Sherly outside the tram stop and observed the surrounds. Such an elegant and stylish city. I was pleased to discover that there is now one of those ice-cream places from Japan with the crepe cones in Melbourne. If you haven’t tried one already, definitely give it a go and I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.

Before long I saw a flustered Sherly rush past me in the direction of the station. She was looking as stylish and beautiful as ever, but I didn’t get time to think about this; I had to run after her. We embraced once I’d caught up with her and it was then that everything felt right again, I was home, this was my city, I belonged.

She took my hand and we strolled together up Swanston St. until we found a tram and caught it back to her place. She cooked me a lovely feast for dinner, consisting of: okonomiyaki, curry chicken, rice and salad. Sherly is a terrific cook incidentally and I devoured the meal rather quickly, as it was the first tasty meal I’d eaten since… umm I think since the last time she cooked for me. The okonomiyaki was especially excellent. As the night wore on we talked and caught up on everything, and each moment in her presence washed a gentle calm over me, clearing my jumbled mind.

The next day I went to the Dandenongs with my family for lunch. It was great to see them again and I caught up on everything that had been happening in my absence. Outside the restaurant there was a remarkable dog, it was easily the cutest dog I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t the HK ‘The Dog’ style cute with big eyes and a big nose; it was more subtle than that. If it entered a dog modelling contest it would win, paws down. You might think I’m a little strange at this point, going on about a dog, but before you judge me you should understand that this dog had such pull, that people in the restaurant were walking outside (in the middle of their meals) to take pictures of it and play with it. Actually it reminded me of how Ferrari owners park their car outside cafés and sit by them and bask in the admiration of the other patrons.

I went into the city to see Sherly again that night and ate delicious okonomiyaki again. She was extremely busy with uni and work, so I was really grateful that she gave up the time to see me again and cook for me. Once again I had such a lovely time, but before long, the weekend was over and I boarded the train at 8:30am to go back to Canberra. On the train I slept and studied and everything generally was far more tolerable this time; my mind on the return journey was far clearer and calmer.

I can’t wait until the mid-sem break, but right now I have to concentrate on the task at hand; tackle that boss.

Until next time,

Take care.

Yee-Haw…
The weather has been splendid this week, sending a message as faint as the sweet fragrance of an early blooming camellia, that spring is coming. I expect this week is just an exception and next week will be especially cold and wintry. It is just a hunch, but I tend to be right about these kinds of things.

The college is magically undergoing a transformation this week, which coincidently corresponds with the upcoming ‘parent’s weekend’, where residents’ parents come up for the weekend to visit, funny that… The corridors are smelling lovely after being sprayed with eucalyptus, new dining room tables are in the process of being installed, the lawns are being mown, the netball ring has been re-erected and the gardens are being manicured. It is quite laughable how superficial the college heads can be. Surely every parent has already been told about the sometimes unliveable conditions of the college. Maybe they just want to make us look like liars. Satisfied parent: “Oh I don’t know what you’re complaining about, it is lovely here.” Student in disbelief: “But…but… it is never like this normally, I swear!” Angry parent: “I’ll give you something to swear about!”

I don’t really mind, I find the whole thing rather amusing. I’m just going to sit back this week and enjoy the good weather and the comparatively pleasant smell and look of the college.

I’ve been up to a few things lately, notably the ‘Bush Dance’ and a ski trip. I didn’t really want to go to the bush dance, I had neither the time nor the inclination and I wasn’t thrilled about having to part with $35 to go. However, through a poor response from college residents generally, the organisers became quite desperate. They were asking me almost every day if I was going. Each day politely I told them that I hadn’t quite decided, but it wasn’t likely. I mixed that technique with avoidance and thought I’d be able to get out of it. The dance was for charity, but the way they were promoting it sounded as though it was going to be one big booze fest, which I wasn’t at all interested in. “5 free drinks and $2 drinks thereafter,” the advertising material boasted. Sharing a bus back to college with drunk residents dressed in country clothes isn’t my idea of a fun night.

I thought I’d been successful in getting out of it until two organisers knocked on my door and tried with extreme desperation to get me to come. I have quite weak resistance to desperate pleading, plus I imagined the worries that they were going through about not selling enough tickets and making a loss, so I begrudgingly reached into my pocket, took out my wallet and bought a ticket.

I thought perhaps I just wouldn’t go and would just write off the monetary loss, but a few of my friends had been roped into going as well, so I thought I might as well go along. The theme was country and western, but I showed up in a very metro outfit, which consisted of a striped French cuffed shirt (with cufflinks), a black jacket, dark RL denim jeans and Zu shoes. Not exactly very county, but I didn’t care, I was felt it was good enough of me just to turn up.

The dance was held in large barn, made from corrugated iron, which was down a dirt path in the middle of nowhere. Every attempt to be true to the ‘country’ theme had been considered by the organisers, right down to the stench of farm animal excrement that lingered in the air. Mmm… got to love that country air. We had the right side of the barn to ourselves; there was a divider between our area and the left side. I have no idea what was on the other side of the barn, it could have been anything. The floor was wooden, the roof was high and the triangular trusses were exposed, the walls were a rusted corrugated iron colour and hay bales were scattered sparingly for good measure. A band was set up on a makeshift stage that imposed itself on the room, but the focal point would have to have been the large mechanical bull that was surrounded by a blow up cushioned ring.

I’ve probably mentioned this before, but Canberra gets cold at night, in fact very cold, into the negatives for most of winter. That night was no exception; it was cold, very cold. It turns out that large open iron barns aren’t terribly great insulators, so most people were shivering, especially the girls in short skirts and abbreviated tops.

The party, just like the barn itself, was taking a while to heat up. I chatted for a while with Vijay and Garima, who both seemed a little bored too. We moved over to watch people riding on the mechanical bull, which was rather amusing. The idea was to climb on the bull and stay on it as long as possible, while it bucked and spun. After observing for a while I noticed a pattern as to who was good at riding the bull and who wasn’t. Firstly, girls tended to do a lot better than guys (I’ll assume because they have better balance, but you can draw your own conclusions), thin people did better than fat people, short was better than tall and confidence seemed to help also. I was even thinking of how I could build a model to predict riders’ times, until I realised what I was doing and stopped. You’re at a ‘fun’ event, don’t think about statistical models…geez.

Vijay and Garima both had a go on the bull and they did quite well, Vijay even broke the record I think. After their turns we headed outside, where the temperature must have easily been below zero, and ate a barbeque dinner. We shivered as we ate and quickly raced back inside as word began to spread that our head of college was going to ride the bull. As my model would have predicted, he didn’t do at all well (maybe I should have built an age factor into the model as well… Stop it!). After the crowd around the bull dispersed, I decided I would have a go, so I climbed on and it started bucking and spinning. It was rather fun, albeit a little strange. Given that I am of reasonable height, thin, male and wasn’t confident, as the model would have predicted, my performance was average; not brilliant but not terrible. It was fun though, especially when I hit the cushions with a thud after being thrown off.

The crowd started warming to both the band and the venue and soon people began to dance, either to keep warm or because they’d be drinking. You could easily tell each person’s reason. The band played covers of well known rock songs and were quite talented. I especially liked it when they played ‘Living on a Prayer’. No night out is complete without that song being played, I feel. Eventually though the night drew to a close and I caught the bus home, which actually wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined; no one was drunk enough to the point of vomiting.

On Saturday, it was an early wakeup call, then a bus trip to Perisher Blue for a ski trip. The trip was all paid for by the college as a thank you to all the voluntary academic mentors. I was glad to get another chance to go skiing, especially when I didn’t have to pay for it.

The bus arrived at bullocks flat and after being decked out with skis and boots we all caught the train (or the ‘ski tube’) up the mountain to where our lesson was being held. The lesson was quite useful, as finally I learnt how to do parallel turns, although I’ve not mastered them yet by all means. After the lesson a few of us had lunch together and then went off for free time. I went off in a group of four, but very quickly we were separated. I ended up skiing with Caz, as our abilities and our confidence were quite closely matched. We started off on the beginner slopes, and then tried our luck on a random green level slope. Perhaps we took a wrong turn, because after a while we were skiing on a narrow steep path with large trees and rocks either side, which was rather scary. At one point there was a steep decline leading into a corner and I was right behind Caz, I watched as she fell in spectacular fashion, spinning at least 4 times before coming to a rest. Since I was watching her fall and wasn’t concentrating on going down the hill, I had an equally spectacular fall. When I got up I heard cheering from some people on the nearby chairlift and I waved in acknowledgement. My goggles were laced with fine fragments of snow and had ended up around my neck. I went to check on Caz and noticed her poles were about 15 metres away from where she’d fallen. We brushed ourselves off, collected our poles, high fived each other and then were on our way.

We didn’t have a map and got a little lost, but after a while ended up heading in the right direction. We successful rode the T-bar up to the terminal and caught the train in time after meeting up with the others. On the bus I took my jacket off and I smelt terribly! I was really embarrassed and regretted not bringing deodorant, but fortunately, everyone else seemed equally as smelly, so the only one who would have noticed would have been the bus driver…poor guy. It certainly was a fun day, but something was missing, I didn’t enjoy myself as much as I had on the falls creek ski trip.

I have been missing a certain somebody far too much lately, so this weekend I’ve decided to go back to Melbourne to see them. I’m sure glad I won’t be at college for parent’s weekend.

Until next time,

Take care.

Travvy Goes Green
It is three weeks into the semester and things are starting to settle down. Although I’m not overloaded with work yet, it is starting to come in at a nice steady pace. I was getting a little jittery in the first week, since I didn’t have much to do in the way of study, yet all my friends seemed to be very busy. I guess most people would count themselves lucky if they were in such a situation, but it made me feel edgy and uncomfortable. I need to feel that I’m working at least as hard as everyone else or I feel like I don’t deserve things that I achieve, maybe I just like working hard.

This Sunday I went along to an organised tree planting event. In case you didn’t realise, it was the ‘National Tree Planting Day’ on Sunday. Several of my fellow college residents and I caught the bus out to a place called Cotter. As we were snaking our way up a mountain with dense forest either side of the road, I couldn’t help but wonder why I was bothering; surely the last thing Canberra needs is more trees. Our destination though was more or less a tree deserted plot of land, so that made me happy enough.

I armed myself with a pick, some trees and various other items essential to the modern day tree planter and set off. Although featureless and flat from a distance, up close the field was most unpleasant. Blackberry bushes were rampant as well as other thorny bushes and I walked straight into one, as though it were a cactus and I was one of the various characters from an early slapstick cartoon. Ouch. I cut my hands a little while digging as well, but the rest of the day was more or less incident free. It felt kind of good to get out and do a little physical work in the bush. I was getting my hands dirty, I got to use a pick and it was all for a good cause. When I was feeling particularly manly and energetic, I started whacking the especially large rocks that were loitering in the many ditches of the field. Surprisingly after a few contacts with the pick, they shattered apart.

I was whistling along and having as much fun as you probably could planting trees, when a new resident at Johns asked if we could work together. I’m a rather independent person and don’t really like working in groups, in fact you could say I hate it, but reluctantly I said, “Sure thing.” The guy just stood around, except when I went to dig, he’d say “No, I’ll do that,” proceeding to attack the ground like a madman with his pick. I didn’t really like this, for digging was an essential part to enjoying the process and besides, I felt I wasn’t working hard enough. Very soon he got tired, which I was glad about as it meant I could take over all the tasks of planting. He asked me what he could do and after mulling it over I said, “Maybe you could start watering all the trees that have been planted.” He was happy, as it meant he had to do barely any work and I was happy as I could do it all.

Eventually though it was time to go. I was proud as we drove away when I looked at the field and saw all of the work we had done. The milk carton guards that were placed around the trees were lined up neatly in rows down the hill like miniature soldiers in a formation. I can now print lecture notes to my heart’s content without any feeling any guilt.

That evening I got to do yet more physical work, this time helping a friend move her bags and boxes out of her room. She was leaving to go back to America having now completed her degree. It will be strange not having her around and I’m going to miss going to watch her perform in operas.

A few things have been bugging me about college lately, and number one on the list is the state of the bathrooms. Some people seem to have the hygiene standards of apes, not even managing or bothering to press the button to flush the toilet. And it happens quite often. The other day there was vomit or something that looked like it in the sink that someone hadn’t even bothered to wash down.

My net connection has been down since Saturday afternoon and the computer guy said it was something he had never seen before and is in the process of fixing it. My phone has a light that blinks when I receive messages and turns off when you check the messages, but this light is now permanently blinking. Every time I enter my room I get excited that I have a message only to check and realise I don’t. I get the feeling it is going to be another one of those special cases where the college ‘fix-it’ person will scratch their head and say “Hmmm… well I’ve never seen that happen before.”

Quite a few new residents have moved into college for the new semester and although most of the ones I’ve met seem quite nice, some are quite bizarre. One is a total sleaze and is a discriminatory curry offerer. The other night in the dining hall he was going around to all the tables and offering his ‘samba curry’ to anyone that wasn’t white and by the way that is not a euphemism. Anyway, he sat next to me once and was slurping and eating so loudly, which I really hate.

I think all this is bothering me only because this time more than any other I’m missing Melbourne. Oh well.

It’s not all bad though, I’m still having fun. I recently watched a pre-season A-league soccer match that was being played in Canberra and the weather has been quite nice lately, plus it is good spending time with my Canberra friends.

My subjects all seem interesting enough, although one of my lecturers is quite terrible and her lecture notes are fairly useless. This is really quite annoying as it is a subject that could be made to be really exciting if a lecturer like Steve Stern (a plump witty family man from America) or Kostya Borovkov (a hilarious tall lanky lecturer with a thick Russian accent who says ‘God Bless You’ to anyone who sneezes in his class) were teaching it. Sigh, what a disappointment. Oh well.

Until next time,

Take care.