Sydney Life

You are an ordinary Sydney Girl. Your days are spent learning about the American Civil War, having chance encounters with friends in Sydney Uni's quadrangle and drinking flat whites at an array of nearby coffee spots. Two afternoons a week you tutor kids in English and every Wednesday you meet your two besties to drink tea, eat a questionable number of Tim Tams and discuss issues of serious global import...like which of the boys from Gossip Girl is the hottest.

I took this snap outside the White House when I visited Washington D.C. earlier this month. I have always had a secret desire to be like C.J. Cregg from the West Wing, so I am thinking of taking him on, becoming his press secretary and creating a Rags to Riches legend with which even Barack Obama could not contend.

So, I finally got the magic letter.
The letter I’d been waiting and waiting for.
The letter *drum roll* was to say that I was officially going on exchange to the University of Ottawa, Canada, next semester!

After seven semesters, 90 weeks and 720 (scheduled) classes, I have only ten more hours as a student at the University of Sydney. I am waiting for the usual end of semester relief to kick in. It hasn’t. I am not coming back and nostalgia has taken the reigns.

Firstly I should say that as I write this, the time I have to finish (read: start) an assignment that my lecturer has kindly given me two extensions for, is slowly ticking away. That extension was the first lucky thing that happened recently.

So, it seems my Ask Asako post is still attracting applicants and I’ve been asked to write about what I do all day. (PS - feel free to keep requesting new blog topics!!!)

I thought it might be a good idea to do one of those while I was still on exchange!

So this is what was running through my mind a few nights ago, when I suddenly realized that I didn’t have the key to my room. My first thought was, “Don’t panic,” and then my second thought was, “Panic!” Ordinarily, I wouldn’t panic – but the weird thing was that I had come out of my room, locked the door, had some cake in the lounge for 15 minutes and came back. Without my keys. Where could it have gone? So then I suspected the guy down the hall who I think has had it in for me ever since I got here. Maybe he doesn’t like Australians. Maybe he doesn’t like me. Probably the latter. Can’t see why you’d have something specific against Australians. Not like we ever hurt anyone…well maybe he’s angry our dollars doing so well.

So I went canoeing over fall break – it's been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. And I had an amazing experience – it was 5 days/4 nights, and we canoed over 30 miles, portaged (where you carry the canoes on foot) for 2 km, and did a 5 km hike up and down a mountain. I’ve been hiking before, and my experience has been mainly masochistic – carrying a 20 kg pack on your back for 15 km in a day is not “fun” in any other sense of the word, and neither is eating 2 min noodles and cans of tuna because you don’t want to carry around your deluxe bean, salsa and burrito kit. But when you’re in a canoe you can take as much stuff as you want – and we took the bean, salsa and burrito kit .

I know I've been MIA recently but before I do a big fill-you-in-on-everything post I thought I would share with everyone my local squirrels.

They may seem cute but they are downright scary when they get too close.

So I had an exam and I stopped writing in my blog and I stopped having fun which isn’t so good. One of my most cherished memories of Sydney is when my friend came up to me during STUVAC looking stressed, and said, “If I can’t handle exams, how am I going to raise a family?” (You know who you are!)

Well I've come good on my expectation of not keeping a weekly blog - some work came out of nowhere and I switched on to "say no to fun" mode. Anyway, nothing too exciting happened to me since nothing exciting happens to people in libraries (that could be a proverb). Well unless you read an amazing book, change your life and go on to change the world. But that's probably not going to happen to you - because as Happy Bunny says, "It worries me how dumb you are."

It's been a week and half since I arrived at Cornell and during that time I've pretended to be a freshman. It was fun for the week because I did all the freshman things - stand up comedy, rock concerts, casino night (I have much more sympathy for people addicted to gambling now), movies and an endless number of icebreakers which failed to break any ice.

Hello! This is the first instalment of my exciting series of blog entries from Cornell University. I hope the latter part of my previous sentence turns out to be true.

Firstly, things I find exciting may not be the things you find exciting (would you find a waffle maker exciting?), and 'series' suggests I'll be writing regularly - I hope I can do it every week, but to me, thinking "I'll write a blog entry every week" sounds like "I'll study my lecture notes during semester and not STUVAC".

I had a stop over in Hong Kong on my way to Europe.

The time came around for me to leave, so I hailed a cab to take me to the station.

Well I thought I'd write my first blog entry before I left - just to let everyone know that planning for an exchange is quite a challenge. I don't know what the actual exchange will be like, but I can tell you all what happens in the months leading up to exchange. I'm leaving next Friday - and I'm going through periods of excitement in anticipation of what might happen on exchange, and periods of desperation as I go through all the possible things that could go wrong (and there are many things you'll hear about if you go on exchange - refused immigration entry, mangled enrolments, horror accomodation, ruined clothes "because I never did the washing at home" are just some of the prospects facing exchange students).

Hey! I'm going on exchange TOMORROW and I'm going to be video blogging from Canada!

Check out my youtube account for regular blogs!

I was told last year by an exchange veteran that the amount of time and work going into planning a trip like of this scale is equivalent to taking on an extra 6 credit point subject.

After viewing my diary for week 11 of last semester, you may agree.

It was no fun being the laughing stock at the Christmas table… especially as I’d only been back in the country for 24 hours. From the blue grey skies of Scotland, I’d arrived home in the midst of Sydney summer, with a look I liked to call ’lilac’…. Needless to say I was not in the best condition for the occasion that urges one to pull out that special ‘frock’ - perhaps even, a pretty little sun dress. Oh, no! The exposure of the sun on my china white limbs almost sent me reeling inside like an animal burrowing underground after the comfort of hibernation… Given the situation, I think it would’ve been far more admissible for mine and everyone else’s sake to opt for the role of Santa Claus…Then again, who would’ve born the brunt of the jokes?

Its late afternoon and I am delighted to find the front laws buzzing with the kind of activity that befits any normal O-Week. Handing out flyers for the international exchange fair (to be held this week on Thursday the 29th March) I was in competition with the army of faithfuls that represent the EU (the Evangelical Union - not to be confused with the formidable European bloc), and the eager and helpful bright green SPOCS. We vied for the attention of excited first years, as they stumbled around, arms laden with freebies, in a bit of a daze having just joined half a dozen societies.

Its 4am and a few carefree silhouettes can be seen winding their way along the Seine, fat nutella crepes in hand, with the Notre Dame majestically rising above them. Ahhh the romantic Parisian life… it certainly beats grabbing a kebab on the way home from a night on the town!

What do speed dating, the first African-American ambassador to the UN, and slam poetry have in common?

Me!

The tale of bravery, heroics and spandex that is about to unfold is the next instalment in the epic story of team Deli-Sandwich. For those of you unfamiliar with Team Deli- Sandwich, the myth-like account of its creation may be found here on this very website. Essentially, it tells of a group of intrepid young exchange students callously denied the glory they so rightfully deserved by that cruel and flighty mistress called fate. However, it was with heads held high and rejuvenated spirits that Team Deli- Sandwich rallied their forces to make an assault on perhaps the most perilous competition ever devised by the masterminds of the UBC REC committee…Gladiators.

‘Remember, remember the fifth of November’ young children sang sweetly amongst themselves as a dummy was cast into a giant bonfire. Standing in it’s glow I can’t say I wasn’t a little disturbed. On that fateful day in 1605, a fellow called Guy Fawkes was caught in the cellar of the London Houses of Parliament. Found with 36 barrels of gunpowder he had every intention, but no chance, of setting them off. So what did Britain do?

As of today, I've officially been a “resident” in Canada for 3 months. While it might not seem like that long, it’s been long enough for me to completely fall in love with the place. Vancouver is beautiful, Canadians are impossible not to get along with and despite what you may have heard to the contrary, Ice Hockey is definitely the best sport ever. In the midst of my love affair with my adopted home I have but one small grievance: Mother Nature is quite literally raining on my parade.

I’m bobbing in the middle of the Charles, its liquid silver waters stretching flat out around me. The sun is shining but the chill in the air keeps it from beating down. Without even thinking I begin singing to myself, a manifestation of the perfect moment and my absolute happiness in it. As I croon away I suddenly stumble on a lyric long enough to realise just exactly what it is I am singing. I almost fall out of the boat in embarrassment… it's Mariah Carey - Always be my Baby.

Did you know that Halloween originated in Ireland and Scotland? And that you can carve turnips instead of pumpkins?

While staring blankly at the free food shelf in the cupboard of a small hostel in Ireland, I had a sudden flashback... Three years ago, to the day, I was standing in front of a different cupboard, a world apart, hoping that something new had miraculously appeared in the 15 minutes since I'd last checked. For anyone who has written or is in the midst of writing HSC exams, you know what I'm talking about. That's what months of study does to you and I was the queen of procrastination. At the time, life beyond exams seemed an insurmountable task. Three years later, with the help of some abandoned pasta shells, a collection of colourful memories, life on the Irish road and the prospect of another few months in Scotland, I've realised that the HSC was only a small piece of the puzzle that has made up some of the best years of my life. For those of you gazing hopefully into cupboards now, keep focused, but be excited - so much more awaits...

One day a year, the shores of Vancouver’s Jericho Beach are swarmed by hoards of college students ready for war. Ridiculous outfits are donned, gauntlets are thrown down and The Day of the Long Boat begins.

So, now that we’ve all read about Bailee, Davina and Gemma’s adventures, and are all dying to go on exchange....... how exactly do we go about it?

I started looking into going on exchange a few months ago, for Semester 2 next year (woo! Yes, it does take that long to organise!!) - and I just handed in my application!

The first thing he said to me when I got off the plane was “I never want to leave this place”. Meet Ryan, another of those students happy enough to leave beautiful Sydney Uni behind in search of new horizons on exchange. And for you, dear reader, I took it upon myself to visit him and his fellow Usyd-kid Claire, in order to give you a greater picture of what studying in the United States could be like. Any personal benefit is purely coincidental.

‘Hello, and welcome to Stirling University. My name is Gemma and I’ll be your guide today.’

Ok, so there’s the opening line, down pat. From there I’ll be flying by the seat of my pants leading prospective students around a campus I have known and grown to love in just over two weeks. Any attempt to mask the fact that, as a new student, I took the same tour not so long ago will, I’m afraid, be exposed after my broad Australian accent rears its head in place of the wonderfully curly Scottish intonation they might expect from someone claiming to know a lot about the University!

About two weeks ago something awful happened. I actually had to go to class.

Somehow over the course of the last month I’d managed to block out the fact that going on exchange to a foreign uni would entail actually having to attend class. My blissful bubble of denial was burst, however, when I found myself seated in the back of a packed-out lecture hall at an hour of the morning that I hadn’t seen since my last Sydney Uni exam in June. The horror of the situation only increased as the lesson went on and dirty words like “essay”, “midterm” and “oral presentation” were used with increasing frequency. As the Prof (note my use of Canadian uni slang) started to describe what was expected from our study groups, rather than giving him my full attention, all I could think about was how having to go to study group on Monday morning would affect my plans to go to mechanical bull night at the Buffalo Club on Sunday.

In Texas, the Lone Star state, there is an average of four guns per person. As such, my first stop in the USA has landed me smack bang in the middle of one of its biggest controversies. As yet, I have not been shot, so I’m going to attempt to dispel some stereotypes (and confirm some others) about the home of one of the most powerful men on earth.

As the sun rose upon day three of my time in Canada, I was still lacking any inspiration for the theme of the next installment of my exchange blog. Don’t get me wrong. A lot has happened in a pretty short time since I left Australia. I’ve been to Tahiti, spent a few days in LA and lived off bananas for nearly a week because I soon discovered I’m incredibly lazy when it comes to getting myself real food. People actually seem to have serious difficulty understanding my accent and I’ve been asked what part of Britain I’m from one too many times. But despite all this, nothing had really struck me as decent blog material. Nothing that really encapsulated the strange and interesting new experiences that exchange is supposed to entail. Little did I know that late this afternoon inspiration would strike in the form of the wrinkled backside of a man in his mid-sixties.

I’ve always been astonished by those people who, after 23 hours of flying, seem to emerge cool, calm and collected from the arrivals gate. Needless to say, this has never been the case with me. When I stepped off the plane at Heathrow I was the dishevelled backpacker you see shuffling towards the tube station through groups of waving relatives and friends.

As we enter the main plaza the enormity of the situation hits me. We are ten “gringos” (foreigners) taking part in one of the most important celebrations of the year. Thousands of Bolivians stare and cheer as our overwhelmed selves respond to the cries of “Viva Bolivia!” Their shouts compete with the sound of firecrackers as they ricochet off buildings, and the marching band that marks Independence Day.

Seven more sleeps until I board a plane bound for London! I feel like a little kid again in the days leading up to Christmas.

As uni went back last week my mind was far from thoughts of Sydney lectures and tutorials. Instead, it is racing with the prospect of a semester overseas.

University, as we are all so often told, is a time for both “experimentation and adventure”. The classic American teen movie, in all its undoubted wisdom, would have us all believe these terms are merely euphemisms for drug taking and promiscuity, however sometime around last October I decided to follow a different path and get my kicks by applying for the exchange program.

In the beginning there was the Blog….

I must admit here in my first ever blog entry that I have, until now, been completely uninterested with the very notion of a ‘blog’. This goes beyond any reservations about the sheer unattractiveness of the word ‘blog’ (who came up with that anyway?) to the arrogance of assuming that if you write down some ponderings and post them in cyberspace, that someone will actually want to read them.