Yesterday someone I met for the first time called Australia a cultural wasteland. "People who study abroad in Australia are wasting their time," she said. This really irritated me. While we might have the infamous expats such as Steve Irwin and Crocodile Dundee, we speak the Queen's English and haven't allowed the international conglomerates take over our coffee culture just yet. Her comment made me think - is my home a cultural wasteland? I think not. But is this how the rest of the world views us? And then just an hour ago another person commented that 'everyone from Australia are hicks.' Granting that this was a poor attempt at humour (as we were discussing that only 'hicks', or those from the western suburbs aka Kath & Kim still wear their ugg boots out in public, as opposed to the fashionable item they are around Penn campus...they're called uggs for a reason - they're UGLY!) it still bothered me that we might be perceived as an uncultured, vulgar and simple people. I suppose overanalysing this only makes me realise that yes, in some parts of Australia (or most parts?) there are these people, as all over the world. But that does not make us a particularly cultural wasteland. Sure, we don't have such a rich history as Europe, or the attached exoticism as India, Africa or South America, but we do contain some strong and unique elements that make me proud to be an Australian.
Because we are so far away from the rest of the world, geographically, we do not have to rely on the European trends nor the brash American pop culture that seeps into every crack in life. I'm not saying that we don't, I'm just saying that we aren't entirely dependent on other nations/societies for a culture hit. I also suppose that because I'm an Arts student, studying Melbourne performance art and literature, that the very thought that my city is devoid of such things is diametrically oppposed to everything I believe in. Everything I experience.
But is this only because I live in Melbourne, the culture capital of Australia, so to speak?
Is the rest of my country lacking in things that make us passionate? I highly doubt that. We love football, sport of any kind, we share a love for the Australian summer, the beaches at Christmas, bitching about the cold in winter, sniggering at jokes about Tasmania, we love travelling the world, we love our land - our bush. At least thats the impression I have.
I often am told when I say that I'm Australian, that "Australians travel everywhere!" - anywhere in the world you will find an Australian - perhaps more true than said about Israelis even. We love participating in other people's cultures, bringing it back home. We have a love/hate relationship with the UK, some say even an inferiority complex. We may seem small on the greater scale of things, but sometimes one can't measure in size, but quality of life. Perhaps we don't have a national food (no, we can't call Vegemite and Lamingtons as the national food source) but then again we are a people who come from all over the world, bringing our cultures and knowledge of places further away than we can imagine. We have a rich culture that is, I suppose, a little like Melbourne's laneways. Perhaps we don't have comparible architecture and politics to the great destinations of the world, but we don't need it. Scratch a little beneath the surface, explore a little lane of Melbourne's CBD, and you will come across a treasure that will blow you away. You will find people excited over the most particular, perhaps even eccentric things. We have cultures, we have sub-cultures, and we should be proud of them, no matter what they might be or not.
Yes, our theatre might be a dying art and our cinema might be not much better but we are trying. There are passionate people out there who are making their voices heard. We have honest Australian stories, perhaps not many, but our literary heroes are worthy ones.
Now this sounds like I'm justifying some sort of inferiority complex, and perhaps I am, but I would never think I'd say this a year ago, or even half a year ago: I am so proud to be Australian. Experiencing college life here, and the pressure and expectations that are attached to it, is a seperate culture altogether. Some can say that the US is a cultural wasteland - perhaps if we view it in Starbucks/McDonalds/CocaCola/RealityTv terms - but then again they would be as narrow minded as the person I met yesterday.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Monday, January 23, 2006
My Melbourne
Here's a draft I've been playing around with. I know that a lot of it is based on my romantic ideal of Melbourne's laneways, but the Americans don't know that. So if you want, you can take a look at it, and tell me how bad it really is, and how untrue it might be. Well, I know it's based on a lot of fiction as well as fantasy, but... enjoy. -s.
Melbourne – home of cosy coffeehouses and secret laneways and stencil art and grey Mondays and green purple Storey Hall and menacing babies at Bimbo Deluxe and melting ice-creams on St Kilda Beach and Fat Pizza and John Safran versus God and crazy rush hour during Friday afternoons on Carlisle Street and waiting for the Chadstone bus and cheap eats and the Paris End of Collins Street dahhhhling and ‘four seasons in one day’ and the algae and gold dazzle of Flinders Street Station and feeling at home wherever I am, whenever I am, even amongst the ladies of St Kilda on a Saturday night.
My Melbourne
Hidden behind the garbage bags that line Croft Alley, is a face. Not a pretty face, or one that belongs to someone I know, but a face with mournful eyes that stare out way past Collins Street and the suits that flurry by in a blurred rush to get to work and the students with the glazed look of ipod addicts and the Asian gangs that stalk the video arcades on Russell Street. The face has long green hair, whose fringe covers an eye and the left corner of her mouth. The hair swells in a billowing mass of green paint across the right wall of the lane, its tendrils curling the blue and white sign labeling its territory - "Croft Alley". The face, I find out later, is created by a stencil graffiti artist named K, whose haunting images stare out from many of Melbourne's lanes and alleyways of the CBD.
"My Melbourne", as the tourism department's slogan chimes, rests in the cracks and the puddles of these lanes. These lanes - that creep off the edge of the Melways map into some unknown jungle of garbage and back doors, entrances to bars and broken bottles and drug deals and jazz bars and fashion boutiques and, of course, the many pieces of stencil art that cry, with or without a message, from the walls - stitch the city together.
The lanes form my own daily crossword puzzle. Some lanes are dead ends that really are just the back doors of restaurants and shops - dead ends crammed with rubbish bins and guilty employees quickly finished their last cigarette before the lunch hour rush. Some lanes are of a richer vocabulary, and are of more enviable character. Their umbrellas form a canopy, and each side is lined with cafes of all cuisines and expenses, bakeries and chocolatiers and sushi boxes - holes in the wall that serve lattes and handrolls and souvlaki and noodles. Degraves, Flinders, Royal Arcade, the Block – one loses track of all the names of the alleyways and side streets that ties the city up in a packaged bundle, and keeps it safe. Safe from the arriving international conglomerates that park themselves on the main thoroughfares, seducing those too busy or too cautious or too nervous to explore the little lanes that nestle between the banks and department stores downtown.
But like a crossword answer that adds that special word to your lexis, my favourite lanes are the ones that are most difficult to find, no matter who you ask. The lanes that house cloths of all colours and textures, the boutiques that specialise in 'one-off' pieces and trinkets and jewellery and spectacles of all styles from before my time, glass cats and feathered bags and perfumes from all over the world. It is within these lanes that I lose myself for hours, days, wandering amongst these narrow cobbled streets, touching the soft fabrics of Little Collins, Albert Coat and Hosier lanes, inhaling the choking fumes of Little Bourke's Chinatown, losing time and innocence in "My Melbourne".
At night the neon lights flicker awake and people are laughing, walking arm in arm, sliding through these alleys into secret entrances, VIP bars, Altitude, St Jerome’s, Loop and Cookie, with their purple and green lights and wasabi peas and the intense chattering haze that fills these dark rooms. Around the corner, down the stairs, you might miss it if you’re not careful, it’s the blue door on the left – not the right, it’s above the pharmacy, through the narrow opening beside the police station, walk through the Chinese cinemas and then you’ll find me. Us. We, the kings and queens of Gin Palace, the Money Order Office, the Croft Institute and Double Happiness clink glasses toasting these havens of drunken conversation and muffled intimacy and eclectic furniture and locked rooms of special and secret and sshhhhh…
These lanes stitch together my Melbourne, they hold my city close, keep it alive, they breathe life into its rushed daytimes, its balmy nights, its festivals, its grunge, its kookiness, its funk, its noise, its difference - and of course, it keeps watch over the faces that stare out beyond the garbage bags.
Melbourne – home of cosy coffeehouses and secret laneways and stencil art and grey Mondays and green purple Storey Hall and menacing babies at Bimbo Deluxe and melting ice-creams on St Kilda Beach and Fat Pizza and John Safran versus God and crazy rush hour during Friday afternoons on Carlisle Street and waiting for the Chadstone bus and cheap eats and the Paris End of Collins Street dahhhhling and ‘four seasons in one day’ and the algae and gold dazzle of Flinders Street Station and feeling at home wherever I am, whenever I am, even amongst the ladies of St Kilda on a Saturday night.
My Melbourne
Hidden behind the garbage bags that line Croft Alley, is a face. Not a pretty face, or one that belongs to someone I know, but a face with mournful eyes that stare out way past Collins Street and the suits that flurry by in a blurred rush to get to work and the students with the glazed look of ipod addicts and the Asian gangs that stalk the video arcades on Russell Street. The face has long green hair, whose fringe covers an eye and the left corner of her mouth. The hair swells in a billowing mass of green paint across the right wall of the lane, its tendrils curling the blue and white sign labeling its territory - "Croft Alley". The face, I find out later, is created by a stencil graffiti artist named K, whose haunting images stare out from many of Melbourne's lanes and alleyways of the CBD.
"My Melbourne", as the tourism department's slogan chimes, rests in the cracks and the puddles of these lanes. These lanes - that creep off the edge of the Melways map into some unknown jungle of garbage and back doors, entrances to bars and broken bottles and drug deals and jazz bars and fashion boutiques and, of course, the many pieces of stencil art that cry, with or without a message, from the walls - stitch the city together.
The lanes form my own daily crossword puzzle. Some lanes are dead ends that really are just the back doors of restaurants and shops - dead ends crammed with rubbish bins and guilty employees quickly finished their last cigarette before the lunch hour rush. Some lanes are of a richer vocabulary, and are of more enviable character. Their umbrellas form a canopy, and each side is lined with cafes of all cuisines and expenses, bakeries and chocolatiers and sushi boxes - holes in the wall that serve lattes and handrolls and souvlaki and noodles. Degraves, Flinders, Royal Arcade, the Block – one loses track of all the names of the alleyways and side streets that ties the city up in a packaged bundle, and keeps it safe. Safe from the arriving international conglomerates that park themselves on the main thoroughfares, seducing those too busy or too cautious or too nervous to explore the little lanes that nestle between the banks and department stores downtown.
But like a crossword answer that adds that special word to your lexis, my favourite lanes are the ones that are most difficult to find, no matter who you ask. The lanes that house cloths of all colours and textures, the boutiques that specialise in 'one-off' pieces and trinkets and jewellery and spectacles of all styles from before my time, glass cats and feathered bags and perfumes from all over the world. It is within these lanes that I lose myself for hours, days, wandering amongst these narrow cobbled streets, touching the soft fabrics of Little Collins, Albert Coat and Hosier lanes, inhaling the choking fumes of Little Bourke's Chinatown, losing time and innocence in "My Melbourne".
At night the neon lights flicker awake and people are laughing, walking arm in arm, sliding through these alleys into secret entrances, VIP bars, Altitude, St Jerome’s, Loop and Cookie, with their purple and green lights and wasabi peas and the intense chattering haze that fills these dark rooms. Around the corner, down the stairs, you might miss it if you’re not careful, it’s the blue door on the left – not the right, it’s above the pharmacy, through the narrow opening beside the police station, walk through the Chinese cinemas and then you’ll find me. Us. We, the kings and queens of Gin Palace, the Money Order Office, the Croft Institute and Double Happiness clink glasses toasting these havens of drunken conversation and muffled intimacy and eclectic furniture and locked rooms of special and secret and sshhhhh…
These lanes stitch together my Melbourne, they hold my city close, keep it alive, they breathe life into its rushed daytimes, its balmy nights, its festivals, its grunge, its kookiness, its funk, its noise, its difference - and of course, it keeps watch over the faces that stare out beyond the garbage bags.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Same Old, Same Old
This week has been a typical 'day in the life'. I have successfully managed to balance classes, laundry, socialising and extra-curricular activities throughout the week. Aaaamen. Who knew.
My classes are getting more interesting by the day. All classes have to be three hours long - whether it is three days of one hour classes, two days of 1.5 hours or one hell of a three-hour class. Those are my favourite ;) Currently I'm studying 'Images of Childhood in Israeli Literature and Film', which is quite different. I must admit I haven't read so much Israeli literature, and I actually quite like it. It's in a classroom in the main library, with these really low and comfy chairs, in which it is extremely easy to get quite comfortable and even manage a little shut-eye(especially for me, the one who always somehow slept through her film classes in first year - but come on, the class began at 9 SHARP every wednesday morning! It was expected that we ALL slept for the first couple hours... after that, well...). But thankfully that hasn't happened to me yet, and hopefully it never will. The class is quite good, with some thought provoking questions and answers, but its still on some basic level. I think I have good rapport with the lecturer because I answered "It was remeniscent of the Holocaust" to one of the questions that she was asking from a silent class. Seriously, its the answer to everything!
But i think they just don't have it as much in their mindset... but then again maybe I am little obsessive.
I am also taking a Publishing and Editing class, a little similar to Vivid last year, we are working on a student anthology - but learning all different types of programs and completing all this reading about editing and the publishing world. So I guess an upgrade on last year's subject. The main reason why I chose this subject was not only the tangible conclusion of the class - I actually was on the editorial board for this publication - but the fact that it is a small class and therefore has more potential to make more friends. The people in the class seem quite friendly and intelligent, so I think it looks good from here. I've become friendly with a New Yorker called Rachel, and we went to hear a talk given by the Art Editor of the Time Out New York Magazine - way cool. This woman was in the art world for over twenty years, but she landed this job by chance. I think that's the way it sometimes is in this world - right place, right time. But being here fits that description of the right place, right time. So much is going on, whether you want to be a part of it is up to you. But then again, it's also difficult to be a part of everything. As I've discovered.
I've been involved in First Call, previously mentioned here on the Nomad, and we had our first layout gathering yesterday in this tiny computer lab in the basement of one of the college houses. Yesterday was my learning session, getting the feel of InDesign (again) and the magazine as a whole. It was really fun getting to know the different people in the group - what was really funny was that out of all of us, only one was not Jewish. The stats are in boys and girls, over a third of the white population of Penn is Jewish - can you believe it?! Penn has the nickname of JewPenn, or the Jewniversity of Penn - and I love it! So different to Melbourne Uni, or anything I've ever really experienced. People understand when you say kosher, and there are heaps of veggie opportunities everywhere. There's even a vegetarian (and most popular) food truck. What's a food truck? I'll get onto that later, when I can show you a picture of it. They're the centre of food traffic around University City in Philadelphia. It's definitely something that's unique to this city. Oh, what the heck, I'll talk about it now.
Food truck - a vendor/truck that sells any cuisine, at the lowest price, specifically attracting students and those residents of West Phildaelphia...if you catch my drift. They're really good - clean, cheap, accessible food all over campus. But I don't have a photo of them now, perhaps later...it's true, you always leave it wanting more....
Not really, but it sounds good.
I made a friend in my History class - I'm studying the Cold War - an International History 1945-1991, with this AMAZING professor, one of the smartest people I have ever been in contact with, he knows EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING, and then some! And he's very nice as well - he let me into his class because I am an exchange student, and had to turn scores of others away! Awww, I felt bad until I knew I lucky I was, esp. because all of his classes are really popular. Anyway, my newly acquired friend, whose name is David, invited me to join his friends for dinner on Tuesday night - where? At this food truck that sells carribean soul food down on 30th street. (By the way, I live just near 40th st.) It was a brisk long walk, and a little FREEZING cold, but we made it down there, only for me to tell them I'm vegetarian. 'No Jerk chicken? Arghh, what are you going to EAT?" they couldn't believe it. But two of the group were jews, so all is understood. I hade some vegetarian carribean food, which was yummy, but extremely sweet, and huge servings! I couldn't finish it. Neither could most. We ate in the train station, which might sound a little seedy, but to those who have seen the 30th St Station (ie Mum), it's a beautiful place to eat yummy unhealthy carribean soul food. Here's a picture of the station, just to reiterate.
Ok, well this blog hasn't been so interesting, but I guess that's just because this week has been same old, same old. I'm trying to get myself involved in a lot of activities - First Call, I might be a Stage Manager for a production of King Lear, and I might even join a basketball team - a little but nervous as to how that goes.. I haven't played in a while.
Last night I went out with my roommates for a roommate dinner. I'll some pics of it later. We went out for Italian - and they were HUGE servings. Now we all know why Americans are fat. I can't finish my dinner most times (I know what you're saying, what? Sarah isn't finished her dinner? Sarah the incincerator? What has gone wrong in this world?) But its true. I love doggy bags...
Afterwards, I joined my aussie girlfriends, Amma and Jess, and a new Aussie we discovered (she didn't make it into Philly in time for orientation, Maija) for a night out on campus. Our host was another exchange student from Melbourne Uni, who has been here for a semester already, Daniel Gold. I vaguely remember him from Maccabi Carnival in Melbourne, to all those who were there in 97/98/99 (can't remember which year). He's sweet and a typical jock, introducing us to his fellow football friends (he plays varsity football for Penn) through their positions of field. It was quite funny, coz none of us girls really knew nor cared where they played in the team - it was one jock after the other. But he was a nice host, and it was an enjoyable night.
I slept in again today. It's the heating in this room. It makes me want to sleep on and on, even though the bed is quite uncomfortable. I guess that was another piece of unwisdom from me that doesn't really stop the world. My roommates and I are hooked on this one tv show that we watch every week - project runway, one of the better reality tv shows. It's a competition between fashion designers, and they actually create something every week. And they're so talented. Quality trash :D
Hope the heat didn't kill you. I wish for some of that now. It's not so cold right now, but I know the worst is yet to come.
Oh, and about writing comments - thanks to those who do! I love hearing from you, and don't be afraid if others that read the comments will see them. We can all end up discussing some trivial thing over these comment threads. Who wants a topic? Okay, here's this: Turkey eggs. Why don't we eat turkey eggs? We eat chicken, some people eat quail... And here in the USA they eat Turkey goddamnit! So why the absence of their eggs from the supermarket shelves?
Here's a bone for you to chew. We were mulling over it at the First Call meeting yesterday. Enjoy.
Love sarah.
My classes are getting more interesting by the day. All classes have to be three hours long - whether it is three days of one hour classes, two days of 1.5 hours or one hell of a three-hour class. Those are my favourite ;) Currently I'm studying 'Images of Childhood in Israeli Literature and Film', which is quite different. I must admit I haven't read so much Israeli literature, and I actually quite like it. It's in a classroom in the main library, with these really low and comfy chairs, in which it is extremely easy to get quite comfortable and even manage a little shut-eye(especially for me, the one who always somehow slept through her film classes in first year - but come on, the class began at 9 SHARP every wednesday morning! It was expected that we ALL slept for the first couple hours... after that, well...). But thankfully that hasn't happened to me yet, and hopefully it never will. The class is quite good, with some thought provoking questions and answers, but its still on some basic level. I think I have good rapport with the lecturer because I answered "It was remeniscent of the Holocaust" to one of the questions that she was asking from a silent class. Seriously, its the answer to everything!
But i think they just don't have it as much in their mindset... but then again maybe I am little obsessive.
I am also taking a Publishing and Editing class, a little similar to Vivid last year, we are working on a student anthology - but learning all different types of programs and completing all this reading about editing and the publishing world. So I guess an upgrade on last year's subject. The main reason why I chose this subject was not only the tangible conclusion of the class - I actually was on the editorial board for this publication - but the fact that it is a small class and therefore has more potential to make more friends. The people in the class seem quite friendly and intelligent, so I think it looks good from here. I've become friendly with a New Yorker called Rachel, and we went to hear a talk given by the Art Editor of the Time Out New York Magazine - way cool. This woman was in the art world for over twenty years, but she landed this job by chance. I think that's the way it sometimes is in this world - right place, right time. But being here fits that description of the right place, right time. So much is going on, whether you want to be a part of it is up to you. But then again, it's also difficult to be a part of everything. As I've discovered.
I've been involved in First Call, previously mentioned here on the Nomad, and we had our first layout gathering yesterday in this tiny computer lab in the basement of one of the college houses. Yesterday was my learning session, getting the feel of InDesign (again) and the magazine as a whole. It was really fun getting to know the different people in the group - what was really funny was that out of all of us, only one was not Jewish. The stats are in boys and girls, over a third of the white population of Penn is Jewish - can you believe it?! Penn has the nickname of JewPenn, or the Jewniversity of Penn - and I love it! So different to Melbourne Uni, or anything I've ever really experienced. People understand when you say kosher, and there are heaps of veggie opportunities everywhere. There's even a vegetarian (and most popular) food truck. What's a food truck? I'll get onto that later, when I can show you a picture of it. They're the centre of food traffic around University City in Philadelphia. It's definitely something that's unique to this city. Oh, what the heck, I'll talk about it now.
Food truck - a vendor/truck that sells any cuisine, at the lowest price, specifically attracting students and those residents of West Phildaelphia...if you catch my drift. They're really good - clean, cheap, accessible food all over campus. But I don't have a photo of them now, perhaps later...it's true, you always leave it wanting more....
Not really, but it sounds good.
I made a friend in my History class - I'm studying the Cold War - an International History 1945-1991, with this AMAZING professor, one of the smartest people I have ever been in contact with, he knows EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING, and then some! And he's very nice as well - he let me into his class because I am an exchange student, and had to turn scores of others away! Awww, I felt bad until I knew I lucky I was, esp. because all of his classes are really popular. Anyway, my newly acquired friend, whose name is David, invited me to join his friends for dinner on Tuesday night - where? At this food truck that sells carribean soul food down on 30th street. (By the way, I live just near 40th st.) It was a brisk long walk, and a little FREEZING cold, but we made it down there, only for me to tell them I'm vegetarian. 'No Jerk chicken? Arghh, what are you going to EAT?" they couldn't believe it. But two of the group were jews, so all is understood. I hade some vegetarian carribean food, which was yummy, but extremely sweet, and huge servings! I couldn't finish it. Neither could most. We ate in the train station, which might sound a little seedy, but to those who have seen the 30th St Station (ie Mum), it's a beautiful place to eat yummy unhealthy carribean soul food. Here's a picture of the station, just to reiterate.
Ok, well this blog hasn't been so interesting, but I guess that's just because this week has been same old, same old. I'm trying to get myself involved in a lot of activities - First Call, I might be a Stage Manager for a production of King Lear, and I might even join a basketball team - a little but nervous as to how that goes.. I haven't played in a while.
Last night I went out with my roommates for a roommate dinner. I'll some pics of it later. We went out for Italian - and they were HUGE servings. Now we all know why Americans are fat. I can't finish my dinner most times (I know what you're saying, what? Sarah isn't finished her dinner? Sarah the incincerator? What has gone wrong in this world?) But its true. I love doggy bags...
Afterwards, I joined my aussie girlfriends, Amma and Jess, and a new Aussie we discovered (she didn't make it into Philly in time for orientation, Maija) for a night out on campus. Our host was another exchange student from Melbourne Uni, who has been here for a semester already, Daniel Gold. I vaguely remember him from Maccabi Carnival in Melbourne, to all those who were there in 97/98/99 (can't remember which year). He's sweet and a typical jock, introducing us to his fellow football friends (he plays varsity football for Penn) through their positions of field. It was quite funny, coz none of us girls really knew nor cared where they played in the team - it was one jock after the other. But he was a nice host, and it was an enjoyable night.
I slept in again today. It's the heating in this room. It makes me want to sleep on and on, even though the bed is quite uncomfortable. I guess that was another piece of unwisdom from me that doesn't really stop the world. My roommates and I are hooked on this one tv show that we watch every week - project runway, one of the better reality tv shows. It's a competition between fashion designers, and they actually create something every week. And they're so talented. Quality trash :D
Hope the heat didn't kill you. I wish for some of that now. It's not so cold right now, but I know the worst is yet to come.
Oh, and about writing comments - thanks to those who do! I love hearing from you, and don't be afraid if others that read the comments will see them. We can all end up discussing some trivial thing over these comment threads. Who wants a topic? Okay, here's this: Turkey eggs. Why don't we eat turkey eggs? We eat chicken, some people eat quail... And here in the USA they eat Turkey goddamnit! So why the absence of their eggs from the supermarket shelves?
Here's a bone for you to chew. We were mulling over it at the First Call meeting yesterday. Enjoy.
Love sarah.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Sarah's Snow Show
I thought that i could handle the cold. The really very freezing cold. The cold that makes you hallucinate about hot chocolates and sitting inside and being warm and toasty and even just sitting somewhere that ISN'T SO COLD! This weekend put me to the test.
On Friday night I joined Amanda (my friend that came to Melbourne Uni as part of Penn exchange) to eat Shabbat dinner at Hillel. It was a really place to meet people, and it was especially helpful that I didn't go there by myself. Apparently I wouldn't be spoken to if I arrived by myself, as one girl put it, "Jews don't talk to eachother." Well, i spoke to lots of the faith that night, met lots of interesting people from all over the States, some of whom couldn't believe we have our Pesach in the autumn, or channukah in summertime. After dinner and chatting another girl and I went back to Amanda's apartment (she lives off-campus...ooooh). It was really nice, and the girl (Lauren) also lived in my apartment building, so I think there's some potential friendship there as well. Lauren is also the editor in cheif of First Call, a weekly magazine thats published by Penn, thats full of editorials and opinion pieces. So i'm going to get involved in that too - the first meeting is tonight, so I'll fill you in. There's going to be free pizza as well.
That's the thing. Not only me, an exchange student on a budget (as opposed to the thousands of students here whose parents pay for their meals) but most juniors and seniors tend to find ways of recieving free food. And how they work at it. I went to a meet and greet last night for new people to Harnwell House, the college high rise apartment building I'm in. And my roommates told me to bring back cookies, cookies and more cookies galore. Now we have a cookie jar thanks to last night's stash.
(Update: Tonight I went to a First Call meeting, a meeting of a club that publishes a weekly editorial magazine for and by Penn students. There was pizza, and of course I brought some back to the flat to share with the rest of the girls.Of course. Oh, and I think I'll be involved in their layout and distribution.. perhaps I'll even write. The Aussie perspective of Penn.. ha.)
So when I returned home I found a message on my phone from one of my Australian friends thats also on exchange here. Jess and the other Aussie, Amma, are from Canberra, and decided to go to new york for a couple days. They were leaving at eight in the morning. So i told Jess to call me when she woke up.
I got to sleep at four that night after hanging out with my roommates and walking one of their friends back to her place in the rain..and then had to wake up three hours later! Arghhh! It was hell, as I packed in such a hurry, and forgot to take my gloves, a scarf, any type of hat, or an umbrella.
We collapsed into the ChinaTown Bus for the two hour journey, a bus that costs only $10 and takes its passengers from China Town of one city to the China Town of another. They speed, they talk on their mobile phones, but its a quick and cheap ride nonetheless. People screaming in Chinese is always a welcoming experience, especially at eight in the morning. We were staying in a hostel in Greenwich Village, perfect location, and the rooms and bathrooms were clean. The only real problem about it was that there were no ceilings. We could hear what everyone else was saying, doing etc. At night time this proved quite, erm, interesting.. perhaps even disturbing. One guy to our left was snoring so loudly, and it sounded quite fruity as well. It was pretty gross. But not as sick as the guy to our right... Who seemed to have fun with himself at the expense of us listening - YUK! WE DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT SHIT! NOBODY DOES! And it even woke up Jess, who was already asleep. I was trying to get to sleep, but then i hear our happy neighbour AGAIN! i think it gave me nightmares because i didnt sleep very well that night. Maybe it was also because it was freezing cold. As in freezing. Below zero i'm sure.
But before our lovely sleeping muzak, the girls and I went shopping i
n Soho, browsing in all these gorgeous boutiques and taking in all these beautiful presentations and displays and products that were on show. Here's a chocolatier in Saks Fifth Avenue that we visited on Sunday.
That night we went to a vegetarian restaurant which was yummy, and in a great area. Here are some pics of Jess, Amma and I at Radha, the vegan place.
After dinner, we stumbled into a bar called The Living Room, or the Lounge Room, i can't remember now, and being 21, we were allowed through the mysterious black curtains behind the front door. Its so strange how they're legal drinking age is 21. And how underage drinking at college is so 'cool'. Hrmmm, maybe they should come down to Melbourne for a while, these freshmen. Let their lecturers take them out to the pub for their last (or first) lecture. Ha.
So the music at this bar was awesome, the band were so lively, jumping around the stage and the room, where we were all sitting. There was this woman playing the trombone and the trumpet, and she was fantastic! Here's a photo of the band, but it was real dark, so it's hard to see them.
On Friday night I joined Amanda (my friend that came to Melbourne Uni as part of Penn exchange) to eat Shabbat dinner at Hillel. It was a really place to meet people, and it was especially helpful that I didn't go there by myself. Apparently I wouldn't be spoken to if I arrived by myself, as one girl put it, "Jews don't talk to eachother." Well, i spoke to lots of the faith that night, met lots of interesting people from all over the States, some of whom couldn't believe we have our Pesach in the autumn, or channukah in summertime. After dinner and chatting another girl and I went back to Amanda's apartment (she lives off-campus...ooooh). It was really nice, and the girl (Lauren) also lived in my apartment building, so I think there's some potential friendship there as well. Lauren is also the editor in cheif of First Call, a weekly magazine thats published by Penn, thats full of editorials and opinion pieces. So i'm going to get involved in that too - the first meeting is tonight, so I'll fill you in. There's going to be free pizza as well.
That's the thing. Not only me, an exchange student on a budget (as opposed to the thousands of students here whose parents pay for their meals) but most juniors and seniors tend to find ways of recieving free food. And how they work at it. I went to a meet and greet last night for new people to Harnwell House, the college high rise apartment building I'm in. And my roommates told me to bring back cookies, cookies and more cookies galore. Now we have a cookie jar thanks to last night's stash.
(Update: Tonight I went to a First Call meeting, a meeting of a club that publishes a weekly editorial magazine for and by Penn students. There was pizza, and of course I brought some back to the flat to share with the rest of the girls.Of course. Oh, and I think I'll be involved in their layout and distribution.. perhaps I'll even write. The Aussie perspective of Penn.. ha.)
So when I returned home I found a message on my phone from one of my Australian friends thats also on exchange here. Jess and the other Aussie, Amma, are from Canberra, and decided to go to new york for a couple days. They were leaving at eight in the morning. So i told Jess to call me when she woke up.
I got to sleep at four that night after hanging out with my roommates and walking one of their friends back to her place in the rain..and then had to wake up three hours later! Arghhh! It was hell, as I packed in such a hurry, and forgot to take my gloves, a scarf, any type of hat, or an umbrella.
We collapsed into the ChinaTown Bus for the two hour journey, a bus that costs only $10 and takes its passengers from China Town of one city to the China Town of another. They speed, they talk on their mobile phones, but its a quick and cheap ride nonetheless. People screaming in Chinese is always a welcoming experience, especially at eight in the morning. We were staying in a hostel in Greenwich Village, perfect location, and the rooms and bathrooms were clean. The only real problem about it was that there were no ceilings. We could hear what everyone else was saying, doing etc. At night time this proved quite, erm, interesting.. perhaps even disturbing. One guy to our left was snoring so loudly, and it sounded quite fruity as well. It was pretty gross. But not as sick as the guy to our right... Who seemed to have fun with himself at the expense of us listening - YUK! WE DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT SHIT! NOBODY DOES! And it even woke up Jess, who was already asleep. I was trying to get to sleep, but then i hear our happy neighbour AGAIN! i think it gave me nightmares because i didnt sleep very well that night. Maybe it was also because it was freezing cold. As in freezing. Below zero i'm sure.
But before our lovely sleeping muzak, the girls and I went shopping i
n Soho, browsing in all these gorgeous boutiques and taking in all these beautiful presentations and displays and products that were on show. Here's a chocolatier in Saks Fifth Avenue that we visited on Sunday.That night we went to a vegetarian restaurant which was yummy, and in a great area. Here are some pics of Jess, Amma and I at Radha, the vegan place.
After dinner, we stumbled into a bar called The Living Room, or the Lounge Room, i can't remember now, and being 21, we were allowed through the mysterious black curtains behind the front door. Its so strange how they're legal drinking age is 21. And how underage drinking at college is so 'cool'. Hrmmm, maybe they should come down to Melbourne for a while, these freshmen. Let their lecturers take them out to the pub for their last (or first) lecture. Ha.
So the music at this bar was awesome, the band were so lively, jumping around the stage and the room, where we were all sitting. There was this woman playing the trombone and the trumpet, and she was fantastic! Here's a photo of the band, but it was real dark, so it's hard to see them.
On the way home we got ourselves caught in a mini snow storm. That's right, Sarah's (not Slava's, sorry Bunny) Snow Show. The wind ripped right through us, chilled us to our very bones, and it was a long walk back to the hostel! Arghh! I was yelling in the wind, trying to get over the cold, and Jess and Amma formed a protective sheild with their umbrellas, which didnt last very long. Amma held her brolly out in front of her to fight the wind, but she couldn't see anybody, so she walked straight into the back of someone on the street! It was lucky he took it well, and laughed it off, coz it could have gone down not too nicely. The snow was pelting our faces like tiny sharp pin pricks, we thought something this painful HAD to be good for our skin. Let's hope.
The next day we went for brunch with one of Jess' friends from new york, and tried to walk down 5th avenue and central park... i say tried because it was toooooo cold. We kept taking coffee breaks just to keep warm. Here are some photos of us around central park on Sunday.
Do I have nice skin? Maybe snow storms will be showing at a beautician near you?
That's all from me for now. Hope you enjoyed my trip to New York. I'm sorry you weren't there to share it. I have to go to sleep now, I have so much reading to do before tomorrow's class. And it's one in the morning. Arghh!
Miss you all.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
More Pics of the Pad
Okay, so this is my home. Here's the rest of the pictures. We have many different cereals. The end.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
College USA
Phew. Finally the post that had been long-deserving of writing - except at the moment my time has been swallowed up by this ridiculous system of 'shopping' for classes. Yes, that's right, this week is shopping week at Penn - and I don't mean we all go on a field trip down to Gap. I wish. Well, maybe not Gap, but...
Okay! Welcome to the University of Pennsylvania! Wow! This is a University that blows Melbourne Uni out of the water. Penn was THE first uni of the USA, established in the 1740s by Mister Ben Franklin himself. Penn is situated in Philadelphia, which is a little American History crazed itself - as it was the first capital of the USA, and houses the LIberty Bell and Independence Hall (two significant historical monuments that don't really appeal to me. It was where they signed the Declaration of Independence as well as the Constitution. Exciting stuff, I'm sure, but it doesn't really interest me so much. But i'm not alone - my roommate Rebecca actually despises American history, and she's American! So i guess my apathy isn't so bad. But then again, am I so interested in Australian history? Are any of us? The majority, I mean.)
Someone in Study Abroad World loves me, as I scored one of the BEST apartments around. I'm currently living in one of the three high rise apartment buildings located on campus, and sharing it with three gorgeous people. I have my own room, which is quite big, and one of my walls is actually a window, a ceiling to floor, wall to wall WINDOW, that overlooks the rest of the campus. And what a view. We have our own kitchenette, but I'm not sure how much cooking is really going to go on... And a living room, and a nice spacious dining table etc. My roommates are really friendly as well, for which I am also extremely lucky. Nadeige is from Miami, Rebecca is from New Jersey and Jess is from the suburbs of Philadelphia. I'll have a picture of them later on. I'm the only arts girl. Nareige and Jess study business at Wharton, and Rebecca studies Bio (which leads on to Medicine for Graduate School).
The University of Pennsylvania is absolutely beautiful. The buildings range from being built in the 1700s, the 1800s, and of course the 1900s. I'm still getting used to walking around everywhere and getting VERY lost, but I love just looking up and around me and smiling in the comfort of these surroundings. It's something else.
So, I actually arrived to Penn on Thursday, dragging my suitcases across the uni (all three) and recieved the key to my apartment 703. The apartment was a mess - the floor was real grotty, there were bottles of alchohol around the place without lids on them, and THERE WAS A TIOLET IN THE LIVING ROOM! Yes kids, a toilet. Somehow it disconnected itself from its rightful place in the bathroom. What's more, the shower was, erm, broken aswell, and there was muddy footprints all over the tiles.
To be quite honest I can't remember my very first reaction. I know one of the inital ones was to immedietely start vacumming (huh? does this sound like me?) and washing up. The lack of toilet and shower was a bit of a problem. So was the lack of roommates. Perhaps these girls loved to party, i actually thought for a moment. And one of their parties got so wild they removed the toilet and left in lying down in the middle of the common room. Perhaps...
But alas, I was wrong. Very wrong. It was fixed the next morning, and by the time Nadeige arrived she had no clue as to what I was talking about. Boy, did she miss out.
Over the weekend I went to First Fridays, a Philly tradition that occurs the first Friday of every month. This special Friday, the galleries of Old Philadelphia open their doors to the public and we hopped from one gallery to another, even popped into some cosy bookstores as well, and each place provides wine and food/nibbles and sometimes beer or cider. It's a really nice way of seeing contemporary art and mingling with different people.
On Sunday my mum came down from New York and I showed her around the university, my dorm etc and we went downtown for lunch (and stopped to see the Liberty Bell...well, we only just 'happened' to see it, we were waiting to be seated and took a walk around). No less it was a teary goodbye, but, I guess, this is really the beginning of this adventure.
Hope I haven't bored you all. I know this all sounds pretty bland, but so far there's not so much to report. The Americans are really friendly, the college food is pretty crap, this week is Rush week for the Fraternities and Sororities. Arghh. LIttle freshmen (first years) trying their darndest to impress the alpha phi crappa delta heirarchy. Straight from the movies. (For more detailed readings into such Greek traditions, see Legally Blonde and Van Wilder...)
Hope the heat isn't killing you. It's not so cold here, so I'm not jealous.
Yet.
Okay! Welcome to the University of Pennsylvania! Wow! This is a University that blows Melbourne Uni out of the water. Penn was THE first uni of the USA, established in the 1740s by Mister Ben Franklin himself. Penn is situated in Philadelphia, which is a little American History crazed itself - as it was the first capital of the USA, and houses the LIberty Bell and Independence Hall (two significant historical monuments that don't really appeal to me. It was where they signed the Declaration of Independence as well as the Constitution. Exciting stuff, I'm sure, but it doesn't really interest me so much. But i'm not alone - my roommate Rebecca actually despises American history, and she's American! So i guess my apathy isn't so bad. But then again, am I so interested in Australian history? Are any of us? The majority, I mean.)
Someone in Study Abroad World loves me, as I scored one of the BEST apartments around. I'm currently living in one of the three high rise apartment buildings located on campus, and sharing it with three gorgeous people. I have my own room, which is quite big, and one of my walls is actually a window, a ceiling to floor, wall to wall WINDOW, that overlooks the rest of the campus. And what a view. We have our own kitchenette, but I'm not sure how much cooking is really going to go on... And a living room, and a nice spacious dining table etc. My roommates are really friendly as well, for which I am also extremely lucky. Nadeige is from Miami, Rebecca is from New Jersey and Jess is from the suburbs of Philadelphia. I'll have a picture of them later on. I'm the only arts girl. Nareige and Jess study business at Wharton, and Rebecca studies Bio (which leads on to Medicine for Graduate School).
The University of Pennsylvania is absolutely beautiful. The buildings range from being built in the 1700s, the 1800s, and of course the 1900s. I'm still getting used to walking around everywhere and getting VERY lost, but I love just looking up and around me and smiling in the comfort of these surroundings. It's something else.
So, I actually arrived to Penn on Thursday, dragging my suitcases across the uni (all three) and recieved the key to my apartment 703. The apartment was a mess - the floor was real grotty, there were bottles of alchohol around the place without lids on them, and THERE WAS A TIOLET IN THE LIVING ROOM! Yes kids, a toilet. Somehow it disconnected itself from its rightful place in the bathroom. What's more, the shower was, erm, broken aswell, and there was muddy footprints all over the tiles.
To be quite honest I can't remember my very first reaction. I know one of the inital ones was to immedietely start vacumming (huh? does this sound like me?) and washing up. The lack of toilet and shower was a bit of a problem. So was the lack of roommates. Perhaps these girls loved to party, i actually thought for a moment. And one of their parties got so wild they removed the toilet and left in lying down in the middle of the common room. Perhaps...
But alas, I was wrong. Very wrong. It was fixed the next morning, and by the time Nadeige arrived she had no clue as to what I was talking about. Boy, did she miss out.
Over the weekend I went to First Fridays, a Philly tradition that occurs the first Friday of every month. This special Friday, the galleries of Old Philadelphia open their doors to the public and we hopped from one gallery to another, even popped into some cosy bookstores as well, and each place provides wine and food/nibbles and sometimes beer or cider. It's a really nice way of seeing contemporary art and mingling with different people.
On Sunday my mum came down from New York and I showed her around the university, my dorm etc and we went downtown for lunch (and stopped to see the Liberty Bell...well, we only just 'happened' to see it, we were waiting to be seated and took a walk around). No less it was a teary goodbye, but, I guess, this is really the beginning of this adventure.
Hope I haven't bored you all. I know this all sounds pretty bland, but so far there's not so much to report. The Americans are really friendly, the college food is pretty crap, this week is Rush week for the Fraternities and Sororities. Arghh. LIttle freshmen (first years) trying their darndest to impress the alpha phi crappa delta heirarchy. Straight from the movies. (For more detailed readings into such Greek traditions, see Legally Blonde and Van Wilder...)
Hope the heat isn't killing you. It's not so cold here, so I'm not jealous.
Yet.
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