An Introduction to Brisbane

I haven’t been watching much T.V. in the past few months, but every time I have it’s been nothing but terrible news about Queensland – floods, cyclones, people losing  just about everything. Beyond the surfing imagery of the Gold Coast, this is all I really know about Queensland – that it’s a beautiful place that’s been hit hard by nature, has world-famous surf beaches, and that QUT (Queensland University of Technology) is Ryan’s university. (For the record, I even had to pull out a map to see where QLD is in relation to the rest of Australia. See map on the left for some context.) 

We landed in the Brisbane airport on a cloudy, humid morning, and looking outside the plane window I immediately fell in love. Rolling hills, thick with green jungle-looking shrubbery. A wide, snaking river with islands and sand dunes out toward the ocean. Big houses perched at the top of hills, enveloped in dark green vegetation. What a beautiful, beautiful place. 

We spent our first day doing campus setup after a driving-on-the-left-side adventure (thank God Jake has done it before so I didn’t have to!!) and taking the long way into the city. (Apparently Brisbane is one of the 3^rd largest cities in the world so note to selves – get a GPS with the next rental car.) The University of Queensland is Ground Zero of the flood zone – located virtually on a peninsula into the river, with a water ferry that transports students between campus and the city. Jake and I didn’t fully realize this until we noticed the muddy, silt-brown color of the river, and sediment markings a good 20-30 feet up from where it currently sits, with scatterings of empty stores and apartment buildings along the edge. Beyond that, everything looked perfectly normal – the streets were paved and clean, no obvious signs of water damage or trauma. On our way into the Uni, we saw a scattering of couches, chairs and dingy suitcases at the edge of the street, and I mentally associated it with a frat house getting rid of excessively partied-out furniture. I looked a little closer and noticed that they were all actually new – just covered in mud, soaked through with water, and the house they belonged to was empty. Actually, the whole block of houses was empty. Unbelievably strange.

Two blocks up, the campus buzzed with Orientation week the same way any campus would, with friendly tour guides in collared purple shirts directing lost first-years, and groups of stylish students wearing sandals and “sunnies,” eating lunch in the campus cafes. We hiked our way through sandstone buildings, eyeing out the large lecture halls and strategizing Monday’s plan of attack. The university pathways felt exactly like a walk through the San Diego Wild Animal Park, with trees and plants jutting out into the sidewalk. At one point, we noticed a bunch of red balloons hanging limply in the air under a building, and discovered that 3 spiders nearly the size of my hand had built a web to keep them there. Several hours later, I was bit by some mosquito-esque pest (tiny bites on my wrist and knee), nearly stepped on a giant dead frog (that I later found out is venomous, good thing I didn’t touch it) and Liezl informed me that Bull Sharks hang out in the river. Okay jet lag, you can stop now. I’m pretty sure I’ve realized that I’m in Australia.

Sydney & Bondi Beach

I’m really sorry guys, but I can’t hang out in Davis Friday night because I’m leaving for Australia. 

…Wait, what? 

Two weeks ago I was bicycling down Russell Avenue in Davis, simultaneously feeling around in my fuzzy jacket for my ringing cell phone.  Boss called: I have a plane ticket to Australia in two weeks with my name on it. Typical.

So now I’m sitting in an airport terminal in LAX, soaking wet from the rainstorm, wearing jeans, a long sleeve cotton shirt and a hoodie.  Tomorrow, I will wake up in the middle of a humid summer, swap my single pair of jeans for shorts, and will head to Bondi Beach to begin another season of recruiter training. 

Yes, it’s official:  life is absolutely surreal. 

Now, it’s 5:50am and the sun is barely rising – jet lag has gotten the best of me and I’ve woken up every two hours since midnight. Maybe it’s because my mind and body won’t accept that I’m really here. That yesterday I looked out at the Sydney skyline in a sundress, ate banana bread for lunch and watched the sunset from the beach; the freckles and sun spots returning to my hibernating winter skin.

I decided to make the most of my insomnia by going out for a run. Surprisingly, I wasn’t the only one – at a few minutes past 6am, the beach was filled with beautiful people of all ages running, squatting, lunging, sprinting, and doing yoga across the barely lit sand. Along the strip of beach, dozens of tan, toned women in shorts and tank tops were following along with a training instructor, doing planks, dips and bicycle stretches. Clusters of tan, buff men in speedos ran and chatted together along the pavement. Old men in short-shorts gathered around the workout equipment on the grass, taking turns doing sets of 30 pull-ups, and acrobatic leg lifts on the metal bars above the sand. I did a running loop, then jumped into the water and nearly cried – 72 degrees and turquoise with perfectly barreling waves. I’m sorry in advance friends and family, but I might never be willing to leave this place.

It’s been a couple days now and the jet lag is still plaguing me, but I’ve almost come to terms with the fact that I’m really here. I saw Jena last night down at the Harbor, overlooking the Opera house. We wandered through Sydney at night with barely a shrug on, had a beer, and caught up on the last two years of our lives. Nearly four years ago, Jena was my east-coast transplant Craigslist subletor in the Radcliffe house that I never ended up living in, because I thought I was moving to Chicago. At that point in our lives, we  jousted on bicycles, had strong discussions about the differences between California and Connecticut, danced shamelessly at house parties, cooked (or in my case: failed at cooking) extravagant dinners, and coexisted in the dysfunctional  and beautiful family that was The Radcliff House. 

Now, Jena is an ex-cattle rancher and accomplished business woman in the corporate world living in downtown Sydney, and I am here for work; not even sure where my next plane ticket is headed in two days. It was inevitable that our paths would align again.

Today, I got my partner! His name is Jake, and he’s a lifeguard from Huntington Beach who studied, surfed and worked here in Australia back in college – I knew immediately that we’d be friends. We’ve decided our team name is California Gold, and that surfing will be an essential supplement to our work life. This afternoon, we found out that we’re going to Queensland: home of Brisbane, (“Brisvegas”) the Gold and Sunshine Coast, many of the world’s most famous surf beaches, and of course the infamous Ryan Radford, Liezel and Heinz, three fantastic members of my Australian ISV family. This is going to be an absolutely amazing season… I can feel it already :)

Ode to the Airplane Seat

Why is it so hard for me to write in airplanes? Probably because of the anticipation. The peacefulness. Every time I watch another city disappear outside the window, it’s like ascending to the peak of a rollercoaster… feet tapping, hands clinched. Having no idea what’s ahead beyond the mere structure of the tracks – the geography of the location.

Fall asleep in my home city, wake up in an adult world. Eat a hot breakfast in the middle of winter, have a light dinner under the setting summer sun. 

The pure magic that is travel all begins in this little seat: a two foot box that connects me through time and seasons with the people that I love. The places I dream about.  The novelty and adventure that keeps me wanderlust and wanting more. 

So this is my ode to the airplane seat - for being simple. Stable. A constant in my life that doesn’t expect or even nurture, but just supports my way of life.

Weeks 3 & 4: Ontario, Canada (London and Waterloo)

 *Note: This post was published a bit after the fact ;)

Tuesday afternoon, I was told that I had a 6am flight Friday morning from Reno, NV to Ontario, Canada. No big deal. So, with two and a half days notice, I packed up my bags and headed off to Canada - leaving my original partner Meetal, and the familiar West Coast of the U.S. behind me.

After zero hours of sleep, 12 hours on a plane, 2 layovers, and a labored sprint across 3 airport terminals, I miraculously made it to London - London, Canada, that is - where we plan to spend the week at the University of Western Ontario, one of the largest and most beautiful campuses I've ever seen.

From the time first stepped on campus, I couldn't help but make excessive Harry Potter parallels - stone buildings with tall, angular spires; green and red ivy crawling up the sides. Students in boots and scarves, flooding in and out of lecture halls with over 700 students. (See below for a relatively small room, normally filled with students on a busy school day.)

Canada: it's only been a day here so far, and I'm already impressed and intimidated by you.

Try Saying This in Under 2 Minutes, Between 20 and 30 Times Per Day...

Weeks 1 & 2: The West Coast (San Marcos, CA and Reno, NV)

 ***Note: I didn't realize how encompassing 70 hours of work and travel a week can be, so these updates might be a bit more sporadic than originally planned. Hang in there, and I'll try my best to insert excerpts from my journal from time to time and keep you updated!**

In.Freaking.Sane. That's the only way I could possibly describe this job... this crazy life I've stumbled upon.

It's 5am and I'm working on zero hours of sleep and a 20 hour workday behind me. Oh, and I'm on a plane to Canada, with three days notice.

Adrenaline and instinct have become my best friends; learning how to connect without attaching, appreciate without longing.

But there's something so fantastic and exhilarating about all of it... constantly testing my limits. Seeing sparks of inspiration in the eyes of the students I talk to. Hopping on a cross-country plane at the crack of dawn, and waking up in a city I've never been before. It's a constant reminder that the future is always uncertain - even when we think it is. 

Already in the first few weeks, I've discovered the value of being able to live in the moment. To cherish connections, however confined by space or time; and to always be open to the world and new possibilities. I can't even imagine what the next few months will be like... but one thing is certain, I've learned to stop expecting, and just to accept and go along with the ride.

Lessons from Week One:
So the first few weeks inevitably came with a few hard knocks... and even moreso for some of my fellow recruiters who hitchiked, got drenched in hot coffee, missed plane flights, and sat alone in hotel rooms without even facebook for company. Good news is, most everyone found a way to bounce back quickly and make the most of it. And as for me, I picked up few good lessons from my first week on-the-job:

#1) Always know what class you're going into before trying to make an announcement.
My very, first-ever classroom announcement was a bit of a bust - I stumbled into a small classroom with about a dozen asian students sitting in a circle of desks, waiting for their professor. I walked in, noticed they were all staring at me, and got nervous... so out came the word vomit. "Um... hi! Have you ever wanted to travel to Australia, Europe, Africa, South America or Thailand? Yeah... we're having an information meeting, or I mean, I'M having an information meeting... Thursday... you can do volunteer work...." and as I smiled and handed them flyers, I noticed that they were looking at each other awkwardly, and one guy said something in Chineese to the girl next to him, who then said to me very politely "we do not speak english." She handed me back my flyer, and pointed to the board - "ESL: English as a Second Language for Foreign Exchange Students." Awesome. (Also did an annoucement later in a class full of deaf students which was actually alot of fun - although I had to slow down so the sign language interpreter could keep up with  me.)

#2) Never, ever hesitate.
As a little rundown of what an average workday consists of for me: 10 minutes to the hour, "stalk the halls," pace up and down the hallway (sometimes multiple floors) looking for a full classroom with a friendly-ish seeming professor. Ask to make an announcement. Success? Say "be right back!" Run to the next class, repeat. Denied? Run to the next class, repeat. Run back to first class. Make announcement. Make another  announcement. Make... ANOTHER announcement while yelling, jumping, barely breathing, and sweating like a wet shower curtain. Then BREATHE, rest. ....and repeat, 45 short minutes later, every hour for 8-10 hours a day. After a few weeks of this, it became nothing less than routine - hesitation wasn't even a question.

But that first week on the job, I almost let my head get a hold of me.

Monday afternoon, I hiked it across campus at CSU San Marcos to try my luck at the biggest lecture hall on campus. (Only about 400 people, but at the time it seemed huge.) When I got there, I realized that no other classes were beginning anywhere near mine, so this was it: I could make only one announcement this hour, and it had to be THE one. As everyone poured into the lecture hall, I waited near the entrance, holding my pile of flyers and sign up sheets, running the announcement through my mind. As I watched more and more people fill up the seats, the nerves started creeping up on me... what am I doing? CRAP! what are the odds? A girl walked by that I recognized from high school!

"I can't do this." I started thinking to myself. "There has to be more people here who will recognize me. I need to just do a relaxed, "cool" version of my announcement and go back to the smaller classes." So I bailed. I turned around, walked halfway out the door, then heard the professor begin class - and then something just came over me. "No, this is my one shot, and screw being cool" some invisible motivational speaker yelled into my ear.

So I turned back around, and ran - except this time, toward the professor's podium. She had just opened up Powerpoint, and I walked up and said "excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but can I make a quick announcement about a volunteer meeting this Thursday?" and much to my relief and surprise, she said "...sure, just make it fast."

HEYguysmynameismichellefrominternationalstudentvolunteersandIwanttotellyouaboutanINCREDABLEprogramthissummer
ifyouveeverwantedtotraveltoplaceslikeAUSTRALIAEuropeAFRICAsouthamericaorTHAILAND!!

The first paragraph came out like word vomit (but convincing word vomit apparently, because people were paying attention) and suddenly, the confidence and memorization took over. I air-white-water-rafted, gestured a cheetah claw, mimed a ticking clock to show the meeting time, and by the end of it - the whole class was laughing and clapping. Even the professor seemed pleasantly amused!

I took a deep breath. Bright red in the face and probably shaking, and ended with a screeching "see you guys on Thursday!" then ran up the lecture steps and out the hallway, accepting high fives and residual applause from my performance.

And just like little children's screams in the Disney Move Monsters Inc., there began my fuel from students' applause and laughter. It was addicting. And I would never, ever hesitate again.

Big Bear: Week Two

Pretty typical study break in the cabin

Apparently, it's Saturday. I had no idea what day of the week it was until I turned my phone back on this morning and noticed. The last week has flown by... every day more packed and blurred, with fits of hysterical laughter, hours of midterm-week style studying, spontaneous games and dance parties, and a generous dose of sleep deprivation.

It's amazing how quickly we've all bonded with each other - a week in, and I've already found myself saying "keen" and adding "as" to the ends of words, (favorite phrase of the day: "mates as!" - meaning "great friends") and making jokes at and nicknames for people who eight days ago were complete strangers. ISV always has a way of doing that somehow - "bringing likeminded people together," (as I've memorized from my meeting script) but really. I can't believe that these passionate and extroverted fellow travel addicts aren't just new friends ... they're coworkers. And in four short days we'll all  be out there on our own to do our job - afterall, that's why we're all here. But I'm still going to miss this little summer camp and those crazy Australasians.