Aussie Slang: Decoding the Mystery

One of the major concerns of anyone studying abroad in a foreign country is being able to speak the language.  If you’re going to live there for five months you want to at least be able to stutter your way through conversations with a vague idea of what’s being said.  That’s one of the reasons I chose Australia.  They speak English, I’d thought to myself before leaving, and their accents are amazing.  I’ll be fine.  What I wasn’t counting on though was the abundance of slang (most of which was just terms I wasn’t familiar with) that I’d be forced to interpret upon my arrival.

The main thing here is that the way they talk is just so much more proper sounding than the way we talk in America.  At first it was a bit of a struggle.  Some of the people with thicker accents were a little hard to understand even when they used words I knew and why was ketchup called tomato sauce?  Wasn’t that what people put on pasta?  I certainly didn’t want to dip my chips (which is what they call french fries) into pasta sauce.

A little over two months later though I’m beginning to adapt.  I hear people saying “I reckon it’ll be heaps of fun if you’re keen” or some version of this on an almost daily basis and, to be honest, it doesn’t even phase me anymore. I’m starting to see it as normal.  I’ve even caught myself using Aussie lingo in daily conversations without trying to be ironic (apologies for when I come back home and I’m still talking like this).  But as much progress as I’ve made in understanding the Aussie lingo around me, I still have a ways to go.  For now (as promised) here’s some highlights.

     1) I Reckon

I’ll admit when I first heard the phrase “I reckon…” I thought I’d been transported back in time.  I clearly remember laughing at whoever said this to me (sorry about that by the way).  I was just so shocked.  I’d never in my life heard anyone say I reckon at least not in real life.  The only uses of “I reckon” I’d heard involved period movies that took place in the deep south.  Growing up in America I was much more used to phrases such as I think, I believe, or even I’d guess (all of which people replace with I reckon here).

     2) Heaps

Here’s another one I found funny.  Heaps (and sometimes loads) is used to mean a lot and let me tell you I’ve literally heard the word heaps used heaps of times this week alone.  This one is used even more often than I reckon and I hear it almost daily.  Come to this event on campus there’ll be heaps of free drinks, go here you’ll have heaps of fun, I can’t go out tonight I have heaps of work to do (you get the point).  I’m starting to actually hear myself use heaps in my day-to-day life and I don’t mean ironically either.  My friends and I used to throw this word into conversation to amuse each other and now we don’t even realise we’re doing.  That being said, this is one of the words that will be coming back stateside with me.

     3) Keen

Keen has many different meanings here but two of its meanings are more common than others. The first of these means to be willing to do something or go somewhere. (i.e. Are you keen to go out tonight?)  If I had to choose, this is probably the one I hear most often, when talking the people in my hall.  People are always keen to hang out or go into the city when there’s no work to be done for classes.  The second is to be interested in someone or something (i.e. Are you keen on him?).  They’re definitely keen on barbecues here judging by how many sausages we ate those first few weeks.  Though less common than being keen to do something, this is also used quite frequently (and yes keen is another one of the words I’ve noticed myself picking up). 

     4) Cheers

At first this one was a little confusing and (somewhat embarrassingly) this was one of the ones it took me the longest to figure out.  I’d hold a door open for someone or thank a cashier for my coffee only to be greeted with a smiling response of “cheers.”  I just couldn’t figure it out and when I finally did my friends responded with Duh Kaitlyn (apparently I should have asked them in the beginning).  Anyways, long story short, if you’re ever in Australia and someone says cheers, no you are not toasting something.  They’re just saying thanks.

     5) Mate

As an American one of the Australian stereotypes was that everyone goes around saying G’day mate (this is probably because of Steve Irwin).  Well sorry to burst your bubble fellow Americans but no one here actually says G’day (something my Australian friends made sure I knew pretty quickly). They do however refer to each other as mate.  Mate is typically used to refer to your friends but there are different tiers of “mateship” here and your mate might be a best friend (your best mate), an acquaintance, or just someone who’s name you’ve forgotten.

     6) How you going?

This is probably one of the weirder ones.  A lot of people here deny that they say this but all of us internationals (Loyola and non-Loyola) are hearing the same thing.  “How you going?”  We’re told that we’re just hearing it wrong and they actually are just saying “how are doing?” but somehow I doubt that not one of us has heard them correctly in the almost three months we’ve been here.  So despite the debate from my Aussie friends this one makes the list.  As far as we internationals can tell this one is just a way of asking how someone’s doing (but without saying so!) when you’re passing them and you’re both going places separate places.  

Painting the Town

*fulfils exercise 15

Graffiti is an art form in Melbourne (and Australia in general).  Rather than having crude messages marring the walls with their jet black words as tends to be the case back home in the States, entire alleyways of Melbourne are dedicated to intricate sweeping murals of graffiti.  These murals don’t detract from the beauty of the city (as some of you might think).  Instead they add to it, bringing out the hidden art culture places like Melbourne are known for.

Almost every city I’ve visited here has at least some of this graffiti, but Melbourne’s was the best and most extensive I’ve seen so far.  We went to see the graffiti on a night where the navy sky was dotted with bright white stars.  The lack of natural light was supplemented by the soft yellow glow of the street lights overhead though and our vision wasn’t affected as we wandered through the city.

I’ll admit when I heard about this graffiti art in the Melbourne alleys I was skeptical (as some of you probably are reading this).  Graffiti as art?  The only graffiti I had experience with was anything but.  Some of the others in our group had recommended it though so off we went in search of graffiti that could be considered art.  Not bothering to take my camera out of my purse I followed Katie and Hailey to the cross-street the others had told us about and my skepticism vanished.  All I could think as I dug out my camera and followed them into the alley was wow!  This graffiti was unlike anything I’d seen back home.

Swirls of baby blue and mix with streaks of neon green and the soft grey of the concrete as you wander down alley after alley greeted by an endless rainbow of colour wherever you turn.  The brightness of the colours, unaffected by the weather was amazing.  There was every colour Crayola had ever put in a box (and I mean the big boxes grade schoolers brag about).  Mochas, mints, lemon yellows, and whispy cloud whites among so many others I couldn’t even begin to name them.

Tropically coloured fish, lavender birds, and human faces stare out from the walls amid lyrics from popular songs daring you to dispute the validity of this art form, but you can’t.  Wandering the streets of Melbourne at night it’s impossible to argue that graffiti can be art.  The murals really are art, they’re not some message thrown on a wall by a sullen-faced teenager, they’re the creations of local artists made available to the public on the walls of the city.

P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney

*fulfils popular tourist attraction

After two months of living in and traveling through Australia I’d seen (and photographed) more than I’d ever dreamed of but until this past weekend one important destination had been missing.  Almost every country has that one spot you have to go, that thing you absolutely have to see, that spot your trip just isn’t complete without.  These popular landmarks are the things that come to mind when you think of the country and this past weekend I got to visit Australia’s.  That’s right I’m talking about the Sydney Opera House.

As anyone who’s seen Finding Nemo a couple hundred times knows (aka most people my age) the only thing Dory remembers is one address in Sydney--the place where they will finally find Nemo.  This address doesn’t exist (trust me I google mapped it there is no 42 Wallaby Way) but even without a visit to this fictional Disney address, Sydney is well worth the trip.

The weather for the weekend was supposed to be dismal and rainy and when Saturday morning rolled around the rain kept its promise alternating between drizzling, pouring and no rain at all (in typical Australia fashion).  But the weather didn’t stop us.  We only had three days in Sydney and we were certainly weren’t going to spend them sitting around our cramped little hostel room.  Determined not to a little rain ruin our weekend, we pulled our rain jackets tight around us and headed out the door of our hostel into the rain.  We were going to see the famous Sydney Opera House.

When we were wandering the city the day before we’d seen that you could go on a tour of the Opera House.  It was the perfect way to stay dry while still taking in all Sydney had to offer.  Lucky for us, the short walk to the harbour was mostly sheltered by overhangs so we managed not to get too drenched.  

Before we knew it the white shells of the Opera House loomed in the distance, shining even in the rain.  From the looks of the umbrellas dotting the steps, the other tourists weren’t deterred by the weather either.  Everyone had braved the weather to see this unique building for themselves.

Ready for our own Sydney Opera House experience, our group of five counted to three and dashed across the road in a hurry to be out of the rain (which of course had just picked up again).  We hadn’t known what times the tours were and we barely made it in time but as we walked though this famous landmark I began to feel giddy with excitement.  Standing there inside the Opera House, looking through the glass at the Harbour Bridge was the perfect reminder of just how lucky we were to be in Australia. 

Our guide led us through the various halls where we marvelled at the sets for the upcoming ballet. We got to sit in the audience, just for a couple minutes, and really take it in.  No pictures were allowed in the halls due to copyright, but that almost made it better.  Without the distraction of trying to capture the moment in a photo we were able to really appreciate the architecture.  The shells towered high above us their insides purposely ribbed to allow for the best sound quality possible and tiered balconies ringed the walls over head (believe it or not those were the cheaper seats).  Everything except for the upholstery was original, untouched since the Opera House opened in 1973 (13 years later than originally expected).  As someone who’s danced since high school I could have sat there in the plush chairs admiring the hall for hours but all too early we were ushered out of the Opera Hall and back into the foyer for the rest of our tour.

Touching the Opera House

During a lull in the rain we even got to go outside and touch the shells for ourselves.  The tour was the perfect combination of historical facts and sightseeing which for me at least this involves wandering around taking crazy camera lady tourist pictures of anything and everything imaginable (My friends and I have literally held photo-shoots in front of signs that say keep left).   This I should mention is exactly what happened.  We took countless snapshots posing in front the Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge (after all we were tourists and you can only keep me away from my camera for so long) before heading back inside to find the perfect souvenirs to commemorate the trip.

The Perils of Packing

Pack. Backpack through Queensland for 10 days. Unpack. School. Pack. Spend a weekend on Great Ocean Road. Unpack. School. Pack….this time for three days in Sydney. 

As any study abroad student knows a semester’s worth of traveling and amazing adventures comes with one major downside….packing.  When you’re traveling so much it seems like you’re constantly packing or unpacking.  I haven’t been at home in Melbourne for longer than five consecutive days since I left for One Fish Two Fish on March 28th and with all the traveling my life has been a whirlwind of packing.  Oh how I loathe packing.  Traveling has always been one of my favourite things (there’s so much to do and see) and I wouldn’t trade the trips I’ve been on for the world but as much as I love traveling, I’ve never been a fan of packing.  Let me tell you why...

     1. Procrastination. 

As someone who hates packing I frequently leave it till the last minute in the false hope that everything I need will just magically pack itself when I’m not looking.  Sophomore year of college I didn’t start packing for move out until 10pm the night before I was leaving and here in Australia the same pattern is emerging.  Every time a trip rolls around, I wait until the day before (thankfully usually earlier than 10pm) to pack then the next morning I’m rushing around hoping I haven’t forgotten something important like a toothbrush (this has happened), my camera, or worse my wallet.  Even as I sit here writing this blog entry, I’m procrastinating another round of packing.

     2. I’m a chronic over-packer.  

Just ask my roommates or anyone who’s ever had to deal with me on Loyola’s move in day (thanks for putting up with it girls) and any of them will tell you that “Kaitlyn brings way more stuff than she’ll ever realistically need.”  Whenever we go on family trips my dad’s the first one to ask why I need so much when I’ll only be away for week (he even refers to my purse as my overnight bag).  That being said, packing only one suitcase, one duffel bag, and one backpack for five months of living in a foreign country was not something I was looking forward to back in February and there are definitely a few things I wish I had that got left behind (thankfully my mom sent most of these to me).  Almost two months after this first bout of packing panic, One Fish Two Fish made my chronic over-packing come out in full force.  With only one duffle bag and a backpack for nine days it took me four tries to fit everything I needed, which brings me to packing peril number three.

    3. Weight Limits. 

The worst part about traveling by plane is the weight limits especially when you’re trying to save money by only bringing carry-on baggage (which many airlines actually weigh here).  For an over-packer this has all sorts of problems, the most important of these being that you can’t cheat the scale by stuffing your carry-ons.  Weight limits are real and enforced.  When we leave for Sydney tomorrow night I will be allowed a grand total of 10 kilograms combined weight between my two carry-ons.  Thats only 20 pounds which is almost guaranteed to be difficult for someone who packs the way I do, but seeing as I don’t intend on checking a bag (they make you if it’s over the weight limit) I’ll have to make it work.

     4. Deciding what to bring.

In Melbourne you can experience three seasons in a single day: summer, fall, and spring. On any given day its extremely likely that there will be a temperature change of at least 10 degrees (Fahrenheit of course), thus leaving you dressed in jeans and a jacket when its hot enough for shorts and a tank or vice versa.  This has made me somewhat skeptical of the report I get from weather.com each morning.  Sure it’s sunny now, but it might be pouring rain in an hour, and stop raining five minutes after that.  Dressing in layers is the name of the game and when it comes to packing that means more clothes so the weather doesn’t catch you off guard (not really compatible with 20 pound weight limits).

     5. Unpacking

You know how they say everything that goes up must come down?  Well the same is true of packing.  Everything thats packed must be unpacked.  Even if I live out of suitcase for a week, eventually its back home to Melbourne to take everything back out and (after another round of laundry) put it back in its place.

     6. It’s just not fun

Who wants to be locked in their room meticulously folding and unfolding stacks of clothes when you can be out exploring the city with friends.  We’re in a foreign country (granted we’re here for school) and there’s always new places to discover around the city or even around campus.  

So we go out, we explore, we procrastinate and we let packing fall by the wayside until we can’t put it off any more.  After all, if we’re not packed and ready to go, we can’t leave for the next adventure and adventures down under are not to be missed.

Catching Waves in Torquay

*Fulfills exercise 11

Waves crashed against the sandy shores just outside the bus windows as we drove on the wrong side of the road (at least from an American perspective) down the Great Ocean Road in southern Victoria.  The Loyola abroad group was brimming with excitement.  With 100 km (just over 62 miles) of beaches there’s a reason Australian’s call this stretch of highway the Great Ocean Road.  It boasts some of the best locations for surfing in the entire world, including Bells Beach (shown in the movie Point Break) and Torquay Beach.  Can you see where this is going?  That’s right, Loyola abroad was going surfing.

Getting excited on the bus

Torquay Beach, our destination for the day, lay along the section of the Great Ocean Road known locally as the Surf Coast.  The water was already filled with surfers when we arrived around noon and I was thankful they seemed to have varying skill levels (so we wouldn’t stand out as much after all).  This was one of our included trips and none of us had ever surfed before but were excited to learn.  After all, how many people back home could say they’d surfed in Australia?  

Torquay 

Our instructors led us to the parking lot to change into our wetties (wetsuits) and stow our backpacks for the afternoon then it was a short walk to the beach for some instructions while we were still on dry land.  Grabbing our boards and placing them in a semicircle on the sand we listened carefully to instructions on where to lie on the board, when to paddle, and (most importantly) how to stand.  After a couple practice runs of paddling sand out of our way, jumping to our feet and making it one hundred percent unmistakeable to anyone watching that yes we were new to this, our instructors deemed us ready to go in the ocean.

Posing with our surfboards

Let me start by saying that I thought the hardest part of surfing would be the actual surfing part.  I was wrong.  The hardest part of surfing is trying to get out into chest-deep water while the waves crash against you shoving you back towards the shore.  Now maybe this was because the conditions weren’t ideal for new surfers (a quote from our instructors) and the waves were a little “sucky” (again a quote).  Many times when trying to make our way to deeper water we were thrown about and “sucked” back to shore by the waves, but we persevered and one thing is for sure: riding the waves is one of the most fun experiences I’ve had so far in Australia.

Let me just tell any non-surfers that you move a lot faster than you’d think when you’re surfing.  The board skims over the surface of the waves speeding to shore so fast that by the time I looked up, I’d already gotten too close to shore to bother trying to stand half the time.  Nevertheless, after riding in countless waves on my stomach, and three on my knees (not to mention swallowing what felt like a gallon of salt water) I was determined to stand.  Don’t get me wrong even making it my knees was a major success but I wanted to really surf and to me that meant standing.  So I fought my way to the deep water to wait for the perfect wave.  

Surfing on my knees

This is it.  This is the wave, I would think when I saw one in the distance and then it would break and there wouldn’t be time to get on my board and catch it before it passed.  The waves kept tossing me around, trying to force me back to shore but I wouldn’t let them.  Aiming my board into the waves, in an attempt to keep my footing, I was talking to my friends Bianca and Katie when I spotted another wave coming.  This one would be it, I was sure of it.  

Turning my board around and making sure it was pointing straight towards the shore, I quickly climbed on and started paddling.  Then, when I felt the wave touch the tip of my toes, I gave it a couple more strokes before pulling myself to one knee, catching my balance, and (finally!) standing.  Yes!  I thought, throwing my hands out to the sides triumphantly.  I was doing it!...and then I wasn’t.  In total, I was standing for maybe two-seconds before I lost my balance and fell backwards into the ocean.  But I’d managed to stand (no matter how briefly) and just like that I’d accomplished another goal in Australia.

Post surfing group shot

"Caution Falling People"

*fulfils Exercise 13

“Caution Falling People” the sign mocked. Great as if I wasn’t nervous enough.  Although I’d been joking about my pending bungy jump on the ride to the AJ Hackett Bungy Tower in Cairns (and, in fact, over the entire spring break trip) now that we were actually here it was starting to hit me...and I was nervous.  Was I really about to jump from 50 meters (164 feet for my fellow Americans) with only a bungy cord attached to my ankles?

I’d told everyone back home I was going to do it but considering how well they know my fear of heights (I literally can’t get too close to the edge of a balcony without freaking out) I’m not sure anyone believed me.  Still it was something I wanted to cross off my own personal bucket list and I wasn’t going to let my fear stop me.  After all, I still had to fulfil my side of the (Titanic style) “I jump you jump” bargain I’d made with my roommate in New Zealand before we’d left the states.  More than any of that though, I wanted to prove to myself that despite my fear I could do this and it wasn’t going to be able to stop me (and okay I wanted to be able to answer the all time favourite parent question: “If all your friends jumped off a bridge would you?” with actually I have).

So when we walked up to the counter to get our allocated jump times I tried to squash my nerves.  Still I couldn’t help but be nervous.  Would it be better to go right away or to wait and go after I’d seen a couple of my new friends take the jump?  The choice wasn’t up to me and as soon as I got my time card I glanced down at the time. 5:15 PM.  I had half an hour of waiting before it was my turn to head up to the platform.  

Watching from the bottom, taking videos for my friends it didn’t seem so bad.  Okay, I can do this I thought.  No problem.  Even Lorna, the girl on the trip with a worse fear of heights than me, had come down proclaiming that jumping was the worst part and after that it was awesome.  She said she would have regretted no doing it and so my final decision was made.  If Lorna could do it.  I could do it.  

I was standing at the bottom taking a video for one of the girls in the group, when my friend Fraser tapped me on the shoulder.  We were up.  Taking a deep breath and removing my sneakers (everyone I’d seen was jumping barefoot) we grabbed the two others in our time slot and started for the stairs.  With Martin in the lead, Katherine and I started walking up the rickety wooden stairs. Determined not to look over the railing but not wanting to miss a step Katherine and I kept our eyes firmly on our feet as we slowly trudged upwards.  The stairs kept leading us higher and higher.  Twice I asked Katherine if were at the top yet and each time the answer was no.

“Hurry up guys,” Martin shouted annoyed by our slow progress.

“Shut up, Martin” Katherine and I shouted back.  We were stressed enough without the added pressure he was putting on us to rush.

“Its okay. You’ve got it. We’ll be fine,” came Fraser’s voice from behind us.  It was the motivation we needed to keep going.  

When we finally joined some of the others at the top of the platform the real waiting game began.  Apparently the time on your card wasn’t actually your jump time.  This only stressed me out more.  I had to stay up here and wait?  On this rickety tower that seemed to be swaying with the breeze and light rain?  Great.  At least, I wasn’t the only one freaking out.  A handful of other girls from our trip gripped the railing with white knuckles focusing on breathing steadily in and out while trading words of encouragement.  Needing the support from friends, Katherine and I quickly joined them.  Now that we were up here none of us particularly wanted to bungy jump but more than that we didn’t want to be that person who walks back down the stairs.  That meant there was only way we were getting off this platform...attached to a bungy cord.

I couldn’t bring myself to watch as person after person disappeared over the edge, the thinning crowd signalling that my turn was drawing ever closer.  My heart leaped into my throat and I could feel it beating like a drum.  My legs and arms felt like they had turned to jelly but holding onto the railing I managed to keep my balance.  More people disappeared including Fraser, Martin, and Katherine.  My turn couldn’t be far away now.  I took a few deep breaths focusing only on breathing in an attempt to steady my nerves.

Then it happened.  The men working the bungy jump called my name and I stepped forward to collect my harness.  Slipping it on (and ensuring that the straps were as tight as I could possibly make them) I stepped through the gate and slid onto the box where they tie your ankles together with a black towel and the bungy cord my hand still firmly grasping the railing.  The man tying my feet together told me I looked nervous and I’ll admit that’s where I lost it.  I was beyond freaking out as my eyes filled with unbidden tears that were quickly wiped away.  I was doing this.

After some encouragement from the man who tied my ankles I stood up determined to jump. Despite my resolve, the fear was a glue that wouldn’t release my hand from the railing.  I had to be told twice to let go but I did.  My bare feet edged their way closer to the edge of the platform until they felt my toes curl over the wooden edge gaining confidence with the knowledge that someone was holding onto my harness.  The man said they would count me down and I could go on one...but it didn’t matter anymore.  For some reason I was a lot calmer the second my feet hit the edge of the platform than I had been standing there waiting.

I let myself fall forward the second I heard the word “one” shouted in my ear and felt the dreaded free-fall sensation as my body hurdled toward the Earth but it wasn’t that bad.  I don’t remember much about the actual jump and I can’t tell you much about what it looked like falling to the Earth because of course my eyes were closed but I wasn’t afraid of getting hurt (the towels suffocate your ankles too much).  I remember being relieved when the raft brought me back to solid ground but you know what? I haven’t completely written off bungy jumping and I may even do it again one day because Lorna was right.  Jumping is the worst and after that you just enjoy the ride.

One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish

*disclaimer: all future blog entries will use Australian spelling for added authenticity.

When Loyola students sign up to study abroad in Australia most have them have heard of One Fish Two Fish, the amazing spring break trip up the eastern coast from Brisbane to Cairns.  One of the first decisions students make upon their arrival down under is to pay the hefty price for this trip.  Should they do it?  Do they really want to fork over that much money so soon? (future Loyola abroad students the answer is yes!)  Loyola students always make up a third of the trip so when they announce sign ups its always with a chorus of “Where are my Loyola people at?”  That being said we were all excited to head over to the on campus travel centre to pay our deposits (admittedly while cringing inwardly at the price).  After that it was a month of waiting and then the day was finally here.  It was finally happening, our first big trip in the month and half we’d been in Australia.

We woke up bright and early on Thursday morning (yes we skipped a day of class) to catch our 11 am flight into Brisbane.  The airport is forty minutes from campus but even with the distance we ended up being too early for our flight (airport security here isn’t as intense as it is in the US) so it was ham and cheese croissants and coffee from the airport cafe while we waited with anxious anticipation.  When they finally called our flight for boarding we filed out to the tarmac and up the stairs of the plane (feeling like we were in an old movie).  The trip was supposed to depart early the next day so we had all afternoon to explore Brisbane after the plane landed and we checked into the first hostel of the trip.  Filled with excitement for the adventure ahead we wandered about the city snapping touristy pictures in front of everything imaginable before heading off to bed.

Brisbane

Alarms woke us the next morning and we rushed off to the bus station to start what was sure to be the adventure of a lifetime.  Once we boarded the bus our tour guides, Kyle and Doggie, whizzed us off to the Steve Irwin Zoo to pet kangaroos (which are some of the cutest animals ever) and see the crocodile show.  Then, when the croc show ended it was off to climb the Carlos Sandblow at Rainbow Beach.  The views here were nothing short of amazing and we didn’t want to leave but it was time for the sangria welcome party where I met my two new British friends Sarah and Fraser.  Both of them were also on exchange at Monash University (my uni in Australia) but we hadn’t run into each other before.  We talked late into the night before heading to bed knowing we had to be up at 7:30 the next morning (a difficult task for any college student).

Kangaroos!

Carlos Sandblow

On the second day of our trip it was driving on the sand dunes of Fraser Island on our way to Lake McKenzie.  Our group laughed (and screamed) as the jeep took us over bump after bump with nothing but the ocean outside the window.  Further inland we reached our destination after passing some coffee coloured rivers (which according to our jeep driver actually run with tea).  Lake McKenzie is a fresh water lake.  Its also some of the clearest water I’ve ever seen and pretty much looks like someone stuck a large, clear, glass bowl full of water into a hole in the sand.

Lake McKenzie

Fraser Island

After a night of roughing it on a thirteen hour bus ride it was time to sail off to the tropical Whitsunday Islands for the next two days.  The yellow banana boats weaved through waves, wakes and whirlpools effectively soaking us but we didn’t mind.  After a little snorkelling in the iridescent waters it was time for the beach (anyone who knows me knows how much I love the beach).  Whithaven beach’s sugar white sand was calling to us with promises of tans and relaxation after a night on the bus.

Loyola in Whitsundays

The next was ours to explore the island so after grabbing some water bottles Bianca, Katie, Hailey and I followed Kyle and Doggie on a hike to the lookout.  The views from high above the island easily rivalled even the gorgeous views from Rainbow Beach and although I took countless pictures they don’t do it justice.  We just stood there silently taking in the scenery and I remember thinking there’s no way this is real life.  It was like we were in a dream.  There was no way places like this actually existed...except they did and we were actually here.  This wasn’t some picture on Pinterest or google images.  It was real.  That night we gathered the rest of the Loyola students and took a shorter walk through the woods to see the sunset, joking on the way back (in the pitch black) about how we’d have to write Apple a thank you note for the flashlight app since between the twenty-three of us we didn’t even have a collective battery life of 80 percent.

Whitsunday Islands

More Whitsundays! I love it here!

When we finally had to leave the breathtaking Whitsundays, we had one more day before it was time to start the “Extreme Adventure” half of the trip.  After waving goodbye to our island home we boarded a catamaran for a day of sailing, tanning, and snorkelling.  It was another early day so large portions of the catamaran trip there were spent sleeping in the sun, but after snorkelling it was all talking to friends and taking in the views on the way back to Arlie Beach.

sailing on a catamaran

White water rafting on the Tully River the next morning started the “extreme adventure” part of our trip.  The river runs through a rainforest so when you’re not hurrying to follow the instructions of the guide the views are pretty amazing.  As cool as the views of the surrounding rainforest were though, the foamy white sprays of the water rushing over the rocks ahead was enough to draw our attention away from the views as we fought to stay upright. I’m proud to say my group didn’t flip over once, even when the guide made us go down the rapid lying in a human pyramid in the front of the raft.

White Water Rafting

The next day was exploring on our own until 3:00 when we headed off to the AJ Hackett tower in Cairns for bungy jumping.  I’ve always had a fear of heights but after making an “I jump you jump” (cue Titanic reference) promise with my roommate in New Zealand I was determined to do it.  I had to prove to myself that I could do it (more on this later) and although it was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done, I did.

Bungy

After that it was onto another boat (this one a lot more rocky than a catamaran) for more snorkelling, but this time it was different.  This time we’d be seeing the Great Barrier Reef up close and personal.  We watched a rainbow of fish swim through the brightly coloured coral chasing some of them to get better pictures with our underwater cameras.  I didn’t find Nemo but I did get to catch a glimpse of Dory before we had to head back to land and our final day in Cairns.

snorkelling in our stinger suits

The last day was a little more low key than the previous days.  After hiking through the lush green of the rainforest, jumping off rocks, and swimming through the waterfalls at Crystal Cascades it was back to town for the farewell party that marked the end of our unbelievable journey.  Doggie’s slideshow playing in the background, we sat around and shared favourite stories and memories from the best ten days our lives so far.

Sitting in a waterfall

General Cairns

“10 days, 61 friends, thousands of memories,” read the screen in front of me as it flashed through the pictures and videos from the last ten days.  Watching the slideshow I couldn’t help but realise how true it was.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  Well 1,352 pictures, 22 videos, and countless camera/iPhone charges later I still don’t have the words to explain just how amazing my spring break down under was (despite how long this blog entry was). 

Mapping our travels