FYI

A little window into the tension building up here in the Kimberley... and I'm right in the middle of it! Pretty interesting stuff...

http://www.abc.net.au/4corners/content/2008/s2369042.htm

Oh hey, baby...

Mama and baby Humpbacks, just like the one's that migrate up to Pender Bay, come late May/early June. Two Moons overlooks an area where these Humpback calves are nursed and taught to swim and "sing" before heading back down to the Antarctic... and my tent sits on a cliff looking right out over the bay!

Here I go!

This is going to be an embarrassingly short entry after an embarrasingly long time without any updates, but I can safely say that I've been busy over here. From natural diasters to 3-day Blues Festival madness, I can't believe I actually made it on to my plane to Broome! I'm sitting at my hostel now, a stone's throw away from the famous cable beach, and expect to be picked up in about an hour to embark on my ISP project in the Kimberley! For the next two and a half weeks, I plan to help set up an education program with Two Moons Whale and Marine Research Base on the Dampier Peninsula. Situated at one of the most important humpback calving sites in the world, this should be quite an experience. I will be living in a tent the whole time, hopefully making friends with my environment instead of enemies, and hope to meet a whole slew of other WWOOFers and travelers... sounds like there are French, Swedish, and German guests up there right now that I can't wait to meet! Anyway, all I can say about the Kimberley is that flying over the Australian interior and looking around where I am now feels like Mars. The earth is so red and the water so turquoise, it's hard not to zone out from just looking out the window. There aren't very many trees so shade and wearing a hat are proving to be essential, no matter how goofy you look. Okay, I gotta run and try and find some work boots before I get picked up, but just wanted to say HELLO and GOODBYE and I LOVE YOU! Will hopefully be able to update more once I get up there...

Here I go!

Big trees, bush-dancing, and a love of the Blues

I feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland... fallen down the rabbit hole and into a world that, although technically upside down from my own, is everything I could have ever dreamed of.

Back in New South Wales, I find myself with a new family -- The Paynes -- in the little town of Alstonville. One of those one-main-street kinda towns, Alstonville has everything it needs: one grocery store, one thai restaurant, one video rental place... all within walking distance from our house. It makes you feel almost silly for living in a place with so many options. Why have more than what you need? A sentiment that fits in line with everything else I've learned, from talks at the Sustainability festival in Melbourne to Geoff's wise words atop Tasmanian peaks.

I arrived at the Payne's beautiful blue-shuttered abode after being picked up by my two lovely sisters, Steph and Gen, at our little welcoming brunch in Heritage Park, Lismore. Having no knowledge whatsoever of what or whom to expect, my sisters essentially picked ME out of the crowd, eventually leading me to their Saab in the parking lot and off toward home in the country. Perhaps picking up on my big eyes and growing grin from the back seat as the rolling green hills began to multiply, Steph offered to take "the scenic route" home. To which I replied, "Yes, please."

I couldn't believe the view out my window -- it was like Hood River times fifty, and with Australian sunshine to boot. This was homestay? Sign me up forever.

We pulled into the driveway and the girls led me inside... I began to feel stupid for all my oohs and ahhs, but I just couldn't help it! Everything was so perfect, right down to the bookshelves bulging with stories from my own childhood flanking either side of my bedroom door. Walking in a little farther, I noticed a little white envelope sitting on my pillow. "From your host Mum!" it exclaimed across the front. Currently away at a World Music Festival in Adelaide, I was going to have to wait to meet my new "Mum" until Sunday, but this lovely little note more than made up for it. I decided to save it until I was alone, eager to explore the rest of the house.

Too excited to unpack really, the girls fancied a swim and asked if I wanted to go. At this point, a giggly, resounding "YES!" was about all that would come out of my mouth anyway, so away we went. I changed into my suit faster than I thought possible and jumped right back in the car, feeling a little like an eager dog ready for car ride. I had no idea what to expect.

Steph took another scenic approach and parked the car along a street with trees on either side, bridging together at the top to create a tunnel of leafy canopy. Wonnnnnderful. She liked this way to the water hole a little better, said it was more picturesque. What wasn't in this town? We got out and started down a red dirt path that gradually grew louder with kids voices, screams, and splashes as we neared a clearing.

Once we got out of the thicket, what I saw was unbelieveable. There, before my eyes, was the most beautiful "swimming hole" I'd ever seen: a creek at the top grew into a giant cascading waterfall that emptied down into a large pool, surrounded on all sides by steep rock cliffs of varying height and trees hanging out over the water. Around this top rim, kids gathered and looked out, willing themselves to jump before taking a leap and falling 30+ feet to the water with a yelp and big splash. On some parts, the rocks acted like little steps leading to more popular jump sites. Up above the waterfall, kids sat in the cool stream, watching the jumpers and gossiping to themselves. The sun shone down, giving shadows to the bodies flying through the air. I couldn't believe my eyes...

Feeling a sisterly duty already -- despite my fear of falling -- I obliged little sister Gen and agreed to accompany her on a jump. With Steph poised on the edge with her camera, Gen and I made our way barefoot across the creek to a smaller ledge. Encouraging each other and holding hands, I felt as though I'd known her forever when we'd met only an hour before. Incredible. After watching her bravely launch off the rocks, I looked around at my surroundings, took a deep breath, and jumped in -- arms and legs outstretched. The fall felt a lot longer than it looked, and the water a lot colder than I expected, but it was worth it. I'd survived! The rite of passage was complete.

After a leisurely swim across the pool, we wandered back up top (Steph met us at the water's edge and led the way up the slope) and sat in a circle, munching on our pre-packed picnic. I don't think any first day could have topped this one. On the drive home, the girls played me some of their favorite music as the breeze dried our damp hair.

So much has happened since that first night -- I've climbed my first fig tree, attended my first craft market at the nearby Channon, been introduced to numerous Australian artists thanks to my two sisters, dined out with my host Mum on Japanese, followed by a night of drinking fresh ginger tea and watching "Pride and Prejudice" (Colin Firth version... apparently the scene with Mr. Darcy emerging from the pond in his sopping wet, white shirt is an undisputed favorite), helped my sister Gen with geometry homework (take that, high school math!), swam at two new beaches (one, called Wategos, in Byron, and another at Flat Rock in Ballina), introduced my family to rum cake, enchiladas, and the Leigh-patented Word-O-Day, and witnessed my first Australian hail storm (golf ball-sized = normal?). In addition to all these moments, however, one of the best came two nights ago when I attended my first ever Australian "bush dance." Basically an Aussie-version of a square dance, this particular event was also sponsoring the endangered orangutan, so my sustainability focus fit right in. At class the day before, I'd dutifully tried to recruit fellow students as I presented a (stolen) poster about the event. People seemed excited, but only three others ended up showing up. Nonetheless, my family and I took it very seriously, right down to our St. Patty's-inspired eye makeup and big, twirly skirts. Steph braided her hair like Heidi and I donned my cowboy hat before we jumped in the car -- ready to bush dance our butts off.

Earlier that day, Steph and I had been on our own, spending a little time cleaning up around the house to some Aretha hits from back in the day. Going through their music selection while passing through the living room, I discovered that my host Mum's musical taste was me, in a nutshell. James Taylor, Aretha, Eva Cassidy, and Keb' Mo? I felt like the long lost daughter.

So anyway, Aretha had been stuck in my head already when Steph surprised us by revealing a CD that she immediately shoved into the car's player... the melodious sounds of Aretha soon filling the car, accompanied by our three voices shouting at the top of our lungs. Steph and Megan, my Mum, are a little hard of hearing so being in the car with them is great because they play the music so loud! I absolutely loved it, and I think Aretha would've, too. As we transitioned from R-E-S-P-E-C-T to Say A Little Prayer, the view out my window went from good to gorgeous. With the sun setting in front of us, the eucalypts and cow fields became almost magical. The fading light gave everything a soft, warm feeling and the air smelled like sweet flowers. I felt like I was in a dream.

Once we arrived at the bush dance, the night just kept getting better. Tossing my flip flops and bag aside, I joined Steph and some other friends on the dance floor and learned tons of new moves, including the Virginia Reel, while being swung and flung by a slew of Australian gentlemen. Our long-bearded caller -- and lead banjo player -- instructed us patiently from up on the stage, slipping occasionally into a "come on, now -- FOCUS!" as the beers came out and people lost what little rhythm they had to begin with. Sweaty and happy, we piled back into the car around 11 PM, munching fresh apples and listening to Eva on the easy night ride home.

It's good to be home, Alstonville.

Tassie tidbits

Standing on an adjacent hill, our class got a chance to overlook what used to be Tasmania's beloved Lake Pedder before the area was flooded by a technologically-exciting, yet environmentally and ecologically detrimental, hydro-power system (a result of damming the Franklin river). 

SAVE LAKE PEDDER!

Self-portrait overlooking Hobart, one of Tassie's southern-most towns. I really liked the colorful houses, especially at this time of evening.

Where are we again? Oh yeah, Tasmania. Bus-mate Erica and I checking in on our maps as we departed the "Spirit of Tasmania" ocean liner and began our journey into Tassie! If you could see the entire bus in this picture, you'd see everybody's map open to full-capacity. We're nerds. 

"Sustainability: Have a Go!"

(Sustainable Living Festival, Melbourne 2009)

The long road home...

This will be short and sweet, but wanted to say hello once more and that I survived Tasmania! It was the most incredible trip -- definitely changed not only my outlook on all things environmental, but impacted our group dynamic 10x for the better. I love these people and have even better things to say about our hilarious 78-year old guide Geoff Mosley. We were all terribly sad to see him depart at the Pier this morning as we boarded our taxis for the train station. All in all, a wonderful adventure chock full of fantastic hiking, a visit to an old growth protest site (I met tree-sitters in the Styx Forest!), and sightings of wombats, an echidna, and wallabies by the dozens. No dingos yet, but I have faith. Will write a longer post about Tasmania when we return to Byron Bay tomorrow afternoon. Right now, lazing the day away in Melbourne as we await our overnight train ride to Sydney and then to Casino... let's just say I'm glad I've still got some sleeping pills in my backpack. Other than that, happy and healthy and safe, can't wait to share my Tasmanian tales.

Thinking of all of you, love love love.

hellOOO Tassie!

Hello again! Writing this time from Hobart, Tasmania on my first free day since Byron Bay. Things have continued to move along at a pace faster than I can record them, but I will try and summarize the past few days for everyone! We departed Byron Bay on Thursday, bound for Melbourne's Sustainable Living Festival (http://www.slf.org.au/festival/) -- a treat for us SITers because it's the first time this event has been integrated into the program's usual set of stops. All in all, we spent over 24 hours on the train from Casino station (outside Lismore) to Sydney Central and then Sydney to Melbourne's Southern Cross station. The 17 of us chilled in the economy car, while our leader Peter sat first-class (grr) the whole way. Apparently he gets free upgrades because his "dad worked on the rails all this life." We were jealous.

The first stint on the train went through the night, although actual sleep was hard to come by. A few girls on my program ditched their seats for some empty ones down the car (brilliant idea that I wish I'd thought of), while some other people opted to just camp out on the floor below (ew?) to stretch out. I just crunched up in my little window seat, sacrificing my remaining iPod battery to try and catch some z's with little luck. It was okay though -- we soon arrived in Sydney and boarded the second train, which would give us some of the best Australian views of the trip. One thing that was a bit less cool, though, was rolling through some of the affected areas from the Victoria bushfires. We viewed long burnt sections from our train car, even seeing the outlines where houses used to stand. Made everything feel a lot more real.

Arriving in Melbourne, despite the charred landscape a half an hour before, was glorious. It never felt so good to throw on my enormous backpack and walk the platform, surrounded by the usual herd of colorful, heavily-weighted-but-still-grinning fellow students. We all use the same strategy for carrying our crap -- big backpack on back, smaller backpack on front -- giving everyone a sort of pregnant-hunchback effect. Normally, this aides in balance, but after spending a whole day on the train, the fatigue was too much for my friend Kendall who promptly spilled on the floor (backpacks and all) the minute we arrived at our Melbourne hostel, "The Nunnery."

We'd all had to smush into these vans called "maxi taxis" to get to the hostel (and I mean SMUSH), but still couldn't believe how beautiful the city was on the drive over. Not only was the architecture in the city mind-blowing (from new and oddly-shaped high-rises to much-older Parliament buildings and churches), but the scenery very picturesque. Across the street from "The Nunnery" was a gorgeous park with big trees (I LOVE Australian trees) and lots of shady places to sit down and read. Ahhhhhh. As if this wasn't enough, "The Nunnery's" inside was even cooler, with high ceilings, big paintings, and lots of maps. My room had a bunch of bunkbeds (pretty standard) and two old fireplaces and chandeliers (very not-standard), plus a sweet outdoor courtyard around the corner, complete with bar-b-que and porch-swing. We loved it here! Oh yeah, the place also got its name because the Archbishop used to live there. Neat-o.

That night, we wandered over to a street called Brunswick, which -- while I liked Melbourne already -- sealed the deal that this city was the coolest place we'd visited so far. Lining the streets were interesting restaurants, bars, boutiques, art, graffiti, music (including a guy with a drumset just improv-ing), little courtyards, and young people. Perfect! A small group of ladies and I found a great Thai place with big pillows to sit on, munching on satay, curry, and cheap beer. Yum! Afterwards, we wandered a bit more, bought some gelato, and just took everything in. The next morning we ventured out towards the city, attempting to find "class" somewhere on the 5th floor of the Melbourne City Library. Maps in hand, we boarded a packed tram car (just like the MAX!) and hoped we wouldn't be busted for not having tickets. Met a nice, blonde ex-pat who told us how to get to our destination (after reassuring us about the no-ticket situation) and got off around Swanston St. Grabbed a quick "flat white" to go ("take away") from a near-by cafe and headed up to the 5th floor of the library for group discussion #2. So far this trip, it's been really hard to get into "school" mentality... especially when we've just arrived in such cool new places! Oh well.

After talking about the day's assigned reading, an adorable old guy named Geoff Mosley walked in the classroom, maps and papers spilling out of his hands. This guy, Geoff, is one of the primo know-it-alls about Tasmania, having researched its parks and landscape since the 1960s. Specializing in eco-tourism, he's been bouncing around the Tassie woods in a 4WD jeep long enough to consider himself "an honorary citizen," even though he originally hails from England. Geoff stood up in the front of our little class and outlined our upcoming trip South, getting everyone psyched to see both a completely new environment (mountains!) and to have him him as our tour-guide. I don't think we could have found anyone more knowledgable (or bad-ass!) to show us around. This guy is 78 and still climbs mountains... recently he was climbing Federation Peak (one of Tassie's toughest) and had to be winched-out with a helicopter after pulling his entire calf muscle, and he's still going! You go, Geoff.

After class, we headed a block over to Federation Square -- Melbourne's equivalent of Pioneer Square -- and said hello to the city's Sustainable Living Festival. The city said hi back, greeting us not only with sunshine (our final days in Byron had been wet and humid), but live music, cool vendors, GREAT food, FREE internet, rad speakers, and fun activities! Melbourne, I love you.

We quickly got the lay of the land at the festival, identifying the four main speakers' tents ("feel" tent, "feast" tent, "design" tent, and "think" tent), all themed towards the talks that would happen there during the next three days. I attended talks on Sustainable Street Foods and Indigenous Media, just to name a few, and dined on delicious Hare Krishna veggie curry and a watermelon + pineapple smoothie made special by a girl in a green wig, powering the blender with her bike. Fantastic. Saturday and Sunday brought similar experiences, including more music (look up Anita George!), more bike-smoothies, more sun, and many more talks. One of the best addressed the question "is talking about climate change the same as sustinability?" hosted by two incredible guys: author Anthony James, and this old guy named Frank (wish I remembered his last name) who owns a wind farm and has been working around energy his whole life. He was pretty old (older than Geoff maybe) and early on, declared himself a "blind, gutless, numbskull," before explaining how he'd lost most of his intestine to Crohn's disease and had the top of his head ripped off in a bad biking accident. Oh yeah, and he can only see through one eye. Despite all of these "disabilities," this Frank dude was one of the most amazing people I've ever listened too. Not only had he been working on making the world a more sustainable place for years, but believed (in a very no-bullshit kind of way) in the power of communicating with other people to make change. "We live with an auto-pilot mentality, " he said, "and we need to get out of it." One of the best quotes though, I thought, came at the end. Prefaced with the fact that he told this to all his students, he said "although my work is centered on the wilderness, on healing nature, the wilderness I'm most interested in is sitting right in front of me. If I leave here having made just one of you a little more wild -- as in less predictable compared to me -- I've done my job." Well said, Frank. I liked him a lot.

Another great connection I made at the festival came through attending the forum on "Indigenous Media." Hoping to do an independent study somehow connected to indigenous people here in Australia, I wanted to hear how those in the media industry cope with other people (non-indigenous) always trying to tell their stories for them. Ideally, I was hoping to gain some insight into how a white-girl like me could possibly approach their culture in a respectful, realistic way. There were three speakers at the forum: a female journalist who wrote for Koori Mail (a national aboriginal/Torres Strait islander newpaper, http://www.koorimail.com.au/), a video-journalist for National Indigenous TV (niTV), and a muscian and radio-host for 3 KND (Kool and Deadly radio), one of several indigenous radio stations. I had recently read a previous ISP report by a past SIT student who'd worked with another indigenous radio station in the Kimberley (Western Australia), and was interested in looking into doing something similar for my own project. So, hearing this guy from 3KND talk sounded like it'd be really helpful. Altogether though, the best message from the talk (apart from simply learning about these people's jobs and opinions) came out of a question posed by a white woman in the audience: "Is there a place, in your opinion, for non-indigenous people within your organizations?" Right on the money! I listened -- their collective response was that these organizations were created to give indigenous people a place, not white folks. At the same time, though, they were not against including others as long as the approach came from an educational and educated perspective. "It all comes down to the individual," the writer for Koori Mail announced. "If you want to learn about our culture, don't just come in, trying to solve all our problems. If they were that easy to solve, we'd have solved 'em already. If you want to learn about us, read Koori Mail! Listen to 3KND! Get educated and learn before you act." I left the forum feeling a lot more in-the-know about how to approach my ISP.

Later that day (Saturday), I stopped by the 3KND tent and spoke to the radio guy from the forum, saying that I'd heard him the day before. He appreciated it and gave me some info about the station. Then, at a sort-of festival after party complete with sustainable beer (!), the guy came up to me on his own and introduced me to the station's manager (a non-indigenous guy!). I talked with them for awhile, inside feeling really excited that he'd remembered me at all. I explained a little more about my ISP (even though I was scared shitless to try to approach the indigenous-aspect with him), and he reiterated that it's a really touchy subject. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what I find and hope that I can approach the idea of working with indigenous people with an open (and educated) mind. Regardless, I know that talking with him and hearing the forum will prove helpful once I start contacting different organizations.

Speaking of, I also met a great man and woman at this tent for The Torch Project (http://www.thetorch.asn.au/), an outfit that works through arts-related projects to attain cultural awareness and bridges between indigenous and non-indeigenous people! PERFECT. Not only would I be around people involved in both communities (if I did an ISP with them), but also working to establish connections between them. I told them about my ISP ideas and got the guy's e-mail. Sweet! I plan on contacting them as soon as I start my ISP research.

Other highlights of the festival included meeting a local science teacher (really nice woman a little older than me) at one of the live shows. After watching her stuff so she could go take a picture of the lead singer, she came over, thanked me, and proceeded to introduce herself. I told her about SIT and how long we were in Melbourne, and she told me about how the lead singer was her best friend since Uni(versity). After hearing a lot about her life, she offered up some great local secrets, including which bars I "had to go to" before we left. One of these was called "Madame Brussel's" and used to be the Melbourne brothel for all the politicians and stuff (ew). Anyway, the place was now a local secret, complete with Alice-and-Wonderland ambiance and a rooftop bar! Hell yeah! Later that night, after venturing back to the square to watch a movie on eco-villages, we ended up finding "Madame Brussel's" and meeting up with friend of one girl on my program.

Finding this place was no easy feat and if this guy we were meeting up with hadn't given us the exact address, we would've walked right past it. Basically, the door looks like it's for another restaurant and you only find "Madame Brussel's" after climbing 5 sketchy flights of stairs, where suddenly a line of posh-looking Melbourne-ites appears along the stairwell. We got in after the bouncer scrutinized our passports and found our way to a "back-room" through a door marked NO ENTRY (this whole adventure was like a puzzle). Suddenly, we found ourselves in a secret bar with amazing artwork, another chandelier (bigger than the one in my hostel room!), and gold fixtures everywhere. A little man in a smart-looking vest waited on us, bringing us our cocktails in this giant silver teapot that resembled a big urn (gross?). That night was one I won't soon forget, to say the least.

The following day (Sunday), we spent some more time at the festival and then said goodbye to amazing Melbourne before smushing everything back in the maxi-taxis and driving down to the Pier. As we approached to water, we could see our ocean liner, "The Spirit of Tasmania," chugging in to the harbor. And seriously, it was the biggest thing I've ever seen in my life. The boat itself was eleven stories and boasted a movie theater, deck bars, gambling center, several restaurants, on-board shopping (really?), and much more. It was pretty crazy. Also crazy (yet so typical), was that the "Spirit" assumed I was Mr. Leigh Bowman (honestly... come ON), so I got placed in the boy's cabin, along with Brian, Alex, and Yoshi. The guys are all chill though, so I didn't mind. We hung out for a little while in our miniscule cabin and then had some dinner with the group. I watched an on-board movie and later, after we'd gotten far enough off shore to really see the stars, the boys and I lay down on the upper deck and tried to identify the "southern cross" with no luck.

After being rocked to sleep by the waves, at 6 AM a voice through the speaker above our heads (think GPS-lady) announced our arrival in Tasmania. We bumped around the cabin as we tried to hoist our backpacks on with limited space to move and then departed the "Spirit" to find long-lost Dave, our busdriver, waiting outside! Hooray! Chain-smoking, as usual, Dave said "hi" and non-chalantly replied (when asked what he'd been up without us to drive around), that he'd been doing "a whole lot of nothing." Oh, Dave.

We boarded the bus (same size, same trouble going up hills, but different color) and Geoff commenced his tour-o-Tassie, complete with a little microphone. We proceeded towards the Great Western Tiers and got out twice, once to check out a cool bog and another to look at a memorial of some racist guy that claimed to have discovered that part of Tasmania (he forgot about these people called aborigines...). Even though I love Geoff, I slept secretly most of the time in the back of the bus. I think I might be getting sick from all this traveling! We got to Hobart late in the afternoon to find our hostel mid-ready... I guess they're still building the place! With hammering in the background, we moved in and I took a little nap before wandering the city on foot (Hobart's hills make San Fran look wimpy). I took great pictures of a church up the road and ultimately wandered over to this adorable "Peace Park" on the side of a hill overlooking the town. Needing some much needed time to fill in my journal, I sat on the grass for awhile before relocating due to a red-ant attack. The place was truly beautiful, with every house a different bright color. I sat until the sun went down, and then went back to the hostel to cook dinner. In line with our sustainable program theme, a lot of kids on the program have tried to go vegan, led by this girl named Sara who's been a convert for a few years now. In addition, and especially after hearing all this stuff at the festival, most of us only feel morally right buying local organic food, so everyone immediately hones in on the natural food stores in each town we visit. Luckily, this time we found one only two blocks from our sorta-hostel, where I bought locally made and bottled apple-juice, sweet potatoes, ginger, and organic corn (still in the husk) for dinner. Aunt Patty would be proud -- I made a delicious ginger corn with sweet potatoes, into which my friend Kendall donated some sauteed onions and tofu. Delicious! At a long center table, I ate dinner while other kids read or did homework (a write-up of all the talks we attended at the festival) before showering and collapsing in bed. I've been reading this great novel by Peter Carey called the "True History of the Kelly Gang," documenting the life and times of one of Australia's most famous outlaws: Ned Kelly. I recommend it to anyone looking for a good story to read.

So that's about it! Hopefully that long entry makes amends for my lack of updates so far. I will try and get better about it... it's nice when you find libraries and places with free internet (as opposed to cafes or on the damn "Spirit of Tasmania"... $1 for only four minutes!). As always, I miss home and everyone there. Wishing happy and healthy Tuesdays (or I guess Mondays) for all. Talk to you soon! More pictures coming as soon as I'm reunited with my laptop charger in Byron. Bye!

One thing that almost everywhere in Australia has in common: amazing graffiti. I took this picture on the way to our first dinner out in Brisbane, walking in the West End neighborhood. We were instructed to find our way to this little hole-in-the-wall place called Huong's Kitchen... an almost invisible Vietnamese place located above a tiny massage parlor. We'd been in Brisbane only a few hours and had to navigate our way to dinner, using only a basic map provided by the program and our wits. A group of girls and I left early and hit a bar half a block from this mural for some local brew and a "cheers" for making it half way around the world together.

Hello again! Here is the first of many pictures to come of my adventure unfolding in Australia... this was one of the first pictures I took upon arriving in Brisbane (our first stop on the way to Byron Bay). This is in the roof-top pool at our hostel (I'm on the right and my friend Mia is on the left), looking off toward the West End of town. It was certainly nice to leave the Oregon cold for a place like this... sigh. Rough life, over here.

An update, of sorts

Hello everyone! I apologize for the lack of posts since I began my trip -- basically, I've had a really hard time finding cheap internet in Byron Bay and even less time to even sit down and write! I tried writing posts to put up later in Word, but I can't figure out how to copy and paste them into the blog. Simply doing "command + c" doesn't work and after looking through all the settings for over a half an hour, I still can't figure it out. If any of you are blogging experts, let me know if I'm missing something. If need be, I will try and re-type what I've written into the "post" field... I really want people to be able to read what's been happening over here so far!

I hope all of you are well! I can't wait to share more of my adventure.

Love, Bowman