This post is a long time coming

I watched an interesting show on SBS tonight. An Australian woman went to New York City and held an open forum with a group of inner city kids to talk about the American Dream. Basically, she wanted to know whether this notion was still alive or if it was all just a bunch of crap.

The gathering of kids from NYC was a clever move because it drew people from very different racial, ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds.

After watching it, I felt extraordinarily upset and hopeful all at the same time. The show illuminated a couple things. First, that our country still has a long way to go as far as making every citizen feel equal. Second, that many inner-city kids hate being victimized. They're eloquent, passionate, informed, determined and hopeful. But they have significant hurdles to overcome that I, for instance, never had to deal with. Namely, they simply don't have the money to make their 'American Dream' come true.

I try extremely hard not to take my life for granted, but sometimes I just do. I get caught up in the fact that I don't get a grade I think I deserve or get mad when a roommate doesn't clean up after herself or believe my world is going to fall to pieces when a boy doesn't return my call. But I received a college education from my parents. I've never had to buy a car because my parents gave me one. I have never had to worry about whether I was going to have enough money for rent because I knew that if times got tough, I'd have someone who would help me out.

But I digress from the original point of this post...

The moderator ended the discussion asking the young people's thoughts on America's global reputation. Many didn't seem too concerned about what other countries thought because they have never had the opportunity to leave the U.S. They cared more about what they felt. And that's that America had failed them.

The question made me think about my experience as an American abroad and how my nationality has impacted the way I've been treated.

Since the very first day I arrived in Australia, I've been confronted with a reality that I never knew existed: that many people I've never even met don't like me simply because I'm American. I've repeatedly heard horror stories from friends who went to England or France and how they were treated terribly by the locals, but what the hell did we ever do to Australia? Maybe it's the bad American reality TV that they show 24/7 here or possibly that we've dragged them into two wars within the past eight years...could be anything, come to think of it.

One of the girls in my program called me a 'big mouth' shortly after I met her. Now I know I'm opinionated, but I've never been called loud. In fact, most people would say I'm fairly reserved back home. I really only get heated when someone prods me. Maybe I'm out of touch or in denial, which is quite possible. But I'm more inclined to believe this Aussie chick's comment was an effort to typecast me into her version of an American.

I know one American here who's resorted to telling people she's Canadian when asked where she's from. She told me that after she does it, the Aussies typically let loose: "Don't you just hate being mistaken for an American--they're so loud and awful!"

This is just something that an American abroad has to deal with nowadays. I guess I've just tried to prove people's perceptions as misconceptions. Yes, I still talk a lot in class (which really tends to piss Aussies off--they call it Tall Poppy Syndrome, and it's ridiculous), but I like to think that I've convinced at least a handful of people that Americans aren't as bad as the rest of the world makes us out to be.

On Friday I'm participating in a forum with the UOW International Office. It's solely for American students to offer feedback on what the university can do to improve their experience. I'll have plenty to say. But hey, they're asking for it.

Big mouth? Me?

King's Park

King's Park & Botanic Gardens boasts the greatest views of the city. Like most parks and botanic gardens, it was tranquil, green and had lots of wildflowers. The ANZAC memorial was very cool too.

It was even more gorgeous at night, seeing the whole city lit up. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera on hand for that. I'll always have a bit of a soft spot for this place though, don't ask me why.

Perth

Lots of posts today. I've hit the wall on my thesis, and this blog is a great way to make me feel like I'm accomplishing something even though I'm really not.

Here are some photos of beautiful downtown Perth.

Top: Skyline from King's Park & Botanic Garden

Second: Mosaic Western Australian images surrounding fountains.

Third: Palm trees and skyscrapers. Very West Coast.

Bottom: This was so cool--it was a small river right near the heart of downtown. It had a waterfall, ducks, the whole package. Some might say it was misplaced, but I thought it really worked.

More funny Aussie signs

Actually, this isn't just a sign--it's a company. I also tried to get 'Koala Storage,' but we were driving by it too fast and the photo blurred. No worries, though, this one is good enough. (Insert dingo-eating-baby joke here.)

Drinking the Margaret River way

I'm not giving you the most accurate account of what I did in Margaret River. Really, this wasn't a weekend alcohol binge...I only went on three tastings. There are 9 year olds in France who drink more than that during dinner.

Anyway, Margaret River is known for its wine. So, of course, we had to stop at the Bootleg Brewery to see how the beer measures up. As the sign says, it's 'an oasis of beer in a desert of wine.'

For only $10 each we sampled seven different types of beers. I thought I was being so frugal until I threw down $23 on a meat pie for lunch. In my defence, it was the best meat pie I've ever had. Sure, I've only had two in my lifetime. But really, this was the Mercedes of meat pies. (Wow. That is one thing I never imagined ever writing a year ago.)

I thought all the beers were excellent. We saved the Raging Bull for dessert. While I was at the bar, a great, big, burly guy who had to be 270 lbs. and at least 6'3" told me after about four pints of Raging Bull I'd be needing the assistance of a medical professional. I couldn't tell if he thought my drinking capacity matched his, but I soon found out that I have about as much of a chance of drinking four pints of Raging Bull in one sitting as I do of turning into a kangaroo tomorrow. (Again, something I probably wouldn't write a year ago.)

After knocking a measly shot of the stuff back, I was done. It was thick, dark and tasted more like a spikier version of Hawkeye Vodka than any beer I've ever drank. It's rough. It's a serious 'beer' meant for great, big, burly Aussie men. I bought some for my dad so we'll see how he measures up.

The funny thing about Cancer...

In many areas of my life, I consider myself a skeptic. However, I've always taken to astrology. I understand how foolish this sounds, but my star sign (Cancer) often seems so pertinent to my life. I know, I know--they write these things in such a general way that they're relatable to everybody, but I still like to believe that the stars have it out for me.

As my time in Australia winds down, I've been confused as to what to do with my life once I finish school. After my trip to Western Australia, I thought I had it all figured out: I was going to move to Perth, get a job and pursue permanent residency in Australia. I decided to stay in Oz because I figured that going home was cutting my adventure short. Being here has made me realise how little of the world I've experienced. I want to continue travelling, I want to live in another country again, and I don't ever want to feel like my life has become stagnant.

But a recent family situation has complicated those plans. I'm not angry about it--that's just the way things were meant to be. So now my sights are on returning to the States.

And according to the below horoscope from MichaelLutin.com, I made the right decision:

CANCER
23-29 Sept

Some Cancers have been living in two places at once, emotionally speaking, in an attempt to calm their restlessness. No matter how many errands you run or trips far abroad you plan, you still have to tap into your family and your roots now and again to feel grounded. Itchy to keep on the move or not, you need your home, and it’s certainly a lot better if someone else is there.
_______________________________________________

I didn't tell my family that I was planning on staying in Australia because I had no plans set in stone yet. But I know now that I'm meant to go home--and I didn't need this horoscope to affirm that. It's just kind of odd how spot-on it is, you know?

Though John Lennon would tell me there's nowhere I can be that isn't where I'm meant to be, lately I've felt that I'm no longer mentally and emotionally in Australia. I don't think my life will become ordinary when I go home--I just have to keep challenging myself to experience new things in my own country. I guess the best thing at this point is just to finish what I started, instead of trying to make it last longer than it should. I recognised the right to come to Oz, and now I've got to face that it's the right time to go.

Once a candy girl, always a candy girl

I only spent a year and a half with Candy Industry, but I think it's made me a permanent confectionery geek. See, proof right there. Who says 'confectionery' anyway?

Here are a couple shots from an old-fashioned candy shop in Margaret River. A really cool place with a huge selection of lollies (the Aussie equivalent to the American 'candy') and collection of vintage English and Australian advertisements. I don't really get the connection between the two, but the ads certainly give the place a more authentic, old-style feel.

I bought a bag of chocolate-dusted almonds. These were more like 1 part almond, 3 parts milk chocolate. I couldn't finish the bag. The incredibly delicious cocoa-dusted almonds from my Candy Industry visits to L.A. Burdick in New Hampshire and Charles Chocolates in California are still a fresh memory.

A chocolate snob for life.

Long-distance relationship

More Margaret River beach photos. It was a windy day--many surfers were packing up for the evening.

I've been quite spoiled being so close to the ocean throughout my stay here in Australia. Even though my stomach would rather me stay away, I still love it from a distance. I'll miss that most when I'm landlocked in Iowa.

A long day closes

Sunset over a beach along the Indian Ocean in Margaret River.

The wine's fine, but I'm drawn to the vine

Our visit to a few of Margaret River's wineries were wasted on me. I couldn't tell you the difference between boxed wine and a really good wine. Come to think of it, I can't even think of a brand name of a decent wine. During the tastings, I just nodded and agreed with everyone. But really, can you tell me what a mature wine tastes like? Can you detect earthy or fruity or citrusy or floral notes? I didn't think so. That's why I let James and Keren decide what was good and bought whatever they did. It's called faking it, folks.

I was more interested in the scenery. Hope you enjoy the photos. While they don't translate the true beauty of the surroundings, you'll get a taste for it. And if you're really lucky (and if United's baggage allowances quit being ridiculous), I'll not have broken into the bottles I purchased and some will actually make it home with me. I'll give the nice wine to my family. I'm fine with Franzia.

A 2km walk, WA style

We took a short city break from Perth and spent a few days in Margaret River. We made a couple stops along the way, including the Busselton Jetty. This wooden jetty's the longest in the Southern Hemisphere, stretching nearly 2 kms.

So we each paid the $2.50 to walk the jetty. A bit disappointing, I should say. The winds were extreme, which kept us clutching to the one rail. Yes, one rail. So basically you could quite easily fall into the ocean. I saw a beer can on the jetty along the way back. Call me crazy, but drinking and one-rail jetty walking just don't go together.

But even worse was the fact that the underwater observatory was gated shut at the end of the jetty due to poor conditions. We paid the fare and were wind-whipped for nearly 2 kms to basically be told to come back on a sunnier day.

On a brighter note, it was one of the rare times I was that far out into the ocean and not covered in my own vomit.

The less glamourous side of being an 19th century WA jailbird

All together now: Let's thank God we were never British convicts shipped off to Western Australia in the 18th and 19th centuries.

Because, as I found out at the Fremantle Prison, it really sucked.

Here's the deal: Fremantle Prison was actually built by convict laborers in the 1850s and originally served as a convict establishment. It was basic, temporary accommodation for the convicts. Basic is a good word, I think. I'm trying to not sound too pampered. I'm sure a mid-19th century criminal would actually feel right at home in this dump.

Anyways, the Fremantle Convict Establishment became Fremantle Prison in 1886. And incredibly, this place was running until 1991. I was alive then. I could add and subtract. And this prison was in operation. Amazing.

We saw the gallows (which was apparently the only legal execution site in WA from the 1880s until 1984), an Anglican church in the prison, the solitary confinement rooms (er, rooms probably isn't the correct term. I've seen larger tanning beds.), and the yard where the prisoners received their lashings.

I think I uttered the phrase, "That would totally suck," more in that hour than I ever did in my entire life. I'll spare you the disgusting bits. This place was rough--you could just feel all the awful things that happened right where you were standing. And now it's on the Australian National Heritage List. Funny how that happens.

Either way, if I ever had the urge to kill, then this tour killed it.

Take out the octopus, and it would be just about perfect

As I reflect on my time in Australia, I am amazed by what I've seen. I've been so many places--Coastal Queensland, Tassie, Melbourne, all over Sydney--and even Auckland, New Zealand.

But my trip to Perth completely, utterly blew me away. Western Australia is just my style.

Sure, it pales in Sydney's glamour. It doesn't have Melbourne's shopping. It doesn't have Queensland's tourist appeal and crop of crazies. But Perth is young, fresh and so obviously on the brink of greatness. I fell for it.

Thanks to my Aussie, friend Keren, we were able to stay with her very generous brother who moved to Perth 3 months ago. He carted us around for the better part of week, driving us to some cool suburbs and even to Margaret River--Southwest Australia's prime wine country.

Above are some photos I took in Fremantle, a large suburb in Perth's southwest. The top one is of octopus at Little Creatures Brewery. Such a cool, open air place. We went for lunch at around 2:30 and this place was bouncing off the freaking walls. It was fantastic. The brewery's Pale Ale was delicious...and that's an adjective never meant for beer. The octopus, though...well that's another story. I tried it though, and will be damned if I ever make that mistake again!

The next photo is the facade of the Fremantle markets. I've become a real market connoisseur since being in Oz, and this one was on the lower end. Definitely not a Salamanca, but I still managed to walk out with a couple crappy postcards.

The final is a photo of Keren and I before we toured the Fremantle Prison/Convict Establishment.

Honestly, I could write until my fingers dropped off about this place. But I don't want to--and you probably wouldn't want to read it anyway. Ask me about it when I get home, it's better if I tell it. But be prepared for an earful.

Laughing between the lines

Jenny latched onto the humour behind many of Australia's signs pretty early on--she's even created photo albums filled with signage snaps while traveling around the country.

I've finally caught on to the brilliance of this idea. It's not just that we find these signs funny--it's that most Australians don't. Just goes to show that even mundane objects like signs illustrate that while we speak the same language, our ways of interpreting it can be vastly different.

Here's a small selection of some belly laugh-inducing signs we've seen so far.

Top: The Australian Museum in Sydney

Centre: Airlie Beach boat docks, QLD

Bottom: Amberley Estate in Margaret River, WA