Farewell Sydney Life, Hello Nomad Life!

Life as I have known it in Sydney has come to an end. Last night was my final evening working at the Summit Restaurant. Last night was my final night living in my share house. This morning I officially become a traveling nomad!

The plan: I leave this morning for the Gold Coast. I am spending the day there. Then my friend Natasha is flying in and we are going to Byron Bay, and then to Coff's Harbor where we will spend the holidays with her family. I will return to Sydney on January 28th and remain here for New Years (I can't wait to see the fireworks show!). Then on January 2nd I am flying to New Zealand to meet Laura, my sis, in Auckland. We have rented a car and together will travel around the north and south islands. Afterwards, I will fly to Cairns. I have purchased a hop-on, hop-off bus pass and intend to travel down the east coast stopping along the way at numerous towns and tourists hot spots including Magnetic Island, Fraiser Island and the Whitsunday Islands. Then I'm coming home on February 8th, and bringing along with me Natasha. She has always dreamed of 1) going to New York and 2) seeing snow, so this was the perfect opportunity for her to do both.

Because of my travels, I'm not sure how much access I will have to a computer and/or Internet. However, through it all I am going to try and continue to update you all! So please continue to check back to my blog, just with the understanding that the quality of the blogs may decrease slightly as I will probably be giving a rushed account of my journeys. But I will post, I promise. Until then- Bon Voyage!!

I Ate A Kangaroo

I couldn't let myself leave Australia without trying Kangaroo. Yes, Australians eat Kangaroo. And so I needed to too. I had been told that kangaroo was tough and chewy, especially if overcooked. Plenty of people here order a rump of roo (like a big piece of steak), but this did not interest me in the least. I decided that the best means to ingest this iconic aussie animal would be on pizza, with other "things" that could potentially mask its taste if unpleasant. So last night at the Australian Heritage Hotel I ordered their famous kangaroo pizza, accompanied by cheese, roasted capsicum (aka peppers) and berries. The pizza was tasty. I ate every inch of it. This means that kangaroo was not only edible, but actually quite to my liking. It was tough and chewy, as I had been told, reminding me of a piece of well done steak. I don't foresee myself craving roo again, but I am happy that I can say I tried and enjoyed kangaroo.

OPRAHHHHH MANIAAAAA

Oprah came to town, to Aussie town. Did you know that? Because it was a HUGE deal around here. To the Aussies, Oprah is practically on par with the gods. There was more excitement about her arrival than if it had been the Queen of England. Aussies love Oprah. Ironically, it's when I'm farthest away from the US that I am closest to Oprah. When I was in Melbourne, we accidentally stumbled upon Oprah and her crew dining in an elegant arcade (aka shopping mall). There were tons of security guards outside the venue warding off crazy fans with cameras. When I returned back to Sydney was the same time that Oprah arrived in Sydney. While at work I was able to see the filming of her show at the Opera House. I couldn't actually see Oprah, but I certainly saw the massive audience sitting on the Opera House steps cheering her on. How fun. It was all anyone could talk about for days. But not Oprah has gone, taking with her the hoopla, hype and madness. Normalcy has returned to Sydney. I just thought you should know in case you had wondered or worried where Oprah had gone. =)

The Great Ocean Road Road-Trip

One item on the top of my list of "Places To See & Things To Do" was to drive The Great Ocean Road, one of the world's most famous and beautiful coastal drives, and see its most prominent landmark- The Twelve Apostles. The road stretches 151 miles along the bottom of Australia through seaside towns, beaches, country hills and rainforests. I shared my desire to drive the road with Aubrey, and she was all for taking a road trip! While there are many guided tours of the road, we decided it would be more cost effective and fun to rent a car and drive the road ourselves.

Monday morning we woke and set-off to rent a car for the day. At the shop they informed us that they only had manual cars left, which I thought was a major problem considering that I don't have a clue how to drive stick. Fortunately, Aubrey's first car as a young teen was a manual car so she volunteered to be the designated driver for the day.  We grabbed the keys, hopped in the car and were off! The car rental place had given us both horrible directions and maps (the index page was missing so I had no idea which map was for which area of Melbourne) so it took us nearly an hour just to make our way out of the city and onto the highway. However, after stopping a couple of times for help we made it onto the correct highway which turned into The Great Ocean Road. Finally, we were cruising off on our road trip adventure!

We enjoyed driving along the windy road, taking in the beautiful scenery around us. One moment we would be staring at the gorgeous ocean coastline, and the next we would be rolling through the country side surrounded by cattle and sheep. Our final destination was to reach the Twelve Apostles which from Melbourne was about a 4 hour drive, but the whole fun of driving the road is stopping at the small towns and sights along the way. First, we stopped at the Sheoak Falls. We walked through the rainforest for about 20 minutes until we reached the lovely waterfall hidden in the brush. After resting by the falls, we resumed our drive. Due to our desolate location, we had no radio reception and thus no music to accompany us on our drive. While I was not bothered by this static silence (thanks to the hooligans who stole my radio in New Haven), it drove Aubrey nuts.  She was desperate to find some sort of music to listen to on our drive, and at any opportunity would pull up to parked cars and pedestrians and ask them, "Excuse me fine gentleman. You wouldn't happen to have any CDs that you are looking to part with, do you?" I cracked up laughing every time she did this (at least 5 times), and each time they would shake their heads no. Everyone she asked was either in a rental car like we were, or they had ipods. To make up for this lack of music, Aubrey and I sang. We sang Christmas carols and 90's music hits (Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and Will Smith were the favorite artists) at the top of our lungs as we drove along the road. I wish we had recorded our performances, because they were pretty spectacular. Undoubtedly grammy worthy.

Brye ready to rock-and-roll as the DD

Cruising down the highway

At the start of the Great Ocean Road

The Great Ocean Road

The Sheoak Falls

Our next pit stop was at Apollo Bay, a seaside town located midway between Melbourne and the Twelve Apostles. We noshed on crackers, cheese and watermelon while sitting by the ocean, and then carried on. We arrived at the Twelve Apostles around 5:00 p.m. The Twelve Apostles are limestone rocks that jut from the water right of the shore of the Port Campbell National Park. I'm not sure why they are called the Twelve Apostles (there are only 8 rocks), but they were awesome and a unique site to see. We arrived just in time to see the sun set behind the rocks. Then it was time to make the trek back to Melbourne. It was such a fun day, and I am so grateful that Aubrey a) knew how to drive stick and b) was willing to drive the entire length of the trip. It was a long day and she was a trooper. I thanked her repeatedly for making my Great Ocean Road-Trip dream come true! It was the perfect end to an awesome weekend in Melbourne.

The Twelve Apostles

The seaside coast

The end of the trip: sunset and our sturdy car

Melbourne Holiday

Last weekend Sara, Aubrey and I took a 4 day holiday to Melbourne, the rival city of Sydney. People here seem to be particular to one city; I personally love them both. I was told by some that Melbourne was a lot like New York City, but I disagree. I think it is more like a Philly- very cultural and artsy while at the same time historic. It mixes old European flair with a hip, funky art culture. We spent the first night in the city and the following 3 nights in St. Kilda, the beach part of Melbourne comparable to Bondi Beach in Sydney. We had an absolutely lovely time. It was the first and last trip that the three of us took together. Sara is leaving this week to return to the USA, thus it was bitter sweet to be able to travel to this awesome city together before she left.

The tour guide books say that Melbourne is a city you visit for the food, shopping and art, and so our trip was primarily comprised of eating (my favorite activity), shopping (window shopping that is) and exploring the city streets filled with colorful graffiti and art. Hannah, one of our Australian friends, put us in touch with Simon, one of her good friends who lives in Melbourne. He generously offered to be our tour guide weekend and took us all around Melbourne making sure to show us the local favorite spots not mentioned in tour books. But make no mistake, us tourists still made sure to see the places Lonely Planet said not to miss. I thoroughly enjoyed wandering the alluring and intricate cafe and boutique filled streets- they pulse with a unique energy. Additionally, Melbourne has a great trolley transportation system which makes getting around simple as can be. Some of the main sight highlights of the trip included: the Melbourne Royal Botanical Gardens, art galleries, various fairs and markets, the Melbourne Luna Park, and Brighton Beach.

My favorite mural located in St. Kilda

Brighton Beach: Lined with the cutest, most colorful cobanas



Gazing at art...



The Melbourne Luna Park located in St. Kilda

Indulging in amazing tapa bombas...one of the food highlights of the trip

On Monday, Sara had to return to Sydney for work so Aubrey and I decided to rent a car and drive the Great Ocean Road. The details of this adventure will come shortly in another blog. Thus I will leave this as- TBC!

A Sand Dune Boarding Sunday

Last Sunday my Italian housemates decided it was time to get out of Sydney and embark on an adventure. Luca, my actual roommate, was the ringleader. He just purchased a car -- a white '96 Honda Civic, just like me (wut, wut) -- and was eager to take a road trip outside of the city. Luca decided that our travel destination would be Ana Bay, located in Port Stevens, where we could go sand dune boarding. Port Stephens is a large natural harbor located about 3 hours north east of Sydney (when driving) and it is known for its beaches of large, towering hills of white sand that stretch on for miles. From afar, the beaches look like mounds of snow that one could go skiing, sledding or snowboarding down. And that is precisely why Luca wanted to go there: so that we could go boarding down the hills of sand. Having never seen beaches like these nor gone boarding down sand dunes, you know I was game!

Sunday morning we rose early and piled into Luca's car. The day travelers included myself, Luca, Marta, Ernesto and Max (the only non-housemate, but still an Italian). The ride up was long, but it was a pleasant and relaxing; a nice change from walking hastily around the city. As the smallest crew member I got to sit in the middle back seat between Ernesto, who is quite a big dude, and Marta. So I can't say it was the most comfortable car ride, but minus a majorly sore butt I exited the vehicle in one piece.

During the car ride I was the designated directions giver, primarily because I am a native english speaker and thus could best read and understand the maps. However, the maps we had were for Sydney and its surrounding suburbs only. Once we made it outside the city we had no guide to follow.  Fortunately, unlike the stubborn men of America (at least the stereotypical ones), Luca and my Italian companions were not ashamed to stop and ask for directions. Actually, shout for directions. Whenever we were stopped at a red light, Luca and Max would roll down their windows and wave and shout at the cars next to us signaling for them to also roll their windows down. During the brief stopped-at-a-red-light period they would try and gather instructions for which way we needed to go. This method was amusing to watch, and I am happy to report also quite successful. We didn't get lost once, and after three hours we arrived at our destination.

 We climbed on board a 4WD (4 wheel drive) which was captained by Ray. He took off, clamoring over the mounds and hills of sand, throwing our bodies back and forth, side to side and every which way. There were multiple times when I was certain that we were going to topple over and tumble down the dunes we were climbing, but Ray was no armature and he transported us safely to our destination. We were given our boards and brief instructions on how to ride them (basically sit down and go). The boards were similar to snowboards except more narrow and long, and made of a firm but slightly flexible black wood. The climb to the top of the hill was a challenge, but once there I plopped on top of my board, positioned my feet and pushed. I pushed and pushed with my hands until gravity finally took over and I began sliding down the hill. As I picked up momentum it became apparent what my one mistake was: I wore shorts. Oh yes. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill a pile of sand had accumulated in my shorts and my crotch. This, needless to say, was quite uncomfortable. Despite my efforts to shake off the sand, it proved impossible to completely do so. I was still peeing sand days later (at least it felt that way). Still, the thrill of sailing down the dunes was enough for me to do it again and again. Luca, Ernest and Marta- those brave (or crazy) souls- attempted to master riding down the dunes standing. Marta was the most successful. Her sand-boarding skills were far superior to anyone; she was practically a sand-dune boarding pro!

Once we had our fill of sand boarding, we departed and stopped at a local brewery for dinner before making our way back to the city. Overall it was a wonderful day! It was nice to get away from the busy city scene and spend quality time with my favorite Italian housemates.

Marta & Me at the Ana Bay

Luca & Ray in the 4WD

Us back seat riders

Me & my board

Starting the boarding action

Marta boarding like a pro

The whole crew

Movember Gala: Mustaches, Mustaches Everywhere!

"Movember." Say it. "Movember." It rolls off the tounge, doesn't it? During my first few months in Sydney I heard the word "Movember" thrown around constantly but had no idea what it was. "I love Movember!" people would exlaim. "It's my favorite month of the year!" My reaction was always one of perplextion: "Huh? What is Movember?" Aubrey, perhaps the greatest fan of Movember, was the kind soul who finally explained it to me. "Movember is when men grow rediculous mustaches for the entire month of November in order to raise money and awareness about men's health issues. (November + Mustache = Movember. Get it?) It's the greatest month of the year!" She felt this way because she absolutely loves men with mustaches. She thinks there is nothing sexier than a man with a big 'ol stache. Wierd, I know. I, on the otherhand, prefer men whose chins, cheeks and lips are hair-free. Well, a little stubble is ok, but full-grown exhibitions of facial hair are a no-no in my book. Still, I was intrigued by this Movember, and when the month of November arrived (a month ago) I was impressed at how dedicated the men and women of Australia were to the concept and cause. 

Apparently Movember is a worldwide funraising effort. I am told that it does exist in the states. This was news to me. Perhaps you have heard of, experienced or even taken part in Movember before. I had not. This was my first Movember experience. For those of you who are still confused about what exactly Movember is about, here is how the Movember website describes it:

 Each year Movember is responsible for the sprouting of moustaches on thousands of men’s faces in Australia and around the world, with the sole aim of raising vital funds and awareness for men’s health, specifically prostate cancer and depression in men.

Men sporting Movember moustaches, known as Mo Bros, become walking, talking billboards for the 30 days of November and through their actions and words raise awareness by prompting private and public conversation around the often ignored issue of men’s health.

Supported by the women in their lives, Mo Sistas, Movember Mo Bros raise funds by seeking out sponsorship for their Mo growing efforts. The rules are simple; register online at Movember.com and start the month of Movember clean shaven, before growing a Mo.  

Money raised in Australia is shared equally between programs targeting prostate cancer and male depression. Funds are committed to our men’s health partners, the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia and beyondblue – the national depression initiative and the Movember Foundation. Together, the three channels work to ensure that Movember funds are supporting a broad range of innovative, world class programs in the fields of research, education, support, and awareness.

As we progressed into the month of November, it seemed that practically every male I passed on the street was sporting a mustache of sorts. Every which way I looked, there were men with mustaches! This was most true at work.  Frank, my manager, challened the male Summit employees to a  Movember competition: whoever could grow the best movember mustache (as determined by the Summit crew via a vote) would win a $100 gift voucher. And so each guy at Summit spent the full month of November trying to grow the best stache they could. It was so funny to see them all. Big mustaches. Small mustaches. Brown mustaches. Blonde mustaches. Mustaches, I have come to realize, are really unique things that come in all different shapes, sizes, colors and styles. No mustache is like the next. I have a newfound appreciation for mustaches and the Mo Bros that grew them.

Clearly unable to be a Mo Bro, I decided that I would hop on the Movember bandwagon by becoming a Mo Sista. Basically a Mo Sista is just a female who supports the Movember cause. Sara and Aubrey were also Mo Sistas. We decided that the best way to show our Movember support and appreciation would be to attend the Movember Gala at Luna Park in Sydney. This gala took place on November 25th, Thanksgiving night. After we had stuffed our faces with our Thanksgiving feast, we got in our gala gear and headed to the amusement park to partake in the celbration of men with mustaches.

Luna Park where the Movember Gala took place.

The Movember Gala was one of the most fun evenings I have had since being in Sydney. For the gala, Mo Bros were instructed to dress up in a costume to match their mustache. Mo Sistas were told to dress in a costume to complement the Mo Bros they were supporting. Basically it was a massive Halloween party at an amusement park, and we got to ride the rides for free! Us Mo Sistas didn't have any Mo Bros to dress up with, so we opted to purchase fun little top hats and draw mustaches on our fingers. At some point in the evening someone offered Aubrey a mustache cut-out, which she eagerly plastered to her face. It was hilarious, as were most of the outfits worn by the Mo Bro and Sista attendees. The costumes that the Mo Bros donned were creative, innovative and oh-so funny, including: ElMO, MOna Lis, and MOah's Ark (as shown below). Prizes were awarded for the best and worst Movember costumes and mustaches. The grand-prize winner's mustache started from his lip and went all the way down to his ankles. No joke. He had shaved off all the hair on his cheeks, neck, chest and legs except for two inch-wide lines of hair that trailed all the way down his body. It was impressive. It was hilarious. It was enough for him to be crowned Mr. Movember.

Flashing our finger mustaches

El-MOs!

MO-na Lisas

MO-ah's Ark (and his mustache clad animals)

The awards: no worries, even lame-mos are prize worthy!

Riding the free-rides at Luna Park and loving it

I am now a huge fan of Movember, and I am certain that in a couple of years Movember is going to be HUGE in the United States. I know this fun way to raise money for an important cause will catch on like wildfire. I predict that next year, come Thanksgiving you will be feating with mustache-clad husbands, sons, uncles and nephews. But don't worry, as soon as the calendar page turns to December 01, the staches come off. This I can assure you; mustaches on men are almost obsolete now, especially as we enter the summer season.

Thanksgiving Across The Globe

As you know, November 25th in the U.S. is our beloved Thanksgiving Day, but in Australia November 25th is just another day. The concept of Thanksgiving is a foreign one to Aussies and other non-Americans, and a holiday that certainly baffles them. However, I refused to let November 25th come and go in Sydney without celebrating one of my favorite American holidays, so I took it upon myself to make this Thanksgiving a memorable one by hosting an international Thanksgiving potluck at my house. I sent out facebook invitations to the twenty or so people I know in Sydney, and then verbally invited my ten housemates. My invitation was as follows:

We may be in Australia, but it is still Thanksgiving (one of the greatest American holiday's because all you literally do is eat and drink and eat some more) in the US, and this merry day of feasting and drinking with friends and family cannot be missed! The point of Thanksgiving is to give thanks for all that we have, and I am so thankful to have met you all in Australia. You each have made my time and experi...ence here unforgettable, so please join me for an unforgettable afternoon of feasting and fun! (It doesn't matter whether or not you're American, this about celebrating with friends and food, so be there).

This will be a BYO Thanksgiving potluck. All I ask is that each person bring their favorite holiday dish to share with everyone. Bring whatever you want! If we all bring one dish then we will have the most incredible international feast! I'm drooling just thinking about it =). Also, please invite as many people as you'd like. This is about celebrating with friends, so any friends of yours are friends of mine and welcome to join in the celebrations- as long as they bring a dish! The more the merrier!

The idea was good, and I envisioned that it would be a really great Thanksgiving if everyone actually showed up and brought something consumable with them. But my guests' attendance was not guaranteed, and so I was a tad unsure and nervous about how the event would unfold. Fortunately, weeks prior too the big day, two new people moved into my house: Joe, a really awesome gal from England, and Ian, an American from Detroit and Chicago. When I told Ian that I was hosting Thanksgiving at our place his face lit up in excitement. "Yes, that's awesome!" he exclaimed. "I have a few other American friends and we were saying how we wanted to do something for Thanksgiving. This will be really good. I'll talk to Joe about cooking a turkey." Their commitment and enthusiasm to my plan made all the difference, and I knew that at the very least there would be a few Americans gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving on the actual day (including myself, Sara and Aubrey).

All week I nagged every person I saw, asking if they were coming to Thanksgiving and reminding them to bring something to place on the table for everyone to share. Wednesday evening I cleaned the entire kitchen, dining room and living room in preparation of the next day's feast. Ernesto, another new housemate from Rome, kindly assisted me in this disgusting endeavor. I hung gold tassle from the celieing and placed a bright green sheet that Norman had given me (the Irishman was moving and didn't need it anymore) over the table to serve as a festive tablecloth (and to hide all the clutter beneath the table). Thursday, the big day, I spent most of the day preparing my holiday dishes: a sweet potato and marshmallow casserole (this is such an American dish, i felt it was necessary to appear on the table mainly for the amusement of my international guests), a spinash salad with feta cheese and candied walnuts (I figured we needed some sort of green), and brownies. Meanwhile, Joe was working hard in the kitchen preparing the turkey. I love how the non-American took charge and volunteered to cook the turkey. She did an impressive job, especially considering it was her first time roasting a whole turkey.

Joe checking the glorious turkey she made

Around 4:00 pm the guests began to arrive, each of them bringing food and/or beverages as requested. I was delighted!  Luca, my Italian roommate, made a massive bowl of pasta salad. Norman brought apple pies and ice cream. Ian's American friends came with a massive salad, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, chocolate pie, and another sweet potato casserole. Aubrey brought a banana bread and pumpkin dish. James (another new housemate who is Australian) made a tapioka-like pudding. Others brought wine, Sangria, chips and salsa, and chocolate. The feast was bigger and better than I had hoped it would be. And, most importantly, it was scrumptious! Before everyone dug into the feast, I took a moment to say a few words to everyone. It went a little something like this:

"Hi everyone. Thank you all for coming to celebrate Thanksgiving today! For those of you aren't from the U.S., welcome to your first Thanksgiving! And for my fellow Americans, I don't know about you but this is my first Thanksgiving away from home so I am glad we could all come together to celebrate. In my family it is tradition to say grace before we eat, so I'd like to do so before we feast. Dear God, thank you for bringing us all together today. I am grateful to be in Sydney and to have met so many awesome people. Thank you for the food which we are about to eat. God is neat, let's eat!" 

And after a hearty "Amen!" we all dug in, eating ourselves into food comas (as every good American should on turkey day).

Aaron and Ian (my American roomie) "carving" and tasting the turkey

The guests arriving

The feast!

 It was amusing to see my non-American roommate's reaction to our Thanksgiving. First of all, they were all wondering what exactly Thanksgiving was about. Secondly, it was the first time any of them had ever seen and eaten a full turkey. The only turkey any of them had ever eaten was sliced coldcuts on a sandwich, but never a hot, roasted turkey. Actually, it was the first time that many of them had ever eaten numerous American holiday foods. Marta was most funny. She was pacing around the kitchen all afternoon asking me, "Sarah, what is that?" pointing in wonder at the mashed potatoes and sweet potatoe casseroles laying on the table. She was so eager to try these "American" foods.

Marta trying some American foods

Nico and Tamara, two of my international roomies, enjoying the food

The verdict was unanimous: Thanksgiving was a huge success! Everyone, both American and non-American, thoroughly enjoyed the feast and company. It was nice to see everyone come together, to see the smiles on people's faces as they ate, and to hear the laughter as people from around the world bonded. My fellow American's left that evening extremely content, happy that they were able to celebrate Thanksgiving, and the non-Americans walked away huge fans of the holiday. As Marta put it, "I like Thanksgiving. Eating and drinking with friends. It is a great holiday." Indeed it is, and indeed it was. Happy Belated Thanksgiving to everyone back home! I hope your holiday was a great one as mine was.

My Trip To The Great Outback (I)

Note: I wrote this blog write before my computer crashed and didn't get a chance to post it until now (because I just got it back, duh). This  dates back to mid-october. 

I have just returned from a trip to the Outback, or the Red Center as it is also called. What a unique, educational experience and rugged three days! I went on The Rock Tour, a three day, two night camping trip and guided tour through 1,500km (932 miles) of the Northern Territory, mainly to Uluru, Kata Tjuta and Kings Canyon. This trip was unlike any other I have ever been on for many reasons: I went by myself (up until this point I had gone on my Australian excursions with either Sara, Aubrey or both), was up at 5:00am each day (eek!), did not shower for 3 days (well I washed my body, but not my hair), slept in a swag on the dirt ground under the stars (or rain, as was more often the case), and had absolutely no access to electronics or technology (that is, computers, internet, facebook, television, etc.). It was a dramatically different way of life compared to living in Sydney, which was precisely why I went.  

Day 1: Uluru

Sunday morning I hopped a flight from Sydney to Ayers Rock. (Side note: airport security here is so lax! They didn’t check my I.D., I didn’t have to bag all my liquids, and I could walk through the scanner with my sneakers on. It took a whole one minute to pass security). On the airplane I was seated next to Mr. Erudite-Outback, a gentleman who was hoping to start his own tour company in the outback and therefore new all there is to know about the northern territory. For the entire trip he pointed out land masses below that I must see, instructing me to “Go sit in that front seat up there and look down” or “Go sit in that empty seat in the back and look out.” Of course I always listened, and each time after a few minutes the stewardess would come over and ask me to “please return to your seat.” She had to ask me this three times. I was like the naughty child at school that she couldn’t tame, but I had to see what Mr. Erudite-Outback insisted I see, the coolest of them all being Lake Eyre. Apparently, the last time that Lake Eyre was actually full was in the 1970’s. Usually the outback is so dry that the lake never fills, but this year has been an extremely wet season as a result the lake is full again. This, as Mr. Erudite-Outback explained, is very rare and I had the great fortune (thanks to my chance encounter with him) to see the massive, impressive lake abounding with water. From above it looked like an enormous piece of marble tile swirling with vibrant red, white, grey and blue colors. When full, it is the largest lake in Australia.  

Once at Ayers Rock airport, I was picked up by the Rock Tour in a rickety-rackety bus. I felt like I hopped onboard an 80’s hippie-mobile. This was no Greyhound bus. Forget the air conditioner, recliner seats and free Wi-Fi, this sucker was equipped with sleeping bags, dirty back packers and coolers. Oh, and flies, lots and lots of flies. It was jammed pack with about 20 campers in total, all from around the world. We spent the first portion of the trip introducing ourselves. I was one of two Americans on the trip; we were both named Sarah (figures). Our Aussie tour guide was also Sarah. She was one tough chick. I have enormous respect for Sarah and her ability to successfully lead a group of 20 adults through the outback. By the end of this blog you’ll understand what I mean. In addition to the Sarah’s, there were two Italian girls, a Brazilian, a Canadian, a Korean, a French couple, a Norwegian, two Australian sisters and some Swedish peeps. These were my comrades with whom I embarked on a 3 day camping trip through the red center of Australia

The inside of the Rock Tour bus

We wasted no time seeing the main attraction: Uluru, as the aboriginals call it, or Ayers Rock, as us white folks call it. I will call it Uluru for this blog. Both names refer to the massive, red rock located smack dab in the middle of no where, as if it just plopped magically onto the earth. It is the world’s largest rock. This rock is the iconic symbol of the outback. It is the must-see attraction of the Red Center. I saw it, and I can tell you that it is indeed a massive, red rock. This landmark rock itself was not as enchanting or impressive as I was anticipating, but it was still cool to see.

Visitors are given the option to climb the rock or to go on a base walk around the outskirts of the rock. By the time our group arrived the climb had been closed, so we had no choice but to embark on the base walk. But had I been given the choice, I would have declined to climb the rock anyway and for a number of reasons. First off, the aboriginals ask that you not climb the rock because it is sacred to them. Instead, they prefer that you take in the sights and sounds of the rock from a distance. How could I go against this request? I couldn’t. If not even the aboriginal people climb the rock, then I certainly have no right to. Second, as Sarah insisted, climbing the rock is dangerous. It is a steep, upward climb that offers only a metal chain as assistance. Deaths are common, and that is one number I didn’t want to add to. And third, climbing the rock damages it and the surrounding environment. Most climbers find once they’ve reached the top that they need to relieve themselves. There are no porter potties atop Uluru, hence the surface of Uluru becomes the toilet. Then the rain comes and washes the mounds of climbers’ poo and pee down the rock and into the water holes; contamination at its worst. So for me, the question “To climb or not to climb the rock?” was a no brainer. It surprises me that people are even given the option to climb the rock. If the aboriginals don’t want anyone trekking up their sacred symbol and excreting atop it, then don’t let them! Take down the climb and tell people to walk the base or go home.

Uluru from inside the bus

Uluru form outside the bus

Here are some of the things I saw and learned on the walk around Uluru:

Tjukpa (pronounced chukpa): this word is the basis of aboriginal life. We have no English word equivalent, thus it is hard to accurately explain what tjukpa means. Tjukpa is the law. It encompasses everything, from creation to how to relate to others and treat the land.

Rock erosions: I walked around the rock with Sarah (American), Michelle (Canadian), and Caetano (Brazilian), and one game we liked to play was finding objects and images in the rocks, as you do with clouds in the sky. There were heaps. In this image we saw a skeleton on the left. What do you see?

See the skeleton on the right?

Why the dirt is red: Turns out that the sand beneath the ground and inside of Uluru is actually white as white can be. However, this sand contains high levels of iron, and when exposed to the sun the sand basically rusts (just like my car), hence the RED color that you see everywhere.

Aboriginal Stories: In the aboriginal culture, stories are told to teach each member about tjukpa, the land and their roles. There are three types of stories: children’s stories, men’s stories and women’s stories. Children’s stories are told to children (obviously) to help them understand the basics of the aboriginal culture and way of life. These stories are often sung, involve large animal god characters (sort of like Greek mythology, except that the aboriginal gods are, as I said, human-size animals), and are designed either to inform (about the land, plants, etc.) or to teach lessons (right vs. wrong, etc.). For example, one story Sarah told us was about an opossum goddess and her little opossum children. The story took place at this cave and was about how the mother would call her children into the cave and roll the rock in front of the opening to protect them from dangerous predators. I’m not going to attempt to retell the story because my version won’t do it justice, but I promise the story was more engaging. The point is that from this story aboriginal children learned the location of the single enclosed cave on the rock where they could go for shelter and protection. This is how the aboriginal culture operates. Once children have learned all the children’s stories, they then go on to learn either the women’s or men’s stories, depending on their gender. Only women can learn women’s stories, which focus on gathering, cooking and plant knowledge, and only men can learn men’s stories, which focus on hunting and protection knowledge.

Sarah telling us a children's story

Sacred Sights: Aboriginal men and women are taken to sacred sights to learn their gender stories and roles. Only men are allowed at men’s sacred sights and only women are allowed at women’s sacred sights. Technically, neither gender should know where any of the opposite gender’s sacred sights are located. For this reason, we were not allowed to take photos of the sacred sights which were marked with a measly sign that said “No photos.” If caught taking a photo of a sacred sight you could be fined up to $5,000. Yikes! This was not a fee I was looking to pay as it would practically wipe out my travel funds, but it was challenging trying to determine where a sacred sight started and finished since there was only a tiny sign in front of a massive rock. Thus for a great portion of the walk, I found myself nervously looking over my shoulder to make sure a ranger wasn’t charging at me with a ticket in hand. We all know the sort of luck I have with parking tickets; fortunately, this luck did not accompany me to the outback.

The Uluru base walk took about two hours to complete. Afterward we had dinner at a campground where we could watch the sunset behind the red rock. Unfortunately, clouds covered the sky so we didn’t have the most spectacular of sunset shows, but it was still enjoyable eating and chatting with the group. Then we headed back to camp to hit the hay (or dirt). Our beds for the evening (and entire trip) were called swags. I love this word, mainly because it reminds me of swagger which is defined as: a very confident gait or manner (dictionary.com). Because of this, I felt oddly cool sleeping in a swag. A swag is a thin foam mattress that is placed inside a thick canvas zip-up cover, and then rolled-up like a sleeping bag. It is both durable and portable, and was my bed for two nights. No roof. No tent. No cabin. Just me, my swag and I. Oh, and some cockroaches (eek!). Of course this first evening, rather than sleeping beneath the stars, we found ourselves under a sea of billowing storm clouds. Thus we all huddled together in the kitchen which offered the only form of shelter from the rain. In the a.m. our swags were drenched, but luckily they kept us fairly dry. However, that wouldn’t last long as the rain persisted on throughout the majority of day 2.

Dinner night one: stirfry

Sarah demonstrating how to use a swag

Where we slept the first night

My Trip To The Great Outback (II)

Day 2: Kata Tjuta

The following morning we had a 5 a.m. wake-up call. The plan was to rise before the sun so that we could watch it rise above Uluru while eating breakfast. Unfortunately, due to the rain we were forced to remain at camp for brekky, and by the time we reached Uluru the sun (or what you could see of it) had already risen. Still, we were able to catch a pretty awesome view of the rock with mysterious, misty clouds hovering above like a chimney stack.

We then made our way to Kata Tjuta. Kata Tjuta is another random rock formation found in the middle of the Red Center, only it is much less publicized and know than Uluru. This is because the entirety of Kata Tjuta is a men’s sacred sight, so the aboriginal people do not permit photographs of the sight to be used for commercial purposes. My blog isn’t a money-maker, so I can share the photos I took with you (hooray!); BUT don’t you dare steal my pictures and re-publish them commercially, otherwise the aboriginals will have your head on a platter. Trust me; you don’t want to anger them. There was one book in the gift shop full of letters from people who had stolen rocks from Uluru who swore that afterward their lives fell in shambles and they had years of poor fortune. These people would do anything to go back in time and NOT take a piece of the sacred Uluru. So this is your warning: don’t publish the Kata Tjuta pictures. And with that said, here they are…

Kata Tjuta in the misty morning

Kata Tjuta up close

As I said, this day was a rainy one. So rainy in fact that I had to whip out my emergency poncho. I am so glad I bought this sucker, and even more glad that I just happened to bring it with me to the usually dry outback. Despite the rain, the 2 hour trek around Kata Tjuta was awesome! Not knowing what to expect, I was pleased to discover a red rock world of canyons, boulders, wildlife, rivers and waterfalls. Unlike the basewalk around Uluru, which compared to a simple walk around a high school track, the walk through Kata Tjuta entailed hiking and climbing through and around the formations, each time revealing a new sight to behold. And the rain actually turned out to be a blessing because we were able to see numerous waterfalls scaling down the sides of the rocks. Sarah informed us that this was a rare sight; in the 14 months she had been working as a Rock Tour guide, this was the first time she had ever seen these waterfalls. How cool.

Weather woes? Nope! Fashion woes? Maybe

The skies briefly cleared up

Waterfall scaling the sides

Sarah used my leg as a canvas to demonstrate how the clay rocks were used as paint

After the walk, we were soaked to the bone. We retreated to a new campground at Kings Canyon where we spent the remainder of the day attempting to dry ourselves, our clothing and our swags over a fire. By this time the rain had passed, so we were somewhat successful; rather than sleeping on drenched swags, we slept on damp ones. We also had a lovely fire-side dinner, which was prepared in pots atop of the hot ashes. The meal consisted of chili, rice and vegetables and was mmm mmm good. After the sun had set, we laid gazing at the starry night sky above.

Collecting firewood from trees along the roadside on the way to camp

Kings Creek Station, where we stayed the second night

Cooking dinner

Some of the other campers (Canadian, French and Italian)

The sunset