What's Going On

So sorry to have taken such a long time to chuck another blog out. It's gonna be a lengthy one.
There are birds outside making whistling noises. You know, that whistle that dirty men make when a pretty lady passes by?

Last weekend, we went to Canberra, the national capital. There's not much to the city except for neighborhoods, museums, and the two parliament buildings. In two short days, we hit all the museums. First, we went to the new Parliament House. It sits in a hill opposite the National War Memorial Museum. Earth is actually on top of the building, to remind those it holds within that the government is not above the people. It's composed of straight and strong lines except for the contrasting Aboriginal artwork that is the forecourt mosaic. The design was done by Tjakamarra, a well-known Aboriginal artist. While researching for a "local Aboriginal report", I found that a few years after it was laid in the concrete, he returned to Parliament House and symbolically removed the meaning from it. He did this because some Aboriginal rights were being abused and the artwork, while right outside the Parliament House, was not making an impact inside. (Ok, I know that description of what happened sounded vague and confusing, but I couldn't find the original article I got the information from.)

We couldn't actually go into Parliament House because of time constraints, but we did have time to take photos outside it and for one of our group to roll down the sloping grassy hill, only to be reprimanded by Kimberley.

After a quick bathroom break at the House, we set out for the Indonesian Embassy. We passed the Chinese Embassy, the Swedish one, the Mexican one, and on our way out, the American and British one. Each Embassy section took on the traditional design of their country. The American one was pointed out as being the one at the highest point on the hill. Haha, typical.
I really enjoyed all the information we got that day, but to be honest, I was fighting the downward motion of my eyelids the whole day. I was struggling to keep the speakers in focus. The reason for this exhaustion was the fact that we had woken up at 4 ish to get to the school by 6.

At the Indonesian Embassy, we learned mostly about the bilateral relationship between their country and Australia and about education. They didn't mention any of the hostility or tension in their relationship that has been present for the past couple of decades. Not that I can say I know too much about that though. The country's motto is "A million friends and no enemies". What would it look like for the US to have this motto? Would that be possible? And how could we make that possible?

Anyways, after we had some delightful egg/noodle/spicy/butdelicious rolls, we headed out to the New Zealand High Commission. It's called a High Commission because it's part of the Commonwealth. We were greeted with a Maori song (the Maori people [pronounced mowry-as in "ow, that hurt"] are the indigenous inhabitants of NZ). Courtney and I were especially excited to see some kiwi's (and that's said with the utmost respect. we just think the fact that they're called that is hilarious.) We started quoting Flight of the Concords, and that woke me up a little. The speaker talked to us about New Zealand and how it had to work hard to be noticed and be able to have a voice at the national table. I think it's doing a pretty good job.

The last stop of the day was the Aboriginal Embassy. Which doesn't actually exist. In 1972, Aboriginals that were fed up with the government and how they were being treated (or not treated) set up camp in front of the old Parliament House (which at that time, was not old) in protest. Their land rights were being abused. They were booted off a couple of times, but the Aboriginal Tent Embassy has remained to this day. Signs of protest are scattered about the area, and the inhabitants live with nature in tents off to the side. In the center, there is a "fire for justice" that is always burning. It was started in 1993 and represents early efforts of activists and the continuous fight for Aboriginal sovereignty.
When we got there, a woman named Auntie Jude, who has been living there for the past few years, came out to speak to us. She spoke about her life and what the Tent Embassy was for. She was part of the stolen generation. She was raised in a white family. Watching her tell her story was such a powerful experience. You could hear the hurt, frustration, anger, and sadness pouring out of her voice. The lines on her face and the look in her eyes told us a story. She was speaking out of her heart, not an angry agenda. The stolen generation, even if their situation was made "better" by their removal from their family (which is hard to believe), still had to struggle with identity crisis and confusion. Where were their roots?
At the end, she had us circle around the fire and throw eucalyptus leaves on it. We then proceeded to walk around it so that we could smell the smoke.

That night, we had a discussion about the day and anti-Americanism. It was really interesting. It was a time of searching as well as self-reflection. We analyzed "American Idiot" by Greenday and John Mayer's "Waiting on the World to Change". We discussed how we could change the world, rising above being overwhelmed and discouraged and then actually taking action.

I was totally involved in the discussion, but to keep my mind from totally wandering, I proceeded to doodle (draw that is. but don't say that in Australia. It's a naughty word.) and drew some crazy koalas and a doggy (which proceeded to bring tears to my eyes which I quickly swept away) on the page we later had to turn in. I obviously didn't realize we had to turn them in until after. Before I handed my pages in, I informed Kimberley that I in fact did pay attention and was involved in the discussion. She laughed.
I was feeling down about Bridget, but luckily I have an awesome room mate who gave me hugs.

Groups formed to play games or go out, and I chose to be at the poker table (yesss). Good ole Texas Hold 'em. I was forced to bail due to fatigue, but I was on my way to victory. Ok, well, at least I wasn't in the bottom two. Durr would be proud. I went all in a couple of times at the end--what I called my kamikaze move--so I could get out of it, and ended up winning. Figures.
I left all my toiletries at home, no shampoo, conditioner, face wash, toothbrush (somehow my tooth paste had made it in the bag), and contact solution or case. I was roughing it (yes, I know that's not really roughing it…for some).

The next morning we went to the National Portrait Gallery. We were rushed through, which I did not like. There were people waiting in a tremendously long line for a French painters exhibit featuring Gauguin, Van Gogh, and Cezanne. The wait was up to four hours. We did not go to this exhibit, unfortunately, but I'm glad we did not have to wait.
We left there to go to the National Museum. It had heaps of historical exhibits with artifacts and information. There was a whole section about the first Australians and was all about Aboriginals, their culture, and civil rights movements. The museum was big with wide open spaces and right by the big man made lake in Canberra.
We then went back to the National Gallery. From there, we went to the National War Memorial. It's one of the largest memorials in the world. Grandpa (aka Papa) would have loved it. Dad would have loved it too. It was a museum as well and much of the information was about the two world wars. There was an epic informational video about planes in the Great War, made by the guy that did Lord of the Rings.
After the memorial closed, we rolled out on our Gerringong bus (pronounced with a soft g. Someone at Flo made fun of me when I said it wrong. That happens a lot here, but I just inform them that they are, in fact, saying it the wrong way.)

And now, after another week has gone by, I am setting out on another adventure to Melbourne. I booked my flight at the last second for $15.00. No lies. I am meeting up with a group of girls from the program, and we're going to explore the city!

I feel so blessed to be here every day, surrounded by wonderful people, and learning so much. I am the same person, but I am changing. I'm growing and discovering things about myself. God's teaching me many things about community and loving people. I'm learning to see his children through his eyes, and to see how beautiful they are.

One thing's for sure, I definitely still hate cockroaches. In fact, one just fell from the bottom of Carissa's vanity to the floor with a thud. The room's been making settling noises throughout the day, but when I looked over from where the sound came, I saw something on the floor. Not letting myself be too shaken, I assumed it was a leaf, but got up to investigate nevertheless (nevertheless-what a great word. it totally cheats the English language-putting three separate words together in one long one. ha, I bet Shakespeare made it up). And as I sprung up from my bed, it scurried across the floor towards the fireplace. It thought it could evade me, but alas! I quickly grabbed my thong (they don't call them flip flops here. I sound like an uncool mom every time I say it and giggle every time someone else uses the word.) and pounced upon it in a flash. Though its insides seeped from its sides, it continued to scurry about. I picked up my thong again, and with one final blow, I ended that lowest-of-the-low-scum-that-crawls-the-earth's life. Amen.

Sorry if the post seems scatter-brained. Can't pretend to be what I'm not.

Leave you with some quotes that have been on the brain this week:

“The people who plant the seeds of movements make a critical decision: they decided to live ‘divided no more.’ They decide no longer to act on the outside in a way that contradicts some truth about themselves that they hold deeply on the inside. They decide to claim authentic selfhood and act it out- and their decisions ripple out to transform the society in which they live, serving the selfhood of millions of others.”
Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak

“It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want - oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!”
Mark Twain

"Is my way not just? Is it not your ways that are not just?"
Ezekiel 18:25

"You know me, or you think you do. You just don't seem to see, I've been waiting all this time to be something I can't define. So let's cause a scene, clap our hands and stomp our feet, over something. I just gotta get myself over me."
The Format

Running From Camera

Under Harbor Bridge.
26 February 2010

It's Beautiful.

Last week at the gathering, a woman--I think her name was Mary--spoke to us about her journey through life. She wanted to dance, but went to school to be a teacher, because that was practical. She met her husband, moved to the states, had children and taught. After ten years, her family moved back to Australia. She knew she wanted to bring dance back into the Church, but she felt doubtful; she thought that what she wanted to do wasn't meaningful or good enough. She had always struggled with what she wanted to do with her life, but as she returned to Sydney with her passion, God led her to a passage of scripture, Matthew 26:6. In this passage, Jesus is having dinner at Simon the leper's house when a woman comes up to him and pours very expensive perfume/ointment/whatever you want to call it on Jesus' head. Now, the part I want to highlight is the disciples' and Jesus' reactions. The disciples were upset and said it was a waste. Why would this woman waste her time and money on this, when she could have sold the perfume for a good amount of money and, in turn, given it to the poor. That seems like the Christian thing to do. But Jesus' reaction was much different. He said "Why do you trouble the woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. For you always have to poor with you, but you will not always have me. In pouring this ointment on my body, she has done it to prepare me for burial. Truly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her." Jesus said that what she did, her act of worship, was beautiful.

When Mary spoke this passage, I fought tears back. Ok, I am an emotional person regardless, but I really needed to hear this message. I've struggled with what I should do with my life, from choosing my major to contemplating my future. How much is enough? What do I give? Should I give away all I have and feed the poor? Should I put all my time and energy into a ministry? Should I become a teacher? And I know the answer is simple: God places a passion in our souls, and we live out that passion with the driving force being that our lives belong to Him. I'm sure Mary knew that too. But the reminder that God loves things that are beautiful, things that are worshipful, was a blessing.

I have these doubts because what I do seems far from those things that are greatly needed and appreciated. I want to tell stories, which sounds silly. How this is going to be manifested, I'm not quite sure yet. Writing, acting, film, scripts, graphic design, art.
It's difficult for me to write or articulate what I feel about all this, well, because, I'm afraid. Fear of failure, self-doubt, insecurities. I have heaps to learn and experience.

Some underestimate the power of stories. The film industry itself may be scoffed at, called pointless or a waste of time. It is the best medium to portray a story, a worldview, humanity in it's most vulnerable form--not hidden in ambiguous words or images. Have you ever watched a film that's made you happy, angry, and sad within 100 minutes? Something that can draw you in that easily and make you display emotions so readily and without shame (you know you bawled in the theatre when you watched Marley & Me) has a powerful force that needs to be acknowledged. It's not just mindless entertainment.

The same goes with books and images as well. Does anyone remember the Harry Potter and Twilight phenomenon? Of course you do, because it's still going on.

I love reading the songs of great writers. No, not music. But the words that sing to your heart--that become part of your heartsong. The rhythm, the rhyme, it's beautiful. They pull at your imagination, they beg you to come into their world, find the meaning of life. They evoke emotion, reason, your spirit. I love it.
And somehow, in some way, I want to be a part of this storytelling.

Lorikeet

Found a few on the walk home.
Took this right before he dropped a little present on my shirt.

Running From Cameras

Outside Sydney Opera House.
For more info: http://runningfromcamera.blogspot.com

Traveling Without Processing is Tourism

This was something we were told right away at our ASC orientation, sitting inside one of the bigger classrooms at Wesley, trying to keep our eyes open after crossing the Pacific. We had been told several times that this was a pilgrimage (something, my fast friend, Courtney, and I had observed together on the plane), and they did not forget to tell us again when we landed. Well, I'm here. I've accepted the challenge. Let it begin.
I can't believe how much God has blessed me since I've set foot in Australia. Compared to the apprehension that comes with freshman year of college and making friends and figuring out where you belong, it's been a breeze. Of course, I'm not a freshman anymore, and God's taught me so much over the past year and a half, but I was still nervous. I was very outgoing at LAX--I actually frightened my then future room mate Carissa because I was so hyper and excited. I was not completely alone then either because Kristen and Katie were there with me as well. I sat next to one of the few LOST fanatics from the program on the plane, Courtney, and hit it off. Everyone was open to this new adventure and everyone seemed open to meeting new people.
After we landed, we quickly went through customs and baggage claim and met up with Kimberley and Melanie for the first time. Some of the wibbles (Student Leaders at Wesley) were there to greet us as well. On the way to campus, everyone snapping photos of what they could see of the harbor bridge, one of the Wesley students informed us of a pest here they call drop bears. They're small creatures that live in the trees and drop down on people and scratch them. They are particularly attracted to the American accent as well, but have been known to be repelled by applying a thick layer of Vegemite to the forehead. Needless to say, I didn't believe the trick for long. I had to reassure a friend later that it was indeed a farce, that she did not have to avoid standing or sitting under a tree.
Once we arrived on campus, we began orientation, getting a tour of the campus (which is about the size of the campus mall, the grass part of it). At about 4 or 5 or so, people's homestay families started picking them up. Carissa and I waited until everyone had left so that Kimberley could take us home.
15 minutes after we arrived at Flo, we went to dinner. We quickly tried to clean up before we met some of the residents for the first time. And let me just say, after traveling for 24 hours, I was not a pretty sight. We met probably a quarter of the Flo residents at dinner, for most did not arrive until this past week.
Since I had thrown out the shampoo and conditioner I intended to pack in a desperate attempt to make my luggage lighter, some of the residents walked us to a near convenience store to get supplies. That night, So You Think You Can Dance? Australia was on. Carissa and I made it through first hour before we about fell asleep on the couch.
On Thursday, everyone arrived back on campus all fresh and clean. Carissa and I got to take a taxi because Kim couldn't show us how to use transportation in time. The taxi driver had an unusual accent. He was born in Timor, a country right above Australia, but had moved to Aus later in life, making English his second language, which resulted in quite a unique accent.
That day, the rest of the Wesley first years joined us for orientation. After lunch, we went into the city to do a scavenger hunt. We were split up into groups with other Wesley students and had to perform certain tasks, take photos, or acquire objects. For example, we had to get someone to buy one of us an 50 cent ice cream cone from Macker's (probably the cheapest thing you can buy here. Oh, and Macker's is Macdonald's). We also made a human pyramid to look like the Sydney Opera House.
My team was not the most competitive group and ended up sitting on a grassy knoll by the opera house waiting to meet up.
That night, we went on a harbor cruise. There was live music and great views. There was dancing going on most of the night, the Americans taking up most of the dance floor.
When we were about to dock, all of a sudden the music stopped. People started yelling there was a man in the water. Everyone looked over the edge of the boat. There was an elderly man floating along the side of the 20 foot wall from which he had just fallen. A Wesley student was on the verge of jumping into the water when the captain of the boat came running forward with a lifesaver. A life raft was there almost immediately after, the man was safe, and the last song commenced.
Although the thought of falling off a wall into the ocean is terrifying enough, the fact that the harbor is a hot spot for sharks was pointed out to us the next day. Double whammy. Good thing I didn't go for a swim.
Friday continued our orientation. Some of us decided to meet at Circular Quay that night at 9. I never really understood where exactly we were to meet, but I was expecting a phone call. Well, the phone at Flo is broken, and no one had cell phones just yet. And this is the part where Dad should stop reading because he'll just worry about me more. Carissa wanted to stay in and play board games with Flo rezies, so I went to the city alone. I must say, I did lack a little foresight with the whole plan. I figured I would walk around until I found them. I got there early and walked up and down the quay. I walked to where I knew their bus might arrive. No sign. Although this story sounds quite pathetic, I myself embraced my independence and enjoyed the scenery. The harbor was lit up with pink light from the cruise liner and the customs house had large glowing tigers in front of it with pictures of a beautiful city in China. After an hour, I gave up looking, grabbed a gelato (quite tasty), and hopped back on the train. Usually, I'd be very bitter about such a situation, but there was no one to blame. I'm guessing this sort of event happened often before the advent of the cell phone. Or people just planned really well.
Turns out, everyone who said they would go went, just none of us saw each other. They either arrived later or were at a different spot. Regardless, I had an independent adventure, and I survived.

We slept in a bit on Saturday morning before heading into the city. We bought a beach towel and some thongs (yes, they still call them that here--you'd think they'd shorten flip flops to flippies like they do everything else) before heading to the wharf where we were to meet up with some girls to take the ferry to Manly Beach. Everyone showed up this time.
The ferry ride there was beautiful. It seemed like everyone was sailing. The beach was very crowded, but was fun just the same. Sand is such a nuisance.
After getting back and cleaning up, we headed back out again to go meet some friends from ASC. On the way there, we met a very entertaining couple. The girl was from Texas and the guy was from England. Both were a little tipsy. They had actually met part of our group earlier that day and went on about how the Americans are taking over Australia (with a few choice words thrown in and around). We rode the train to the city with them and they proved to be quite nice and helpful.


And thus concludes the long-winded version of my first 4 days in the wonderful city of Sydney.