Our koalas don't take baths...

BY: KAITLIN IN AUSTRALIA

Contrary to popular belief, koalas are not everywhere in Australia. I only say this because I had the following classic conversation with my beloved sister a while go.

Chrissy: Do koala bears climb into your bathtub? That is so cool! Why don't you take pictures of cute koala bears?
Me: There are no koala bears in this area. So, no, koala bears do not climb into my bath tub.
Chrissy: Really? You should just let your windows open.
Me: But there are no koala bears in this area.
Chrissy: But don't you take baths?
Me: No, we take showers
Chrissy: So the koala bears take showers?

(Don’t worry. My sister is super smart and she was just, as the Aussies say, havin’ a go. Happy 27th birthday today, Chrissy!)

But last Friday, a merry group of us students headed down the eastern coast to a house on Magnetic Island for three wonderful days of hiking and swimming. And on one of those days, I finally saw and held my first koala at an animal sanctuary. Just so you know, koalas don't wash themselves; the smellier they are, the more attractive they are to the opposite sex.

(His name was Dexter; how awesome is that?!)

After a week of exams and writing papers, I was fully ready for a little rest and recreation, and Magnetic Island proved generous with both. Aside from holding Dexter at the koala sanctuary, we hiked an old track full of World War II forts. The views were amazing naturally, but I also felt some residual sadness for those brave old soldiers, who must have held these same tranquil blue waters with some amount of trepidation—nothing like us carefree sorts, goofing around on boulders and taking pictures like this:


No more sadness, readers! Because I have to say, the real highlight of my trip was on the second day, when we finally broke down and rented scooters.

I know! Kaitlin on a scooter! What are the chances?

Here’s a little proof for the non-believers:

(My schooter’s name was Geoffrey; how awesome is that?)

I feel like most of my blog entries deal with the verbally indescribable, and the experience of racing around a tiny, mountainous mountain on a scooter certainly falls under the same category. It was sublime. There’s just no other word.

The feeling of the sun on your back? The feeling of the racing down a curve at 55 kilometers per hour? Just sublime. You’ll just have to trust me on this.

As you can imagine, we were quite the sensation—six scooters rolling around at top speed. And we used those scooters as much as possible, motoring up and down that beautiful shoreline. We’d stop at particularly beautiful bays and jump into the salty waters, shrieking and laughing the whole way.

We eventually made our way back to the house, where we grilled up a meal for a king—Australian lamb burgers and sausages, eaten on a sandy picnic table.

That night, with the salt of the sea still on our skin and hair, we went for one last scooter ride. It was pitch dark, except for the light of our lone headlights. The island is pretty deserted since Australia’s moving into autumn, and tourists are scarce. Scooting in one arcing lineup, I felt like a part of some biker gang (albeit slightly less fierce because of our silly grins) as we motored recklessly past a moving landscape.

The next morning, as we left the island on a lumbering ferry back to the mainland, it was impossible to feel anything except gratitude—gratitude for a bounty of beautiful landscapes, gratitude for a raucous time spent among friends, gratitude for the wind against my face as we raced against the night.


Here’s to Dexter, Geoffrey, and the burning, bright brilliance of youth.

Next time: We're climbing the highest point of the Lambshead range! So ready yourself for pictures of a sweaty and beatific crew.

All my love,
Kaitlin

P.S. I've uploaded a bunch of pictures on my Facebook account—a smattering of my Australian experience—so definitely check those out!