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!

Wade in the water...

BY: KAITLIN IN AUSTRALIA

The theme of this post will be water, since I spent most of the last few days in and around it.

Isn’t water something else? I’m a Pisces myself; my element is water. Maybe I’m not the strongest swimmer, but I love it anyways.

The weekend started with some of the most perfect swimming I’ve ever had—all at the Josephine Falls in Queensland, Australia. This nook would be easy to miss, with only a rather drab sign to announce it. You hike for a tiny bit, and then you hear it—ever stronger and stronger—the sublime noise of rushing water.

The sight was something else—a waterfall structured around boulders so huge and massive they must have been the playthings of the gods. And here’s the most glorious thing: a slanting rock with cool, clear water flowing over it. In other words, a natural water slide.

Of course, we will be young and foolish, and that means we are a little drunk with our own invincible recklessness. Right away, we began racing right down the face of the slippery rock. One of the guys’ secret for winning so consistently? Pulling down his shorts a little to expose his derriere. Priceless.


In other news, I guess you won’t be surprised to know I fell straight on my back at the top of the slide. My legs flew straight out from under me, and I hit my head on the face of that smooth, dark rock. The “slide” was covered with a filmy mucus that’s common on a lot of river stones, and combined with my natural clumsiness, I now have a rather largish lump on my head. But as the Aussies love to say, “No worries, mate!” I wasn’t too hurt, and it certainly didn’t stop me from sliding down three more times.

Tired out from racing, we all sat back on the huge rocks and sunbathed—the perfect finish to any day.

That night, we stayed at a hostel in Cairns, a little tourist trap of a city. It reminds me of Miami, a city of which I’ve never been a fan. Too many tacky bistros, too many bleached blondes, too many souvenir shops hocking the same wares. Typical tourist fare. Maybe I’ve spent too much time in the rainforest amongst a different sort of people, but regardless, the city was a little much for me to handle.

We awoke bright and early the next morning and boarded a bus to the Tully River. It was here we’d spend another epic day—whitewater rafting down the Tully.

I’ve only been whitewater rafting once before, and it was on Class II rapids. The Tully Tiver, in contrast, is full of Class III and Class IV rapids. In other words, the rapids have high waves, dangerous rocks, and difficult passages. Nothing to scoff at.

I was scared stiff, but our guide, Renee, was extremely calm and sweet. I think she was used to high-strung passengers because she hardly noticed my nervous laughter and chatter.

But soon enough, my high-pitched giggles (so well known to friends and family) turned into shrieks of sheer excitement. Whitewater rafting is another thing that I find impossible to describe in words. But I know people who’ve also whitewater rafted will know what I mean. There’s nothing quite as life-affirming as when you look over your shoulder and realize that you just came through a dangerous and steep rapid over jagged and angry-looking rocks. You think to yourself, “Did I really do that? And how soon can I do it again?”

First row: Cass, Terry (poor guy, he was the only stranger and male on our raft), Elyse, our awesome guide Renee, and Nichole

Second row: Laura and me

The only part of the trip that I was truly frightened was when rafters were allowed to swim directly through a rapid. I had no idea what I was in for. I thought it might be some calm waters that a current would carry me through. But it wasn’t.

These rapids were the real thing: fast-moving and dangerous. With only a life-jacket, I was buffeted about in the breaking waves. I kept breathing at the wrong time, and each time I opened my mouth, I swallowed more and more water. And I would see a huge wave, taller than me, coming right at me.

Panic abounded.

I thought I was going to die. I’m not even just saying that, I was scared. I even started waving my hands, hoping to God that someone would see my frantic gesturing. Along the way, I picked up this little beaut of a bruise on my knee:

(I guess the other theme of this post could have been "Just how clumsy is Kaitlin?")

But all of a sudden, the waters suddenly slowed, and with a huge amount of relief, I saw my fellow rafters, contentedly bobbing in more placid waters. My heart was pounding, and then the exhilaration of having survived a particularly fearsome danger set in.

After that particular thrill, the daylong rafting trip was almost over, and I was ready for the long bus ride back. These days, I’m using any excuse to catch some extra sleep, and in no time at all, lulled by the drone of the engine and wheels, I was out.

We got back to Cairns just in time for a late dinner of some of the best pizza I’ve ever had—crispy and cheesy and all the other wonderful things that pizza can be.

The long and tiring day ended with me and a good friend (Laura from the above photo) looking out from the Cairns marina—my first view from the opposite side of the Pacific Ocean.

I squinted my eyes all I could. I thought of shouting out. For a second, it really seemed like if I tried hard enough, maybe I could make you hear me all the way from sunny, beautiful Australia. But instead of yelling, I stayed quiet. I closed my eyes. I thought hard. And I wished you all the precious gift of water—so perilous and humbling, so cleansing and sweet.

All my love,
Kaitlin

Next time: I’ll be going to the Chillagoe Outback on a three-day camping excursion, exploring caves and jumping off rocks. Wish me luck!

Take a hike, my friend.

BY: KAITLIN IN AUSTRALIA

Today is my birthday! And I’m in Australia! Could things get any better?

Actually, if I can be honest, things could have been a little better. We were scheduled to go up to Lambs Head on an all-day hike, but we can’t because of (what else) a rainstorm. That’s okay, though, because seriously, let’s put things in perspective—I’m in Australia, and it’s beautiful. Even in all its rainy glory.

I know this will sound tired and prosaic, but I feel very lucky to be here. Most days I wake up at six o’clock in the morning (what a difference from mornings at Swarthmore), and I just lay there for a while, listening to the rain and the birds. By now, I can identify some of these birds, and it makes me feel a little more welcome in this big, vast rainforest.

And, reader, I feel happy. That’s pretty rare for any human being to achieve, and I’ve been feeling it a majority of the time here. Even in sessions of intense paper writing, it's hard not to enjoy the beautiful surroundings. I mean, really—how could anyone be stressed when face-to-face with a bullheaded and foolish brush turkey, intent on stealing your lunch?

Just look at that face. We call him Charles.

Anyways, I promised that last time I’d talk about what you need to bring in your pack for hiking in the rainforest, and I’m here to deliver. What you need in the rainforest isn’t too different from what you’d normally need, with a few exceptions:

• Rain jacket: You better make sure this is waterproof. None of your fancy frills, please. Bless you, inventors of Gore-tex. You’ve protected me from many a blustery burst of water, and I love you.

• Rain pants: Before this program, I’d never heard of rain pants. The ones I found look laughably bad on me. They’re size extra-small, but they still balloon out like goofy, horrible jodhpurs. However, they get the job done, which is basically to protect me from leeches and puddles.

• Swiss army knife: Whether you’re slicing open your apple or screwing back together your glasses (don’t laugh at me), I can’t stress the usefulness of this.

• Sunglasses: The Aussies call these sunnies, and when the sun breaks out, like it did last week, they're a necessity.
  

• Sunscreen lotion: You’ll get tan no matter what you do, but I try to avoid it anyways. Wear sunscreen, and avoid the burn. My farmer’s tan is fairly ridiculous by now, so I’m trying to remedy it.

• Bug spray: This is crucial. My legs are the sorriest sight because I neglected to put on some good old DEET two days in a row. There are these huge marsh flies that take a chunk out of your leg and leave you with big old welts. Somehow, I’ve been hit the worse, and of course, I’ve been getting the “It’s because you’ve got such sweet blood!” comments endlessly. Hardy har har.

• Binoculars: Perfect for sighting kookaburras and the other many birds of the rainforest. Also for looking straight-up gangsta.

• Camera: I love my new digital SLR camera, and it’s been getting some serious workouts. It’s huge and ungainly but completely worth the trouble of lugging it around. Where else am I going to get a shot like this?

• Rainboots: Aussies call these gumboots, and we’ve taken to calling them “g boots.” (I know, what sophisticated humor! What enlightened wit!) Anyhow, my “g boots” have protected me from cow pies, mud, and leeches. However, they have not protected me from my own clumsiness. During water testing for a local creek, I fell in, and my poor rainboots overflowed with mucky scumwater. Not pretty.

• Compression bandages: Snakes are everywhere here, and these will help you in case you get bitten. You wrap them around the snake bite area, in order to slow the flow of poison in your bloodstream. Fingers crossed, I won’t ever have to use them.

• Water: Your Nalgene bottle will become a lifeline. It’s easy to get dehydrated when you’re doing a lot and when it’s so hot. I have a friend here who reminds me to drink water because I forget sometimes and then wonder why I feel so dizzy. Plus, is there anything more delicious than ice-cold water?

• Bandana: Effective in mopping a sweaty brow or in tying back sweaty hair. Sweaty sweaty!

• Headlamps: At night, there are no lampposts to guide you back to your cabin. And the darkness can be overwhelming. On my first night here, I walked back alone, and even with the brightness of my headlamp, I felt so frightened. The blackness envelops you, and you imagine all sorts of things. It’s all I can do just to remember that there are no large predators in the Australian rainforest.

• Extra set of clothes: You're going to get dirty so bring extra of everything, especially socks. I have about three extra pairs of hiking socks in my pack at all times. I also keep a swimsuit in there, just in case we have time to stop and swim in a lake. You know how I love a good lake-swim!

• Nibblies: Aussie-speak for snacks, and completely necessary for an overeater such as myself. Preferred nibblies? PB & J, apples, pita and hummus, and chocolate.
  

And of course, don't forget your trusty hiking boots! Mine are actually my sister’s (sorry again, Chrisann!) so they’re comfortable and already broken in.

Apologies for how long this list turned out to be! I’ll understand if you merely skimmed it over. I’ve never realized how much I actually carry in my backpack. Those who’ve known me awhile know that I favor my huge faux leather bag that I just dump things in, but currently, my North Face pack has been, for all intents and purposes, glued to my back. It’s gross and dirty, but these days, so am I!
Also, I have to say this before I sign off: As much as I’m in love with my new surroundings, I miss my family and friends so much. I may be currently infatuated with Australia, but the only real place for me, the place I continue to crave in the midst of all this green, is home with all of you.

All my love,
Kaitlin

I’m no Kerouac, but…

BY: KAITLIN IN AUSTRALIA

Reader, is there anything better than a dusty, old van and the open road? I spent half the day on a van trundling along an Australian highway at a leisurely pace, and I can’t imagine anything better. I’ll try not to be too effusive or anything like that, but no guarantees! It was something perfect, and one of those times you keep forever, a snapshot of how good life can be.

How I love a good road trip! When I was young, I loved the feel of sticking my arm out the open window of a vehicle and snaking my fingers through the flowing air. (I guess I haven’t grown up very much after all has been said.)

The vans here, as I’ve mentioned, all have traces of serious wear—the kind of wear you’d expect from traveling on rocky and unpaved roads through a tropical rainforest. All the tires look wheezy and only about half full of air. With these vans, there’s just the slightest element of danger, but naturally, that’s part of the fun.

We had a geology field lecture today, by which I really mean that we traveled around the surrounding area of Queensland, Australia called the Atherton Tablelands. Although it looks and feels hilly, it’s actually part of a plateau formed long ago by the shifting of continental plates. And even longer ago, it was a deep sea basin, huge and vast and full of water.

Geologically exploring the Tablelands was a little like being a time traveler. To see all the remnants of things that happened in 420 million years ago—is it weird to say that I felt a twinge of nostalgia? I’d have liked to have been there in the prehistoric age and to have seen those oozing lava flows.

We stopped at a local quarry, which looked like a huge monolith of rock. But as soon as you touched it, small pebbles of volcanic rock fell away—your own mini avalanche. A couple of the guys tried scaling the 100 foot formation, but it was a lost cause.

Next, our trusty van took us to Mount Hypipamee. We spent some time hiking up to a huge gorge, which was caused by a violent gas explosion (insert fart joke here) millions of years ago. As I type this up, I’m cursing myself, wishing I had remembered to bring a camera because it was truly out of this world: a huge gaping hole in the earth 82 meters deep, with green murky water at the bottom.

But even if I had had the foresight to bring a camera, I know I wouldn’t be able to make you know the feeling, the sight, the thrill of peering over the ledge of a vertigo-inducing gorge.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: It was the best geology lecture I’d ever had.

As we headed back, I couldn’t have been more tired. The day had been long, and these days, my head generally hits the pillow at around ten o’clock. Everyone else was the same, and we were all quiet except for the sound of our van, which, it must be said, tends to make a high-pitched whirring at all times.

So, in the light of a rare moon (remember, clear skies are a big deal here), we headed back to a place—so wondrous, so new—that I’ve learned to call home.

Next time: I'll show you the contents of my pack and all the essentials of hiking through a rainforest.

All my love,
Kaitlin

P.S. I’ve updated my Flickr account with eight or so pictures from around the field station. Here’s the address, again:

http://flickr.com/kaitlinkyi

A view from a path around our field station

Senegal, wat up?

BY: AURORA

SPAIN:

I took a 7.5 hour bus ride from Madrid to Barcelona on January 23rd. It was beautiful; I didn't know that Spain had such amazing terrain. But since it was an 8:30am ride, I quickly passed out, and didn't enjoy the scenery that much. I did make friends with a Swede who was also traveling to Barcelona. I suggested some good Latin music for her, and she told me of some "cool" Swedish bands, but she's into some crazy heavy metal I think, so I won't be checking that out anytime soon.

I thought I had prepared my trip well, by going onto GoogleMaps and searching the nearest metro to my hostel, Grafitti Hostel, but as things would have it, google lied. So I was lost in the middle of Barcelona; all the signs were in Catalan and I had a heavy duffle bag. Luckily, I went into a CyberCafe and got directions there. I hated Barcelona at that moment.

My hostel was as ratty a place as they come, but the staff was amazing. A beautiful Brazilian(?) man with dreadlocks graced the information desk at most hours, so that made up for the unfortunate bathroom (no joke). I did meet two very Italian twins there- they seriously use the expression "Mamma Mia!" I didn't know they're names until the last day, when we exchanged emails, so I just grunted at them most of the time. They were really too nice to me, since I persisted on butchering their language. They knew little English, and could understand some Spanish. But we hung out most of the time, and cooked together, which forever because one was always waiting for the other to do or finish something. I don't think they got the twin thing down very well. They also had a guy friend there, who always wanted to go to "A club... gaaaay," but didn't want us to go with him. We did go to a club together; I had my share of house music... for a lifetime.

Dylan and I explored the city, and went to a sweet club once (we failed at going to places most of the time too- my fault I believe). I recommend going to La Boqueria, and Park Guell. Much fun was had with Dylan's Barcelona friends; they're a crazy bunch and get eyed a lot by the locals. I believe Dylan needs to add more about our adventures.

I flew back into Paris for a couple of days. I had a great departing dinner with some Swat ladies and then had to take a 1am bus ride into the airport because I had a 6am flight. It was one of the worst flights ever- everyone smelled really bad, and I was really uncomfortable and hot, but the arrival was great because the pilot showed us all of the coast with a magnificent U turn.

SENEGAL:

It's been about a week that I've been here, and I love this place. The program is amazing and truly relaxed. Orientation was like camp, so Apolline says, we did a lot of scavenger huntesque things in the city and the surrounding area. Dakar is busy and sandy, and the people are friendly; at first they seem like they are too friendly, but really they are interested in the new toubabs (white people).

The dos- and don'ts of Senegal:

Don't look your elders in the eye.
Don't wear skirts that show your knees.
Don't be offended if women touch your breasts.
Don't call babies cute; it's bad luck.
Don't assume pedestrians come before cars.

Do watch a lot of TV. Mostly Mexican soap operas dubbed into Senegalese French. Super funny "Mais qu'est-ce que tu fais, Vicente?"
Do use as much Wolof as you can. They love it.
Do not buy street food.
Do shake everyones hand.
Do lock your door; they have a key for friggin' everything.
Do buy your own toilet paper; the Senegalese don't use it.

My Family:

I live with my 70 year old mom and dad, mid 20s sister, 21 year old niece, mid 20s cousin, 2 brothers, one's wife, and three of their kids. Plus 2 maids live with us, and we have a chauffeur that's mostly always there. My family is middle class, so they can afford bonnes (maids), and I have an amazing terrace. But most homes have bonnes, so I don't live in the lap of luxury here. My French is getting better, but I feel incompetent sometimes because my family can't understand me. My Wolof is atrocious, but everyone feigns glee when I try to speak it, but mostly they laugh at me.

Eating is a big deal. They feed me tons of food (Il faut bien manger!); and since I'm the only vegetarian they're ever met, they feed me lots of vegetables, which is good because most of the other kids are getting greasy rice and fish 24-7.

SIT:

My program is the chillest thing in the world. I do have to go to class everyday at 8:30am, but I'm usually really pumped to be there, and don't want to leave when classes are over. After my 8:30 class, which lasts until 10am, we have a 30 minute break. We lounge around in the courtyard, lay on the grass and talk, then are called back in. We have a 2 hour class, and then a 2.5 hour break for lunch. We do the same thing during this break, plus eating. After that we have another 1.5 hour class, which usually involves listening to music, dancing and singing. It's a harsh life.

The staff here is the funniest mixture of people. Senegal is big on kidding around and making fun of one another, so that's how we constantly interact. And the other students are also excited to be here, so it's a good atmosphere to be around. We're also comfortable with each other because we have to discuss diarrhea and our hygiene everyday.

The only thing I can complain about is the flipping cars. They love getting in my way and almost running me over every morning. Aside from that, I love most everything, but as everyone here tends to remind me, we're just in the honeymoon period.

I'm getting a pretty great tan, and I'm not even trying, and tomorrow we're of to the beach. Now that my internet is working, I'm sure to be posting a lot more, since I have so much leisure time.

I can smell the jealousy.

Raindrops keep falling on my head

BY: KAITLIN

Here's a fact for you, gleaned from all of three days in my new digs in Queensland, Australia. In the rainforest, it rains...a whole heck of a lot. And since I've arrived here, I've been met with an onslaught of it.

One thing I've never realized is how many different varieties of rain there are. There is the slight misting, which you don't notice until your shirt settles uncomfortably across your shoulders. There's the blinding rain, which is so heavy and oppressive you can barely see through the wall of it. And then there's the pitter-pattering rain, like an old friend--constant and familiar as you fall asleep.

The field station I'm studying at is nestled in the heart of the rainforest, and I'm not just saying that. We are smack dab in the middle of it, and that also means dealing with all kinds of creatures.

If ever I was squeamish about bugs or rodents, if ever I proved other than dauntless in the face of a spider, never again!

Three days have passed and already I've been bitten by four leeches, dealt with a centipede the size of a banana, and chased away three-inch spiders. Seriously...this whole place is teeming with all kinds of animals. I wake up to the sound of birds that sound like car alarms or like children screaming, and even in this short span of time, it's no longer starting to faze me.

One thing that did stop me in my tracks happened last night. Heading back on the forest path, with my little flashlight, I saw something move in the corner of my eye. I thought it was the comically bold brush turkey that hangs around the outdoor dining area, and I stopped to take a closer look.

Let me tell you, it wasn't my friend the brush turkey. Staring back at me, with the beady, shiny eyes of an unscared animal, was a bandicoot. In other words, a rodent-like creature bigger than most house cats. Yech!

But so far, I'm really liking it here. I'm getting tougher than I ever thought I could be, and I love that. If you had told me a week ago that I would unflinchingly be able to pull off a leech from my leg and crush it with the bottom of my shoe, I would have laughed in your face. And then laughed some more.

In my next post, I'll talk a little bit more about the program and about those crazy Aussies. (They really do love their short-shorts, I'll tell you that much.)

Until next time, have a g'day, mates!

All my love,
Kaitlin

P.S. I'll try uploading pictures from the rainforest as often as I may. Wireless in the rainforest is pretty difficult, as you can imagine, so I've only uploaded two from Australia so far. Here's the Web address for my Flickr account: http://flickr.com/kaitlinkyi

Siesta Time

BY: DYLAN

I was reminded by Macy that I've been slacking a little bit with my posts, so I guess it's time to get going.

I arrived in Barcelona on the 7th and so far it's been a lot of fun and a lot to take in. The first day I was here, I found out that everything closes in the middle of the day. Apparently people start work in the morning like the rest of the world and then just close shop for a break come about 2:00. They go home and nap or just chill out until about 5, then come back and finish the work day. Like I said, I figured this out the first day and ended up aimlessly wandering around my neighborhood, checking out the area. Then I got lost and wandered around some more. Finally I'd had enough and hailed down a cab. Luckily I knew my address and told the cab driver....his response: "Que? aqui es muy cerca de este direccion (What? that address is very close to here)," my thoughts: "yeah, that doesn't mean I know how to get there." I got home a little fed up with the whole siesta thing, I mean seriously, I haven't had a structred nap time since kindergarten, why should adults have one?

Then my housemates arrived and I learned to appreciate siesta. Do a little sightseeing in the day, party at night...EVERY night until about 6 or 7am. Siestas become essential and a much needed part of the day. However, by the end of the first week or so, it seemed as though the whole program had partied too much because everybody was sick with a cold or the flu or anything in between (no worries though, we'll all be back at it soon enough).

We've seen a lot of cool sites, churches, and other cool buildings. Parc Guell is a Gaudi designed park that sits on top of a mountain, overlooking the city and La Sagrada Familia is one of the coolest buildings I've ever seen (I guess it better be though since this is the 100th year of construction and they don't plan on finishing it until 2026). The beach also looks really nice and I can't wait to go to the beach in between classes. With all that said, one of the highlights of my time so far was an FC Barcelona game, soccer is a big deal here, so I'm loving that.

Stay tuned for Aurora's visit this weekend and my visit to Paris the following weekend.