I finished this week what was probably the most difficult episode to make, my finale from home. Ryan, J.Y.A.'s humble producer, promised me this would be the easiest of the season but I didn't think it was. It wasn't difficult in the same way as when I had a hard time getting decent footage of myself flying off a surfboard when I filmed at Manly Beach. It was tough because I needed to try and make the most comprehensive and appropriate contribution I could to the finale of J.Y.A.'s first season. Of course, I understand it wasn't my responsibility to cover every last detail or even to speak for all of my castmates but I was determined to go out with a bang.

I wish I knew what to include in here that hasn't already been said. I swear I was exhausted after taping my footage for the last episode only since what you'll see up there is pure gut-wrenching passion and emotion. A lot of people have asked me what I got out of being a cast member on J.Y.A., what I learned. That's a tough question to answer but here goes: I think this experience taught me, or rather reminded me, just how many different personalities there are out there. This might seem obvious but when you really think about it, it's interesting how all those differences basically make up the way we interact with each other at just about every level.

Over the course of my trip I came into contact with a countless number of people who would eventually fall into categories of varying closeness to me. These categories ranged from "never saw them again" to "close friends." What I found most surprising was that closeness was not the greatest indicator of how supportive of the show this person would be. I met people that fell into the former category who were more fascinated and more enthusiastic about the program than some who fell into the latter. I constantly sought out ways to involve as many people as possible in J.Y.A. and I should've realized sooner that interest from someone wasn't dependant on our relationship but on the individual.

Looking back, I don't know why I find this so shocking but there were certainly times where I was disappointed by the reaction from others over the show. I couldn't comprehend the idea that not everyone was as thrilled by this idea as I was. You would think that amongst a group of international students I would need to keep them away from the camera with a stick but that wasn't the case at all. Most of the time, I got better reactions from strangers eager to jump in front of the camera and make a stupid face or give their friend bunny ears. Few bothered to ask what I was doing since they seemed satisfied smiling, waving to the camera, and then walking away.

J.Y.A. affected my trip because it helped me to sift through the multitudes of people I met and to see who my real friends were in Australia. It might sound naive to think that only someone who cared about J.Y.A. could be a real friend but I don't think it's far from the truth. I might not know anything about Africa but if Africa is important to someone who's important to me, and then I take an interest. Who knows, though. Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. I don't know. It's almost 1:30 in the morning but everything I'm saying at this very moment makes sense to me. The bottom line is that I received both ends of the spectrum in terms of reactions to J.Y.A. and now that the season's coming to a close I see how valuable every reaction I got to the show really was.

That about does it for me, I guess. I'm sure there are things I'll remember tomorrow or next month, things I should've included somewhere in the season. That's probably a good thing though. It should give anyone who hungers for more information an incentive to keep in touch or to check out the profile of one of my hardworking castmates. It's also excellent motivation to go abroad, right? I could blog until I'm blue in the fingertips and I still won't be able to convey every feeling, every nuance of what it's like to step out into the unknown and come back with a head full of new memories and even more questions. That's why I'm going to draw the line here. I'd like to sign off with a quote by Yogi Berra. I don't know why but it just popped into my head and I think it's appropriate. Ok, here it is: "If you come to a fork in the road, take it."

Do with that what you will and, for the last time, thanks for reading!

Jason

It's almost time to say goodbye to JYA for a while. That's something I'm not looking forward to. I suppose, for now, it's best to focus on the topic I sat down to write about and that's the seemingly endless trip I had over the weekend back to the United States. I left Taupo, New Zealand around 9:00 Sunday morning and headed north for about five hours. Upon arrival back into Auckland, I was fortunate enough to have a couple of hours to spend in this small but beautiful city until I had to hop on a bus and drive to the airport. I made it there about an hour later where, after a long wait at check-in and a less-than-pleasant discussion with the airline and then a customs agent about my luggage, I made it... to security.

No matter how many times I fly, I'm astounded by the fact that air travel will never be an exact science. Regardless of how many years of experience airlines might have moving people around the planet or how much money you might have paid for a ticket, a sense of humor is important if you are ever going to make it out the other end of your journey with your sanity intact. I hadn't realized just how much tighter security on flights to the US had gotten while I was away until I stepped on line at security in the Auckland airport. Thinking I'd just breeze right through (this was New Zealand, after all) my jaw literally dropped at the sheer chaos of what I was seeing. Not only did I have to pass through general security, but also passengers on flights to the US had to wait on a second line after that. You can imagine what people were muttering about there.

I don't know why but I can almost never pass through airport security without someone stopping me for something. I think it's because of my large hands. This time around, I was busted for trying to smuggle a (get this) bottle of water on to the airplane. Unaware of the new "liquid limit" on airplanes, I was irritated by the store's willingness to sell me a bottle of water it had to have known I couldn't take with me but decided it wasn't worth battling the crowd and probably an irate store manager for a measly three dollars. I stubbornly refused to throw it away and chugged the whole thing in front of her. She thanked me for not having an aneurism over a bottle of water and I wished her a good evening.

Again, I should know to be prepared for almost anything when I fly and yet something always happens that manages to get under my skin. I got to the gate to find 900-or-so people the airline planned on packing inside this plane hanging around as if they were waiting for a movie to start. There were kids running around and people spread out across the floor on top of books and newspapers when all I could think about how long of a trip home I had in front of me. I also managed to whip out my laptop and show the people sitting next to me my skydive DVD. I figured I had time to kill and I was just that proud of myself.

After a day of traveling just to the gate and then a delay of about an hour, I left New Zealand. I couldn't help but replay certain moments of the skydive in my mind as the plane lifted off and I wondered just how an aircraft carrying more than 300 people and their luggage could stay in the air long enough to make it over an ocean. I also convinced myself that this was not Taupo and I didn't have to leave the plane until we touched down in LA. The flight was very long, 13 hours long. Thanks to a few sleeping pills and a glass of red wine, I don't remember much of it but the trip back was good. Since I crossed the International Date Line, I got my July 24th back and landed in LA (and don't think too hard about this) before I left Auckland. After going through customs at LAX and rechecking my bags, I was on a (delayed!) flight to Newark a few hours later.

One highlight of the trip was seeing family, once for about half an hour in LA and then again at home. I noticed strange things almost immediately: it was cold outside, steering wheels were on the other side again, my brother's hair was different, and it was still Sunday. I craved something to eat other than airplane food but I think, more than anything else, I just wanted to get home and hug my dog. Oh, and a shower was up there on my list too... Even before I stepped in the house, I was glad to be home.

Ok, that's obviously not what I wanted the point of this writing to be but I'm just not sure how to convey what it was like whitewater rafting about 12 km down the Rangitikei, one of New Zealand's most intense rivers. I set out with a few other brave souls from the lodge early yesterday in the morning for the river's Grade 5 rapids, the most intense level of rapids rafters will take novices (or tourists) out on. I feel like I've exhausted all of the original vocabulary I could possibly use to describe my adventures so I'm afraid I have to drift on over to clichéd territory. It was fun. I had a great time. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Seriously, the trip was awesome. It took a little over two hours, since we stopped every so often to practice safety drills and take quick dips in the water. I was determined to finish my swing around the North Island with a bang and I'm confident I succeeded.

Most of us on the tour bus went our separate ways this morning in Wellington. I unfortunately didn't have much time to enjoy New Zealand's capital city but if I ever come back here, I would undoubtedly start in Wellington and head down across the South Island. It's back up to Auckland for me in the morning and then to the airport in the afternoon. I'm not going to get emotional, since I've definitely done enough of that, but it's strange to think that my next entries and episode will be done 10,000 miles away. The trip home will be long but that's ok... it will have been completely worth it. I'm going to try to get some photos uploaded tomorrow but, if not then, definitely at some point during the week.

I've got eight minutes left on my machine here so, as usual, I'm going to try and stall. I could say more about this hostel! Nah, that's OK, anyone with an interest in backpacking or student traveling knows what they are like and would probably agree with me that they are the best way to go while abroad. I'm wondering now if we have facilities like these in the US. Obviously, I wouldn't have any reason to know about that but I'm sure we do. It's sad for me to think about the fact now that, for the past five months, I've been enjoying this crazy and international lifestyle. I wish the US were a little bit more like Europe or maybe like here with currency exchanges everywhere and this atmosphere that screams, "Welcome to our country!" I suppose I'll have to get to work on that, won't I?

P.S. If you're interested, please remind me to post what it was like visiting a small town called Bulls. More on that later!

There was also some news today about the JYA cast's upcoming interviews on MSNBC. I need to devise a basic outline of what I'm going to say and, while I have a few ideas, I am seriously worried about getting carried away and coming off as a crazed lunatic on live, national television. I've had more than enough experience with lukewarm reactions to my being an American and so I'm really excited about the opportunity to share them with probably as large of an American audience as I'll ever have. I'm glad that I've found something I'm passionate about, the importance of international travel, and how crucial I think it is for Americans to get out there and change what the world thinks of us. I'm not sure, though, what the best way to convey this on television is and so, if anyone has any suggestions for me, I'd be more than happy to hear them.

I was hesitant about agreeing to this at first: it seemed like a dumb idea to pay just to roll down a stupid hill and I was worried about getting sick inside this wet tumble dryer and ruining the ride for everyone. Not surprisingly, I caved and submitted to the common traveler's mantra of "I might as well give these people my money since when I will ever be here again?" The guy in charge basically threw a bunch of us in the back of a beat up truck and drove us to the top of a fairly steep hill. Dressed in some very cool-looking and futuristic wetsuits, we climbed inside of what resembled a large hamster wheel and began probably the strangest downhill trip I'll have the pleasure of experiencing.

I had completely forgotten about zorbing until we arrived in Rotorua. It really is amazing all of the strange and sometimes expensive things you can do while you're traveling. For every free public hot springs park or rabbit shearing shed (both of which I've visited in New Zealand), there is a tour of some facility you never thought you were interested in seeing. In Thailand, our tour included unnecessary stops in jewelry and silk factories, in addition to several very necessary stops at 7-Eleven and a couple of absolutely beautiful waterfalls.

I've been away since July and it still amazes me all of the fantastic, commercial, scenic, and sheerly unique things there are to do when you travel. Two nights ago, our group stayed in a gorgeous lodge on the water at the foot of a very green valley called, not ironically, the River Valley Lodge. What's great about traveling across places like Australia and New Zealand is their accessibility. There is no shortage of inexpensive and well-maintained lodges, motels, and hostels to stay at. River Valley, for example, provided internet access, a kitchen, a rustic lounge with a big screen, and even a barbecue dinner to anyone who was willing to make the trek down to its grounds. I'm convinced, also, that hostels are the absolute best place in the world to meet people. I haven't been anywhere else where you could be as comfortable about sharing a bunk bed with a person from Holland as you would be a hostel, especially in New Zealand. The hostel we stayed in at Whitianga at the beginning of the week felt more like a couple's home than just a place to stay the night. One of the owners cooked spaghetti bolognese for all of us and even shared her ample collection of women's fashion magazines to those of us with nothing better to read. What a deal...

I think I left off my last entry in Rotorua, where I was a Maori chief and got to taste some of New Zealand's world-famous roast lamb for dinner. While several of the English members of my team complained the dinner wasn't "Maori enough," I loved it. Sometimes when you travel you just have to grin and bear things and I would definitely recommend Rotorua to anyone planning to travel here. The Maoris are an integral part of New Zealand's history and it's important to at least acquaint yourself with the nation's history if you're going to get the best possible appreciation for everything Kiwi country has to offer.

From Rotorua, I headed north to Taupo (I think). I'm actually in Taupo again today as I joined a different bus headed back to Auckland this morning in Wellington. Now, Taupo. Um, sorry, I just need to take a deep breath as I recount what I did in Taupo since, in the words of my driver, it was EXTREME! Ok, I'll get to the point for those of you who are dying to know what was so intense about my stop here the other day. I'll give you a hint: it involved a plane and a parachute. Stumped? Ok, I'll give you one more hint: I had never been so terrified to get on a plane in my life. (I think you catch my drift at this point...)

It occurred to me that I could actually skydive a couple of weeks ago when I caught a friend of mine's DVD of her Cairns jump back in Sydney. Of course, everyone's nervous when they jump but the heaps of people I'd spoken to who took the plunge convinced me the thrill and the personal satisfaction far outweighed any risk involved in the dive. I was also inspired by Stacey's jump, thinking that this was something I could absolutely not leave New Zealand without doing. I didn't tell my parents until after the fact although I did tell my brother and a few friends at home that I was thinking about it. After a little research, I learned that Taupo was the absolute best and least expensive spot to jump on the North Island (and possibly in the entire country.) Even though I made the appointment to jump the day before, I wasn't sure if I would go through with it more or less until I arrived at the dive center. (I also said the same thing about buying the DVD, photo, and t-shirt package but a very persuasive American working at the counter convinced me I wouldn't regret it.)

There are a million details I wish I had the time and the eloquence to relate in this entry. I wish I could just upload my entire jump DVD and share it with all the people who might not believe I actually went through with it. Jumping out of a plane at 12,000 feet is not something I will probably do again. Even though I think I could do it, there are far too many adventures and more intense thrills I think I can make happen for myself. The particular spot I jumped at, also, was special since it was over Lake Taupo, the largest lake in New Zealand. I also had an excellent view of Mt. Doom (again, ask a LOTR fan) and a flawlessly blue New Zealand horizon. There were a few other things that made my jump special, as well. First of all, I think my tandem practically invented the art and the science of skydiving. Now, I don't mean any disrespect but while the other jumpers had stereotypical longhaired surfer-type guys to jump with, my guy was old. He wasn't old old, but you have to figure that anyone with twenty-five years of experience in skydiving is the person you want behind you pulling that chute cord at 4,000 feet. Second, and I don't know how this happened, but my tandem, videographer and I were the first ones out of the plane. This worked out well since I wanted to be first and the fear of being sucked out of a moving plane might have been a bit worse if I had to watch someone else go before me.

I had gotten enough advice from previous jumpers and jump-hopefuls before I went that I more or less knew was I was getting myself into. The initial shock of the fall was, and I'm being completely honest here, was the only scary part of the fall itself. This lasted about three seconds, just until my tandem opened a small chute that we ride down for about 8,000 feet. I could not believe what I was witnessing or experiencing. Feeling the wetness of the clouds against my face and my cheeks ripple from what seemed to be an endless blast of cold, dry air was absolutely exhilarating. As quickly as it all happened, I never felt so free in my entire life. Every fantasy I ever had as a kid of being able to fly, every dream of being to soar over entire countries in minutes... they all came true on Wednesday. I have no problem admitting that I pretended to be Superman from the scene in the last movie where he ripped through airplane wings and safely carried everyone down onto the baseball field. People warned me also that I would be in such a state of shock after that I probably wouldn't remember the whole thing but, you know what, I couldn't possibly the forget the thrill of that freefall.

The tandem opened our larger chute at 4,000 feet and we drifted gracefully toward the ground at Taupo Airport. I was in such a state of disbelief when that pack came off my legs gave way and I fell on top of the dirt. As someone who has always, always, always erred on the side of caution, skydiving was something I needed to do. I personally don't see a problem with being scared as long as you take some efforts to conquer that fear. There are, of course, plenty of perfectly legitimate threats out there but I believe that by letting fear and worry dictate your life, you are preventing yourself from some of the best things life has to offer. I think it's fairly obvious at this point that I see this semester abroad as an excellent opportunity to work towards becoming a better version of myself. Whether it's by skydiving in New Zealand or riding elephants in Thailand or anything else, there are a million ways to test your limits and find out exactly what you're capable of doing. The hardest part is taking the plunge.

P.S. I promise pictures are coming ASAP...

New Zealand is a beautiful country and incredibly different from Australia. Being so isolated from the rest of the world, it's easy to assume one nation is indistinguishable from the other. However, New Zealanders enjoy a culture that is entirely their own. Not surprisingly, there's a strong rivalry between Aussies and Kiwis (named for the national bird of New Zealand) that has a tendency to rear its head everywhere from the rugby field to the inappropriate jokes they like to tell about one another. Just as Australian history dates back to the Aborigines, New Zealand was originally inhabited by Maoris and later colonized by Christian missionaries from Western Europe. New Zealand, in my opinion, is not nearly as Americanized as Australia and I have a feeling most Kiwis would prefer to keep it that way.

I was surprised to see how little Auckland, New Zealand's largest city with a population somewhere around two million people, resembled Sydney. I walked around the neighborhood near my hostel early Saturday morning looking for the skyscrapers. Where are the cabs, I thought? The kebab shops? The tim-tams? From what I've seen so far, I gather New Zealand is more similar to what Australia must have looked like before it opened itself up to the world. The North and South Islands are geographically very different from one another and separated by a ferry ride I've heard takes about three hours. The South Island is home to the extreme sports capital of the world and the famously beautiful Franz Joseph glacier. Peter Jackson, a proud Kiwi, chose a few locations in the North to film Lord of the Rings but mostly set his films in the south. Now, I fell asleep during the third movie so you'll have to forgive me for not being hugely understanding of why these movies are so popular. I did, however, have my picture taken next to a Gollum statue in the aptly named community of Hobbiton, a spot featured in the movies. I'm also typing this entry from my hostel near the ominous Mt. Doom! (Frankly, I wouldn't have recognized the mountain if I fell over it, which I happened to do today. Ask a Tolkien fan if you want to know more about it...)

New Zealanders enjoy a much more comfortable relationship with the land’s first residents than Australians. The Maoris have added an interesting touch of Polynesian flavour around the country and many signs are in both English and Maori, a language I couldn't begin to attempt if my life depended on it. Rotorua, a small city I visited the other day, is the centre of Maori life in New Zealand and a popular tourist spot on the North Island.

More exciting stuff to come later, take my word for it...

Monday night after the climb there was a going-away party across the hall. It was the last time all of us in the Parklands will be together again and it was bittersweet. My roommate left with my neighbours for Melbourne yesterday and so I said goodbye to the people I’ve spent the majority of time with in Australia. There are plenty of things I’m going to miss about this place, more than I could ever possibly write about, as well as lots of things I won’t. Studying abroad has consumed me for the past year and, as amazing as it’s been, I’m ready to move onto other things. I’ve got heaps of adventures to look forward to, as well as many mundane things to do in between. I’ll have my degrees in marketing and political science in a year and a half and, after I graduate, the sky’s the limit. I plan to move north, perhaps to Hoboken, Manhattan, or even Brooklyn, and work in New York City. Right now, I’m looking to find a summer marketing internship in the city and get settled back into life at home with my sanity intact.

I watched Munich for the second time last night and, I don’t know what is, but I am very good at finding themes in music, movies, books, wherever, and relating them to things that are going on in my life. I think everyone’s experienced this at one point or another: you break up with your girlfriend and suddenly every song you hear reminds you of her. That’s how this movie was for me last night. It raised a lot of good points about loyalty to your country, your home, and your family. Now, it would be easy to call these things clichéd, to say that they are so vague that it would be impossible not to identify with them. That may be true but, as it becomes tougher to find things left for me to add to my Aussie to-do list, it’s as clear to me as ever that it’s finally time to go home.

As for the next ten days or so, I naturally packed as much stuff in as good. Should you be in this part of the world between now and December 10th, you’ll probably see me at the Rocks tonight and touring the Jewish Museum and Sydney’s Great Synagogue with some of my neighbours tomorrow. Some of the advisors in the Macquarie International office asked me to meet them for dinner tomorrow night and then, well, that’s about it. Friday, I’m flying to Auckland where I’ll begin a nine-day tour of New Zealand’s North Island. Originally, I was supposed to stay in Sydney until the tenth but the airline’s offer to stop in Auckland on my way back east was too good to pass up. You only live once, right?

I called an office in New York City at the crack of dawn this morning in order to follow up on my resume and, I don’t know if it was because I’ve been out of the country so long or what, but the woman who answered the phone had the strongest Noo Yawk accent I think I’ve ever heard. (Yes, even stronger than my dad’s.) I’m going to miss the Aussie accent. I’m going to miss Australian hospitality, being able to get on a city bus and strike up a conversation with the first person I see. I’ll miss Aussies who have never been to New Jersey complaining about the air quality in Sydney and the poor temperament of Sydneysiders. I’ll miss the lessons I keep happening to come across that remind me quality of life is relative and, despite all other things, absolutely what you make of it.

I’m also scared. I know I should stop harping on this but I believe the transition back to life in the states is going to be more difficult for me than it would be for most. I’ve already asked for extra patience from those I’m close with at home and those that know me well know why I’ll need it. I could sit here for hours and ruminate about all the things I should or could write about in what will most likely be my last entry from Sydney. I’m not going to do that, though. I’m going to leave my desk right now with the satisfaction I’ve gained from writing all that I have and being able to deliver it to so many.

Thanks for reading!

Jason

In addition, I finally found a bagel in Sydney that I would say rivals New Jersey quality. This one may have even been better, since it came straight out of a kosher bakery in Bondi, Australia’s answer to Brooklyn being so far away. Monday night, though, is what I really want to write about. When I finally got around to surfing in Manly a couple of weeks ago, I truly believed that this would be the last item on my Australia to-do list I’d get to eliminate. Walking by and driving over the Sydney Harbour Bridge as many times as I have this semester, I considered endlessly the prospect of climbing out but just could not decide if it was worth it. It wasn’t about my fear of heights, although that certainly was a factor. I simply didn’t know if I could stand to part with so much money for a single activity.

As the reality of leaving Australia possibly forever came closer, I had a revelation. Screw it, I said, time and experience are more valuable than money! When will I have the opportunity again to wear a suit that looks like it came off the Starship Enterprise and scale one of the world’s greatest landmarks? Stepping into the BridgeClimb office at the foot of this marvel of relatively modern engineering, I was in awe of sheer size of the bridge and that I would soon find myself at the top of it. I wish I knew who discovered it was possible to not only make a lot of money by charging tourists to physically climb the 400 or so feet above the Bradfield Highway but to also sell photos at sixteen dollars pop in the name of safety. I’m in awe of this person, too.

The entire experience was spectacular. It took about an hour to suit up with our harnesses, gear, radios, warm clothing, and other gear we needed to make the trip. They were even kind enough to throw in another first for me: a Breathalyzer test. These people seriously did not take any chances. The beginning of the climb was through an intricate maze of rafters and beams under the main platform. Our guide explained the history of its construction and how, along with the Opera House, Sydney has rapidly grown to become one of the world’s most beautiful and cosmopolitan cities. We made it to the top after about an hour or so of walking and, well, I wish they would have let us take our own photos. Half expecting to find a gift shop and a café, the view of Sydney at night was, well, I’m not a good enough writer to adequately describe it. The crisp, cool air and the colours of the magnificent skyline made my moment above the city unforgettable. Looking out over the Opera House, I could see what was left of the chaos that was the Australian Idol finale the night before. I felt like I was on top of the entire country and, seeing as that about a fifth of Australia’s population lives in Sydney, I wasn’t far off.

We rested at the bridge’s pinnacle for about fifteen minutes. I forced myself to relax, to take deep breaths, and to absorb as much of everything as I could. There was a surreal silence to being so far above Sydney and I felt as if I needed to convince myself I was actually there. Looking at the Opera House, even after over living here for over four months, still strikes me with this sense of delusion. Why, with my feet planted firmly on Australian ground, does it seem like I’ll wake up at home and all of this will have been a dream? I’m not just talking about the climb, of course, but this entire experience.

Naturally, this news brought up some mixed feelings for me. What would good news be without a little Jewish guilt, right? I have to ask now if any of you have been turned off by reading about my fantastic experiences. Perhaps this is the wrong audience for me to post such a question since you never would have found your way to my blog if you weren't interested. However, I love doing all of this stuff. It is, for me, the ultimate excitement and, like I've said countless times before, I am both my proud of my work and extremely grateful for the opportunities I've received that helped make it all happen. Maybe I'm naive but I believe a huge part of the excitement is being able to share it with friends and people that are close to me. I don't want to hear that people are jealous or think I'm bragging. That's not what I'm about. I want my friends to be as excited for me as I am for myself since I know there's nothing more dejecting than expecting enthusiasm from a friend and not getting it. I'm not talking about running around blathering about my success to everyone I encounter because, if I did that, I'd deserve the eye-rolling and fake smile most people would give upon having to pretend that they actually care. I don't know. Maybe I just need to lower my expectations a smidge and be more selective about who I let into my life...

Sigh. Comments, anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Ok, well, to top off this blog about excellent news, I heard the other day that the Wiggles, Australia's most famous boy band, graduated from Macquarie. I'm not talking about recently, I'm saying that just as I tell visitors on the Rutgers tours that Calista Flockhart and Milton Friedman are graduates of our school, Macquarie has a claim to fame and it's the Wiggles. I've also been talking to a few Aussie friends here who are interesting at studying abroad at Rutgers and, as hard as it is for me to spare the tour guide shpiel, I obviously voice my opinion in support of this unbelievably excellent idea. I'll be disappointed if I never see any of my Australian friends again after this semester and, if they were to come to New Jersey, I'd be able to play proud New York City tour guide and show my fellow New Jerseyans that not all Aussies are just like Crocodile Dundee.

Please leave me feedback on this one, guys. Especially my fellow JYA cast, I'm curious to know about the reactions you've gotten from people about the success of the show. Finally, if you want to leave a post wishing my cousin Jennifer congratulations on her pregnancy, that's cool too. I'll make sure she gets the message.

Saturday night, I saw Borat in theatres and it was just as awesome as I knew it would be. The controversy over this movie has probably been just as big here as it’s been in the states. There’s one added element to the story in Australia though and it’s the fact that Borat, otherwise known as Sacha Baron Cohen, is engaged to Isla Fisher, one of Australia’s most famous actresses. Baron Cohen, in complete 80’s style handlebar mustache and rumpled grey suit, landed in Sydney not that long ago to promote the film and even had time to surprise some unwitting nude sunbathers in Bondi Beach. (This was shown on the evening news, too. Can you believe that?)

Now, I happen to think Sacha Baron Cohen is brilliant. I think he has done an unbelievable job of revealing all of the details of American society that you would probably be hard-pressed to find a lot of people who are willing to openly share with the rest of the world. I also think it’s an enormous shame that it took a Brit to delve into the annals of our culture so deeply and I have to wonder where he found the gall (or the right, for that matter) to so openly mock two cultures while sparing his own. Actually, I probably shouldn’t say that because he has slammed certain aspects of British life as Ali G but it’s with Borat that he’s taken his astute level of observation and comic versatility to a whole new level.

Many are offended by Borat and, while I don’t agree with most of them, I can understand why. As a bumbling Kazakhstani journalist traveling across the US on a mission to meet Pamela Anderson, he openly makes fun of his so-called backwards country for no apparent reason. The fact that his “Kazakh” is actually a combination of Russian, Hebrew, Yiddish, and gibberish allowed him to film in a Romanian village where he allegedly mislead the poor Romanians he featured in the movie while convincing countless Americans he was filming a legitimate documentary for Kazakh television. Now, of course I’m in no position to judge how his crew treated the villagers and whether they paid them adequate wages or not but there is one aspect of the controversy that especially grabbed my attention and that’s the lawsuit currently being filed by the South Carolina frat boys Borat met traveling across the south in an RV.

This group of “scholars,” (Borat’s words, not mine) claim that the movie’s producers liquored them up and promised that their racist and sexist comments would never be heard by an American audience. They also allege that they were encouraged to drink to the point where they could not read the release form they legally had to sign in order for their scenes to make it into the final cut. I don’t know how much truth there is in this story either but I found it amazing that their belief that this was a European production somehow justified them saying that “minorities run the country” and that “slavery should still be legal in America.” Drunk or not, that’s just wrong.

Just like anyone who says the character promotes anti-Semitism doesn’t understand that Borat actually does the reverse, he brings all of our prejudices to the surface and shows people how ridiculous and ignorant they actually are, I think anyone protesting the movie in Australia or Kazakhstan or anywhere else for that matter is missing the point. The only issue I took with the movie was those frat guys and so, on behalf of all college students and Americans living abroad, thanks! Thank you for helping to improve our already stellar reputation overseas and giving the world another reason to laugh at us.

I have gained so much by immersing myself in Australian life that it’s hard to describe. By inserting myself into a foreign environment, I’ve stretched, tested, and expanded upon my ability to expect the unexpected. Sitting here at my desk with less than three weeks until I touch down in New Jersey, I believe I’ve become a happier, healthier, and more well-adjusted person. The real test, naturally, will hit sometime between the holidays next month and when I have to move back to Rutgers in January but I’m optimistic that all of the good things I’ve taken from being abroad will be last me until long after I leave Australia.

That being said, I have to start off a short list of things I will miss about this great country. The element of surprise in interacting with Australians is crucial. It’s something that took me a long time to refine and a skill I wish I had mastered sooner. I’m talking about an open mind. Now, I’ve found that Americans generally have a reputation for being loud and outgoing. Friendly certainly falls into this category and definitely applies to a lot of the people I’ve met here but Australians, I believe, take this quality to a whole another level. Being in Australia means getting used to random people striking up conversations with you in unusual and sometimes even uncomfortable circumstances. Now, as someone who loves to talk to people and could probably blog until my fingers fall off, you would think this would have been a welcome change for me from the warmth and loving charm so often characterized of people from the American Northeast. It wasn’t, though.

Having an Australian woman remind me to walk on the left side of the sidewalk the other day wasn’t something I was expecting to happen and it would have been easy for me to construe her advice as rude. Again though, by keeping an open mind I’ve been able to remember that the Australian sense of humor is dryer than ours and she was simply trying to be helpful (that and maybe trying to keep me from barreling into her) in reminding me what country I’m in. Australians undoubtedly have different standards when it comes to personal space and respecting the boundaries of others and it is definitely possible to misinterpret Australian hospitality for something not quite as genuine or wholesome. Today, for example, I was walking in the mall when an older woman pushing a shopping cart (or a trolley, as they are known here) stopped directly in front of me. I tried to mumble an excuse me and maneuver around her when she knelt down to the floor and placed one of her fingers on my left knee. Being too shocked to even begin to ask what she was doing, she turned to her husband and said something along the lines of, “See, this what I want for you!” Before she could answer whether it was the color of my hair or the texture of my skin she was referring to, she looked up at me and said, “I absolutely cannot convince him to buy a pair of shorts like these!” “Oh well,” I responded feeling slightly violated and excited that I had such a funny story about which to blog about today, “they are very comfortable.” The husband told me he didn’t think they were long enough, enjoying shorts that hover somewhere above the ankles. I told the couple maybe they should consider buying a pair of very small pants. You get the idea...

I had another interesting surprise yesterday when my housemates decided to rescue an abandoned Dalmatian they found on campus and bring her back to the apartment. Of course, it would have been easy to freak out, to worry that she might be rabid or violent. Maybe she’ll pee all over the place, destroy the house, or keep me up during the night. Those thoughts occupied my mind for all of half a second, just long enough to see that the dog my housemates named Roxy had been left under a bridge for no apparent reason and just needed a warm place to spend the night. I was disappointed to learn that the ASPCA came this morning to pick up Roxy, since I didn’t get to say goodbye. Looking on the bright side, having a dog here made me miss my own even more and I can’t wait to see him again in a couple of weeks.

All in all, I’ve learned the benefits of thinking like an Aussie. Whether it’s the Aussie tradition of celebrating Christmas on the beach in front of a barbecue or the lack of stress that comes from living on an enormous continent populated by only twenty-five million people, the Aussie lifestyle has taught me a better way to approach the day. I just hope I don’t forget that.

By the way, if you ever come to Australia, don’t expect to find many shrimps grilling on a barbie somewhere. Aussies call shrimps “prawns” and I don’t even think it’s the custom to grill them. I would say go to an Outback restaurant if you’re looking for that but you’ll probably find those along with most bottles of Foster’s beer: in the states.

I'm starting to realise that I won't be comfortable with they way Australians do things, grade, or spell for that matter before it's time for me to pack up and head home. My first exam in months was this morning and the whole thing was a production I've certainly never seen at Rutgers. First of all, I had to check my bag in this separate room on campus. The place was packed with an unreal amount of security, as if somebody sneaking a calculator out of their bags and into the exam room would have been some kind of a national emergency. There were a lot of other unusual things about today, as well: first of all, I don't think I've had a Saturday exam since I took the SATs almost three years ago. The testing period started off with ten minutes of reading time where the proctors watched us all like hawks to make sure a pen didn't touch a piece of paper. On top of that, the university brought in proctors for reasons I'm not quite sure about it. After the exam I went to the library where security was even tighter. Security officers roamed the halls and people sat outside testing centers in case perhaps someone tried to escape before time was up. I understand plagiarism and cheating are concerns, but this was ridiculous.

The exam itself wasn't terrible. I finished 17 short-answer questions in about an hour and a half and, after the airport security guards finished checking my shoes and I put my belt back on, I walked out of there one final closer to freedom. Aside from maybe going a little overboard with my studying, I didn't adjust too many of my habits for an exam in Australia and I'm worried about that. My GPA is going to take a beating in the business school next semester and I need all the help I can get. Anyone who tells you study abroad is an easy A, by the way, hasn't been to Macquarie.

So far all I have booked is a hostel for my first night in Auckland and then I arranged transportation between about eight different hotspots around the island. What I think I'll like about this tour is that it's not really a tour. The company I booked with will arrange the hostels as I move around the island with a small group and I'm really looking forward to traveling this way. It cuts down on the most annoying part of traveling, I think, which is arranging how you're going to get from Point A to Point C with a stop at Point B for a food and bathroom break. As opposed to Thailand, I decided a more flexible and self-guided trip would be better and certainly more possible in an English-speaking country. I also didn't want to have to stick to a rigorous schedule someone else made so, with my Frommer's in hand, I'll be largely on my own when it comes to deciding what I get to do while I'm over there! If you've got any suggestions for me, you know what to do!

Thanking you in advance,

Jason

Home in 3 weeks.

I'm not sure if I've emphasized the differences between Australian and American campus life on the show yet so here goes. First of all, I noticed early on that Australians go abroad to the US for the exact opposite reason Americans come down here. Well, maybe not precisely the opposite but the campus experiences aren't very similar and I figure the differences must play a role in our decisions to study abroad. Australians don't generally live on campus, which I think is a shame because this makes even a university as large and as comprehensive as Macquarie feel like a commuter's school. Whereas life at Rutgers is centralized in New Brunswick, this isn't the case here. There is no Greek life in Australia and house parties are hard to come by. Especially here where the university is located in a quiet suburb, there are a handful of places in the city where I'll spot groups of Mac Uni students because there isn't much going on in North Ryde after the mall closes at 2 in the afternoon.

I was exaggerating about that last point but it's not far from the truth. Good luck finding a place to grab dinner within walking distance of the uni since about the only places in the Mac Centre open later than 5:30 are a couple of Chinese places and maybe Hungry Jack's. While this might be a problem during the week, it adds an air of excitement to the weekends as the internationals clear out to head into Sydney. It also adds to the social scene in the different housing complexes as apartment parties are common and wild Wednesday nights at The Ranch. While it took some added effort to make Aussie friends in the beginning, I haven't been disappointed in that area in the least.

Australians, on the other hand, have a hard time here relating to the dorm life. The concept of going away to school (and paying through the nose for it) is foreign here and, despite the fact few Aussies live at the uni, most don't live far from it. I learned that since internationals are hardly a novelty around here, your best bet is to make Australian friends in class. Most come to campus to go to class and then head home or off to work. One thing I have in common with Aussies is the enormous interest here in studying abroad. Something like a third of Macquarie's students are international and it is more common than not for Australians to set aside a block of time to travel overseas. Most go to Europe, especially England, and I've found a lot that go to the American west coast. Seeking the "typical" American college experience they see in the movies, the party schools are popular as well as any other that might offer a living environment similar to the one in Australia. When I hear this, however, I tell the Aussies to snap out of it and try living on the east coast of the United States. There's nothing like a big east coast school and yes, my part of the country may be cold and chaotic, but I try to convince Aussies that if you're going to cross the Pacific, you might as well experiment with a different lifestyle. I'm beyond fascinated also by the people I meet who have never stepped foot in the US and, when they ask me where their first stop in the US should be after a west coast layover, you know what I tell them.

Two weeks left in Australia and counting down...

P.S. I was wrong about Borat. It's open here already... guess where I'll be tomorrow night!