According to the Australian Government, 91% of Australia is covered by vegetation, it has the third largest ocean territory in the world and it is incredibly biologically diverse. The people of Australia certainly have a lot to take care of, especially with such a small population in comparison to the size of the continent. The government has of course done things to protect the environment but I want to touch on what I have observed from the citizens of Australia in my five weeks here.
Australians truly care about their environment in a way that I have not seen Americans do. Where we may take a twenty minute long, hot shower every day, Australians take shorter showers less frequently. They also recycle everything that can possibly be recycled when I might feel too lazy to rinse out a pop can and will just throw it in the trash instead. With no internal air conditioning or heat, they do not waste unnecessary energy. Clothes are frequently hung out to dry and dryers are rarely ever used, even in the winter. My host parents don’t even use napkins just to avoid generating the extra waste.
So what do I want you to do with this information? I think that in the United States we really need to give up some of our unnecessary comforts and make tiny sacrifices to help our environment. Turn off the water while you brush your teeth and make sure the lights are off when you leave a room. Walk or ride your bike when going somewhere close instead of driving. Just be aware! The smallest changes will make the biggest difference.
Kaylyn Beck
Grace College & Seminary
Source:
http://www.dfat.gov.au/facts/env_glance.html
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
“Typical” Australian Family
Before I left the United States, I received an email from my host “mum” exclaiming how excited she was meet me and my other housemates. She introduced herself and described a little bit about her family. She mentioned that her family was Greek and that they enjoyed preparing Greek inspired food, which made me even more excited to meet the family! When I arrived in Australia, and met “my” family I was so happy to have been placed with them! They are wonderful people and keep me pretty entertained, especially at dinner when we all sit down together and talk about our day. We usually have Greek music playing softly in the background, with lots of chatter around the table.
Some of you might wonder what I am doing in Australia and living with a Greek family. Well, Australia for many years has been a melting pot of sorts. 119,791 people were granted citizenship from the Australian government in 2009-2010, the nationality of these people were spread out among 180 countries! The top three nationalities are UK, India and the Peoples Republic of China. Today Australia has become a diverse and thriving country.
Australians are also very “green” and recycling is a way of life for them. When walking out to the bus stop on Thursday mornings, everyone has their rubbish bins and recycling bins on the sidewalk ready for pickup. My host family has recycling bins throughout our house and this seems to be a common occurrence from what I can tell. Not only are Australians friendly, laid back and have a cool accent, but they are aware of the earth around them and take care of it appropriately.
Jennifer Vice
Asbury University
Sources:
http://www.citizenship.gov.au/learn/facts-and-stats/
Some of you might wonder what I am doing in Australia and living with a Greek family. Well, Australia for many years has been a melting pot of sorts. 119,791 people were granted citizenship from the Australian government in 2009-2010, the nationality of these people were spread out among 180 countries! The top three nationalities are UK, India and the Peoples Republic of China. Today Australia has become a diverse and thriving country.
Australians are also very “green” and recycling is a way of life for them. When walking out to the bus stop on Thursday mornings, everyone has their rubbish bins and recycling bins on the sidewalk ready for pickup. My host family has recycling bins throughout our house and this seems to be a common occurrence from what I can tell. Not only are Australians friendly, laid back and have a cool accent, but they are aware of the earth around them and take care of it appropriately.
Jennifer Vice
Asbury University
Sources:
http://www.citizenship.gov.au/learn/facts-and-stats/
Sunday, August 14, 2011
From One Big City to Another
Sydney and NYC, who knew two of the most beautiful cities in the world, could be so different? Living in a city I am used to hustle, bustle, and a fast pace, but here everything is a lot more relaxed. Walking along the Sydney sidewalks people just walk at a leisurely pace, whatever suits them, no hurrying, no power walking, and no checking of the watch to see if they are on time. In New York it is just the opposite. Most people are moving as if they have someplace to go, even if they don’t. Most people speed walk, and often times I find myself annoyed I'm stuck behind someone taking their time, looking at the sights - but why have I never stopped to look at what they were looking at? Why didn’t I have time to ask where they were travelling from, or where they were going? Living in Sydney thus far, I really am just taking in the sights and the culture around me. Since I have never been here, I guess it makes me appreciate what I am seeing; I am not desensitized to this city, as I am New York. I actually notice the historic parts of the city, the different types of buildings, and everything and everyone the city has to offer.
We did a scavenger hunt the other day, where we had to find different historic landmarks at the Rocks (a small section of the city), and it was awesome to see these old sights in the middle of modern buildings. I would have never known to look for historical landmarks in a city like Sydney. I liked that I could see ruins of old houses in one area, then walk down the street a little and see modern buildings and the opera house.
The transportation is a bit difficult here. I have to take the bus, some times a train. We’re not allowed to drive, but I don’t know if I would even want to if I could. The road system is opposite, the steering wheel is on the opposite side of the road, and they drive on the left side! There are round-abouts everywhere and the traffic lights are standing on corners, rather than hanging in the middle of the street. Crossing the street is also a bit difficult because I never know which way a car is going to come; I always look the wrong way!
Everyone speaks English so it is not a complete culture shock, but I feel like I am in a dream and my life was just flipped upside down. Australians abbreviate their words, the money is different and the people are different. Everyone is so nice, that is a HUGE difference between Sydney and New York. People here are quick to help you, quick to talk to you and ask you questions. I don’t get nervous to talk to people and ask them questions because most of the time I know, if not one person, many will answer my questions and help me on my way. Many people have asked me why I am here, how long I will be here for and so on, people are friendly and just want to make conversation. In New York, tourists are a common thing, rarely will someone go out of their way to ask where are you from and so on. I have only been here for two weeks but it seems Sydney people are a lot more aware of what is around them and are more interested in newcomers than New Yorkers are.
So far it is not hard to adapt to the Australian city. Sydney seems very familiar to me, even though I have never been here. It really makes me look and think about my city in a different way. Why am I always moving so quickly, what if I take a few extra minutes and take in what is around me? The relaxed, laid back people of Sydney make me wonder; what have I not seen and who have I missed in my New York-style hustle and bustle? I really am learning just to take my time and enjoy where I am instead of worrying about where I am going.
Lauren Governanti
Palm Beach Atlantic University
We did a scavenger hunt the other day, where we had to find different historic landmarks at the Rocks (a small section of the city), and it was awesome to see these old sights in the middle of modern buildings. I would have never known to look for historical landmarks in a city like Sydney. I liked that I could see ruins of old houses in one area, then walk down the street a little and see modern buildings and the opera house.
The transportation is a bit difficult here. I have to take the bus, some times a train. We’re not allowed to drive, but I don’t know if I would even want to if I could. The road system is opposite, the steering wheel is on the opposite side of the road, and they drive on the left side! There are round-abouts everywhere and the traffic lights are standing on corners, rather than hanging in the middle of the street. Crossing the street is also a bit difficult because I never know which way a car is going to come; I always look the wrong way!
Everyone speaks English so it is not a complete culture shock, but I feel like I am in a dream and my life was just flipped upside down. Australians abbreviate their words, the money is different and the people are different. Everyone is so nice, that is a HUGE difference between Sydney and New York. People here are quick to help you, quick to talk to you and ask you questions. I don’t get nervous to talk to people and ask them questions because most of the time I know, if not one person, many will answer my questions and help me on my way. Many people have asked me why I am here, how long I will be here for and so on, people are friendly and just want to make conversation. In New York, tourists are a common thing, rarely will someone go out of their way to ask where are you from and so on. I have only been here for two weeks but it seems Sydney people are a lot more aware of what is around them and are more interested in newcomers than New Yorkers are.
So far it is not hard to adapt to the Australian city. Sydney seems very familiar to me, even though I have never been here. It really makes me look and think about my city in a different way. Why am I always moving so quickly, what if I take a few extra minutes and take in what is around me? The relaxed, laid back people of Sydney make me wonder; what have I not seen and who have I missed in my New York-style hustle and bustle? I really am learning just to take my time and enjoy where I am instead of worrying about where I am going.
Lauren Governanti
Palm Beach Atlantic University
Sunday, May 29, 2011
A New Way to Be Human
Do you remember what the first band you fell madly (and possibly obsessively) in love with was? Not going to lie, in elementary school I was a fan of Point of Grace; but my first real, deep, passionate, own-every-song-from-every-album love was Switchfoot.
I’ve come a long ways since my Switchfoot obsession of 7th grade; played a lot of roles. I feel like I’ve been like the apostle Paul when he says, “I have been all things to all people.” I have been Rachel the youth president, Rachel the soccer player, Rachel the bandie, Rachel the year book editor, Rachel the room mate, Rachel the camp counselor, and Rachel the chemistry major. Now I find myself 9048 miles away from home, sitting on a train, zipping past Switchfoot flyers plastered to telephone poles trying to figure out who Rachel is without all of the adjectives.
I came here to Australia because life was seeming eerily routine. I would finish up my degree, go to grad school, get married, and start a career that I would spend my life pursuing. This just seemed like the way life was expected to go, but I really didn’t want to end up like Solomon, chasing after the wind, falling into routine.
So I came to Australia to take a semester off of science, off of my career path, and to focus on my life path. I came to get to know myself—who I am when I am stripped of the things I use to identify myself. Since I’ve been here, Oz has shown me not so much who I am, but who I want to be. I have learned from Aussies humility, community, and perspective on life.
Aussie’s attitude towards life and each other is a new, beautiful thing for me. Where Americans will ask you, “How are you doing,” Aussies will ask you, “How are you going?” It’s a silly example, but it echoes how Americans, myself included, tend to see the task as the ultimate importance where Aussies see the journey as paramount. I’ve heard people say, and found it to be true that Americans live to work, while Aussies work to live.
Community is another lesson I have learned from Oz. Things here are a lot more socialist in general, but I think the welcoming, open, fun-loving Aussie spirit has a lot to do with it as well. People love to be equal here, as evident by the “Tall Poppy Syndrome,” where they collectively bash anyone who stands out from the crowd. The ways this plays out show a sharp contrast between Australian attitudes and American ones. Students call their professors who have multiple doctorates “Grenny” instead of Dr. Kent. Parliamentarians walk across the street in their wigs beside mothers pushing prams, school kids can waltz into the senate at sit in the queen’s chair, and people call their prime minister by nick names like, “K-Rudd.” Aussies have taught me to see the world a lot more like Christ does; Everyone, no matter what titles they may have, deserves a fair go.
Since I’ve come to the land of Oz, I’ve gained a new way of thinking about things. I have been humbled, and am starting to see myself as a member of different communities. I am Rachel from ASC, Rachel from Wesley, Rachel from IWU, and Rachel from South Carolina. I owe a lot to the communities that have shaped me, and I have responsibilities to take up because I am a part of those communities.
I came to Australia trying to figure out who I am and what I want to do with my life, but Australia has taught me that I was asking the wrong questions. Who I am doesn’t matter as much as what I’m a part of. What I do doesn’t matter as much as how and why I do it. I am learning to be Rachel, no adjectives. I am learning, in the words of Switchfoot, “a new way to be human.”
Rachel Potter
Indiana Wesleyan University
I’ve come a long ways since my Switchfoot obsession of 7th grade; played a lot of roles. I feel like I’ve been like the apostle Paul when he says, “I have been all things to all people.” I have been Rachel the youth president, Rachel the soccer player, Rachel the bandie, Rachel the year book editor, Rachel the room mate, Rachel the camp counselor, and Rachel the chemistry major. Now I find myself 9048 miles away from home, sitting on a train, zipping past Switchfoot flyers plastered to telephone poles trying to figure out who Rachel is without all of the adjectives.
I came here to Australia because life was seeming eerily routine. I would finish up my degree, go to grad school, get married, and start a career that I would spend my life pursuing. This just seemed like the way life was expected to go, but I really didn’t want to end up like Solomon, chasing after the wind, falling into routine.
So I came to Australia to take a semester off of science, off of my career path, and to focus on my life path. I came to get to know myself—who I am when I am stripped of the things I use to identify myself. Since I’ve been here, Oz has shown me not so much who I am, but who I want to be. I have learned from Aussies humility, community, and perspective on life.
Aussie’s attitude towards life and each other is a new, beautiful thing for me. Where Americans will ask you, “How are you doing,” Aussies will ask you, “How are you going?” It’s a silly example, but it echoes how Americans, myself included, tend to see the task as the ultimate importance where Aussies see the journey as paramount. I’ve heard people say, and found it to be true that Americans live to work, while Aussies work to live.
Community is another lesson I have learned from Oz. Things here are a lot more socialist in general, but I think the welcoming, open, fun-loving Aussie spirit has a lot to do with it as well. People love to be equal here, as evident by the “Tall Poppy Syndrome,” where they collectively bash anyone who stands out from the crowd. The ways this plays out show a sharp contrast between Australian attitudes and American ones. Students call their professors who have multiple doctorates “Grenny” instead of Dr. Kent. Parliamentarians walk across the street in their wigs beside mothers pushing prams, school kids can waltz into the senate at sit in the queen’s chair, and people call their prime minister by nick names like, “K-Rudd.” Aussies have taught me to see the world a lot more like Christ does; Everyone, no matter what titles they may have, deserves a fair go.
Since I’ve come to the land of Oz, I’ve gained a new way of thinking about things. I have been humbled, and am starting to see myself as a member of different communities. I am Rachel from ASC, Rachel from Wesley, Rachel from IWU, and Rachel from South Carolina. I owe a lot to the communities that have shaped me, and I have responsibilities to take up because I am a part of those communities.
I came to Australia trying to figure out who I am and what I want to do with my life, but Australia has taught me that I was asking the wrong questions. Who I am doesn’t matter as much as what I’m a part of. What I do doesn’t matter as much as how and why I do it. I am learning to be Rachel, no adjectives. I am learning, in the words of Switchfoot, “a new way to be human.”
Rachel Potter
Indiana Wesleyan University
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Handel’s Messiah
There exists only architecture in Sydney that contains the sheer physical presence necessary for an appropriately grand performance of Handel’s Messiah.
That building is St. Andrews Cathedral, an Anglican church located on George Street by the Victoria building in the central Sydney area. The oldest cathedral in Australia, St. Andrews presents visitors the finest example of the Gothic Revival architectural style. Towering high with structural magnificence shown in its buttressing, well-proportioned towers and decorated pinnacles, this edifice has come to be recognized as a centre for all kinds of Christian religious worship. Outside the front door sits a sign that proclaims a welcome to visitors in at least 15 different languages, and services are scheduled for different ethnic groups throughout the week. My attendance there on the Sunday morning church services yielded a surprise opportunity to participate in one of the most—if not the most, beautiful musical excursion in my lifetime.
Within the first two weeks of attendance, I had been personally invited to sing with the church choir for the cathedral’s annual performance of Handel’s Messiah. I had been walking demurely and indirectly about, trying to look like a new person when a lady (young on the middle-age range) came up to me and introduced herself. Her name was Irmgard—a German name, she told me. She was so friendly that she took me around and introduced me to different groups talking after the service, as we all partook of the morning tea (which tends to go extremely quick, I am starting to learn. Five minutes after the food comes out, it has been scraped off the platters). When she asked me if I liked or could sing, (to which I responded enthusiastically) she took me to see Ross, the church’s music director—a pleasantly plump man with a boyish innocence to his eyes, cordiality to his tone, and a slight absent-minded disarray to his manner stereotypical of “the musician”. I grew to regard Ross with great fondness over the following 5 weeks as we rehearsed the chorus bits of the Messiah in the upstairs room of the boys’ school behind the church on Monday evenings. He coached us with precision and humor. For example, the first Monday night, goofing off in the soprano row with Irmgard’s endearing 9-year old daughter Eliza (the whole family—the husband John, 12-year-old son Henri, Eliza, and Irmgard all went to practices to do it together, though the kids opted out for the final performance), I was jollied to hear him suggest that to get out the high notes of the song we were working on, we were all to imagine that our knockers were just humongous. Despite our laughter, it worked. Rehearsals were focused, while light-hearted. I could tell that the casual Australian way of doing things was at work here. No one put on airs; it was older ladies right next to young boys and girls and everyone was having fun. We obeyed Ross and paid attention, and he didn’t mind our giggles and whisperings to one another (which I’ll admit, for me was unfortunately frequent after having switched to the alto section. Irmgard and I could be a deadly combination, sometimes acting like little tittering schoolgirls…but our enthusiasm was such that we could not help literally bopping about during the singing part).
The final night: everyone dressed in white and black, besides the legitimate choir members, who were wearing their choir robes. All of us alto women (volunteers, not the official choir) begged for alto men to join us, to help us with our part. The Messiah is an extremely difficult choral piece—I may not have mentioned that thus far. Despite my coming to all the rehearsals but one, I still needed the benefit of alto voices around me, to stay on track especially for the tricky up-and-down sixteenth-note sections. And with the full choir around us (I was surprised to note that most of the sopranos were young boys, making the group almost 50% children), I could be easily distracted by other voices. In front of me splayed a sea of sopranos; on my left were the tenors, including several teenagers who could joke off a bit but who nevertheless had gorgeous voices to compensate; on my right were the bases, mostly older gentleman but also a few younger as well. Of course people were very relaxed even up to the dress rehearsal, which surprised me because usually in any performance in the States I have done, the director would be very particular and even uptight about getting all the little details right. Right before the performance we had a little time to practice, and all Ross had us do was sing the Hallelujah chorus, told us what we needed to emphasize, didn’t worry about doing it over, but told us how to process in and then we filed downstairs to wait around for twenty minutes before we started. Very informal. Yet, processing in, sitting down, watching Ross for cues, with full lighting and apparel, we became unified. I had never heard the entirety of Messiah performed before; there were a lot of solo pieces in between our large choral numbers. The place was packed with audience members; the sound resounded joyously, like a gong ringing deeply outwards in the wide, long space. I could feel the tremendous force of our voices together, blending and fusing and overlapping in harmonies of meditation and praise of our Lord, in my body and in the very air of the cathedral.
Handel estimated it would take a full year to compose the music –choral and instrumental—of Messiah. He wrote it in 24 days, in a state of clinical depression and during the rock bottom of his career. It was his last-ditch effort to create something after being met with numerous failures; and he did this as an act of charity, for a benefit concert. Now this music is known throughout the world for its beauty, proportion, transcendence, and humanity. Of the Hallelujah chorus, possibly the most famous piece in Messiah, Handel is said to have been found with tears flowing down his face after finishing the manuscript. I quote (and cannot help but agree with, in my own small way), the composer’s following words describing his experience: “I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself.”
What else is there to be said? Hallelujah, for the Lord has come, is here, and will return in fuller glory than even Messiah can envision.
Kara Doriani
Eastern University
Sources:
http://www.wilmapaustralia.com.au/nsw/atts/standrews_cathedral.html
http://www.sydneyarchitecture.com/cbd/cbd3-002.htm
That building is St. Andrews Cathedral, an Anglican church located on George Street by the Victoria building in the central Sydney area. The oldest cathedral in Australia, St. Andrews presents visitors the finest example of the Gothic Revival architectural style. Towering high with structural magnificence shown in its buttressing, well-proportioned towers and decorated pinnacles, this edifice has come to be recognized as a centre for all kinds of Christian religious worship. Outside the front door sits a sign that proclaims a welcome to visitors in at least 15 different languages, and services are scheduled for different ethnic groups throughout the week. My attendance there on the Sunday morning church services yielded a surprise opportunity to participate in one of the most—if not the most, beautiful musical excursion in my lifetime.
Within the first two weeks of attendance, I had been personally invited to sing with the church choir for the cathedral’s annual performance of Handel’s Messiah. I had been walking demurely and indirectly about, trying to look like a new person when a lady (young on the middle-age range) came up to me and introduced herself. Her name was Irmgard—a German name, she told me. She was so friendly that she took me around and introduced me to different groups talking after the service, as we all partook of the morning tea (which tends to go extremely quick, I am starting to learn. Five minutes after the food comes out, it has been scraped off the platters). When she asked me if I liked or could sing, (to which I responded enthusiastically) she took me to see Ross, the church’s music director—a pleasantly plump man with a boyish innocence to his eyes, cordiality to his tone, and a slight absent-minded disarray to his manner stereotypical of “the musician”. I grew to regard Ross with great fondness over the following 5 weeks as we rehearsed the chorus bits of the Messiah in the upstairs room of the boys’ school behind the church on Monday evenings. He coached us with precision and humor. For example, the first Monday night, goofing off in the soprano row with Irmgard’s endearing 9-year old daughter Eliza (the whole family—the husband John, 12-year-old son Henri, Eliza, and Irmgard all went to practices to do it together, though the kids opted out for the final performance), I was jollied to hear him suggest that to get out the high notes of the song we were working on, we were all to imagine that our knockers were just humongous. Despite our laughter, it worked. Rehearsals were focused, while light-hearted. I could tell that the casual Australian way of doing things was at work here. No one put on airs; it was older ladies right next to young boys and girls and everyone was having fun. We obeyed Ross and paid attention, and he didn’t mind our giggles and whisperings to one another (which I’ll admit, for me was unfortunately frequent after having switched to the alto section. Irmgard and I could be a deadly combination, sometimes acting like little tittering schoolgirls…but our enthusiasm was such that we could not help literally bopping about during the singing part).
The final night: everyone dressed in white and black, besides the legitimate choir members, who were wearing their choir robes. All of us alto women (volunteers, not the official choir) begged for alto men to join us, to help us with our part. The Messiah is an extremely difficult choral piece—I may not have mentioned that thus far. Despite my coming to all the rehearsals but one, I still needed the benefit of alto voices around me, to stay on track especially for the tricky up-and-down sixteenth-note sections. And with the full choir around us (I was surprised to note that most of the sopranos were young boys, making the group almost 50% children), I could be easily distracted by other voices. In front of me splayed a sea of sopranos; on my left were the tenors, including several teenagers who could joke off a bit but who nevertheless had gorgeous voices to compensate; on my right were the bases, mostly older gentleman but also a few younger as well. Of course people were very relaxed even up to the dress rehearsal, which surprised me because usually in any performance in the States I have done, the director would be very particular and even uptight about getting all the little details right. Right before the performance we had a little time to practice, and all Ross had us do was sing the Hallelujah chorus, told us what we needed to emphasize, didn’t worry about doing it over, but told us how to process in and then we filed downstairs to wait around for twenty minutes before we started. Very informal. Yet, processing in, sitting down, watching Ross for cues, with full lighting and apparel, we became unified. I had never heard the entirety of Messiah performed before; there were a lot of solo pieces in between our large choral numbers. The place was packed with audience members; the sound resounded joyously, like a gong ringing deeply outwards in the wide, long space. I could feel the tremendous force of our voices together, blending and fusing and overlapping in harmonies of meditation and praise of our Lord, in my body and in the very air of the cathedral.
Handel estimated it would take a full year to compose the music –choral and instrumental—of Messiah. He wrote it in 24 days, in a state of clinical depression and during the rock bottom of his career. It was his last-ditch effort to create something after being met with numerous failures; and he did this as an act of charity, for a benefit concert. Now this music is known throughout the world for its beauty, proportion, transcendence, and humanity. Of the Hallelujah chorus, possibly the most famous piece in Messiah, Handel is said to have been found with tears flowing down his face after finishing the manuscript. I quote (and cannot help but agree with, in my own small way), the composer’s following words describing his experience: “I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself.”
What else is there to be said? Hallelujah, for the Lord has come, is here, and will return in fuller glory than even Messiah can envision.
Kara Doriani
Eastern University
Sources:
http://www.wilmapaustralia.com.au/nsw/atts/standrews_cathedral.html
http://www.sydneyarchitecture.com/cbd/cbd3-002.htm
Sunday, May 15, 2011
So, your life is like Mcleods Daughters, right?
Last week, over our spring break, we spent four nights and two full days on a sheep station near Louth, New South Wales. Or, as more Australians would probably know it, out “back of Burke.” When I found out that our outback trip wasn’t taking us to Uluru or the Northern Territory, I was at first a bit disappointed that we weren’t going to “the real outback.” But after a 12 hour drive each way, I certainly felt like we were out back enough! And once we arrived and began our experience at Trilby Station, I changed my mind about what “the real outback” meant.
When most people think of Australia and the outback, they think of a desert. Red dirt, some rocks, no life. But as we learned on our tour of Trilby, Australia actually doesn’t have any true deserts. There is arid land, out in the Simpson Desert or the Northern Territory, and semi-arid land like the area surrounding Trilby. When it doesn’t rain, the semi-arid land looks more like that you would expect. But as you might know, it’s been raining a lot in Australia recently, and it showed. The red sand was covered in beautiful shades of green and grey and blue grasses and shrubs. We saw lizards, birds, kangaroos, and emus (but only one sheep out of the thousands that are supposedly out there). The “desert” was actually bursting with life. Just another one of the surprises that Australia keeps sending our way.
The most interesting thing for me was when we sat down on our second night and had a chat with Gary Murray, who owns and runs Trilby along with his wife Liz. Gary came in to the dining room looking like something out of a Banjo Patterson song – tough, strong, covered in red dust from head to toe, and wearing a battered Akubra hat. He had been out working since sunrise, and was just now coming in at 7 pm. He told us about the size of the station (about 320,000 acres) and how many sheep they run (about one sheep per 10 acres). When we got the chance to ask him questions, though, we got a very interesting insight into the Australian mentality. Being sentimental Americans, we asked all about his favourite moments, what made him love his job, what made it worth all the hardship? His answers were not what we expected. To him, it wasn’t an unusually hard life, he had everything he needed, and the best part of his job was shearing time, because that was when he got to see the end result of the years work. We spent several classes before we came to Trilby talking about how the Australian land affected the Australian cultural character, about their practicality and down to earth attitudes. Now we had proof right in front of us. Gary had no desire to romanticize his life in the outback, for better or for worse. There was no embellishing of either how hard his life is, or how beautiful and fulfilling it is.
We left the outback having had a lot of fun, but also having some things to think about. Gary and Liz live and work just about as close to the land as you can get. For them, environmental changes are not just a theoretical issue to be discussed in class. If it rains too much or too little, it has a massive impact on them. They know that our clothes don’t just come from the mall, they come from thousands of hours of labour. We learned a lot about rural, farming Australia, which is a huge part of the country which we would otherwise have been unable to really experience. By the time we got home, I was glad we went to Trilby instead of somewhere else. What we saw was much more real than the touristy experience we probably would have had somewhere in “the real outback.”
Allana Hooker
Seattle Pacific University
When most people think of Australia and the outback, they think of a desert. Red dirt, some rocks, no life. But as we learned on our tour of Trilby, Australia actually doesn’t have any true deserts. There is arid land, out in the Simpson Desert or the Northern Territory, and semi-arid land like the area surrounding Trilby. When it doesn’t rain, the semi-arid land looks more like that you would expect. But as you might know, it’s been raining a lot in Australia recently, and it showed. The red sand was covered in beautiful shades of green and grey and blue grasses and shrubs. We saw lizards, birds, kangaroos, and emus (but only one sheep out of the thousands that are supposedly out there). The “desert” was actually bursting with life. Just another one of the surprises that Australia keeps sending our way.
The most interesting thing for me was when we sat down on our second night and had a chat with Gary Murray, who owns and runs Trilby along with his wife Liz. Gary came in to the dining room looking like something out of a Banjo Patterson song – tough, strong, covered in red dust from head to toe, and wearing a battered Akubra hat. He had been out working since sunrise, and was just now coming in at 7 pm. He told us about the size of the station (about 320,000 acres) and how many sheep they run (about one sheep per 10 acres). When we got the chance to ask him questions, though, we got a very interesting insight into the Australian mentality. Being sentimental Americans, we asked all about his favourite moments, what made him love his job, what made it worth all the hardship? His answers were not what we expected. To him, it wasn’t an unusually hard life, he had everything he needed, and the best part of his job was shearing time, because that was when he got to see the end result of the years work. We spent several classes before we came to Trilby talking about how the Australian land affected the Australian cultural character, about their practicality and down to earth attitudes. Now we had proof right in front of us. Gary had no desire to romanticize his life in the outback, for better or for worse. There was no embellishing of either how hard his life is, or how beautiful and fulfilling it is.
We left the outback having had a lot of fun, but also having some things to think about. Gary and Liz live and work just about as close to the land as you can get. For them, environmental changes are not just a theoretical issue to be discussed in class. If it rains too much or too little, it has a massive impact on them. They know that our clothes don’t just come from the mall, they come from thousands of hours of labour. We learned a lot about rural, farming Australia, which is a huge part of the country which we would otherwise have been unable to really experience. By the time we got home, I was glad we went to Trilby instead of somewhere else. What we saw was much more real than the touristy experience we probably would have had somewhere in “the real outback.”
Allana Hooker
Seattle Pacific University
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Recycling: Not a waste
Imagine yourself taking a stroll along the beautiful streets of Sydney Harbor. It is a slightly warm 26-degree weather day (79 degrees for all the American’s out there) and there is a soft breeze rolling in. You will hear birds chirping and a deep bellowing tune coming from the didgeridoo of the bosking Aborigine. The water is glistening and the streets are strangely clean. Wait, a city with clean streets, is there such a place? Sydney is that place. From the little time I have spent here I have noticed that almost everybody in Australia recycles. Even on the streets of a busy intersection you will find two bins (or trashcans), one for rubbish and one for plastics, cans, and cardboard. After a little research I found that 12 million tons of solid waste is generated yearly by New South Wales alone. The kicker to this statistic is the fact that 51% of that waste was recycled. In fact, 95% of all Australian households recycle (http://www.benefits-of-recycling.com/recyclingstatistics.html)! America on the other hand, lies at the complete opposite end of the spectrum. The idea of recycling is often over looked by many American’s and it is sad to say that the United States only recycles 32% of its waste today, Australia definitely outshines us there, literally.
Australia doesn’t believe in wasting anything. I have noticed, on many different occasions, this notion put into practice. When it comes to eating, not a scrap of food goes to waste. My host parents are extremely talented cooks, and their food tastes amazing. I have no problem indulging after a long exhausting day of hiking to the bus stops, but my family likes to pile my plate with food! The mountain of food is enough to feed a six foot tall man, and certainly enough to max out the stomach of a five foot, four inch girl. I am very grateful for the delicious dinner, as is everyone at the table. I watch my Australian family lick their plate clean, nothing, absolutely nothing is on their plates after dinner. This isn’t because they are starving but rather this “waste less” mentality.
Sydney even has entire restaurants completely devoted to providing and maintaining an economic environment. The Greenhouse Restaurant, uses nothing but organic food and recycled utensils. The owner, Joost, sates “I have designed the restaurant in reverse. I’ve started at the end and worked back. My dream has always been to build a restaurant that creates no waste and now I believe I can achieve it!” (http://greenhousebyjoost.com/eat-2/a-waste-free-restaurant/) Joost believes in using returnable crates that get his food to his restaurant. He takes all the excess food to a JoraForm vessel composter and is transported to the roof top garden, where all the waste remains organic. Everything from paint, to pipes, to t-shirts, to wooden plates, is made from recycled material. This is an incredible accomplishment in my opinion. The Greenhouse is hopping with creative food and a fun, friendly atmosphere. It is the perfect dinner destination for many after a long exhausting day of work. Joost has a successful business that Aussies adore. Delicious and environmentally friendly, what else can you ask for?
Australia has really opened my eyes to the success that can come from recycling. If everyone does a small little part, our society and world would be a much cleaner, and enjoyable place. Recycling is certainly NOT a waste.
Kristin Minshall
Greenville College
Australia doesn’t believe in wasting anything. I have noticed, on many different occasions, this notion put into practice. When it comes to eating, not a scrap of food goes to waste. My host parents are extremely talented cooks, and their food tastes amazing. I have no problem indulging after a long exhausting day of hiking to the bus stops, but my family likes to pile my plate with food! The mountain of food is enough to feed a six foot tall man, and certainly enough to max out the stomach of a five foot, four inch girl. I am very grateful for the delicious dinner, as is everyone at the table. I watch my Australian family lick their plate clean, nothing, absolutely nothing is on their plates after dinner. This isn’t because they are starving but rather this “waste less” mentality.
Sydney even has entire restaurants completely devoted to providing and maintaining an economic environment. The Greenhouse Restaurant, uses nothing but organic food and recycled utensils. The owner, Joost, sates “I have designed the restaurant in reverse. I’ve started at the end and worked back. My dream has always been to build a restaurant that creates no waste and now I believe I can achieve it!” (http://greenhousebyjoost.com/eat-2/a-waste-free-restaurant/) Joost believes in using returnable crates that get his food to his restaurant. He takes all the excess food to a JoraForm vessel composter and is transported to the roof top garden, where all the waste remains organic. Everything from paint, to pipes, to t-shirts, to wooden plates, is made from recycled material. This is an incredible accomplishment in my opinion. The Greenhouse is hopping with creative food and a fun, friendly atmosphere. It is the perfect dinner destination for many after a long exhausting day of work. Joost has a successful business that Aussies adore. Delicious and environmentally friendly, what else can you ask for?
Australia has really opened my eyes to the success that can come from recycling. If everyone does a small little part, our society and world would be a much cleaner, and enjoyable place. Recycling is certainly NOT a waste.
Kristin Minshall
Greenville College
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