People keep asking me what is Indonesia like? What does it look like? Where is it (get a map, lazy!)? Well, here you go, some answers to appease your curiosity: Indonesia through my eyes. You already know about my airport experience so I will not bore you with more from that. One important thing to understand, before we embark on this visionary quest, is that Jakarta, the city where I will be for the next two months IS NOT representative of all of Indonesia. Imagine being asked to judge all of the United States on a two month stay in Los Angeles. You would get a very skewed picture of the place…well, that is how it is in Jakarta. Indonesia is massive and thus is rich in culture and traditions –unfortunately Jakarta is very westernized. Here we go.
The drive from the airport to the hotel was fascinating. One second you are driving past beautiful shopping malls next to lovely office buildings and skyscrapers…the next second you are driving past landfills, polluted rivers and slums. It is quite the juxtaposition. There are motorbikes everywhere, street carts selling food wherever you look and people all over the place. I think that the biggest adjustment has been not being able to see the sun or clouds or a blue sky. There is so much pollution here that it is very rare not to see an endless expanse of gray above you.
I suppose there is some beauty here. The people thus far, beside the starring and the occasional judgement for being white, are lovely. Also, at night, when all of the city is lit up and the skyscraper’s lights are able to penetrate the polluted air it is quite beautiful. I am hoping to see some more of Indonesia cultures during weekend day-trips and some weekends we have planned in Bali and Yogyjakarta. So excited. It is for sure nothing like Australia…but alas, if you are trying to “see Indonesia through my eyes” you should understand that I have quite poor eyesight…I wear contacts. Therefore, you should see it for yourself. I will undoubtedly take pictures and share stories until you can plan a trip.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Jumping Continents and Cultures: The Airport Experience
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I was expecting my flight from Townsville to Sydney to be me, sitting next to some stranger, in a fit of narcoleptic crying…I ended up falling asleep, with my aviators on, before we even took off. I woke up on our descent into Sydney airport. I spent the afternoon and evening with my friend Lucy and her family. It was a strange feeling – in some ways I almost felt like I was returning home, to familiarity. I had been to Sydney over lecture recess and in many ways it was good to get back there, especially after my emotional departure from Townsville.
My flight the following morning to Jakarta on Garuda Flight 713 was like any international flight. I spent the first few hours of the seven hour flight catching up on some much needed sleep. My flight was my first exposure to the Indonesian language. Not going to lie, when spoken it sounds rather intense. When I woke up I watched Invictus (such a good movie!), had a really good lunch and wrote in my journal for almost two and half hours.
When I finally landed in Jakarta International Airport I landed in a dream – a hazy city of which all I knew about it came from news articles and media reports; I was walking into a dream, some mythical place that you can read about in encyclopedia’s but never really imagine witnessing it in person. That is my ongoing view towards Jakarta. I was herded out of the plane, down some stairs and onto a bus filled to capacity. The bus taxied through the airfield to the main terminal where I sort of just through myself into the river of people into the lines reading “immigration and foreign”. There were people of every color, race, height, stature, socio-economic status, dress and religion queued to enter Indonesia; and there I was, the six-foot-one, white American attempting to hide the front of my passport. For the first time in my life I was a minority…a noticeable minority.
Getting through customs, passing security and collecting my bags were relatively simple tasks given the language barrier and my general confusion. I felt as though I had literally walked from the sophisticated feeling of Sydney to a modern-day version of Disney’s Aladdin that is Jakarta. Because the other students flying in from the States weren’t scheduled to arrive for another two hours after me I was met by some men from the internship program. Think of an American airport pick-up terminal and then think of the complete opposite of that –that is where I found myself, perched on a tiny pipe running near the floor next to a wall of windows waiting for the Americans. Never before did I feel so out of place…I had little children literally starring at me like I was a circus act, tugging on their mother’s garments to get their attention –the mothers pulled them along but only after stealing a long glance at the pale foreigner. What an eye-opening experience.
My flight the following morning to Jakarta on Garuda Flight 713 was like any international flight. I spent the first few hours of the seven hour flight catching up on some much needed sleep. My flight was my first exposure to the Indonesian language. Not going to lie, when spoken it sounds rather intense. When I woke up I watched Invictus (such a good movie!), had a really good lunch and wrote in my journal for almost two and half hours.
When I finally landed in Jakarta International Airport I landed in a dream – a hazy city of which all I knew about it came from news articles and media reports; I was walking into a dream, some mythical place that you can read about in encyclopedia’s but never really imagine witnessing it in person. That is my ongoing view towards Jakarta. I was herded out of the plane, down some stairs and onto a bus filled to capacity. The bus taxied through the airfield to the main terminal where I sort of just through myself into the river of people into the lines reading “immigration and foreign”. There were people of every color, race, height, stature, socio-economic status, dress and religion queued to enter Indonesia; and there I was, the six-foot-one, white American attempting to hide the front of my passport. For the first time in my life I was a minority…a noticeable minority.
Getting through customs, passing security and collecting my bags were relatively simple tasks given the language barrier and my general confusion. I felt as though I had literally walked from the sophisticated feeling of Sydney to a modern-day version of Disney’s Aladdin that is Jakarta. Because the other students flying in from the States weren’t scheduled to arrive for another two hours after me I was met by some men from the internship program. Think of an American airport pick-up terminal and then think of the complete opposite of that –that is where I found myself, perched on a tiny pipe running near the floor next to a wall of windows waiting for the Americans. Never before did I feel so out of place…I had little children literally starring at me like I was a circus act, tugging on their mother’s garments to get their attention –the mothers pulled them along but only after stealing a long glance at the pale foreigner. What an eye-opening experience.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Saying Goodbye
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As much as I had tried to prepare myself to leave Townsville, Australia I found myself unprepared and emotional on Tuesday morning. Well, I suppose I cannot really say emotional…it is sort of that feeling you get when you know something really sad is about to happen but it has yet to happen – your body innately begins to prepare for the mourning of something you have not yet lost. That’s how I woke up at 7:30am. Breakfast was a blur. I had heaps of errands to run between the kitchen, the office, and the Post. The only time Boyd left my side was to go back to his room to change clothes; of course his new garments were all black: “funeral colors”. What was it I was writing about the five stages of grief? Yeah, point proven. At nine-thirty I started making my rounds around college, saying farewell to my friends.
People have different ways of saying good bye. Some cry in sadness, others are seemingly not affected initially but later wallow in solitude: then there is me. In the moment of departure I try to look into the person’s eyes; yet, past them, I can’t bring myself to look directly into the familiarity that I long to see one last time. It is all too much; my eyes turn to the ground, now, acknowledging that my emotions are brimming to their fullest – the slightest movement, a smile, could set me off. My mirrored aviators slide down from the crown of my head to veil my eyes, or rather, hide my tears from the people they fall for.
It is not that I just think saying good bye is hard; it is more than that. It is some unexplainable emotion that we all as people have to learn to deal with; not so much to be comfortable with saying goodbye but to respect and grow from them. To quote one of my favorite movies, “why do we fall? – so we can learn to pick ourselves back up.” I definitely “fell” a bit leaving Australia but my fond memories and good friends are allowing me to start picking myself back up and I am definitely smiling because it happened.
People have different ways of saying good bye. Some cry in sadness, others are seemingly not affected initially but later wallow in solitude: then there is me. In the moment of departure I try to look into the person’s eyes; yet, past them, I can’t bring myself to look directly into the familiarity that I long to see one last time. It is all too much; my eyes turn to the ground, now, acknowledging that my emotions are brimming to their fullest – the slightest movement, a smile, could set me off. My mirrored aviators slide down from the crown of my head to veil my eyes, or rather, hide my tears from the people they fall for.
It is not that I just think saying good bye is hard; it is more than that. It is some unexplainable emotion that we all as people have to learn to deal with; not so much to be comfortable with saying goodbye but to respect and grow from them. To quote one of my favorite movies, “why do we fall? – so we can learn to pick ourselves back up.” I definitely “fell” a bit leaving Australia but my fond memories and good friends are allowing me to start picking myself back up and I am definitely smiling because it happened.
Monday, June 21, 2010
The Last Night
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After visiting “Lauren’s Special Place” I didn’t think the evening could get better. I was more than pleased to be proven wrong. Boyd, Lauren, Kirsty, Rachele and I hung out in Boyd’s room and had the most wonderful snack of wine, cheese, crackers, and honey-comb tim-tams (delicious!). We talked, laughed, reminisced before watching Death at a Funeral. Such a good night….well at least it was until I had to go back to my room at half past midnight.
I had packed over the entire weekend so I would not have to pack on my last night. I still had a fair bit of stuff from my desk and shelves to put in my luggage. Before going to bed I weighed my bags to discover I was nearly 5kg (approx 12 lbs) over my allowance –PANIC! I had already donated some clothes and given away some stuff to Boyd and Maddie. It was three in the morning when I began the process of going through my stuff weeding out stuff that I really needed for Indonesia and stuff I could live without. This included two frustrated skype-calls home…I didn’t get to bed until 5:30am and had to wake up at seven…not exactly I had in mind for my last night in Townsville.
Oh well, I have everything I need now and I was even able to send four small boxes home with my text books, notes, brochures, soccer shoes and some other miscellaneous goods. The weight limit was irrelevant anyways when I got the airport. Because I had to change my flight around and would no longer be checking my bags all the way to LA, I was not given my original baggage allowance of 70 lbs and was thus charged $100. Bitches.
I had packed over the entire weekend so I would not have to pack on my last night. I still had a fair bit of stuff from my desk and shelves to put in my luggage. Before going to bed I weighed my bags to discover I was nearly 5kg (approx 12 lbs) over my allowance –PANIC! I had already donated some clothes and given away some stuff to Boyd and Maddie. It was three in the morning when I began the process of going through my stuff weeding out stuff that I really needed for Indonesia and stuff I could live without. This included two frustrated skype-calls home…I didn’t get to bed until 5:30am and had to wake up at seven…not exactly I had in mind for my last night in Townsville.
Oh well, I have everything I need now and I was even able to send four small boxes home with my text books, notes, brochures, soccer shoes and some other miscellaneous goods. The weight limit was irrelevant anyways when I got the airport. Because I had to change my flight around and would no longer be checking my bags all the way to LA, I was not given my original baggage allowance of 70 lbs and was thus charged $100. Bitches.
Lauren’s Special Place
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Monday was my final full day in Townsville and I knew I wanted to do something special, you know, something representative of my time here in Australia. Lucky for my I have terrific friends who know exactly what makes me happy – nature (or what Lauren creepily termed her “special place” because it is her favorite place in Townsville! Lauren and Boyd took me to the Pallaranda which is a park located on the northern beaches of Townsville. We arrived at about 4:30pm and simply strolled down the sandy beach dotted with stones and boulders ranging in size from grapefruits to large cars. It was low tide but the waters were slowly reclaiming the tide pools and mudflats we were wading through. The snapshots were incredible. Magnetic Island just to the right, Castle Hill off in the distance to our backs, craggily scrub and bouldering hills to the left and a setting sun to the fore: perfection.
The three of us mucked around for a good bit, you know, getting stuck in the “quick sand”, looking for marine life and occasionally snapping some photos. The beach approached an almost perfect ninety degree turn to the left just ahead of where we were walking. As we swung around the outcrop of boulders our eyes were met with the most magnificent sky I have seen. The sun, while yes, it was setting, was covered ever so slightly by thin, flat clouds that masked the event in a vibrant expanse of color and texture. More so, the water perfectly captured this episode, complemented by the textural variance of the boulders and ripples left behind from the tides. It was absolutely the perfect way to say goodbye to Australia as a country because it was demonstrative of the two things I fell in love with Down Under: the people and the land.
The three of us mucked around for a good bit, you know, getting stuck in the “quick sand”, looking for marine life and occasionally snapping some photos. The beach approached an almost perfect ninety degree turn to the left just ahead of where we were walking. As we swung around the outcrop of boulders our eyes were met with the most magnificent sky I have seen. The sun, while yes, it was setting, was covered ever so slightly by thin, flat clouds that masked the event in a vibrant expanse of color and texture. More so, the water perfectly captured this episode, complemented by the textural variance of the boulders and ripples left behind from the tides. It was absolutely the perfect way to say goodbye to Australia as a country because it was demonstrative of the two things I fell in love with Down Under: the people and the land.
Castle Hill
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I finally made it up to Castle Hill; the monstrosity of a hill that is just 3 meters shy of being a mountain residing in the center of Townsville. Why haven’t I been up there yet? Well, I suppose it is a mixture of laziness and patience. I did not want to climb it like the typical American tourist or the international students who rushed to the top of it within their first days in Australia. This mixed with the fact that Boyd and Chris and Lauren asked me to run up it with them for about a week and I rejected their offer due to studying combine for my “lazy” approach.
“Patience” is applicable because deep down, I knew I would climb it. This special day came on Tuesday when Boyd, Lauren and I set out for a climb up the hill via a dirt/stone path and stairs and then a jog down the hill along the road.
We got a little later start than we originally wanted. The scenery was still beautiful on our ascent. Although we missed the sunset the sky was gorgeous - all on fire with oranges and yellows elegantly framed by pinks and shades of deep purple. Rather than running down the hill – none of us were really feeling it –we walked down enjoying the scenery and quietness of the night. I am glad I finally made it up what is arguably Townsville’s most well-known feature; the company of good friends made it that much better.
“Patience” is applicable because deep down, I knew I would climb it. This special day came on Tuesday when Boyd, Lauren and I set out for a climb up the hill via a dirt/stone path and stairs and then a jog down the hill along the road.
We got a little later start than we originally wanted. The scenery was still beautiful on our ascent. Although we missed the sunset the sky was gorgeous - all on fire with oranges and yellows elegantly framed by pinks and shades of deep purple. Rather than running down the hill – none of us were really feeling it –we walked down enjoying the scenery and quietness of the night. I am glad I finally made it up what is arguably Townsville’s most well-known feature; the company of good friends made it that much better.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Final Exams!
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Here is an equation for you.
If 12 weeks of classes = done and done = happiness does 12 weeks of classes = happiness?
No, it actually equals final examinations –yuck! I was lucky to only have three finals; I had given a final presentation in my stupid Forensic Archaeology class that I grew to despise.
Here in Oz we have what is called SWOTVAC (aka a study vacation) the week prior to the commencement of exams. I had an exam the very first day in Coral Reef Geomorphology but remember, at Allegheny we have two study days and I had seven days solely to study for this test. Needless to say I think I smashed it.
My next two exams were the following Friday, six days later, in Environmental Law and Policy and in Australian People. I studied extremely hard for my law class; although it was open notes, there was so much information, legislation and cases to memorize and refer to. Thus, I spent the majority of my study time preparing for this exam. It wasn’t until the night before that I started to study for my stupid, annoying, obnoxious Australian People’s final. Ugh I hated that class. I feel bad saying it but that’s how I felt; it was poorly taught, poorly organized and poorly executed and therefore resulted in my bitter rage towards the subject. Lucky for me I absolutely smashed the exam: thank you Allegheny College for teaching me how to write an essay well enough to have one made up 92% of B.S. As for my law exam, it went very well.
I probably learned the most out of the classes I like the most (duh!): coral reef geomorphology and environmental law and policy. This reconfirms my interest in what I am studying, environmental science, and really opened my eyes to other areas and ways of looking at problems in my field. I am fortunate for those experiences. Even though I did not like my other two classes I did learn some…just nothing I feel like sharing on this blog…I’m over it.
If 12 weeks of classes = done and done = happiness does 12 weeks of classes = happiness?
No, it actually equals final examinations –yuck! I was lucky to only have three finals; I had given a final presentation in my stupid Forensic Archaeology class that I grew to despise.
Here in Oz we have what is called SWOTVAC (aka a study vacation) the week prior to the commencement of exams. I had an exam the very first day in Coral Reef Geomorphology but remember, at Allegheny we have two study days and I had seven days solely to study for this test. Needless to say I think I smashed it.
My next two exams were the following Friday, six days later, in Environmental Law and Policy and in Australian People. I studied extremely hard for my law class; although it was open notes, there was so much information, legislation and cases to memorize and refer to. Thus, I spent the majority of my study time preparing for this exam. It wasn’t until the night before that I started to study for my stupid, annoying, obnoxious Australian People’s final. Ugh I hated that class. I feel bad saying it but that’s how I felt; it was poorly taught, poorly organized and poorly executed and therefore resulted in my bitter rage towards the subject. Lucky for me I absolutely smashed the exam: thank you Allegheny College for teaching me how to write an essay well enough to have one made up 92% of B.S. As for my law exam, it went very well.
I probably learned the most out of the classes I like the most (duh!): coral reef geomorphology and environmental law and policy. This reconfirms my interest in what I am studying, environmental science, and really opened my eyes to other areas and ways of looking at problems in my field. I am fortunate for those experiences. Even though I did not like my other two classes I did learn some…just nothing I feel like sharing on this blog…I’m over it.
Working Abroad: Last Day in the Kitchen
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I now realize, looking back on this somewhat intermittent sham of a travel-blog, I have failed to keep the world, and mainly, my “avid” followers, in the loop on my work experience while abroad. Now remember, I have two jobs in Australia. My weekend job was cleaning the bins around college – a two hour commitment that was easy money.
The second job is in the Combined Catholic College kitchen. I gave myself the title as “All-Purpose Cleaner Boy.” As you might have guessed I cleaned everything from the floors to the walls to all of the benches and shelves and the appliances, plate stands, dishes, freezers….yeah, anything that could be scrubbed or polished I did. I can take a lot away from this job. First I made a wonderful friend in Duncan, the dishwasher hailing from Manchester City, England as well as many of the students on college. Second I can take away the source of income…actually that is something I cannot physically take away figuring I spent nearly all of my earnings; but alas, I was able to live comfortably while in Australia and not worry about money. Lastly, I learned patience. Working in that stupid kitchen was sometimes the most frustrating experience, yet, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.
The second job is in the Combined Catholic College kitchen. I gave myself the title as “All-Purpose Cleaner Boy.” As you might have guessed I cleaned everything from the floors to the walls to all of the benches and shelves and the appliances, plate stands, dishes, freezers….yeah, anything that could be scrubbed or polished I did. I can take a lot away from this job. First I made a wonderful friend in Duncan, the dishwasher hailing from Manchester City, England as well as many of the students on college. Second I can take away the source of income…actually that is something I cannot physically take away figuring I spent nearly all of my earnings; but alas, I was able to live comfortably while in Australia and not worry about money. Lastly, I learned patience. Working in that stupid kitchen was sometimes the most frustrating experience, yet, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Death: Writing a Book
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I have been deep in thought…“what’s new”? you ask, “not much, thanks for asking.”
I am really struggling with this whole concept of leaving, I mean, I have exactly one week from tomorrow. Time really does fly. It is actually sort of humorous, “it” being me leaving and “humorous” being more or less the kind of chuckle you give somebody because you feel bad for them, not because you are jovial…I digress.
I took this class two years ago all about death. We learned about the five stages of grief. I will put them into perspective:
Denial: “Haha, what are you talking about, we’re not talking about me leaving Australia, I have three more weeks left. No no no I am not ready because we ARE NOT talking about it, okay? How’s your toast?”
Anger: “I DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE! Stupid month of June, why did you have to freakin’ come…and DO NOT even get me started on those bitches April and March. You can’t make me do anything!”
Bargaining: “Dear Indonesia, thank you so much for the offer but something has come up. What if we say rather than coming on June 16th we say I maybe show up, I don’t know via skype conference? No…well, what about July 15th…hmmm, no still? Okay, final offer, July 15th and brownies…”
Depression: “I (sob) don’t (sob) want (sniffle) to leave (collapse)!”
Acceptance: “I can do this.”
I am really just entering this whole acceptance stage. One thing that really got me here was just taking some time to reflect and think. Now, I promised myself when I created this little blog project that it would not turn into the next e-diary where I share all of my juicy gossip and saucy stories about my love life over the internet(…mainly because if this was the case there would be nothing to post, sorry Grandma…). And alas, here I am about to go all deep and meaningful on you.
Basically, for the past five years, I have been asking myself, “what is it that I want out of life?” This is obviously a gargantuan question and I don’t have an answer…anticlimactic, hey? No, but seriously, one thing I decided I want from life is stories, you know, I want to have adventures that create the most beautiful, scary, suspenseful and mythical tales that we all craved as children. I want to see “the world”, travel to far off places and meet exotic and new people. How, then, can I justify getting sad about leaving Australia –I am doing exactly what I set out to do. Indonesia is at my doorstep as my new adventure, my new experience that holds countless new stories just waiting for me to live and share with whomever will lend an ear.
Well, like all good stories, mine here in Australia must come to an end. Sure, there are always possibilities for sequels but for now I am looking forward to closing this chapter with the most fitting of endings: a happy one.
I am really struggling with this whole concept of leaving, I mean, I have exactly one week from tomorrow. Time really does fly. It is actually sort of humorous, “it” being me leaving and “humorous” being more or less the kind of chuckle you give somebody because you feel bad for them, not because you are jovial…I digress.
I took this class two years ago all about death. We learned about the five stages of grief. I will put them into perspective:
Denial: “Haha, what are you talking about, we’re not talking about me leaving Australia, I have three more weeks left. No no no I am not ready because we ARE NOT talking about it, okay? How’s your toast?”
Anger: “I DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE! Stupid month of June, why did you have to freakin’ come…and DO NOT even get me started on those bitches April and March. You can’t make me do anything!”
Bargaining: “Dear Indonesia, thank you so much for the offer but something has come up. What if we say rather than coming on June 16th we say I maybe show up, I don’t know via skype conference? No…well, what about July 15th…hmmm, no still? Okay, final offer, July 15th and brownies…”
Depression: “I (sob) don’t (sob) want (sniffle) to leave (collapse)!”
Acceptance: “I can do this.”
I am really just entering this whole acceptance stage. One thing that really got me here was just taking some time to reflect and think. Now, I promised myself when I created this little blog project that it would not turn into the next e-diary where I share all of my juicy gossip and saucy stories about my love life over the internet(…mainly because if this was the case there would be nothing to post, sorry Grandma…). And alas, here I am about to go all deep and meaningful on you.
Basically, for the past five years, I have been asking myself, “what is it that I want out of life?” This is obviously a gargantuan question and I don’t have an answer…anticlimactic, hey? No, but seriously, one thing I decided I want from life is stories, you know, I want to have adventures that create the most beautiful, scary, suspenseful and mythical tales that we all craved as children. I want to see “the world”, travel to far off places and meet exotic and new people. How, then, can I justify getting sad about leaving Australia –I am doing exactly what I set out to do. Indonesia is at my doorstep as my new adventure, my new experience that holds countless new stories just waiting for me to live and share with whomever will lend an ear.
Well, like all good stories, mine here in Australia must come to an end. Sure, there are always possibilities for sequels but for now I am looking forward to closing this chapter with the most fitting of endings: a happy one.
When Weird Becomes Normal
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Things can be a bit different here in Australia compared to the United States. Look no further than the way we measure distances, volumes and temperature. In the States (if you were unaware) we use miles, inches, gallons, pints, and degrees Fahrenheit. How strange? Especially figuring the rest of the world, including Oz, use the metric system –centimeters, meters, kilometers, and degrees Celsius! More so, Americans choose to drive on the left side of the car yet on the right side of the road; whereas, my Australian compatriots do the polar opposite, driving on the right side of the car on the left side of the road. You might expect this to be confusing or complicated but, actually, that is not the case.
Sure, at first these things seemed foreign to me; rightfully so, I am in a country on the other side of the globe that has sided with the majority of the world when it comes to units of measurement. But over time I have adapted and evolved. The funny thing that now I am used to it; weird has not only become normal, it has become all I relate to. I am cold when it is 17 °C and I am hot when it is 30 °C: I live for 23 °C. What is that in “American units?” you might ask? Well, my answer would be I don’t know what it is for you because those “foreign” measurements and units mean something to me because I live them. The same holds true with driving. I drove a few friends back from a festival we went to yesterday and not once had to think about “oh, no, oh, no, everything is different –STAY LEFT!” because it is not different, it is the norm.
Let’s hope that this “cultural enlightenment” doesn’t result in a traffic/pedestrian catastrophe upon my return to the States or in Jakarta.
Mount Stuart
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Saturday was exciting for two reasons. First, I completed my first final examination. I will not bore you with coral reef geomorphological processes or theories; however, I will tell you that it went very well - I was content. The examination set-up (room, proctors, etc) I must say was rather imposing but nonetheless, but 3:30pm I was a free man and had no plans to study for the rest of the day.
That being said, my lovely friend Jamie and I decided to drive up to Mount Stuart, the beautiful, paramount formation that provides a natural skyline to the city of Townsville. It was about a twenty minute drive through beautiful foothills and rolling meadows, gradually winding their way up to ridges dotted with eucalyptus trees. The sun, tempted with the idea of setting for the day, sat like a sinking beacon to the west casting long shadows across golden and pink grasses and deepened the textures of the nearby barks of the trees we drove past. Once at the top we were met with the most spectacular view of the city. To think, I have been here for four months and had yet to experience this gorgeous scene. Just goes to show you that you can travel all you want to see "the beauty of the world" but sometimes the most beautiful things in the world are in your own backyard, overlooked by monotony.
Jamie and I walked around a little path along the edge of the mountain and had the best views of the surrounding area. We could see Magnetic and Palm Islands (near where I was at Orpheus a few months ago), and inland where rolling hills were met with flat grasslands. Beautiful.
We caught the early part of the sunset before deciding to drive down in order to catch the colors and sights on the way down the mountain. Equally gorgeous. I am so happy I finally got the chance to go up on Mount Stuart.
That being said, my lovely friend Jamie and I decided to drive up to Mount Stuart, the beautiful, paramount formation that provides a natural skyline to the city of Townsville. It was about a twenty minute drive through beautiful foothills and rolling meadows, gradually winding their way up to ridges dotted with eucalyptus trees. The sun, tempted with the idea of setting for the day, sat like a sinking beacon to the west casting long shadows across golden and pink grasses and deepened the textures of the nearby barks of the trees we drove past. Once at the top we were met with the most spectacular view of the city. To think, I have been here for four months and had yet to experience this gorgeous scene. Just goes to show you that you can travel all you want to see "the beauty of the world" but sometimes the most beautiful things in the world are in your own backyard, overlooked by monotony.
Jamie and I walked around a little path along the edge of the mountain and had the best views of the surrounding area. We could see Magnetic and Palm Islands (near where I was at Orpheus a few months ago), and inland where rolling hills were met with flat grasslands. Beautiful.
We caught the early part of the sunset before deciding to drive down in order to catch the colors and sights on the way down the mountain. Equally gorgeous. I am so happy I finally got the chance to go up on Mount Stuart.
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