Clueless

Men are clueless. Well, at least mine is.

New Usage

I have not used this blog in quite a while, but now I think I will return. For the last few months, well it’s been crazy, but 2010 is here. It’s a brand new year and I’m going to document it. I’m going to use this blog as a kind of diary, or better named ‘therapy’.

Well, let’s see how it goes.

Week 18

Well you all know how the beginning of the week went, so here’s the rest. Tuesday was spent at Darling Harbour, admiring the Maritime museum and much modernised harbour, before heading over to Chinatown for a look around. Chinatown’s only little, but filled with restaurants and all sorts of interesting shops. If I had the money, and was not 14kgs heavier (d0esn’t sound like a lot, but I can certainly feel it and it pushed me up a few dress sizes) I would be coming home with so many beautiful Vietnamese, Indian and Chinese garments. Oh my, they are beautiful. Anyhow, whilst in Chinatown we visited the Chinese Friendship Gardens. The Gardens were a paradise with a beautiful, peaceful set up and a tea house that sold the most delicious pork buns.

On Wednsday mum and I jumped on the train for a two hour ride to the Blue Mountains. Unfortunately, due to thick mist and bad weather, the Three Sisters and the majority of the mountains were invisible behind a white screen. This was a little disappointing, but we did get to explore a wonderful old town and enjoy a delicious snack in the local tea house. I must say that I did enjoy that encounter immensly, not only for the wonderfully interesting musuem and shop attached, but als0 for the quite attractive young waiter in top hat and tails.

Thursday was spent at the popular surfing point, Manly. To get there however, we had to board the ferry and pass through the ‘heads’, the point where the sea meets with the river. Here the water is very rough and the boat bucked, drenching the front and all it’s passengers. This day I also re-injured my knee. Yes that pesky little injury seems to be an ongoing thing, so I am once again limping. I have a doctors appointment on Wednsday once I return home. On Thursday night we also took a Ghost Tour of the Rocks, where we had spent the afternoon exploring. The Ghost Tour was very interesting and the host was a cheerful, funny old man who resembled an Undertaker, even carrying that old black doctor’s bag. He told us many stories about deaths and murders in the area, not to mention some strange tales. One of these tales was about a Greek sea captain who lured a young woman to his room. The next morning, after the girl had returned home, the married man and felt so guilty he stabbed himself. After being taken to hospital, the landlady’s daughter went into the room to tidy it. (The tour had us act out some of the scenes, naming us as certain characters. One woman was the landlady’s daughter and mimed cleaning the room.) As the woman cleared away the sheets something dropped from them. (Here the tour guide a dildo onto the street and gasped aloud.) The sea captain had chopped of his own penis. There were many more stories, but that had to be the most memorable, after all, who can forget a glowing penis on the footpath.

Friday was a day where both mum and I were exhausted, we spent most of the day lolling around the hotel room, after spending the morning at Luna Park that is. Luna Park is much smaller than I’d come to believe, consisting of only a single stretch with only one of the original rides still in existence, a one hundred year old Carousel built in England. Later at night, whilst the streets of Sydney were pretty much flooded, mum and I had to venture out for dinner. After stumbling around the Cross, soaked to the bones, we stumbled upon a Japanese restaurant in the basement of a building. Juju’s was the best Japanese I’ve ever tasted and was set out in such a way that the patrons would sit on the floor in a traditional style. All the workers there were Japanese, except for one white Australian male who spoke fluent Japanese, and were all extremely friendly. Mum and I scored a seat at the bar and were able to watch one of the chefs prepare all the uncooked meals. It was delicious, I’d definitely recommend this restaurant to anyone visiting the Cross.

Early Saturday morning mum and I met Patrick Weyland-Smith at the Central train station. He has grown so much taller and thinner and his voice has definitely changed, but he is still the boisterous and flamboyant Patrick we all know and love. We accompanied him to his music school where he and his band, ‘Pat and the Straights’, were practicing. They were pretty good, a great sound combination with a good dynamic. The rest of the day was spent at the Paddy’s and Rock Markets. I love spending time at the marketplaces, they always have such different items and I only wish my spending was not limited. Sigh.

So, I fly back into Perth tomorrow (Sunday) night at 8:45pm. Back to Bogansville, my family, my house and all my friends. It also seems like I might already have a job lined up for me, Wing Ho is desperate for waitresses, so I said if they needed an extra girl, I’m there. I can’t start dancing until my knee is all checked out, so there’s a hold up on continuing that. Oh, would anyone be interested in taking swing dancing classes? I believe they’re every Wednsday night at Hillman Hall.

See you all soon!

Oh…any ideas for a theme for my coming home party?

Week 18 – Bye Bye USA

My final week in America. As you all now there was that little debacle with EF about my flight details, well in the end I had to take the flight. The first flight…I’m not sure how I even managed to walk onto that flight. Every muscle in my body screamed at me and I had to keep my jaw clamped so as not to loose my lunch before the ride even began. Thankfully, somehow, i forced myself onto the airbus for the two hour flight to San Francisco. I slept the whole way. Thanks to my host siblings, Pavel, Louisa and Vanessa (my original host sister who left Rick and Shey and moved in with us on Friday) I was too tired by the time the second flight came around to care and, thankfully, managed to sleep the majority of the fourteen hour flight away. You see, after keeping me awake playing cards until 1:30am (after the EF closing orientation which was a bbq and volleyball with the other exchangees) they hid their phones in my room, setting the alarms so I was awoken periodically throughout the night. After the third and final alarm, I set Louisa’s phone to go off at 3:30am and hid it in the sleeping Pavel’s room. My own little revenge, believing the whole thing was his master plan.

Friday was my final day at Hamilton High School. Leaving was not too hard, I think I was too excited to be coming home to let it get to me. I was sad to say goodbye to my new friends, but it didn’t quite hit me that it’s unlikely I’ll ever see them again, it still hasn’t really.

Anyway, I left America on Saturday night and arrived in Sydney on Monday morning, skipping Sunday entirely. I had no troubles at customs and all my luggage came through…some how I did get away flying on two US air services with a pair of scissors in my bag. o_O Mum met me half-way down the exit ramp (she wasn’t supposed to be there) and we had a little tearful hug.

Now I’m in Sydney, enjoying the greatly overated, but still engaging city. Our hotel is a self-contained unit right on a corner, it’s a little noisy with all the traffic, but quite comfortable. We’re staying in King’s Cross, the red-light district of Sydney that has become less notorius over the years. Still a lot of strip clubs between all the restaurants and shops though.

After walking around the area for awhile mum and I trekked on into the city, catching a picture perfect view of the bridge and Opera House from Circle Quay. From there we took a ferry over to Taronga Zoo. After Singapore Zoo, well, nothing can compare to Singapore zoo. It was a lovely little zoo with great views of the city and a rather entertaining bird shoe where I almost lost the top of my head to a (trained) swooping Wedge-Tailed Eagle. We also spent sometime in the beautiful Queen Victoria Building and had morning tea at the tea house there. It was very proper English style with high-backed cushion chairs, miniture cakes, finger sandwhichs (no crust) and Royal Albert (that really fancy, really ugly china that only your grandmother would ever own) China. We both found it rather funny, me sitting their in my cams, jeans and dog tags, slouching in the chairs and holding the cup all wrong. Great cakes though. Really tasty.

Today, being Tuesday, we headed to Bondi Beach. The beach was quite empty, due to it being quite cold here, and occupied mostly by Asian tourists and Aussie joggers. The occasional surfer decked the waves, though the was not much to be considered rideable. The famous landmark was beautiful, smaller than I expected, but beautiful nonetheless. Every inch of the boardwalk beside it is decorated with mosaic tiles, paintings and well presented shops. It’s very much a tourist precinct.

After Bondi we headed through Chinatown (more like China-street) until we reached the Chinese Friendship Garden. The little paradise held a giant koi pond, a teahouse and landscaping that can only have been designed from the ancient histories of China. Oh, you will not believe how much a good cup of tea (breakfast) and a well brewed herbal tea does for the soul. How did I ever survive five months on crappy US tea? Mum also treated me to a sticky date pudding whilst in Bondi. Yum. Can you believe America doesn’t have them?

Next up…my pie.

It rained today too. I love the rain, especially after a five month dry spell. Rain is purifying and regenerating. As you can see, I missed the rain. It’s supposed to rain all week. We’ll be purchasing a raincoat soon.

It’s not just the rain I missed though, I can’t believe I’d never actually noticed the Aussie accent before. Returning here, after so long, I can recognise the accent and suddenly I know why every other country loves it. The Australian accent just sounds so friendly, we actually sound like larrikans, like we’re always up for a good time and a laugh and don’t take life too seriously. Ah, I really do love our accent, and I am very proud of it. I can only hope that I have not lost in entirely.

I will keep my blog going for now, perhaps even after I return home, which will be Sunday night at around 9pm.

Can’t wait to see you all again! Stay tuned for the rest of my Sydney adventure.

Week 17

Much like every other week, the school week was slow with nothing notable. We spent a number of hours in line at a steakhouse for free food on Wednesday. It was good, but I can’t believe they give away free food here, especially with the economic crisis, it would have cost them a fortune. Friday night I saw Wolverine, a fairly good movie that does explain some of the character’s past, but is kind of a cop-out because we knew he’d lose his memory at the end. Apparently they’re making a sequel though, following in the lines of the comic books where Wolverine heads to Japan to learn from a Samurai master on how to control his animalistic nature. Yeah, I have nothing better to do with my time then read the news sites.

 

Saturday, Louisa, Pavel and I were invited to Mr Hermanski’s house, along with the other exchange students at Hamilton, for a brunch. He has a beautiful house and his wife is just the most excellent cook. They’re really nice people and we all had a lot of fun just talking, eating, playing around with his (unloaded) hunting rifles and pistols and flicking through his library of history books. It was a good day.

 

Sunday was the baptism of Keeley Livia Cornell. It was held at a Baptist church and involved a service, which was very boring and I must admit I fell asleep during it. Afterwards it was off to the park for a picnic lunch, volleyball and a small celebration. I met some other exchange students there and they were sad to be leaving soon. I was feeling a little uncomfortable when they were saying what a great year they’d had and how they didn’t want to go home and all that. I kept silent, letting Louisa do all the talking. I can’t wait to come home. I just wish the company would hurry up and send me the details. It doesn’t take two weeks to book a plane ticket.

 

Gah, ok, calming down.

 

Anyhow. Can’t wait to see you all soon!

 

News flash. I’m leaving America on Saturday, night. I’ll be meeting my mum in Sydney and spending some time there before returning to Rockingham.

 

New update.

FUCKING BASTARDS!!! HOW DARE EF!!!

They promised my parent’s I’d be placed on a Qantas flight, so instead they put me on United, which I will not set foot on. So Lynn tells me I’m going home, I ring mum and no, I’m not. Apparently that was the only flight they could get me on. Fucking bullshit! That flight has been cancelled and now it’s going to take them another fucking two weeks to book me onto Qantas. I fucking hate this! Bastards, bastards, bastards. Here I was so excited and happy to be coming home and they have to go and screw me around. Fuck them!

You Know When You’re Australian if…

You know you’re Australian if…

1. You know the meaning of the word ‘girt’.

2. You believe that stubbies can be either drunk or worn.

3. You think it’s normal to have a Prime Minister called Kevin.

4. You waddle when you walk due to the 53 expired petrol discount Vouchers stuffed in your wallet or purse.

5. You’ve made a bong out of your garden hose rather than use it for something illegal such as watering the garden.

6. You believe it is appropriate to put a rubber in your son’s pencil case when he first attends school.

7. When you hear that an American ‘roots for his team’ you wonder how often and with whom.

8. You understand that the phrase ‘a group of women wearing black thongs refers to footwear and may be less alluring than it sounds.

9. You pronounce Melbourne as ‘Mel-bin’.

10. You pronounce Penrith as ‘Pen-riff’.

11. You believe the ‘L’ in the word ‘ Australia ‘ is optional.

12. You can translate: ‘Dazza and Shazza played Acca Dacca on the way to Maccas.’

13. You believe it makes perfect sense for a nation to decorate its highways with large fibreglass bananas, prawns and sheep.

14. You call your best friend ‘a total bastard’ but someone you really, truly despise is just ‘a bit of a bastard’.

15. You think ‘Woolloomooloo’ is a perfectly reasonable name for a place.

16. You’re secretly proud of our killer wildlife.

17. You believe it makes sense for a country to have a $1 coin that’s twice as big as its $2 coin.

18. You understand that ‘Wagga Wagga’ can be abbreviated to ‘Wagga’ but ‘Woy Woy’ can’t be called ‘Woy’.

19. You believe that cooked-down axle grease makes a good breakfast spread.

20. You believe all famous Kiwis are actually Australian, until they stuff up, at which point they again become Kiwis.

21. You know, whatever the tourist books say, that no one says ‘cobber’.

22. You know that certain words must, by law, be shouted out during any rendition of the Angels’ song Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again.

23. You believe, as an article of faith, that the confectionery known as the Wagon Wheel has become smaller with every passing year.

24. You still don’t get why the ‘Labor’ in ‘Australian Labor Party’ is not spelt with a ‘u’.

25. You wear ugh boots outside the house.

26. You believe, as an article of faith, that every important discovery in the world was made by an Australian but then sold off to the yanks for a pittance.

27. You believe that the more you shorten someone’s name the more you like them.

28. Whatever your linguistic skills, you find yourself able to order takeaway fluently in every Asian language.

29. You understand that ‘excuse me’ can sound rude, while ‘scuse me’ is always polite.

30. You know what it’s like to swallow a fly, on occasion via your nose.

31. You understand that ‘you’ has a plural and that it’s ‘youse’.

32. You know it’s not summer until the steering wheel is too hot to handle.

33. Your biggest family argument over the summer concerned the rules for beach cricket.

34. You shake your head in horror when companies try to market what they call ‘Anzac cookies’.

35. You still think of Kylie as ‘that girl off Neighbours’.

36. When returning home from overseas, you expect to be brutally strip-searched by Customs – just in case you’re trying to sneak in fruit.

37. You believe the phrase ‘smart casual’ refers to a pair of black tracky-daks, suitably laundered.

38. You understand that all train timetables are works of fiction.

39. When working on a bar, you understand male customers will feel the need to offer an excuse whenever they order low-alcohol beer.

40. You get choked up with emotion by the first verse of the national anthem and then have trouble remembering the second.

41. You find yourself ignorant of nearly all the facts deemed essential in the government’s new test for migrants.

42. You will immediately forward this list to other Australians, here and overseas, realizing that only they will understand.

Week 16

Monday and Tuesday nights I stayed after school to help with the technical work for a small school production. The senior drama students each chose a scene and then directed the younger students in it’s production. The night was basically so the drama teacher, Miss Veil, could scope new talent and the seniors could receive a grade. It wasn’t too bad, not overly entertaining but not a complete waste of time.

Wednesday night was spent at Chucky Cheeses. Chucky Cheese is kind of like Timezone but is also part pizza parlor. Louisa and I had some fun mucking around with the ‘older’ games whilst the kids all played on the equipment. Pavel taught Corbin, 2, to cheat on that game where you have to roll the ball up this ramp and try and get it into the circles, the smaller the circle the more the points. Pavel had him climb up there and just place the balls in. We did this a number of times before we were caught.

Thursday was a very long day. I arrived at school at 4am so to attend a photography trip. Slots Canyon, also known as Antelope Canyon, was right on the Utah/Arizona border, not far from a town called Page. Technically I was in Utah for five minutes. The caves were on Navajo land and we had Navajo Indians guiding us.
‘The general rock is sandstone, in various shades of red and orange; it is sunlight, shining down and reflecting along the canyon walls that gives the canyons their special beauty; the shadows and colors change constantly as the sun moves overhead.’
The canyons were beautiful, though very crowded with tourists. One of the canyons, Lower Antelope Canyon, was empty but for us. I loved this canyon the most as it required some climbing and squeezing and a Navajo sat inside the canyons playing these haunting melodies on his guitar. There was nothing more beautiful.

Friday we drove to Cottonwood, but not before spending a few hours looking at the Glen Canyon Dam and walking around Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. Photographing these and the Colorado River all the while. Saturday was spent in Jerome. Jerome was a mining town back in the 1800’s and many of the original buildings were still there, including one of the many brothels which is now a museum/shop.
‘Jerome became a notorious “wild west” town, a hotbed of prostitution, gambling, and vice. On 5 February 1903, the New York Sun proclaimed Jerome to be “the wickedest town in the West”.’
The town was very interesting, but I’m afraid I spent more time shopping and reading the historical plaques everywhere that my photos of this location are limited.

I’m certain that on this trip I took many beautiful shots, but none will see them until they are edited and posted on my art website.

Sunday I was supposed to go the Arizona Mills Mall, a giant shopping centre, where I was to purchase my second suitcase and whatever else I had promised to buy for people. Unfortunatley, once again, what I needed to do was not going to happen and so I was stuck at home with the grandkids all day. I am not sure when I will be able to go now as according to the majority of people, EF is unlikely to tell me flight dates until the night before.

Oh, Tommo, I picked up a book about Native American astrology. I’ll bring it out next time I see you.

Week 15

This is the uodate for the article;

Ok, so this EF councillor rings me on Friday, whilst I’m at school and proceeds to hook into me about the article. When I try to defend myself she cuts me off and says ‘you’re being very rude’. So I don’t say anything. She continues to tear into me, making claims that she clearly does not understad, ie ‘I don’t think Australians would appreciate if someone wrote an article like this about them’ (clearly she’s never dealt with Australians or seen any Australian program before). I’m placed on a verbal warning for being culturaly insensitive (let’s ignore the fact that EF is being culturally insensitive of my culture and infringing on my right to freedom of speech). After she has made me feel as if my opinion does not matter at all, that clearly defending myself is useless and that the conversation is entirely one-sided she has the nerve to say ‘The article was very angry. Is there anything wrong?’ EF are such noobs. I let this question hang in the air for awhile, allowing silence to ensue before I finally replied with ‘no’ said goodbye and hung up. What I really wanted to do was slam the phone on her half way through her ranting, but mum and dad raised me to have respect, so I sat there and took it, in the middle of a crowded office with students and teachers everywhere.

Other than the article, the week was not entirely uneventful. Saturday Louisa moved in with us, she can’t stand her family anymore, there’s just too many problems. I’m happy to have her here and I know it’s easier for her as she has someone to talk to that understands. Saturday was also the day we both went to the Women’s Self Defence Class. We learnt how to escape from a choke hold, bear hug and grab (both from the back and front), how to roll someone off of us, fight from the ground and some basic kicks and punches. I had so much fun. It was exhilirating and for someone that likes to be in control, this was perfect. I’m fast and my punches are strong. Martial arts is definetly something I would like to explore and practice. I just have to decide which style is best for me. Any suggestions?

After the course Louisa and I went to Outback Steakhouse for dinner. It’s an American steakhouse with an Aussie theme. The food was pretty good, I had lamb, and they even offered Australian alcohol (Jacob’s Creek, Tooheys and Fosters to name a few). Louisa knew the hostess from school so we managed to aquire some menus and by sweet talking the waitress with a toy koala we also got our hands on a pin each.

Sunday, Pavel, Louisa and myself spent the majority of the day just walking around. This has to be one of the better weekends I’ve had, and the whole time I was away from this place.

My Article and the Uproar that Followed

Well, I have successfuly pissed of EF once again.

For the school newspaper I was asked t0 write an opinions piece about my observations about America so far, the differences I have found. So I did that. My teacher and editor both edited it, they said it was enjoyable to read and it was published. Many of my friends and teachers also loved it, many thought it was very funny. Lynn however, did not.

She said it was offensive and if I didn’t like America maybe I should go home (little to her knowledge I am going home). She said she handed it around at work and to some other EF people and they all said the same as her. She also said that it will be harder to find me a host family at that school, though I am dead positive she hasn’t been trying at all as my details are not in the files given to coordinators (I have seen them) and the way she was speaking the other day it doesn’t look like she’s going to give me up. Anyway, back to the article. She said she was going to talk to my teacher about it and if there were any repercussions she didn’t know what was going to happen.

The story was not for an audience such as her but the teenagers. God she made me so mad. I was even more infuriated when I found out that the whole of EF knows about it. She consulted them before talking to me. My parents received a letter from EF.

The attached article that Ashayla wrote in the school paper has come across to many of those at her school as being offensive to American’s. Mainly the offense came from Ashayla comparing a lot of differences between America and Australia, with America not being as good as Australia.

No one at school deemed it innapropriate. The article also does not state that Australia is better, though the more time I spend here the more I have come to realise this. The whole thing was a joke and the majority of people took it as one.

I am expecting to receive a call from EF soon as this was also stated to my parents:

The RC is going to chat with Ashayla about being culturally sensitive and realising that there are differences in every culture. Although Ashayla was probably not meaning to be offensive the RC is concerned that it now may be harder to find Ashayla a host family within the school area and is going to look outside Ashayla’s school region for a host family.

Firstly, according to Boston they had started searching for a family outside of this area two months ago! I am aware that every culture is different, I even stated in the article many things about America that I like.

I do not understand why Lynn had to go and overreact and involve so many other people. Will EF and those people hosting me stop painting me as the bad guy! I am not! I paid my way here and have been treated like shit.

I hate EF.

The concerned article is here.

 Update: April 25th

Ok, so this EF councillor rings me on Friday, whilst I’m at school and proceeds to hook into me about the article. When I try to defend myself she cuts me off and says ‘you’re being very rude’. So I don’t say anything. She continues to tear into me, making claims that she clearly does not understad, ie ‘I don’t think Australians would appreciate if someone wrote an article like this about them’ (clearly she’s never dealt with Australians or seen any Australian program before). I’m placed on a verbal warning for being culturaly insensitive (let’s ignore the fact that EF is being culturally insensitive of my culture and infringing on my right to freedom of speech). After she has made me feel as if my opinion does not matter at all, that clearly defending myself is useless and that the conversation is entirely one-sided she has the nerve to say ‘The article was very angry. Is there anything wrong?’ EF are such noobs. I let this question hang in the air for awhile, allowing silence to ensue before I finally replied with ‘no’ said goodbye and hung up. What I really wanted to do was slam the phone on her half way through her ranting, but mum and dad raised me to have respect, so I sat there and took it, in the middle of a crowded office with students and teachers everywhere.

Week 14

This week has not been much better then the last. In fact, I’m just about fed up with it all. I feel like I’m nothing, insignificant, only good for others laughs and dirty work. I can’t believe it, I’m hobbling around on crutches and some idiots decide it’d be funny to push other people into me and try and trip me over. Bastards. Hardly anyone would hold a door open for me and once or twice I had one closed in my face. It’s no wonder I get a surprised look every time I hold a door open for someone. American teenagers have little manners or respect for others. Selfish is perhaps the best word. Of course not every teenager is like this, but it is always the worst that stick in your mind.

 

It’s not only the kids though, Johnny is no better. He expects Pavel and I to watch the kids, clean the dishes, work in the garden, clean the house and cook for ourselves. We’re at his beck and call. It really pisses me off. When one of the grandkids smeared their crap all over the wall, I told him about it and he just left it for three days. Finally it was Pavel who broke and cleaned it up.

 

All week Pavel and I have had to make our own meals, now this wouldn’t be too bad if there was actually some food in the house, but there’s not. If it’s not take away that I pay for myself then it’s whatever Pavel and I can find; peanut butter sandwiches, pasta (we have that a lot and it’s always with frozen meatballs and I’m so sick of it), microwave dinners (yuck) or pancakes. Pancakes are good, but not for dinner and not all the time.

 

Every weekend morning he turns the radio on loud and wakes me up before 7am. The radio is on the front porch, right outside my window.

 

He leaves the sink full of dishes and leaves it all to Pavel and me. We’re always working in the garden, with never a thank you or anything. I’m hobbling around with a brace on, cannot walk properly and still I am expected to help him in the yard. Also, he’s always spoiling his grandkids, never punishing them when they are bad, always spoiling them and yet Pavel and I never even receive thank you. He buys truckloads of donuts, ice creams and chocolates for them and never asks if we want any, nor does he ever save us any food.

 

He’ll pick us up from school and pick up the grandkids (that’s a minimum of four of us packed into the front of  truck that hardly fits three) and takes us all to the movies, but Pavel and I have to pay for our own tickets and as he picked us up we have no choice but to go.

 

The other day we stopped for petrol, Johnny parked so that we could not see the front of the petrol station and after refueling comes back with a hot dog and drink. As we’re driving away he tells us they were giving away free hot dogs and drinks to anyone who walked in. Thanks for telling us Johnny.

 

He does this all the time. I’m not his slave, I deserve respect and I deserve to be treated like an actual person. I’m sick of this and I’m not putting up with it anymore.

 

Lynn is annoying me a little too. She has these meetings with EF and I hear her telling them all this stuff, but it’s so hypocritical sometimes and I’m annoyed that she goes on about how the student is supposed to be able to come to the IEC for advice and help. I live with her and I still can’t talk to her. She’s hardly ever here, doesn’t know the first thing about me and I doubt she has done anything to try and find me a new host family. About the latter, I do not care much anymore. I have made up my mind about EF, it’s a shit hole of a company and I want nothing more to do with it. I’m coming home a.s.a.p.

 

One day I would like to have something to do with exchange students, whether that be as a host or an IEC. I would never work for EF though.

 

I would also like to return to America one day, but to travel at my own pace and go where I want to go. This would be best left until after I turn twenty-one though, the laws and transport here make it almost impossible for anyone under this age to get around and do anything. Pavel has already said that he’d like to come with me. It would be good traveling with my brother. He’s become that too, my big brother. I’m glad he’s here, even though he’s having a miserable time too, as it keeps us both sane.

 

Saturday was the only day of the week even worth waking up for. It was the day of white water rafting that I had been looking forward to for a very long time. I met Benta that day. Benta was a girl from Norway who had originally stayed with Rick and Shey. From their accounts she sounded like a monster, but Benta was gorgeous. She was so nice and cheerful. She was lucky enough to find a new family, a rich family living in the heights of Phoenix that traveled all over the country. We had a good old bitch about Rick and Shey and we bonded pretty well. I’m really glad I met her.

 

White water rafting was a lot of fun. Though we were on a light course it was still quite rough and people did fall out, thankfully I didn’t as the water was freezing. I did end up lying in the boat once though. Our guard, Tony I believe his name was, was really nice and chatted away with us the whole time. On the boat with me were Louisa, Benta, another Norwegian girl named Krish (I think), a Swedish guy and his American friend. I’m a little sore the day after, but it was all worth it. One day I’d love to give the harder rapids a go.

 

Random thought. I think I’m actually going to give this girl thing a go. I don’t mean the whole vanity cake myself with make up everyday and spend hours fussing with my hair and deciding what I want to wear the night before. No, I mean, more feminine clothes, less baggy male t-shirts and jeans. This is once I’m back home and feeling comfortable again. It doesn’t mean pinks and frills or slutty numbers though, it means feminine clothes that don’t clash with my values or personality. I mean I’m eighteen soon, I’ll be a woman soon and I’ve hardly even touched on the whole girl thing yet. I remember making a promise to Kate too, before I left, that I wouldn’t cut my hair while I’m here, well this can carry on throughout the year once I return home too. If I decide I don’t like long hair then I’ll cut it off next January, until then, if I can handle it, I’ll keep growing my hair. Let’s see how long the sucker can get in twelve months. It’s been three since I last got it cut and already I can put it in a small ponytail.