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Greetings ALL! Sorry I have been MIA! I’ve been very busy with Uni & my internship! This past week was heaps of fun because I spent my entire weekend at the Melbourne International Flower and Garden Show! There were hundreds of vendors and tons of activities for  families.

While at the show, I was responsible for familiarizing show-goers with Villawood, but more importantly, stressing our support and sponsorship for our favorite artists from Kooper Tasmania.

Folko and his wife Maureen create amazing pieces of art, and I was very fortunate to view a very small selection of their work while at the show. They use materials such as stainless steel, bronze, glass, and sandstone. I was most impressed by their sculptures made out of steel, which were mostly of birds. Not only are Folko and Maureen  genuinely talented, but they are also very lovely people. It was a great pleasure to have the opportunity to meet them and show support for their work.

Steal Bird by Kooper Tasmania

Peacocks

More Info about the Artists:

http://koopertasmania.com/index.shtml

More Info about the Show:

http://www.melbflowershow.com.au/

Yes! I have done it! I have acquired a position as an intern! I am currently interning with a property development company, Villawood Properties in Melbourne, as an intern in their PR/ Event Planning division. Needless to say I am quite thrilled about my internship. As my first day approached, I prepared myself for the possibilities of endless coffee runs and being the recipient of all the grunt work, but, to my surprise, it was nothing like that. Not only are my bosses fabulous, but they actually care about me as a worker. Now, I am in no way shape or form saying previous bosses have dismissed me, but I think going off what I’ve seen in movies, and the depiction of the torture interns have to endure, I was very misinformed. It is only my second week as an intern, but I am genuinely enjoying it, and cannot wait to see what’s in store.

Yes, Apple has taken Oz by storm… You cannot go anywhere in Melbourne without seeing someone on their iphone or playing games on their ipad. I was riding the tram today and noticed that about 85% of the people around me had an iphone. Also, while walking through Uni almost everyone I saw had an Apple computer.  This post really has no significant point nor does it reveal a profound truth , I just found it interesting/amazing to see how a brand can transform into a culture.

Supporting evidence:

http://www.theaustralian.com.au/australian-it/apple-ipad-sales-hit-2-million/story-e6frgakx-1225874387322

http://www.theage.com.au/digital-life/mobiles/apple-threatens-nokias-dominance-20100521-w0f7.html

I am once again back to the hustle and bustle of busy Uni life, and New Zealand is starting to feel like a distant memory… I had such an amazing time while in the land of the kiwis. I traveled  the North and South island for 17 days and had the most amazing experience of my life. My friend Tina (fellow Crusader) and I started at the top of the South island working our way further south all the way to Queenstown, and then up to Auckland in the North Island. While in New Zealand I went swimming with hundreds of wild dolphins, bungee jumped 440 feet on Australasia’s highest bungee, hiked a glacier, climbed an active volcano, and went skydiving from 15,ooo feet. Not only was my NZ itinerary full of fun activities, but I was also able to view some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. When I wasn’t sight seeing and jumping out of planes I was making tons of new friends from all over the world on the Kiwi Experience bus. It was incredible. Or as the kiwis say, it was “sweet as bro”!

Dusky Dolphins in Kaikoura

Volcano Hike

Glacier Hike

South Island

Bungee Jumping

Skydiving 15,000 feet

Kia Ora! Or if you don’t speak Māori, the language of the New Zealand natives, Hi! (Kia Ora is similar to “Aloha” in that it is used for both “hello” and “goodbye”) I am currently traveling around New Zealand with the very popular Kiwi Experience Tour Bus company. I’m having the time of my life going from city to city and hostel hopping. I have met so many wonderful people while traveling both on and off the bus. Fellow crusader Santina and I started our NZ adventure in the South Island and will conclude our travels in the North Island. Unfortunately, due to internet inaccessibility, I will not be able to post a detailed post whilst here. The minute I get back to Melbourne I’ll be sure to post a detailed itinerary with tons of photos. Till then, take care and Kia Ora!

As I had mentioned in my previous blog, Wilsons Promontory was rich with Aussie wildlife including kangaroos, wombats, wallabies, and possums. In order to get a glimpse of the surrounding critters, my friends and I decided to take a late night wildlife walk where we came upon many of the aforementioned animals, and to my friends and I’s surprise, we even spotted a deer. All of the Aussies in the group gasped “A deer!” and I sat there momentarily stunned until remembering that deers are uncommon here. It was a great time looking for native creatures, and I was determined to snap a photo of a wombat (which are probably my favorite, next to koalas). It was at the end of the walk that we finally spotted a wombat and like a tourist, I whipped out my camera…

Possum

Wombat "hiding" from our cameras

Up close and personal

Finally snapped a photo of the wombat

I am restless. I have already spent almost 22 hours aboard a plane squished in between my fellow economy passengers. The food is terrible and I am pretty sure that I have not made any friends with the flight attendants, who are irritated with my frequent questioning of “How much longer till we get there?” Luckily, we are almost in Melbourne. One six hour flight to California from Boston and another 15 hour flight from Los Angeles to Sydney, Australia completed. Now, we are in the home stretch, the final hour flight to Melbourne.

I was thankful to have two friends, Friederike and Elizabeth, accompany me on the journey to “Oz” (Oz is Australia, according to Liz’s handy Aussie dictionary). We three were greeted by several other smiling Holy Cross students once in Sydney, and all took the last flight together, each one of us wired from lack of sleep, or in some cases too much sleep, and pure excitement.

Aboard the massive Boeing 747, we all eagerly peer out the window toward our new home, the magical land of Oz. “I can’t believe this thing flies!” screams a fellow student, excited by the wonder of the scenery from 13,000 feet above. Everyone keels over laughing, “Well it’s a plane! I hope it would!” responds another.

Flash forward one hour. Once off the plane we all realize we have made it. We survived terrible food, compromising sleeping positions, and fears that we would never reach our final destination. Dorothy had to follow a yellow brick road, we had to fly across the world. Regardless, we made it, we have reached Oz, and it is even more beautiful and amazing than we could have imagined.

Best,
Simone

Apologies. I was abducted by aliens. Luckily, they were kind enough to eventually bring me back to France. Where did I leave off? Oh yes, I believe it was right before the Toussaint vacation (why take off one day when you can take off ten?). So with so much free time, my fellow Crusader Sarah Cicchetti and I trained over to Paris for eight days.

After a pretty painless train ride, we hopped off, and she and I cabbed over to the Champs-Elysées, where we would be staying for our sojourn. Well, the sights were sensational, and I hope I can let my pictures speak for themselves. The museums, the people, the buildings, the art, the clothes- everything was beautiful, just like you always imagined. English abounded, but we were able to sneak through with our French. We couldn’t help but cringe upon hearing tourists clamoring around with Southern drawls and pronouncing words like “loo-ver-ah” and “mer-see-bo-coop.”* But hey, whatever works for you. You’ll get where you need to go.

The trip was a success. From the Moulin Rouge to the d’Orsay and every little side street in between, Paris truly sparkled with an enigmatic magic. The French women’s step with élan and the buildings brimming with Baroque flourishes color the city charismatic and cool. It’s truly a singular city. And hey, you may even run into old friends from Tours. No matter what your experience surprises you with, just remember to ask for sparkling water when you wander into a Louis Vuitton four stories high.

*NB: Many French words such as “Louvre” or “merci beaucoup” do not pronounce the final syllable. Should you find yourself in Paris, try to avoid this mistake.

Hi Friends!

If you can believe it, my five fellow Crusaders and I have now been in France for two whole months. As such, it is only appropriate that I provide an unbiased evaluation. Lucky for you, I have conducted tenacious analysis and completed daunting qualification of quantitative experiences. I believe a preliminary hypothesis I developed back in Tours (in the clandestine corner of a coffee shop, aptly named The French Coffee Shop), now has sufficient proof to become a theory. And much like Einstein’s Theory of Relativity or Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, I am ready to present my results, despite the fact it may not be a law:

Hypothesis (flagrant stereotype):

French cultural norms would be eviscerated with acerbic celerity in the United States.

Experiment (daily observation):

-Lemonade stands are illegal, as is having two jobs. That is not a typo.

-Some days, the newspapers just aren’t printed (oui, vous Le Monde).

-During the month of August, nearly every store is shut down.

-Stores also like to close on Mondays.

-Many businesses, including the post office, take a two-hour lunch break (smoking can take up more time than one might think).

-“Edible” cheese can be entirely moldy, as in completely blanketed in the color green.

-There exist lingerie stores… for men. Just for men, like the hair-coloring product.

-Often times, using the restroom in public places requires payment.

-The notion “pick up after your pet” is more foreign than the terrain of the planet Neptune.

-Bus drivers do not always know their route.

-Teachers do not always provide their students with a book list or bibliography even six weeks into a class.

-Occasionally, one’s cell phone will deliver a message up to four days late.

-Primary school children only have school four days a week. See ya Wednesday!

-Here and there, a waitress will drop a carafe on a child’s head before it shatters on the cobblestones spilling its aqueous contents every which way. I wish I were making this up.

-A strike can happen any time, anywhere. This month’s topic: changing the retirement age from sixty to sixty-two (this month, last month, next month, etc).

-Now and then, a student will answer his or her cell phone in class and proceed to carry on a conversation. The teacher often says nothing.

-Drivers often invent parking spaces if one does not exist. Regard for means of egress or pedestrian accommodation is as real as the Tooth Fairy’s twelve-year-old molars. See image below (not of her molars, silly goose).

creative parking

Analysis (comparison to American daily life):

Due to the litigious and quick-paced nature of the American people and their market-based economy, an average Marylander might find himself somewhat culture-shocked.

Conclusion (my theory):

The French way of life is quite different from that of the typical American. So, yes the aforementioned egotistical, xenophobic hypothesis would be more or less correct. But with refocused global lenses, I may revise my premise a little. The calmer tempo of French daily life that focuses more attention on family and friends is a welcomed change for an adventure-seeking Crusader. For any American, these changes would be difficult, but place a French person in the US, and he or she would have the same difficulty. This is what I call the Weyland Theory of Cultural Relativity. All it takes is some perspective.

Stitched together, the colors of emotion I have felt here in Strasbourg create quite a technicolor quilt. Fear and fascination are mingling with anxiety and anticipation. Red roofs remind me I’m not in Worcester anymore. My humble pink house here hardly resembles my gray home back in Maryland. In the streets, streaming threads of brunettes and blondes, without a redhead in sight, poke at my Holy Cross heartstrings like a pin. No indeed: on Mount Saint James I am not. Yes: I miss my home and my Holy Cross.

But my homesick heartache blushes at the hope of the future. I have only just begun to weave my story abroad. Words lost in translation or stumbled over in French comprise but a patch of this experience. I am finding that I could not be with a warmer, cozier family who is here to help me create the most fantastic time in France. In simpler words (and in response to my last post), they don’t hate me, right-handed people, or kids who got sunburned once. They even have Wifi. If my family is any reflection on the kids I’m going to be meeting once class starts tomorrow, I might make it after all.

So what does this mean? I don’t think I ever could have anticipated the hurdles and challenges my fellow Crusaders and I have faced here. The culture, the language, and even the food are far more complex than at first glance. It is not possible to find your way perfectly from Gallia to Homme de Fer the first time without a little help and patience. You may have to ask what the difference between the tarte flambée and the galette is. But it’s like pulling a big blanket all the way above your head in bed at nighttime. At first it’s completely dark and lonely. But after a while, your eyes adjust, you get comfortable, and soon enough you have cozily settled into your own personal niche. Oh, and there’s your stuffed panda by your elbow. For right now though, let’s just say I’m only barely able to make out the stripe pattern a few inches in front of my face.

Chez Hubert in the European Parliament quarter of Strasbourg. A little close to the street for my personal comfort.

The very vintage key to my home, sitting next to some “fric” on my bureau. Fric is French slang for dolla dolla bills.