Well the past few days have been pretty crazy. Wednesday, the day after New Years Day, started early (7AM). I cleaned up my hotel room, but I had packed most of my stuff the night before. I checked out, got a taxi and started downtown. It only took about 10-15 minutes to get here, and I'm almost positive we went the longest way around that's physically possible, but I got here. The taxi dropped me off on Darlington Road. It looked like a small street, so I figured that I would eventually run into Darlington House. Not as such. It's actually on a corner, and the one sign that designates it as anything other than yet another apartment house is a tiny sign on the inside of the doorway. I didn't see that sign the first time by, so I walked, suitcases, etc in hand down to the Aquatic Complex (also on Darlington Road). With typical aussie wit, the guy behind the counter said "Checkin' in, mate? Room 25, down the hall." He then, with typical aussie compassion, directed me to where I should be. Map of U Syd Campus

Well, having arrived at Darlington House, and finding the welcoming committee, ticker tape, high school marching band, etc. all missing, the door locked, and no one responding to knocked windows, I did what any other intelligent American would do: I sat, read the Sydney Morning Herald, and waited. Eventually, my future roommate Tomy came by and let me in.

Tomy is from Bandung, Indonesia. He feels as apart from his family and friends as I do, but he doesn't love them enough to put up a website. : Tomy's english is not the greatest, but, I guess, neither is mine. We communicate passably and both speak better than most Australians. :)

After Tomy let me in, I thought all my troubles were over, that I would meet the house manager who would be just inside in the lobby, or at the very least some senior with a clue, but, sadly, both were gone for the summer. There was at least a pay phone inside the lobby, so I could call around and figure out what the hell I was supposed to be doing. I called the property office of U Sydney, to a woman named Moira Keane. To describe Ms. Keane properly would mean that I would come off looking mean and unkind, and probably set me up for a libel suit of some kind, so I will just describe Ms. Keane as tragically overworked. She wanted me to walk to the geographical other corner of the U Sydney campus with my bags to pick up my keys, make my first deposits, etc. Maybe later I'll post a picture of my fully loaded bags, but lets just assume that this was not really an option if I wanted to retain full use of my arms and back for the foreseeable future. Luckily, I saw on the map that the Summer School building (called Gatekeepers Lodge) was very close (1 block) from Darlington House. I went there, and with the assistance of the extremely funny and nice Lois Bennett, got my internet login information, my confirmation of enrolment, etc. as well as a place to put my bags for the rest of the morning. So I walked over to the other side of campus with just my wallet and enrolment information.

I think somewhere in Ms. Keane's heart she wanted to see me trudge up the two flights of stairs in the Telfer building to her office with my massive suitcase, backpacks, etc. She really did look a bit disappointed when I arrived.

After reading through copious legal documents, for which I was criticized for actually reading, I might add, I dotted all the i's, got my keys, and got the hell out of there. I walked back to the Summer School office, got my bags, went to Darlington, went to my room, said hi to Tomy again, put my bags down, then went off to my first class.

Quite a morning.

American History, as taught by an ex-pat New Zealander, is quite an experience. It's at times scathing (thought mostly deservedly), and at times inspiring. It reinforces my own singular unchanging belief about the US: despite our many, visible faults, our greatest strength is our ability to change. Once we recognize the right thing to do, we turn, however great an effort it may require, in that direction. It may take time, it may take pain and sacrifice, but we do it. We have righted so many of the wrongs we've committed in our history, and really come so far in every possible cultural sense, that it's impossible not to be more than just a little proud. Anyway, this class starts just after the Civil War and will go into the Clinton Era. I'm rather excited.

My next two days passed much the same way. They were all busy mornings, followed by evening spent studying and walking around our immediate area here in Sydney. I'm planning something more like a daytrip for this weekend.

Bushfires It smells like smoke all the time, here. We can't see any of the fires, even from the roof (trust me, we looked), but there is the all-pervasive smell of smoke and ash. Also, depending on the winds that day, even the downtown skyline, which is no more than 4 miles or so away, can be obscured. From all accounts, though, the firefighters are doing an amazing job with it. No one has yet died, and only a few houses have been lost. So no, I haven't yet had to go out in the street with a garden hose or anything, but the fires are certainly being felt around.

Much love, guys. Keep safe.

Brian

Sittin' on my own
Chewin on a bone
A thousand million
Miles from home...
But I wanna talk tonight
Until the morning light
'Bout how you saved my life
And you and me see how we are
And you and me see how we are...