Tom Cruise and Oysters

Between doing assignments for class, trying to find things to do that will be “somewhat” interesting while at the same time retaining my sanity, bank account and moral hygiene… it’s a bit of a challenge. I don’t think I can ever claim a live an adventure filled life (unlike my friend Evan, check out his blog for REAL stories), but I do my best to find ways of entertaining myself while at the same time doing this thing called “life”. I think that’s about as much of an emotional/sentimental response as I’ll drop down on this blog, since the last thing anyone needs is anyone sharing their feelings on the internet. So I suppose I can run through my ordinary routine at the University of Sydney.

After waking up at 8:30 – 9:00 am, I usually get myself a bowl of cereal or PB&J. I’m normally greeted by two incredibly optimistic Europeans, the exemplary Sir Andrew and the always friendly Luigi. After poking and prodding me into gastronomic debauchery, I usually end up abandoning the cereal and move onto pancakes, crepes, sausage, or bacon-related shenanigans. After this gets sorted out, I typically look up from my ridiculous breakfast to see Koki looking at me, his face lined with both shame and disappointment, declaring to the assembled crowd (Luigi, Andy and I)…

You fat bastard.

Guilted at my shameful morning, I slink off to the bathroom to scrub off my dishonour and shower in my own self-pity. Upon my return, Koki has typically joined in onto our debased breakfast of champions and is chowing down on some protein of unknown providence, in which case I promptly feel much better about my own lack of culinary morals. I then walk back to my room to swap my PJ’s for a crisp, freshly laundered t-shirt and the pair of jeans I’ve been recycling for the past week. After packing my bag (Ayer’s Truth, Logic and Justification), I pull my iPod, USB memory stick, and my headphones out of my giant, prehistoric sized desktop laptop and walk over to campus. At this point, my two American roommates wake up to the smell of our depravity; I swiftly make my exit before having to explain my participation.


I cut through a McCafe (which has free internet, perfect for my poor ass!) and the Prince Albert Hospital, through a loony bin and past a boxing gym where the smell of urinal cakes and stale sweat hang over me like the sickly stench of manliness, punctuated occasionally by grunts and Australian accents. I then walk past the Ovals, where Cricket, Rugby and Australian Rules Football are played, the latter of which makes no sense to anyone, even the players themselves. After walking through a few buildings, including Manning Bar (one of my favourites!) and soliciting more than one baleful stare for photographing this rather mundane walk, I walk up a few stairs and reach the center of campus. To my left, is the magnificent, historic, majestic Quadrangle; a testament to a simpler time where minorities couldn’t go to school and where kangaroos and convicts are were still the norm. In front of me is the beautiful, stark, indomitable old 70’s era Fisher Library, where internet is neither free nor accessible.

I cleverly sneak down to the 1st floor, where I bypass all the other nerds and head off into a room where I can get 8 hours of internet, with unlimited bandwidth. After ignoring the 50mb warning of internet usage, I promptly prop myself up onto a computer and let my nimble fingers dance across the keyboard, expressing my bullshit creative genius. I sneer at those around me – what do they know about the Verification Principle and my limited knowledge and subsequent exposition of course material? I skim through Facebook, Hotmail, and other websites that I can no longer frequent because of an indecent internet connection.

After more self-absorbed literary snobbery, I usually panic and realize I just spent about an hour and a half cycling through photos of my friends back home, where I jump back into my work and plough through the rest of my work. Syntax error? Not a problem! With one stroke of my finger, I slam the “delete” key and erase my grammatical transgressions. I chortle heartily at the power of a 130lb (on a good day) boy with a keyboard, before a loud sound startles me and I nearly wet my pants. My cell phone has just received a text. My roommate Jake has decided he wants oysters and sashimi. I oblige him, as not only do I love seafood, but my gluttonous stomach growls with the prospect of terrifyingly fresh, raw oysters. Embarrassed as my neighbours eye me suspiciously, I quickly vacate the computer lab.

After taking the 20 minute walk from Fisher Library, we arrive at the Sydney Fish Market. Since it’s around 3:30 when we get there, most of the shops and fishmongers are already shutting down. Peter’s had limited selection, so we walked over to their neighbours and picked up a dozen oysters and some sashimi to share. For about $12 each, we both had a dozen oysters and a more than reasonable amount of sashimi. Since it was closing time, we also managed to get a mediocre Fish and Chip for about $5, which truthfully I wouldn’t have paid full price for. While seagulls gawked at our feast, we crammed down our delightfully greedy gullets everything in reach. We looked at some pretty delicious looking lobsters, but decided that was for another time.
Instead of walking back the way we came, we decided to go to Coles at Broadway Shopping Centre to pick up some essentials for the house (and to replenish our rations). We stumbled into a pretty impressive butcher, and found this gem that I’ve been dying to try, even if my wallet disagrees with my ambitions.

After discussing the merits of offal and contradictory attitudes towards food, we decided to cut down a fairly uninteresting street, and found the internet-meme goldmine that is the Church of Scientology. Despite it being fairly late, we could not resist walking into its gilded, e-metering, auditing, and Tom Cruise-bat-shit-crazy doors.

At this point a man stopped me from taking more photos, but the next one down is me in the bathroom being a professional asshole.

After taking a few photos, I was stopped by a rather pleasant man who began to regale us with the story of Mr. Hubbard and his philosophy on life, drugs and personal achievement. Despite being tempted to ask about Xenu, Thetans and John Travolta, Jake and I bit our tongues and feigned interest. After learning about the Caribbean cruise ship (where you achieve the highest level of Scientology), the resort complex in Florida and my eyes wandering to information about Auditing, we were lead to the bookstore where you too can reach personal achievement after dropping $500 on lectures and textbooks! After being coerced (half willingly and half out of fear of retribution) into listening to audio tapes of L. Ron Hubbard preaching his self-help-message, we wisely decided to leave. I managed to sneak a picture of the bathroom while I was there, before we said goodbye to our new friends. While trying to put together what just happened and looking over our shoulder to see if we were being followed, we realized we were right behind the shopping centre. I think I’ll take my other roommates back to that Scientologist centre, which is apparently one of only five in the world, and the only one in the Southern Hemisphere.

After buying a few important vital foodstuffs, we hopped onto a bus and arrived back at home, greeted by my now apathetic, exhausted roommates who ask politely, “how was your day?”

A typical day in the life of a Canadian Exchange Student in Sydney

Best,
Rick

P.S. please don’t take this post particularly seriously. Although the events actually happened, my exaggerated prose should suggest I’m making fun of myself and my mediocre life. Jazzing it up with a few misplaced adjectives shouldn’t change the fact that I literally, have no life. Although… today IS the International Ultimate Beer Pong Champions League tournament. Go Team Canada!