Tasmania Day 3

Monday

At 11am I landed in Launceston and was scooped by my new host, Taya. A 20 year old uni law&arts student, and resident of the Mullet Manor (the name of their place as advertised on the couch surfing page, as well as a crazing blurb on how they live in trash and dumpster dive). I was thrilled to get a positive and welcoming response from them. Taya picked me up and I was immediately impressed by the head of hair she managed to build up. The bottom bunch was long dreads, sometimes dyed blonde, but always with some sort of ornament being coloured thread, metal fixings, etc. The top and right side bunch was choppily cut and pretty short. The left bunch was buzz cut. Overall, quite a look.

We got to the Mullet Manor, an eclectically decorated home with a massive lounge room filled with musical instruments, a teeny kitchen [so small that the fridge was in the lounge room] and heaps of bicycles. Artwork went from maps to paintings of cats in glasses. The house was occupied by 4 people, though only 2 were actually on the lease apparently. In addition to Taya is April, another first year also in law&art who has some semblance of dreaded hair, a nosering and lipring. Oh yeah, while I'm at it, Taya has the coolest earring assortment. a golf tee and safety pin decorate one ear, and a green carabiner hangs on the other... also a nosering of course. Then there's Bonnie, who's an art major in her last year. No dreads, but both a septum ring and a nose ring, and then Isaac, a furniture design major who's looks don't quite fit the home's profile. The majority of the time I spent with him he was busy working on tiny models of chairs made out of cardboard-- really interesting designs, all supposed to be inspired by bridges.

In introductions I found out that this diving thing, which I had thought was just taking the piss on their profile page, was actually their way of life. They haven't gone food shopping in 3 years! (aside from milk occasionally and sometimes spices, because they're harder to dumpster) April made a great leek and potato soup for lunch, which I at with a toasted roll, all from their previous dive.

The weather was pretty shit so I didn't mind staying in for most of the day, hearing about their lives. I joined Taya and April for their 2 hour lecture in their aboriginal studies class. It was pretty dull and I mostly just doodled, but it was pretty weird to see what school is like here. The lecture hall was small and essentially all of uni was in one, not too good looking, area. There were heaps of middleaged people in the class as well. When we got back, we tried to lemonade that April had been making earlier, after proclaiming that life gave her lemons, so she must make lemonade (and by life gave her lemons, she meant that they had been stealing tons of lemons from the neighbor's lemon tree). It was not quite sweet enough, but I rather enjoyed it. I also learned that chop chop is home grown tobacco.

Apparently, 3 weeks ago Taya was asked if her band could play at a female empowerment musical event, to which she replied by saying she's not in a band. Since chat of making one had always existed, this prompted the rapid formation of Lordy Lordy, a 4 chick multiple instrument [way more than 4] eclectic group who successfully played last week and have another gig this Thursday in Hobart. Gracie, a friend of theirs, was the 4th member of the band, joining the three ladies of the Mullet Manor. I was thrilled to listen to them practice and see the process of them mostly writing a new song. Taya is mean at accordion and also broke out the flute. Bonnie was bass, Gracie the lead vocal and a guitar, and April was also on guitar and the bass drum [with her foot]. The roles of guitar/bass switched around though as someone had to be playing the stick with bottle caps nailed to it (either by stomping or rubbing with a cleaning brush). They had a surprisingly amazing sound and very catchy songs. The song they ended up working on writing today was about first world problems, and I reckon will be quite hilarious upon completion.

I met a few of their other friends who had come around and was particularly intrigued listening to a 25 year old Tell me about her job running festivals and balancing uni, work, and caring for her 4 year old son, Levi. She found out she was having him the day before she turned 21!

Dinner that night was sausage curry with rice, also excellently prepared by April. After dinner though was the feast.

After hearing that I had never dumpster dived before, it was decided that we must go tonight. At a bit past 8 the 4 of us [Bonnie stayed home] went to 2 different supermarkets, go to their dumpsters, and rummaged for food wealth. I was blown by the idea and even more blown by the findings. It was unbelievable how much fresh, untouched, edible food we were able to get. Fruits (strawberries! blueberries! holy fruits I haven't had for months because they're so fucking expensive in NZ), milk, eggs, bacon, cheese (holy fancy cheese. wheels and wheels of different kinds of brie, sundried tomato cheddar, etc), veges, cake, bread... literally everything. The second supermarket even had their bins mostly sorted with a fruit/vege bin, dessert bin, etc. It was a crazy thing, but so reasonable after actually seeing how it gets done.

We snacked on brie, strawberries and cheesecake upon our return, whilst sorting the heaps of findings into the fridge (taya had the veges color coded). After some hanging around, my first proper couch surf (this was actually a couch) was called a night.

Breakfast was when it really hit me how fucking ridiculous it is to dive. When I think of people eating cheap it's always inclusive of ramen noodles. These people, people who eat free were feasting. Fancy bread with bacon and eggs for breakfast, topped off with grilled tomatoes, spinach, and a wedge of brie, with delicious gourmet coffee. As someone afraid of eggs, and having woken up quite a bit earlier, I had muesli, fresh blueberries, strawberries, and a banana with great greek yoghurt and tea. It's ridiculous, I reckon, and I hope I could some how bring aspects of this lifestyle to my existence. Today Taya is making fresh berry ice cream with found products of last night... cherry,blueberry, strawberry. Too bad I'm in an Internet cafe now, waiting for my bus to day 4&5, in Burnie!

Tasmania Day 2

 My bus to Bichano went up the East Coast, which meant I was absolutely glued to the window, snapping pictures at everything we passed. Twas a rather empty bus which ended up being just my by the end of it. I ripped kiwifruit apart with my fingers all trip (a knife and spoon would've been a good move, but I've gotten the process down to a T).. I got out of the bus at a point as well to collect a few interesting looking shells. Once I got to Bichano it was apparent that either my phone was not working, or I just didn't know some secret necessary code to contact people [this ended up being the case]. I didn't see my host, and went to the info center with no luck. After 20 minutes I found the internet cafe to message him from. Immediately I got a response and he was there right away, apologizing for waiting at the wrong place and not seeing me.

His name was Mick Shepherd, but the town knew him as Shep, the boat skipper. Not too tall, pleasantly plump, and an extremely tanned 51 year old. On our drive back to his place, in this < a thousand person town of Bichano, he waved to the many passersby he knew and showed me various beautiful lookout points and beaches. It was a real paradise there with waters bluer than I'd ever seen. After settling in my room, we snacked on cashews and macadamia nuts whilst he explained to my extremely confused self, the way the cricket works. To be honest, most of it went over my head, which I mainly blame on his extremely thick Aussie accent. If I had a massive Aussie 50 cent piece for every time I said 'what?'...

We drove half an hour to Coles Bay, passing by Wine Glass Bay as well. En route he finally imparted upon me the truth of his trade. Though he skippered regularly now, often for a 6 [6?!] star resort that sounded unreasonably amazing, he was trained as a pastry chef. We exchanged food loving stories, and I was left drooling at menus of various dining events he's catered in the past (hear this, some oyster in multiple ways, including one where he put bacon under the oyster, added some worcester sauce, and covered in puff pastry, making a play on an oyster pie. The bacon protected the oyster from the heat on the bottom.

After taking heaps of pictures at Coles Bay, we stopped at his friend's house. I was greeted by 3 loud jumpy dogs and entered one of the most architecturally beautiful and modernly decorated homes I've ever seen. The windowed walls led to a gorgeous view and the non-windowed walls were decorated with fabulous art work. Not a big place, but such a sight. The company was 2 couples, around the same age as Shep. He had gone to school with most of them, and alternated his skippering with one of them. I had a few glasses of white wine and really loved the extremely different kind of company. They were all really funny and had great yarns.

Afterwards, the Shep-Safari trip began as we off roaded in the dark to see the various creatures so foreign to me. Possum were quickly spotted, and though I thought they would be the same as what I was used to in the States, holy hell was I wrong. the king in madagascar is the closest thing I could relate them to... they were quite large and had raccoon like features. Eventually I also saw quite a few kangaroos, but no pictures were taken. [note to self: must fine in day light] As we closed in to home, our search for penguins heightened, and lo- and behold, I was able to see heaps of them. They were so cute and small, looking quite lost and blue. epic win.

Once we got home, 60 minutes went on and we prepared dinner. One job, I had one job. Peel the fucking potatoes, and man I was slow as shit compared to when Shep took over. Nonetheless, a whole chicken and various vegetables were put on the barbie, and after anticipatory waiting, dinner was served with beer accompaniments. It was sooooo good. Chicken is often my "blah, yea, sure..." kind of meat... the kind where I'll always eat it, but it's never the first choice. This though was epic. Our night closed watching the food network and I passed out at like 10, absolutely pooped.

Come 6:30am I was up and moving, prepping for my 7:45am (holy hell) bus to my next stop, Launceston. Toast with jam and kiwifruit filled me up, and all I could do was regret the fact that I could only stay for that one night. If I had time for one more, we would've gone fishing to catch dinner for the next night, but I'll just have to go back one day.

After a quick good bye at the site of the bus, which was actually more of a school bus taking kids to class on the way, as one of the two people on the bus over 15 years old, I was off for day 3.

Tasmania Day 1

Waiting at the terminal for me, which I've got to say is one of the greatest feelings when coming off of a plane, only potentially paralleled by the feeling of a new pair of socks, was Paul. I recognized him immediately from the picture on his couchsurfing profile page. He drove me back to his home where he lives with his 18 year old sister Bridget, cat Jet (or otherwise known as cat cat) and mum and dad, who were probably the sweetest most hospitable parents I've ever met. I was welcomed with tea (which sparked the first, 'are you actually American?') as well as homemade jam and toast. I was offered some vegemite but informed them that I've already been attacked with given a spoonful of it (again, 'you sure you're american?').

After using the internet to book buses for my week of travel, and being given an extra sim card to use my phone, we went to pick up Bridget from the friend's house she slept at post post-med exam party. Unlike the stupid different American system of premed undergrad, being essentialy the study of anything vaugely realted to med, followed by a hellish exam and then another fuckton of years of learning before even vaguely being a doctor, here they go straight to med school. It's the hardest section of uni to get into at UTas, but after 4 or 5 years, they're nearly ready (clinical work is a normal part of their courseload, and they go hands-on right awway). Although the parents made fun of Paul for not knowing how to read, while chatting about how many times Bridget had gotten through the Harry Potter books (though it wasn't an obsession since she didn't have dolls or costumes or anything [cough me neither... cough]) he's actually in the engineering school doing electrical engineering.

We went to eaglehawk neck to start, which they hadn't been to in a while. Pies from a local bakery were brought for lunch [I had a scallop pie. it was mean] It was absolutely stunning there, not only a result of the perfect weather. I was my usual far-too-cautious self when it came to balancing on kelpy, steep rocks, but we made quite a trek around looking at weird shells, fossils, and the tesselated pavement (the rocks were naturally split in quadrilateral forms, nearly regularly, which was beatiful and interesting to digest.) We went look-out to look-out, getting to a blowhole (rock set up where water would psurt up through when rushing towards it, due to the natural construction] and to the remarkable cave, which was, well, remarkable. En route we also chowed on some doughnuts taht their dad had picked up for us earlier. Dunno what the filling was, as it was quite different from any doughnut filling I was used to, but I liked it. We passed a town called Dootown which just ahd heaps of homes all named after doo... really just all funny plays on words, like 'what to doo' or 'dr. doolittle.' This fit in quite well with my surprised viewing of heaps of pony poo for sale at the sides of roads [fertilizer, duh].

On our way home we stopped in a coffee shop that they remembered as having a great view and weirdly doubling as an antique shop. Although antiques were no longer sold there (now swapped with a gallary of sorts), and initially mine and Bridget's drinks were confused, my tall black was exactly what I needed to maintain consciousness on the rest of the drive (I had passed out for quite a while on the way there). Rain pourded down as home was reached (quike perfect timing) and after the most refreshing of showers, dinner was served. I couldn't have been more pleased with the lamb roast and veggies. For dessert, we had pavlova which came up earlier in the day as a quintessential Aussie food that I had yet to trie. When prompted, I raised the fact that I had heard it was actually a New Zealand food. War brief duscussion broke out and they insisted it was theirs. I'll have to grant them that though since 1. I had my first one there, and 2. I'm not positive I even liked it. Dessert though was not a fail since I was graced with homemade kiwifruit icecream (from their excessively producing kiwifruit tree in the backyard) and homemade raspberry icecream. Bother were phenomonal (A+, would eat again).

After a brief period of digestion, I headed out with Paul to his mate's house for some Aussie rules footie and beer. This was a whole new sport for me, but the rules were quite simple and the game enjoyable. Everyone was friendly and the questions about New York were fun to field. After not terribly long (some time was wasted early on since we went to the wrong house (dude moved, and didn't say)), we went to another home filled with quite a bit more, and quite a bit more rowdy, company. I tried a fair selection of Tassie brew and the night was great. Twas an eclectic mix including a guy who was their age, worked at pizza hut, and I swear looked prepubescent, as well as a 34 year old gay guy that they had become close with by frequentint the Bubble Tea establishemnt he owned with his partner. Him and his Domo lanyard were my favorite. Between the goofy pink couch and wonderful fireplace, as well as the hilarious banter, the night went well and I passed out immediately on my first couch mattress.

My bus to Bichano (which I finally learned how to pronouch during my stay [bish - ah - no], as well as Launceston [lawn-cess-tun]) was leaving at 11 so I had enough time for a greek yoghurt/banana/muesli breakfast and quick tour of the town, pointing out the floating fish and chips shop where Paul and Bridget had worked at for period of time. I was sent off with a bag full of kiwifruit to snack on and bring to my next couch, and an invitation to return the following Friday for uni festivities (day before break and footie games) and hospitality.

Tasmania Day 0

Aiight, so now it's midsemester break and the Wednesday before the Friday of my flight it came to my attention that I'd no longer be traveling with Kevin, since he wants to go to the mainland for a bunch of the week, and I don't really want to. Frantically I went onto workaway and couch surfing and set up an epic week. The rest goes from here.

Day 0: traveling [Friday]

So, after pulling the majority of an all nighter on Thursday night (mostly occupied by timtam slams and ridiculous banter, as well as practice neuroscience presentations and breakdowns of how-many-words-must-i-write-an-hour-to-finish-this?) I rapidly packed and walked the treacherous 3 blocks to the Bella Vista motel, the pickup spot for our bus to Christchurch. Armed with a mere 45 minutes of sleep and a far-too-ripe banana, the half hour late bus began to rock me to sleep. I passed out near instantly and was only surprised to be woken up in a town called Oamaru. There I got a scone and wandered around the weirdest specialty food mart. International would be the easiest way to describe it, but man was it weird.

A few hours later we were finally in Christchurch, with 5 hours to burn before the flight to Melbourne. Tom, my chem lab partner extraordinaire, and more relevantly, Christchurch resident, came to scoop and show me the city, or at least what remains of the city post earthquake. our journey started with lunch at a New York deli. cheeky.  Tis always funny to see how people interpret America.

Then, after a tour of the city, mostly consisting of, "that used to be a movie theatre... there used to be a massive factory over there... that building was twice as tall... all these houses are about to fall, and this barrier is to block that from hitting cars..." we went to the beach. It was quite lovely and soft serve vanilla with sprinkles and a flake only topped off the great day. We also ventured up to a look out and then headed to our final destination, a Mackers parking lot.

On our way we spotted a man casually traveling along the road on his penny farthing. amazing. Once we were done chatting and wiping the condensation off of the windows, I went to the airport. Check in was a breeze, once I was done trying to use the wrong machine, and before I knew it I was enjoying a nice chicken pie of sorts and salad for dinner. The plane took off, and I passed out. From window, to palm, to tray table, the 3:45 passed rather quickly and I landed in Melbourne. The thought of going out crossed my mind, with the 10:30pm -> 6am layover, but once we were done showing that we brought nothing illegal into the country, sleep sounded like a better option. When we decided that $115 for a motel room for 5 hours was too much and it became clear to us that benches were free, we set up camp in the airport and slept in basically 45 minute intervals, with rude awakenings disguised as announcements waking us up. No airport workers thought twice about our moving in, so all was well, but if i can help it, I will never ever ever sleep in an airport ever again. Come sunrise the flight was off to Hobart. We were told to turn off all our "electronicals" before boarding. Twas a short, sleep filled flight, dropping me off in Hobart at 7:25am, ready for Day 1.

August Showers bring September Flowers

That doesn't sound quite as nice on this side of the world. Neither does the consistently rainy forecast.

Wana - Can't

So, armed with new boat car, I fought myself back and forth all Friday, deciding whether or not I should go to Wanaka. A group had been assembled, and excuse after excuse left the keen crowd at 2.

At about 8:30 pm all the necessary items were gathered and Cmac and I were off. Aside from my quick trip downtown to start off a shopping filled Thursday, on, well, Thursday morning, I hadn't driven the car yet.

I'll take a brief sidenote to describe my Thursday before continuing onward. In the morning I decided it was important to go shopping at the OpShop, which is a thrift store, in order to find the necessary costuming for the 1920s Speakeasy party at my flat that night. Twas a rashly thrown together event, pulling the best 20's slang an forcing them into non-comprehensible jargon, somewhat on the lines of "Drive your flivver over to the juice joint this Thursday for a swanky evening of bootleg entertainment." Regardless, it went well, with its success being amplified by my purchase of a weird knit yarmulka, worn as a cap, and crappy silver pearly necklace, which I tore most of the silver off to look white. After that shopping stop, which also contained 2 jumpers and 2 shirts, I remembered that I was to purchase polyprop gear for my outdoor activities... another huge expense. THEN, with my thirst for purchase unwavering, it just happened to be market day on campus, wherein many stands were set up with people selling their old clothing, weird crafts, and other random crap stuff. I bought 2 more jumpers, a teeshirt, a tank top, and the cutest little buddha-bowl-incense-holder.

ANYWAY, back to Friday. So, now I'm in a car, at night, about to embark on my 3.5 hour windy-ass journey to Wanaka... or not actually to Wanaka, but to a town right near by called Lake Hawea. I cannot express the wonderfulness of sleeping in a bed with an electric blanket, clean and comfortable [this is particularly due to the fact that my past week has been filled with sleeping in a sandy bed, which was the product of a cave party and a lazy person who doesn't like making beds [and particularly due to the fact that this home [Cmac's] was awesome]]. Before sleep, Ricky Gervais was properly introduced to me. I'm a fan.

Saturday started slower than it should've been [hard to leave the comfort of someone else's home], but we made it up to Treble Cone to go skiing. I should mention that I haven't been skiing since I was about 12 years old, and wasn't too good at it then, and didn't quite enjoy it either. Nonetheless, I figured it would only be appropriate to incorporate skiing into my stay in New Zealand, and managed to not scare off Cmac with my many warnings. As four-year-olds were whizzing down the mountain with the skis that they owned, since it was such an integral part of their lifestyle, I cocked my head in pompous thought. psh, of course I can do that. The first run was the stupid baby's-first-skiing trip. Piece. of. cake, though it definitely did dawn upon me that my ability to stop might be lacking was non-existent. After that hilarity, we went to, what they called, the 'easiest route down.' Minutes passed on the chairlift as we passed, again and again, points where I had assumed the altitude climb would have ended. Nerves were building, but I didn't fall coming off of the chairlift, which is more than I can say for drop-offs of past.

Off I was, speeding down the mountain, comfortable in my moves [whizzing enough to even have my hat fly off at a moment, though too incapable of stopping to have gotten it myself [don't worry. twas retrieved]]. A chunk had passed before I fell on my bum. No sweat, aside from my lack of coordination in trying to get up with my skis still on. My confidence was not yet shattered [cough. foreshadowing. cough], and I continued on. A particularly bumpy little moment came before me, and as I could not muster up the ability to stop, my fear took over. I rode over a bump, lost balance, and hit my head. I hit my head. Now, laying on the ground, confused about how I hit my head [threw my goggles off into the distance, lost my ski, etc]. I seem to have turned backwards, and fell onto myself. Classy. I was a little shook up, but sorta-kinda-slowly got up and kept moving.... until I got to another part that looked wary. And when I say that I could see the bottom, I mean I could literally see the bottom. Like, not at all far. With pep talks from Cmac, and friendly faces from people face planting in front of me, 45 minutes of waiting seemed to pass like nothing.... that's a lie. we were both sweating incredibly, melting under the perfect sunshine of a beautiful day. Confidence had disappeared, and it took me forever to finally make my way down. 

Regardless, I had a good time and will try to ski again before the end of the semester, hopefully coming with a bit more confidence, though I tend to blame the slope. What the hell kind of jump is that, from easy-ass drive way skiing on the bunny hill, to fucking mountainous terrifying-ness on the 'easiest route down.' blasphomy. 

We wandered around Wanaka, since the day was young with my desire to leave, and prayed on adorable children in bathtowels and heaps of ducks. Picked up food for the supermarket, including munchies for later, and went to the new home of Hawea. 

For the first time in far too long, I took a bath, followed by the greatest shower I've had in a while. As happy as I expressed I was with the electric blanket, I'm drooling thinking about my shower. 

That night we sipped on beers and watched a movie I had fondly remembered, Synechdoche, NY. I thought it was weird, but man, watching it again just upped the level of weirdness of the movie.

Yarn after yarn was spun, and most of a block of cheese disappeared.

Sunday we hung out a bit, and waited for the longest dishwashing cycle to exist, and then head back to Dunedin. The car ride, like the one on the way there, was filled with my ridiculous story telling [due to the aforementioned locked radio], various fast food, and much enjoyment. We stopped in Alex to get a blender, which I didn't get because it was expensive as hell, and then stopped again in Roxburgh for a roxburger and then apples. 

The danger of my driving increased as the night fell, but we made it home alive; a close to a wonderful weekend.

And we have lift-off!

So, this is a little late I suppose, but I've been some combination of lazy, distracted, and stubborn. Kevin and I finally purchased a boat car to get around with. We got a real good deal, as per my car-knowledgeable flatmate's opinion, and it's immaculately clean. Aside from the radio, with a code we can't figure out, the wheels, which are not properly aligned, the complete and utter lack of cupholders [okay, what the hell is that about. there are zero cupholders in this car, and it's not that it's so small.... it's a fucking boat! There is no excuse for not putting the small lifeboats of cupholders on our massive ship], and the not-too-stuck-on driver door handle, it's a beauty. Much fighting has ensued trying to come up with the appropriate name for our beast lovely lady, and I shall inform when verdict has been reached. I'm plugging for Shirley, after the sweet old lady married to the sweet old man who sold it to us. Kevin think's that's creepy.

We're also in contemplation of trying to resell it, hopefully make some money, and then buy a car that's more reasonable for our desires [like a hatchback, or less of a gas guzzling godzilla of a car].

A Cave Rave

On Thursday evening, the two girls I had met in Queenstown and quite randomly [and forwardly] invited to stay with me in Dunedin hitched and arrived. In addition to this addition was the addition of my kiwi-host's friend. Holy 8 people.

That night turned into one of circle of death and friends coming over. Due to the almost-entire goon I ingested, I ended my night there.

Friday was filled with hanging out and enjoying the company of our new guests, as well as reluctantly going to chem and confusingly filling out paperwork. Night time called for more shenanigans which meant going off to the V-flat for a party. So, whereas monster, redbull, and the various other types of poison energy drinks you blokes drink to replace hours of lost sleep or make your own versions of 4 lokos are popular in the states, they have their own little addition to the crew of wallpaper-paste tasting garbage -V. Just as brain rattling and just as obnoxiously sponsor-happy, there's a flat known as the V-flat. It's some sort of competition to live there, and they always have heaps of free V in a supermarket-style drink fridge. Also, V sponsors parties for them, which explains our attendance.

After loads of chatting, wherein I'm relatively certain I talked my head off to some random girl about how to best take a road trip through the states, we were homeward bound. All awake, kinda silly, and ready for more yarns to be spun, out came a sharpie. You see, whilst playing catch-up [the most dangerous unspoken drinking game], my kiwi host found himself way drunker than comfortable. Passed out on the couch, I worked my bestest to give him a twirly moustache worth showing off. Only half was successfully completed before arms were thrown in my direction, but all was worth it.

Saturday's shenanigans were dictated by conversation of the night before. When Katie, the British girl I met in Queenstown, suggested she needed a haircut, the conversation somehow led to determining that she should dye her hair. After getting the requisite feed at the farmer's market, we were off to find hairdye. Though we were unable to locate the desired bright-colored inks, we purchased a 'nordic blonde.' She went from dark brown to strawberry blonde, with touches of justin beiber due to the haircut. Myself and Lisa, the American from Queenstown, decided we should help use the rest of the dye and each took a chunk of lower hair, dyed it blonde, and braided it. My deliciously dead hair has been maintaining the braid since then. I'll post a picture soon.

Night time meant cave party. We trekked out to Long Beach where there's a massive cave where about 150 facebook trolls signified their planned attendance. It was a kiwihost+international student thing, which turned into random bits of everyone. I'd say at it's peak there were close to 100 people. Though the initial hope was to drive the car onto the beach [to avoid the 2km walk], we realized it was high tide and feared for the small amount of sand that existed for driving. Fires were made, everyone was spinning around, and time passed phenomenally quickly. In hopes that we'd get the car out later, all our stuff was still inside, so whilst trekking back to find it, we saw the other half of our crew driving towards us. We jumped in, and soon enough we were stuck. 10 minutes of digging later, movement continued. This marks the most ridiculously dumb thing I've ever engaged in, seeing as we were driving on a beach, in the dark, and all the seats in the back were covered by a mattress which three of us [me included] were laying on our stomachs on top of, staring at the windshield, our definite death to occur if anything happened. Death did not occur, and it may have been one of the best car rides I've been in. I slept on the sand [I still feel sandy....] in sleeping bag and blanket, but I woke up to find my blanket wrapped around the random guy next to me. He didn't seem to mind too much when I took it though.

It was 9am, and we were about to try to book it out, but about halfway there decided the small river we had to clear would be too dangerous, and we should wait for low tide.

By 11am we realized that it was now high tide, and we had a helluva long time to wait. Exploration of the cave ensued as well as a lot of ridiculous conversation. It ended up being fine that we only left at 2pm, another vaguely dangerous drive, but way more possible.

After one of the best showers of my life, the day was lazy and slow. Everyone was passing out from the weekend, but we ended the night with 'The Guard,' a weird movie that seemed to have slipped through the pop-culture cracks, but is totally worth seeing.