Shyzer.com

I’ve kept in touch with a few people back home since I’ve come to Aussie. I talk to my family on a private message board, Fellner through our twice-a-week, 2000 words, dear God how can I possibly have this much to say e-mails, and of course whoever reads Shyzer. For everybody else, I basically have sent out a mass e-mail once a month just to let the old crew know that I am still alive and kicking and whatnot. In one of the first such e-mails, I alluded to a piece of advice that my professor had given me and how I hoped he was right. Turns out, he was.

As I was wrapping up my application to study in the Land Not Above, I shockingly realized that I needed one more professor recommendation than what I already had compiled. The barrel was already quite bare due to the fact that most of my early professors had already moved on to greener pastures or were away on sabbatical for the year doing research. I had already called in what favors I had to get my first two recommendations, so I had no idea where the final glowing praise of Goob was to come from. Right before I went and begged my Latin American History professor (who had known me for a grand total of four weeks), I figured I’d send a mass e-mail out to my profs on sabbatical in the hopes that one was nearby. As the responses came back in, my heart sank lower and lower. One was in England, another in California, the third in Canada. This was the point where the magic 8-ball stared you in the face with a “Outlook Not Good” fortune.

And then Gerth responded. Not only was he still around town, but he happily went out of his way to pen a recommendation for me and drop it off at his office. In one of the final e-mails I sent him, I thanked him for helping me out in such a bind and that I couldn’t wait to go to Australia. His reply came the next day and contained the following passage:

“One piece of unsolicited advice: avoid the huge temptation to cling to other Americans. Strike out on your own or make local friends. Sadly, most people cling to their own when they go overseas.”

When I arrived here in Australia, I remember quickly noticing that within a day or two, 90% of the Americans here had formed their own little group. I was still struggling to find my place amongst the friends I was slowly making and every time I saw The Americans together, I wanted to walk over and sit down with them. I imagined there being a certain level of comfort being surrounded by your own kind, people who were in the same boat as yourself and who knew what you were going through. I knew all the discomfort and anxiety would vanish if I just went over, introduced myself, and made friends with a complete group of strangers who happened to be from the same country as myself. But I never did.

In my wallet, right next to the appalling colorful paper that this country calls money, was a slip of paper with Gerth’s advice jotted on it. Any time the urge to blanket myself with security began to rise, I’d pull the note out, read it once or twice, and slide it back in my pocket. As the days grew into weeks, I found that not only had my desire to converse with the fellow Americans vanished, but I went out of my way to avoid them. I haven’t looked at that slip of paper since early March and as I type this, I can’t help but think of last night.

I caught a ride into Jeso (the local place to buy food and other “supplies”) with Keeley, Hannah, and Amanda. As we passed by the bus, I began chanting “BUS LOSERS!” out the window just for the hell of it because, not only do I know how it feels to be a Bus Loser, I know how much it sucks to be a Bus Loser. And I am never one for passing up the opportunity to remind people how much it sucks to be a Bus Loser whenever I can find a ride in a car. Irony can be a man’s best friend at times. But I noticed that the American Girls were in line for the bus, all huddled together and talking to nobody around them. I shook my head in sadness, but it was soon forgotten as the cackles from Keeley, Hannah, and Amanda filled the car from my recent outburst.

While at Jeso, we were shopping in Wolley’s (food store) for some groceries and we spotted the AG. They were walking around, buying mostly American products that they could find, acting as if the world around them didn’t exist. Keeley leaned over and sneered, “See that one right there? She’s such a witch. We have a class together and she won’t even nod when we pass each other. Why come to Australia if you’re going to ignore the Australians?”

And that just about summed it up right there. I couldn’t have said it any better and yet it reflects my feelings one hundred percent. I almost feel sorry for them, as if they are missing a great opportunity. But at the same time, I feel eternally grateful for those three sentences Gerth sent me. Had it not been for them, I might have easily gone and sat with the Americans and missed out on all of the little, everyday details that make this place amazing. I might never have sat around with all my Aussie friends making fun of the way they talk while they simultaneously make fun of me for my wretched imitation of an Aussie accent. I might never have been introduced to all the wonderful and deliciousness cookies and candies native only to Australia and known only to other Australians. I might never have become great friends with each and every person on the Aussie Cast Page, something that has made this trip amazing so far.

And of course, I might never have been able to scream “BUS LOSERS!” for a second time as we drove past them on our way back to Uni.

I can’t thank you enough Gerth.