This Year in Jerusalem: the Chronicles Vol. II
DAY TWO: Friday, January 6th, 2006 Jerusalem – Ancient & Modern A View from the Top We started our first full day in Jerusalem with a panoramic shot of 3000 years of history. The traditional “shehechiyanu” blessing was recited by Jay Rosen, our Rakaz (birthright lingo for group) leader whose job it was to coordinate the trip for a caravan of four buses filled with people from UVA, Virginia Tech, American, GW, UConn and Arizona. The beautiful view included scenes straight out of the teachings from the waste of time known as Hebrew School (I still won’t thank you when I’m older); the old city, Mt. Moriah, and the Dome of the Rock... The Old City We descended down in the Old City of Jerusalem or Yerushalayim for you Torah enthusiasts. The Old City is surrounded by ruins and cobble stone dating back thousands of years. If you actually take the opportunity to think about what you’re walking through and what you’re seeing, you feel like you’re walking through the bible. Surreal doesn’t begin to describe the feeling one gets walking through the setting of biblical history (keep in mind that my understanding of the Bible stems from Joseph & the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat). To the left was Mt. Moriah, where Abraham was told to sacrifice Isaac. As we made our way through the Jewish quarter we entered an underground archaeological museum created to preserve the ruins that laid inside. The Wailing Wall At the tail end of our journey through the old city we came to one of the most recognizable sites in the world, the Wailing Wall. Perhaps the greatest ancient/modern symbol of World Jewry, the Wall brought out many different emotions for many people. The entrance to the Western Wall Plaza forced you to walk through a metal detector, creating a weird, yet comfortable halo of security around the area. Following the rules of Orthodoxy, the men and women are separated by a five foot divider at the wall. Never in my life have I seen so many peot in one place. Everybody had their own routine, some men and women stood against the wall touching it with their lips or hands, some dovening in front of it, some even crying. I slowly walked to the wall, feeling nervous and uncomfortable, since I didn’t know what I was doing or supposed to be doing. At this point I stopped about 5 feet short of the wall and took a minute to look around and watch the hundreds of people around me. Eric’s Personal Memoirs (it gets deep and Jewish) Up to this point in my life, Judaism has played a significant role in terms of community. Religiously, Judaism is something that I was brought up with and was forced to be involved in. We all know the prayers but do they really mean anything to us? For me, the answer is no at face value. I felt that it would be wrong for me to go up to the wall, say a prayer all the while pretending that I knew what I was saying. To me that would have been the ultimate sac-religious thing I could have done. I desperately wanted to feel something but I simply did not. I looked around in awe at the historical setting but spiritually I felt nothing. Disappointed, I turned around and walked back to the middle of the plaza, when a Rebbi reached out his arm and asked me my Hebrew name. “Tovia Eliazer,” I replied. Before I knew it he was wrapping me in Tefillin while saying a blessing over me. Confused and intrigued I said to him, “I have to be honest, I have no idea what I am supposed to do up there or what this Tefillin is supposed to do…” He said “Tovia, I want you to repeat this blessing after me…” I recited the blessing, still feeling nothing and he said “Write any kind of prayer you want…walk up to the wall pick out a stone and put your prayer in the stone. That will connect you to the Wall. For the rest of your life that will be your stone, it will hold your prayer and it will mean something to you that no one but you will ever understand.” It was at that point that I realized, you’re not supposed to recite a certain prayer or blindly feel an emotion while touching or looking at a wall just because someone told you it was religious. The Wall means something different for every person, whether it is a sense of awe at its historical significance, its symbolism of the Jewish people or something totally different. When I got back up to the wall I picked my stone, inserted my prayer and after looking around I knew what the Rebbi was talking about. I stood at the wall touching my stone and thought about everything I’ve ever known from Judaism and at that point I realized that the guiding figure through it all has been Grandpa Jack. After watching Grandpa find comfort in Jewish traditions after Grandma died, I learned a lot about how important being Jewish really is. I was always told it was important but it was Grandpa who taught it to me. Wearing the Talis and Yarmulka given to me by G squared, I was moved. DAY THREE: Saturday, January 7th, 2006 Shabbat in Jerusalem A Different Breed of Jews Israeli Jews are a different breed than American Jews. First of all you have the Chasidic/Orthodox Jews that make up 20% of Israel’s Jewish population. The other 80% of the Jews are secular. They don’t celebrate Shabbat or wear Yarmulka’s, but instead they go about their daily lives and are religious on high holidays only. It makes sense if you think about it, they live in the most Jewish place on the planet, hence being a secular Jew in Israel is like being a Conservative Jew in the states. Another interesting point is that for the most part American Jews are usually linked with money and wealth. In Israel, the socioeconomic situation of Jews ranges from poverty to wealthy. I was awestruck when I walked through an outdoor market in Tel Aviv to see an impoverished man sitting on the ground begging with a Yarmulka on his head. And yes that was the first time in my life that I’ve used the word awestruck. For Shabbat some of us took a walking tour through Jerusalem to the Kotel, or Western Wall. The quickest way to the Kotel from our hotel would have been to cut through the Arab quarter but the administration of Birthright thought it might not be the best idea for a gaggle (that one is for you Ab) of Yarmulka and Talit wearing Jews to walk through the home of the enemy. Instead we took the long route and got to see many important and historic buildings that had bullet holes in them from gun battles during the intifada. It was amazing, we are living in the year 2006 and all of these buildings look so ancient. It makes you wonder how some of these buildings have endured war. I expected the city to be empty with no cars or anything. Much to my surprise, there were plenty of cars on the road…it was then brought to my attention that some people in Israel do “roll on Shabbos”. When we got to the Wall, everyone did their own thing for a couple of hours. Some prayed, some watched people pray, and some walked around uncomfortably like the day before. I decided to take advantage of the situation and go hang out with God. I went to my stone wearing my Talis and Yarmulka, carrying a reform siddur and recited an entire service while humming the songs that I’ve learned throughout the years. During this trip I realized that the only the prayers mean anything to me is if there is music to the prayer. Avraham As a gentle, yet funny looking old man named Avraham Infeld, President of Hillel took the stage I fought off my narcoleptic tendencies (I told people it was jetlag) and got comfortable in my seat. “Judaism is not a religion,” he exclaimed…I thought to myself this has got to be good…I like it when people challenge conservative ideals…he told us about his childhood and his being Jewish, growing up in a strictly religious home, and being sent by his father from South Africa to live in “the Jewish State.” Most importantly though, he explained casually yet so clearly that being Jewish is your life today, your history, and your community, not just your belief in God or a religious experience. Finally, someone was solidly confirming that going home for Yom Kippur only to sneak out to Dunkin Donuts for breakfast during the service wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Avraham explained that in his eyes there are five pillars of Judaism: Jewish memory, family, receiving the commandments, the state of Israel, and the Hebrew language, and that we all must select three to connect with and value. In choosing three he explained, no matter who you meet, what “type” of Jew, devout Orthodox or Reform, there will always be at least one pillar which you share, one commonality between all Jews at all times. It has been just over 10 days since I heard Avraham speak, and already the details of his words are fading from my memory. I’m struggling to remember what it was that moved me so deeply, which sentence turned off all the internal confusion I’d developed about my religion, but I can’t. I just know that I’m more comfortable now, that when three generations of Herd’s get together for a high holiday meal, that is Judaism; living, breathing, practicing of our Jewish faith. We remember our history, our memory, as Avraham called it, by celebrating together, however we might do it, year after year. Israeli Rock Anthem or Lulla Bye After the speech Chemi Rudner and Irmi Kaplan, two of Israel’s top musical dudes, rocked the house. I have to tell you I felt extremely awkward during this concert. The combination of not know what they are saying and being too sober made me lost interest so I took the path less followed and napped in my seat while people around me were chanting “Chemi…Chemi…Who’s your Aba!!!...I love Chemi and Irmi!”
posted by Eric at 11:10 PM
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Famous for their luscious Semillion, a white medium bodied wine with an array of tropical fruit flavors to tickle your pallet, we made our way through 5 wineries where we tasted over 40 wines. 
I learned that the legs in your wine glass have nothing to do with a woman standing in your wineglass but rather the pace at which the wine drips down the glass, thus telling you the approximate alcohol content. I also learned how to be that pretentious asshole at a restaurant who swooshes the wine around in his glass looking for clarity and color and letting it breath and then tastes it and spits it back in his glass saying “Oh this needs to breathe a little more, we’d like a more medium bodied wine with softer legs and a sweeter sensation.” What that guy doesn’t know is that he looks like a schmuck to his date and the waiter just because he thinks he’s impressive. 
Sorry for that little tangent it just brought me back to my days at Clydes in Georgetown where Mr. Pretentious sent me all over finding a wine for him until he was satisfied. Nonetheless, Hunter Valley is a beautiful place with over 140 wineries. I went with Lauren, Megan Baldwin (friend from home visiting Lauren) and Lauren’s brother and best friend. It was a great day followed by a great night at Lauren’s and at the Rocks off of Sydney Harbour. The night continued with the arrival of Brian Wasserstein (good friend from home who stayed with me for the past week) followed by going to the Observer and Orient Bars where we heard great live music. We finished off the night at a restaurant called Pancakes on the Rocks at 3am.
Surfing (with Vass)
On Sunday it was a beautiful sunny day with temperature at about 55. Being that Brian hadn’t surfed yet and he’s been living in Australia for 4 months (in Townsville, just south of Cairns) we decided to take a walk from Coogee to Bondi and rent a couple of boards. 
The water was definitely cold but warmer than the air temperature. We rented boards for 2 hours and rode pretty rough waves. I was doing pretty well (by pretty well I mean I’d get up once every 5 times). I think I tore my rotator cuff I’d like to say I did it while carving through a sick wave but the truth is i did it while getting sucked out by the tide and clobbered by an incoming wave at which point my left arm and the board went towards the beach while the rest of my body was getting the shit kicked out of me by the sand...at least it's not my pitching arm.
Friends vs. OC vs. 90210
For the past 2 months our house has rented every tape from every season of Friends. We all make our respective dinners and then race to find a seat in the living room. After watching that much Friends I feel like I’m part of the crew. At the same time though, if I could be any TV character in real life, I’d still be Brandon Walsh from 90210. I mean Chandler, Joey and Ross are cool guys and they hang out with some gorgeous women…but take a look at Brandon, he’s editor of the school paper, everyone looks up to him, dates some gorgeous women including Kelly Taylor but most importantly he’s got killer sideburns. We all watch the OC too, and while the OC is a good show it’s limited in its story lines. I mean how many love story combinations can you have between 4 teenagers. Granted they bring in other people every once in a while to be the flavor of the month, but the bottom line is that the OC doesn’t have the consistency that 90210 had. In 90210 they had 6 or 8 people always in the plot making it far less predictable, not to mention “Sideburns” was the man. And for those of you who can’t believe I’m writing about this, come on you know that you’ve been thinking about the same things ever since Brenda Walsh moved to Europe in 1994. I’m just bringing out the topics that you’re too embarrassed to talk about but desperately want to.
Olympic Park
On Tuesday, Brian and I made our way to Sydney’s Olympic Park. What a site to see! Serving as the center of the 2000 Olympic and Paralympic games, we were both astonished by the various stadiums and fields in this one area. 
While Athens had a central Olympic park known as OAKA, it was nowhere near the size of Sydney’s and not nearly as nice. The stadium architect for both Sydney and Athens was the same guy, and you could definitely tell by the designs of the various stadiums at both sites. 
We walked around the outside of what is now called Telstra Stadium where big sporting events and concerts are held but use to be the home of all the track and field events as well as opening and closing ceremonies. 
We then walked through the Sydney Showground, the former Equestrian site which is now a National Rugby League stadium. We spent some time in Aquatic Centre watching a few future Olympian divers. 
We finally headed up to the driving range and hit a few balls. It was quite the day! Later that night we went out to dinner with Peter and went to a Jazz Club and a few other bars and met up with a few people we knew before resting up for our big trip the next day.
Great Ocean Road Trip
On Wednesday Brian, Peter, Resnick (Peter’s friend Dave from Michigan) and I headed down to Melbourne for a road trip on the Great Ocean Road. 
On Wednesday night Pete, Resnick and I stayed at Tessa and Peter’s before we picked up our campervan the next morning. Tessa and Peter helped us plan out much of our trip, which was a huge help. Thanks to Tessa, Peter and Jackson for being great hosts. I loved spending so much time with you!
Day 1 – Queenscliffe to Lorne
We picked up the Campervan at 9am and met Brian there (he stayed with our friend Chris the night before). The camper was unreal. It was a small truck with a what looked like a mini-house on the back of it. 
The extended cabin over the front of the car held 2 people, the kitchen table turned into a bed where we uncomfortably squeezed 2 and there was a sink, stove, microwave, tv and bathroom (which we didn’t use). 
We hit the road and headed south towards Queenscliffe, a beautiful coastal town with a mini-golf place and a human maze. We spent 2 hours going through the human maze and playing a round of mini-golf and drove the beast south towards Torquay, the home of Billabong and Ripcurl (2 famous surfing companies). At about 7pm we pulled into a caravan park in Lorne and grilled sausages, shared a case between 4 of us and played a marathon of Asshole, a great drinking game. We then walked into town at about midnight and walked along the beach. At that time of the night, the tide was very low. We were walking on parts of the beach that were usually covered by water it was pretty cool. 
Day 2 – Lorne to Grey River Road to Otway National Park (Shelley Beach) to Apollo Bay to 12 Apostles
Our motto for the trip was “You sleep when you’re dead.” We woke up at 8 the next morning and drove the beast south along some of the most stunning coastal scenery I’ve ever seen. 
From Lorne we drove to Grey River Road and parked on the side of the road and walked along to see Koalas in their natural habitat. 
It was incredible! 
We then made our way along the windy Great Ocean Road to Otway National Park. We must have been the only people in the park considering it was off-season and not a person or vehicle in site. We trekked down a path that looked like a tropical jungle (it reminded me of Fox Glacier in NZ) to Shelley Beach. 
We climbed the rocks and stood in awe as we looked to the left and right and saw miles and miles of enormous waves breaking on the coastline. 
We drove through Apollo Bay and made our way to the twelve apostles. The twelve apostles are twelve individual rock formations standing just meters away from the cliffs of the coast lining the beaches for a good 3 miles. 
We walked to a few good viewing points and stood their for about 45 min. One of the most memorable parts of the trip came at one point when the four of stood in a row in complete silence leaning on the railing just staring in amazement at what was before us. 
That scene is a perfect representation of the past four months of my life.
Sketchy Motel Parking Lot
We headed back towards Melbourne after the twelve apostles because Brian had to catch a flight back to Townsville at 6am the next morning to take a final at 1pm (I like the way he works, have fun right up until the last minute). After 3 hours of driving we found a sketchy condemned motel parking lot, not 1 mile from the airport. We parked and made enough pasta for 10 people (we’re growing boys) and split a case before continuing our marathon of Asshole. At multiple points during the night we’d all walk out of the camper to take care of business and we found out that right next to this old motel was a dance club. Not the kind of club we’d go to but the kind of club that you’d never want to go in. So when the four of us would line up next to the camper and pee, there were all these people getting out of their Jalopies and stolen Buicks wondering why there were four guys peeing in the parking lot and why were they staying in a camper. It didn’t take long to realize that we were just as sketchy as them, minus the stolen car.
AFL Game and Night in Melbourne/St. Kilda
After waking up before God to bring Brian to the airport we headed to Tessa and Peter’s and went to an Aussie Rules Football game at the Telstra Dome. The game combines the strategy of basketball with a soccer and American football activity. It’s exciting to watch and the crowd always goes nuts. 
Resnick, Pete and I walked into Melbourne and down Brunswick street, one of Melbourne’s funky bar scenes. We went into this random jazz club and stayed there for a while until making our way to Lygon Street where we had a great dinner after bargaining with the owner for free corkage fee (it was BYO) and their ‘finest appetizer’. 
From there we went out for a drink with Peter and Tessa and stayed in St. Kilda, a very cool neighborhood near their house, for a few hours.
Final Thoughts
As I sit here writing this last chronicle of my experience down under I wonder when it will all hit me. For the past 4 months I have been so lucky to have seen Australia and experience this culture; one so different from the states. A place where “No Worries” is not just a motto but a lifestyle. I’ve done things that I never thought I’d actually do, met intriguing people and forged relationships that will forever be important to me and throughout it all I learned a lot about what I was experiencing and a lot about myself. When I get home and people ask me “How was Australia? What was it like? What was your favorite part?” I will have so much and nothing to say at the same time because there is no way that I will be able to truly describe my experience here. Above all else, this experience has greatly enhanced my life and given me a broader perspective…but at the end of the day I’m still that same kid that some call Fatty or Herdy or Shmer or Tovia. I want to travel as much as I can…I want to see the world! At 21 I’ve been pretty fortunate (thanks Herbie) in my travels but there is a lot more ground to cover. Finally, thanks to everyone for taking part in my chronicles. Sorry if I bored you or cluttered your inbox with unnecessary details…it was the only way you could experience the land down under with me. I encourage everyone to listen to “Soulful Strut” by Ramsey Lewis…that is the theme song to my Australia. 
Cheers,
Er
The party-train started at the Coogee Bay Hotel where I spent the night drinking for free courtesy of 7 people that I can actually remember. After a mild hangover tried to keep me down, I persevered and drove the party train into Sydney for happy hour. 
I met Stephanie (a good friend from GW who is in Sydney) at Jackson’s on George where we started with a few Tangueray and Tonic’s. After dinner and drinks at Jackson’s, the night was still young as it was only 8pm. We made our way to the Opera House bar and entertained the idea of getting a few drinks there, but then we realized that $117 for a bottle of wine was a little over priced. Instead we headed to a nice outdoor diner-esque place that sat on the pier of Sydney Harbour. We met Pete and Jenna (aka Miss Georgia) for dessert and a few bottles of wine. 
Following this meeting of the drunken minds we aimed for Lowen Brau, a German bar in the Rocks. We met Jenny Gerstenzang (friend from home) and a few of her friends and continued our raging. After closing down the place we made our way to Scruffy Murphy’s the Tuesday night crazy bar in Sydney. At that point in the night, Pete, Steph, Jenna and I went straight to the bar and filled up on Toohey’s new with a selection of Tequila shots thrown in there. Steph and I lost Pete and Jenna at this point and made our way to the dance floor, where we proceeded to rip up the dance floor (not literally). For the next two hours of debauchery we went nuts. It was somewhere in between a Herd wedding, Junior Year Dance & a Booze Cruise. By about 3am, Steph and I weren’t able to walk. All in all it was a great birthday and I couldn’t have been happier to turn 21 in Sydney.
Blue Mountains
At 5am on Saturday, Ness and I woke up and boarded a train from Sydney 2 hours west to Katoomba in the heart of Australia’s Blue Mountains. We were in for a day of abseiling and canyoning through the frigid waters of the Mts. Abseiling (aka repelling) is the opposite of rock climbing. 
We would scale down the side of steep mountains into 45 degree water and hike through canyons. It’s not everyday that you see a Herd scale mountain cliffs….believe me you wouldn’t want to see it. At one point in between shrieking from having to jump in the coldest water I’ve ever experienced and calling the tour guide an asshole for telling me the water was warm, I realized that I had to pee but the problem was that I was wearing a thermal wet suit that took me 45 minutes to get on. Even if I wanted pull the gross maneuver of going in my wetsuit, I couldn’t because it was so damn tight. 
Being forced to suck it up, we jumped off cliffs and fox tailed into narrow water passages. It was thrilling to say the least. Between my height, my wetsuit and being in cold water all day, I felt like a 4 year old boy. Ness reaffirmed my feeling by laughing at me every time she turned around. She was laughing but she looked just as ridiculous. 
After jumping off the final set of cliffs we set up for lunch on a big rock and finished off the day by rock climbing our way to the top. While I am considered by many as an incredibly agile person (by many I mean no one) the rock climbing was difficult but I got through with a lot of wheezing. 
As Ness and I were waiting for the train back to Sydney with our new friend from England, we ran into some Canadians. For those of you that don’t know this Canadians love finding fellow Canadians. It’s the type of thing where a little is staring with big eyes at candy…in this case it was a 22 year old girl with a smile big enough for 10 people, staring at these 4 guys who had Canadian flags on their bags. She attacked and as soon as they confirmed that they were Canadian I swear I could hear Wayne Gretzky singing “Oh Canada our home and native land… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah….Protégera nos foyers et nos droits.” 
Killing Two Birds with One Stone
I spent a large part of last week doing something that I wish upon no one else. I wrote a paper! I promised myself I would never stoop so low as to spend quality time on school work while in Sydney. You’re all shaking your head in disgust I know…I can sense the disapproval. If it will help you think better of me: Part of the reason I spent so much time on it, is because I plan on reusing it at GW. I mine as well kill two birds with one stone, right. I’m a planner…got that from you Herbie (now you can’t be mad)
Melbourne
I spent May 19-22 with Tessa, Peter, Action Jackson and Aunt Norma in Melbourne. We had a great weekend in babyland and we trekked up to Dandenong Mountain where I had my first encounter with a Eucalyptus tree after Aunt Norma wanted to take a picture of me and the tree. We had great meals and went to the Yarra Wine Valley, which was absolutely beautiful.
What a Baby Would Say…
I swear the most frustrating thing in the world is at that point where you’re 6 months old and you have just learned to flip over and you can’t crawl. After 4 days of watching, playing, entertaining and trying to understand what goes through the head of a 6 month year old I believe I have figured it out…
“This is bullshitaki! I’ve been laying on my back sitting in my own poop for the past 6 months and now when I finally figure out how to get out of the poop, I can do nothing but lay in my own pee, not to mention the fact that I have no choice of what I’m gonna eat. Gerber’s Apple Sauce, Rasberry crap, Vegetable Risotto puree or milk…I have to eat it…what if I want Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups or that big juicy burger that big people eat right in front of me (bastards)? I know what I’ll do, I’ll spit it all up after I digest most of it…I don’t care where I am or who is carrying me, it’s coming out without warning and I’m gonna laugh and smile the whole time! And the best part is that I don’t have to do a thing, because I know that when I spit that crap out I’ll have someone wiping my face and trying to make me laugh…when I’m dirty at the end of the day someone’s going to bathe me and use that Johnson & Johnson stuff that leaves the 7 hairs on my head feeling so soft…and when I flip over onto my stomach while I’m sleeping and get my arm caught in the cradle post, I know that as soon as I open my mouth Mommy or Daddy will be there to flip me over. Oh yeah and when I say Ya-Ya-Ya-Ya-Ya…etc., what I’m trying to say is ‘can you make that animated face that you do to entertain me, which makes you look like an asshole’. The only reason I smile when you play that god-awful Row Your Boat song is because I think it’s funny seeing the pain in your face. Don’t worry I’m not evil but after countless hours of sitting in my own feces I’d like to see you take a hit for the team! So yeah it may suck that I can’t crawl and bang my head on things yet, but hell I’m a baby that rides in a 4 wheeler that I don’t even have to drive.”
Welcome to Little Vietnam
My moment of truth came this past weekend in Melbourne while Peter, Tessa, Aunt Norma and I joined a few of their friends for dinner in Melbourne’s Vietnamese District… standing in front of me was a middle-aged man, standing 5’3”, wearing the black winter hat that I threw away 12 years ago, sporting a cavity in each tooth, continuously drinking since leaving the womb, smelling of an Italian mix sub with a few extra layers of a jock strap, dog shit and my first diaper from 21 years ago, his left eye looking at my right shoulder and right eye looking at my forehead…after imitating a squatting quarterback at the 50-year line this character out of “The Wizard of Oz meets Shawshank Redemption meets Goonies” proceeds to attempt a conversation about ‘footy’ (Australian Rules Football) and ‘Gridiron’ (American Football). At the end of this most intriguing interaction I came away with 3 things:
1) My shirt was soaked in a mixture of beer, tooth sweat and hygienically unsound saliva all from this special fella’s hideous cakehole
2) A new understanding of why the most popular bars in Melbourne are not in Little Vietnam
3) My hand covered in bacteria from the past 12 years that I got when “Mr. I haven’t taken a shower in 22 years and no one, not even myself can understand what I am saying” decided to shake my hand and thank me for going into Iraq because he would have if we hadn’t
Just as family is always there for you when it matters most, Tessa, Peter and Aunt Norma took part in this lovely interaction. Tessa’s presence was comforting for mental support as well as her supply of Purell hand sanitizer that was out within seconds of shaking this Bloak’s hand.
Jazz Club
On Tuesday night I rode in the most decked out automobile in the Land Down Under. The 1984 Volkswagen Bus is fully equipped with curtains for the back and side window, a full size bed and a great sound system. A few of us went in this shaggin’ wagon to a great Jazz/Funk bar in Newtown. We saw a great band play Jazzy/Funky sets in a bar filled with couches and comfortable settings all around. I wish I had discovered this earlier in the semester. We had a few drinks and stayed for 3 sets and then we made our way down the street to Scruffy Murphy’s, the Tuesday night hotspot.
My 2nd Family
After the trials and tribulations that the Australian government has endured due to the worst drought in years, I think I have found the perfect solution…Cathy Cooley crying. Whether it is a birthday, wedding, bar mitzvah, first car, leaving for college for her kids or some random kid she’s never met or in this case seeing Peter and me at a restaurant in Sydney… we’ve come to expect the waterfall of tears. The Cooley’s took us out to dinner at this beautiful place right next to the Opera House…this place had high class written all over it. The main courses were tiny, but the presentation was quite lovely if I may say so myself. On Wednesday night the Cooley’s treated 12 of us (me and Peter’s Michigan friends) to a Mexican restaurant in Bondi. On Thursday night they’re taking Peter and I to the Lion King on Sydney’s equivalent to Broadway…Hakuna Matata!
The Shirt Nazi
I’m at a bar having a drink with a few friends from home and this unlikable kid, Gary (not his real name so as to not give him the attention he wants), comes over with his friend and they invite themselves to join us at the bar. Just a little background on this character…he is one of Peter’s roommates (not by choice) and no one likes him. All of the guys he lives with think he is over the top obnoxious…the kind of person that you’re just rooting for to do something stupid while trying to impress a girl. He’s absolutely in love with himself…so much so that he leaves no room for anyone else to like him. So after he tries to dominate the conversation he starts complaining about how he and his friend got turned away from a bouncer into another bar that all of his friends were in (they’re not really his friends, none of them like him). Convinced that the only reason they got turned away was because of the shirt his friend was wearing (it was a regular button down), he says “Yo Eric trade shirts with him so he can get in.” The rest of us look at each other and think is he serious. Under no circumstances would I trade my shirt with a guy I barely know so he can get into a bar, especially when I don’t like him. After I laugh at him and tell him that his shirt is probably not the issue, he keeps hassling me for the next 10 minutes. He follows me out of the bar and says “Eric, dude come on just give him your black shirt” I respond by saying “You are absolutely ridiculous there is no way that he didn’t get in because of his shirt, the bouncer probably just didn’t like you…sorry man I’m not giving you my shirt.” Gary then says “I can’t believe you’re not gonna help us out man, that’s messed up.” I wanted to say why would I do you any favors… you suck and what’s messed up is that you’re still talking about this. But instead I just walked away laughing…maybe not the best story I’ve told but so funny for me.
Itinerary
May 27: Hunter Valley Wine Country
June 1-5: Great Ocean Road… Peter, Brian Wasserstein and I are renting a campervan and driving from Melbourne to Adelaide on the Great Ocean Road
June 6-10: Finals…this should be fun
June 13: Back to the states…time is flying
If I don’t see you… good afternoon, good evening and good night!
Cheers,
Er
4) It is completely legal to bring a case of James Boag on an airplane as your carry-on luggage
5) Port Arthur, Tasmania saw the largest convict immigrant population in Australia (that explains a lot)
6) Some Korean people are named Johann (Y-O-H-A-N)
7) There are 130 Cadbury Chocolate Factories in the world…the one we went to produces all of the chocolate for Australia
8) The Cadbury Chocolate Tour Guide gives 4 tours a day
9) Aussies are intrigued by the variety of Snapple flavors that exist even though most have never had it. I wonder how they know about it? Does someone randomly go around and say “Dude there are 74 different Snapple flavors but don’t bother looking because you can’t get them in Australia.”
10) In most convenient stores in the states and here you can buy milk in a plastic container or carton…in Canada you can buy Milk in a bag 
(that’s for all my Canadian readers…thanks for the support)
Tasmania
48 hours after getting back from New Zealand I flew into Hobart, the capital of Australia’s only island state, Tasmania. A city I didn’t even know existed 2 months ago, Hobart has the reverent charm of Troy in the 1950’s (I wasn’t there but I heard it was spectacular). I went to Tassie for 4 days with Lauren Sullivan (great friend from home, also my main squeeze in 7th grade) 
and her friend Kasey. The three of us boarded the plane with nothing planned except that we were renting a car.
Cadbury Chocolate Factory
This kind of reminded me of when Danny and I toured the Heineken Brewery in Amsterdam. Throughout different points of the tour we’d stop and get a few beers and by the end, after 3 to 4 bar breaks, we were tanked at 2pm. At the Cadbury factory we toured the facility and throughout we stopped 3-4 times for free samples. 
Instead of being tanked we all felt like tanks. Even if you’re not hungry you have to eat it. It would be like taking the stairs when there is an empty escalator right there…you just have to take the path that will make you fatter. At the chocolate factory we watched and smelled globs of chocolate being processed in its rawest form of cocoa all the way through to the packaging stage. At the end of the tour our entire everyone invaded the chocolate shop and competed for who could by the most to make them fatter. 
Taking the road less followed, I proceeded to buy a beautifully sculpted can of Ginger Ale to bring down my level of nausea.
Wineglass Bay
Following the chocolate factory we drove 5 hours through the country side of Tasmania to arrive at Freyichnet (just pronounce it B-O-B) National Park. We booked ourselves a private room at a creepy hostel. Just to give you a glimpse as to how it was creepy: The guy at the reception desk had a total of 7 teeth with a beard resembling a mixture of Jesus and Ted Kaczyinski the length of Syria Bonaly’s hair in the 1994 Winter Olympics 
(Don’t even pretend you don’t know who Syria Bonaly is…the figure skater from France famous for never having cut her hair because her crazy mother thought it was bad luck…it ended up playing a factor when she fell during attempt at a Triple-Sow Cow…ok I made up that last part for effect). Anywho, after arriving in our room and holding each other while crying for fear of being in the middle of hick-row Tasmania, we recovered and went out to a nice dinner (thanks boss) and then retreated to our gross room and played power hour. We all passed out with beers in hand on Kasey’s bed and somehow felt rested the next morning. We left the Unabomber’s hostel early and hiked through Freyichnet National Park till we got to Wineglass Bay, 
a beautiful uninhabited bay that some inebriated Sailor must have thought resembled a wineglass, even though it looked like more of a stir-fry bowl to me. After 4 hours of hiking we aimed north towards Launceston & Devonport, the 2nd and 3rd largest cities in Tasmania respectively. 
Devonport
Besides the fact that it has a great Irish Pub and we stayed in a ‘hotel’ room above a sketchy bar…I really have nothing to say about Devonport 
Bruny Island
Devonport is on the northern tip of Tasmania and we were aiming for Bruny Island which was at the southern tip, a 4 hour drive. We drove through the rugged unpaved roads of some national park and caught a glimpse of the mountains. 
We decided not to go to Cradle mountain, a popular mountain range and national park, because it was too foggy. Instead we took the scenic route. The landscape was definitely beautiful and something to see but just having been to New Zealand, it was no comparison. We boarded a ferry to Bruny Island, which we had heard from locals and multiple friends that it was the most authentic source of Tassie culture. Well let me just say that if Bruny Island is as authentic as you get, then all Tasmanians must be depressed. This island was completely isolated and had 2 roads. One of which led to nowhere, with some shacks on the way. The other road led to Adventure Bay. What do you do in Adventure Bay? You stop at the Penguin Café, which was not really a café but a persons dining room turned into a 12-person sandwich place. From there you drive back towards the ferry and stop at the “Penguin Colony Lookout” to see Penguin droppings and miles of untouched beach. 
While the landscape was quite scenic, Bruny Island was the 2nd most depressing place I’ve ever been (the 1st being the parking lot at my first Journey concert when I watched a 10-year old with a mullet eating a hot dog he had just dropped on the ground after it far surpassed the 5 second rule). We did see a few Kangaroos and Wallabies…I think they were trying to sneak onto the ferry to get off the island.
Last Leg of Hobart
We drove into Hobart at 6pm Sunday night. Our plane didn’t leave until 12 hours later. We decided that we didn’t want to fork up the money to get a hostel so we walked around the empty streets of Hobart wasting as much time as we could in places that were open. We went to see the Interpreter with Nicole Kidman and Sean Penn. Tom Cruise is an idiot for letting her go. I thought it was a good movie…so good that in order to waste time we sat in the theater 30 min. after it ended. At midnight we snuck in the back door of a hostel we stayed at a few nights earlier after I had remembered the after-hours code to get in. We lounged around in this hostel for 3 hours until we were so sketched out by the place that we left and drove around Hobart for 2 hours until we had to go to the airport. 
All in all, I had a great time with Lauren and Kasey…Tasmania itself had a nice landscape and some beautiful sites but something about the place made me feel like I was amongst all of the hicks of Australia…it reminded me of South Carolina with an Australian accent.
Sydney Comes Alive!
Standing a towering 5’8” lacking the hair that defined him in his 1976 Frampton Comes Alive! Album, Peter Frampton rocked out at Sydney’s Enmore Theatre this past Saturday night. 
I saw Frampton open for Journey five years ago and I thought he was pretty impressive even though I knew nothing about him. This time, having listened to Frampton Comes Alive countless number of times I was simply amazed at how incredible of a guitarist he is. 
His voice sounded like a mix of Joe Walsh and Don Henley (2/4 of the Eagles). I haven’t seen so many women grovel at a persons feet since the 1992 HBO special of Michael Jackson live in Budapest 
(although some of you maybe saying to yourself “who is this kid?” just think back to the days where you saw Michael Jackson on TV for reasons other than being a pedophile and I can guarantee you’ll remember that infamous night in Budapest that was replayed every night on HBO during the entire year of 1992). Being one of the youngest in the crowd, I took some time to observe some people who I do not want to emulate when I go to a Journey featuring Frampton: Reunion from the Grave tour in 2047.
1) If I’m bald I will not wax the top of my head and wear a loop earring or any kind of earring for that matter
2) If I have hair I will cut it at some point within the 42 years between now and then
3) I will not wear a tight shirt that my 5 year old son once wore in order to look stylish
4) I will not break the ultimate rule: Never wear a shirt of the artist you’re going to see at that concert…that’s a no-no
5) I will not scream out loud professing my love for Steve Augeri (Steve Perry’s replacement) or Neal Schoen (piano and vocals for Journey) during songs or in between songs
6) I will not bring marijuana to a concert and not offer to the college students sitting next to me…that’s just rude
7) I will not bring my 10 year old son and make him wear a “I Came Alive with Peter Frampton” shirt
8) I will not outright fall asleep on my wife’s left breast for the entirety of the concert
9) I will not lose my balance walking into the bathroom and yell at the short college student who happens to be urinating in the stall that Mr. Creepy wants to use
10) I will not yell “Oh I feel you Peter!” at the top of my lungs after Frampton sang the rhetorical lyrics “Do you feel like I do?”
Cheers,
E
