Fish Are Friends Not Food

New York attitude, Australian state of mind. Welcome to the travel stories and fleeting glimpses that is the mind of aspiring author that is Amy Rose Lipsky

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#Uloop

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Ho Hey

In high school I was seeing this boy who was just as reckless as I was. He told me that the more you look at something, anything, the scarier it becomes. Those words have stuck with me to this day. He was right; the more you look at things, the scarier they become. Its the center of being reckless. You jump into things without thinking them through because you might talk yourself out of it. You jump without really looking how far down you're about to go, but if you want to know a secret, I think that's part of the fun. The scream on the way down is half the fun, after all. 

Let the things that scare you make you laugh. 

[blogfromdownunda]

Hi.

Its been a while since I last wrote. I've been taking time to myself, trying to figure out the combination of words to describe what its like. What its like to live in a timeless place for five months with the most amazing people you'll ever meet. To form a family out of a group of perfect strangers. To live in paradise. To be happy every day from the minute you wake up in the morning. There really aren't any words.

My heart aches for Cairns and the people I met while I was over there. I miss you all more than you could ever know. 

Looking at my posts from these past few months I realize that its the little things that I crave, the things I never even wrote about:

Having a group of friends who will do anything they can to cheer you up. Never feeling alone. Late night talks on hammocks. Counting shooting stars on the beach. The bonfires. The midnight swims. The long walks. The handshakes, the nicknames, the rituals. Free coffee at the casino. Couchbeds. Discovering. Never taking a single day for granted. The mountains. The color of the water. Those damn birds. Being barefoot. Bioluminescent plankton. Coconuts. Surfing. The Beer Garden. 90s pop punk. Pool parties. Our last night at Gilligans. 

There is so much that I'm going to miss, but I can honestly say I didn't miss out on a single opportunity, and I don't regret a damn thing. 

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Things I've learnt since being in Australia:

1. Believe in the sand beneath your toes. Always.

2. Take one minute of every day to appreciate the beauty of the world around you. 

3. Be reckless, take risks, but stick together.

4. It's not the destination - it's the journey.

5. Talk to anyone and everyone. Ask them personal questions. Get to know them, let them know you.

6. Record everything.

7. If you have an awesome playlist, nothing can go wrong. 

8. Always give someone a second chance.

9. A video camera instantly makes everything more interesting

10. Nothing happens the way you imagine it to, but if you let that go, it could become more than you expected.

11. Always wait for it 

12. Find the courage to touch the butt

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First days last days

When I first got to the lodge, I vividly remember sitting on my bare mattress and staring at the blank walls with the echoing thought of "what now?" I had made it through the plane rides, through customs, through missing my last flight. Now what was I supposed to do? And for a few moments I gave into that feeling - into the feeling of complete loneliness and terrifying feeling of being lost. 

When I first arrived here I wasn't sure if I would even make friends. But we were all put into the same position, and somehow we all bonded. We created our own kind of family. We fought and we had the best of times. We danced, we cried and we laughed UNTIL we cried. We were reckless assholes, we made poor life decisions but we always had each other's backs. 

Now my room looks the same as it did when I first got here; bare mattress, bare walls and clear of anything Amy. Nearly everyone is gone now. Kristin left at 3 am Friday morning and saying goodbye to her was literally heartbreaking. It was only a glimpse of what the next four days would have to offer; no sleep, constant crying and every time I had to say goodbye to someone it felt as though my heart was being broken and crushed over and over again. My stomach is still in knots. 

The lodge is currently the definition of a ghosttown to me. It's haunted with the memories of the most amazing times I have ever had. On the bus into town I can swear I hear the voices of the boys laughing in the backseats. The volleyball court has gone untouched since the last time we all played, the pool is quiet. Haunted. 

I will never forget these times, this family and this experience. I love you all. 

x

[blogfromdownunda]

I don't even know how to put into words how I feel right now. These are the hardest goodbyes I've ever had to say. 

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It's the 15th. I'm relieved because by 3 pm my finals will be over. I'm anxious because 12 hours from then one of my closest friends here in Australia is leaving to go back home. I'm not worried about not seeing her or anything - we only live six hours apart. But it begins the goodbyes. It begins the "oh my god this is over." Its over. This dream is complete. 

My eyes are swollen over. My glands are swollen, my throat hurts, my head throbs and my heart aches. 

In two weeks I'll be going home to New York. After spending five months in paradise I'll be going home to the snow, to my family, to my friends back home and while I'm excited to see everyone I'm anxious as. Its scary, isn't it? Knowing that somehow, even thousands of miles away, the people you left behind involve you in their life almost every day. While here in Cairns time had somehow held its breath for five months and held still, back home it all went on, carrying you on with it. Terrifying. 

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YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE THIS COUNTRY HA!

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Kings Cross - Sydney

And thus begins the scariest night in Australia so far. The plane ride to Sydney was excellent; We got to see a beautiful golden sunset over a lake of clouds, and on the flight over it was so clear that Kristin and I could even see some wildfires glowing orange in the night.

We got to Sydney, exchanging hysterical stories about our seat partners from the way over and got into a cab explaining that we needed to get to King's Cross.

"King's Cross?" The cabbie chuckled. "I hope you're all ready to party!" Excellent! Looks like us Americans were going to have a ton of fun these next five days. After much scrambling around, Rebecca and I both realized that none of us had written down the address of the hostel. The only thing that we remembered was that it was off of a street called Darlinghurst. When we told the cabbie that  he explained, "well, that's where all the strip clubs are. But honestly I'd stay away from there. Its bad news for young girls." The cabbie pulled over and dropped us off, wishing us good luck and drove away. It didn't take too long to find - the hostel was across the street from us AKA right on the street that the cabbie told us to stay away from. That should have been our red flag, but we stayed optimistic as we passed through the hostel's occupants smoking joints outside of the front door, welcoming us "fresh meat." We squeezed through the tiny, paint chipped doorway and walked up the two flights of narrow, creaky stairs exchanging wide-eyed "what did we just get ourselves into" looks. 

On the third floor there were couches squared around a small table and a man among the crowd of rowdy drunks stood up and said he was management. We gave him our deposit and he gave us room keys and sheets and led us to the mixed room that would be housing us and six other males or females. At the time when we had booked the hostel we had been going for the cheapest price. Somehow this didn't seem like the smartest idea for us four young American girls. 

The night manager, or crypt keeper depending on if you're an optimist or a pessimist, unlocked the door and switched the flickering light on, waking up two cranky males and shedding light on a floor littered with messy clothes and girls' underwear. The room, as Ann Marie would later put it, looked like a scene straight out of the movie Taken. I think this may have been the point where Kristin and I had a simultaneous panic attack. The guy pointed to four empty beds, wished us a good night and left us to fend for ourselves. 

Slowly, without making any sudden movements, we began to put the sheets on our bed.

"I need to go for a walk," I murmured to the girls, wiping the sweat off my forehead. 

The girls were more than eager to get out of the hostel and get some good old Subway, so it was down the road we went and let me tell you, that walk was one giant red flag. 

Prostitutes littered the streets, whispering into men's ears, exchanging and examining pills, watching us like hawks out of the corners of their eyes. The bouncers to the strip clubs were no better, beckoning us inside their showrooms with crooked fingers and toothy smiles. We made it to Subway without getting jabbed with a needle and by the time we all sat down it was decided that we needed to leave. There was no way we were sleeping here. And so it was time for us to call up the boys we met over Spring Break. We quickly explained our predicament and when we mentioned where we were he burst out laughing. 

"Yeah you girls need to get out of there. That place is not safe for you guys," he said. We didn't need to be told twice. We finished our food and began the walk back to the hostel. 

Are you Swedish?" A bouncer asked Ann Marie.

"No," she replied without breaking her stride. 

"German? Polish? European?"

"Fuck off!" Kristin yelled, unable to handle their yelling anymore.

"Don't you ever fucking show your face here again!" The bouncer screamed at us as we quickened our pace. Don't you worry Mr. Scary Bouncer. You won't be seeing us again. 

We got to our hostel, alive but shaken, grabbed our belongings and headed to the train station where, on the way, we got verbally harassed by several other bouncers. But finally, FINALLY, we got on the train safe and sound where we were met by Patrick at the Central train station where he brought us to his apartment, tucked us into bed and assured us all that we were safe. 

*Later we were told that King's Cross was relatively safe, just that one street is particularly scary. 

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The video I made about my friends and I over spring break

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Chasing the Goose

Ann Marie and I decided on our latest adventure that I have a habit of dragging my friends on these wild goose chases. For example, our latest adventure started off as me asking Ann Marie, "hey, I read somewhere that there's a surf competition going on at the Gold Coast in October. I don't know if its actually happening or not but lets go!" 

And that, my friends, is how Ann Marie, Kristin, Rebecca, Carley, Kelsey and I found ourselves checking into the Coolongatta Sands Hostel Thursday evening. It was at the reception desk where the second half of this goose chase began. A man came up to us and struck up a casual conversation. After talking to him for a few minutes I tuned him out to listen to what the desk attendant was saying about our room keys, but when I heard Kristin say, "I don't know them, but Amy might," I turned back around with a startled, "huh?!" 

"There's a concert up in Surfer's Paradise on Saturday for the car races and this band called Good Charlotte is headlining. I figured I'd let you girls know," he said. Good Charlotte? GOOD CHARLOTTE?! My jaw literally hit the floor. You can't even imagine the level of excitement my inner 13 year-old fan-girl self hit. (Except Molly. She's the only one who could understand). You see, the thing about Good Charlotte is that back when I was 12, about 8 years ago, they were my first punk show. Theirs was the first CD that I ever bought. They were my first band crushes, my first heroes, and therefore it doesn't matter what anybody says about Good Charlotte, they will always be my first main squeeze. 

"Oh boy," the nameless man had said, looking at me with concern. "Is she going to cry?" Yes, 'tis true. I was so excited that I started tearing up. Picture Kristin Bell and the Sloth youtube video. THAT'S how excited I was. 

Friday morning rolled around and I texted a Canadian I had met at The Beer Garden over spring break. He was the guy who had been traveling around S.E. Asia and had sold all of his clothes and guitar to get to Australia. I haven't asked him if I could write about him, and for precautions so he doesn't lose his job I'll just say that his name is Canada. I asked him if he was going to the show, and he said that he would try to find us tickets and to sit tight until Saturday. So that's what I did. I laid out on the beach for the next day and a half, awaiting the text message that would say that we were in. It wasn't until I was boarding the bus to go to Surfer's Paradise that I received a text that said, "I only found one ticket, but no worries, I have a plan." 

I arrived at Surfer's Paradise, and met up with Canada outside of the Hard Rock Cafe. 

"This is what I found out," he explained. "I have one ticket so you're set no matter what. They'll probably punch a hole in the ticket and then put a pink wristband on you, so I'm thinking that I'll find someone who went to the races but isn't going to the concert and take their wristband. Then you'll pass me the ticket through the fence and I'll go through as though I've left and am coming back."

Flawless. How could this not work?

"I am not getting deported for this," I told him as we chowed down on some good ol' Subway. 

"Oh, relax. I've only been in trouble with the police like, three times. And one of those times doesn't even count because the car wasn't technically stolen." Great. I'm running through the streets of Surfer's Paradise with a criminal. This was definitely going to backfire. 

We spent the next three or so hours hunting for a wristband before finally coming across an extremely considerate and fellow punk who, after slight persuasion, ripped the wristband off and wished us good luck. 

"Oh my God this might actually work," I exclaimed as we headed to Canada's apartment to super glue the wristband back together on his wrist. It only cost him three arm hairs and the first layer of skin on his wrist, but we managed to make it look as though the wristband had never been ripped off. Solid.

"Let's go find Fluffy," I joked as we left his apartment. Now for phase two.

We decided to walk to the concert rather than take a bus and it wasn't until we passed signs for The Spit that I realized how far we were. The Spit was where the girls and I had our surf lessons during spring break and when we had asked how to get there everyone told us that it was definitely not within walking distance. We met quite the characters on our long journey - the drunk chick who told us that we'd only make it to the concert if we ran there, the security guard who directed us in the proper direction and, of course, Nameless Man #2 and his "girl whose a friend because I couldn't date someone so bitchy." We struck up a conversation with Nameless Man #2 and explained our predicament to him.

"Well, I'll help you anyway I can." He assured as we approached the fence. "How about we three go through and we'll either slip you the ticket or, if they don't stamp the ticket, I'll leave and come back through with both mine and my friends' ticket." Again; how could it not work? 

So in we went and much to my excitement they didn't stamp the card. My excitement was immediately diminished by the fact that they wrapped a neon yellow wristband around my wrist. Neon yellow. After we had spent the entire night hunting for a pink wristband. Ruh roh. 

Nameless Woman and I sat down on a small hill just inside the entrance to keep an eye on the stage and the gates at the same time while Nameless Man went to go slip Canada the ticket. 

"I can't believe I made it," I gushed to the woman. "I don't even care what happens for the rest of the night! I'm so excited!" As soon as those words were out of my mouth, I knew I would regret them. I'm always the one to jinx the party, and when I saw Nameless Man #2 coming back towards us without Canada, I knew it was bad news. 

"They double-fenced the perimeter and said if I leave I can't come back in." The flaw in our plan. Nameless Man #2 went off to call Canada and explain our latest problem and as I sat there with the opening chords of The Anthem echoing from the stage, it dawned on me. 

"I HAVE PLAN C!" I yelled, jumping up to take off after Nameless Man #2. It was simple, really. All the Nameless Man had to do was rip off his wristband, leave and then come back and get a new wristband! Yeah! Before I could find Nameless Man #2, he found me with Canada smiling broadly beside him. They had realized the same thing that I had. We had done it. We had caught the goose. 

The show itself was amazing. It instantly brought me back to being in Jr. High School, lying on Kelly's floor, listening to The Young and Hopeless on repeat and staring at the Good Charlotte posters and magazine cut-outs on her wall. I couldn't keep the smile off of my face the entire time. Goosebumps occupied my flesh the entire time. These guys were my first heroes. It was amazing that I got to experience this in Australia. Nothing in the world will ever top my stay here, but you can bet that I will always be chasing that damn goose. 

edit: The surf competition never happened. We checked out the beach where it was rumored to be, but there was nothing going on. So it goes. 

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The Great Barrier Reef. Finally.

The post that my family back home has been waiting for. I, Amy Rose Lipsky, officially dove the Great Barrier Reef. 

The reef was one of the main reasons why I chose to study in Cairns. I had hopes of diving the reef multiple times while studying here and when mid - semester break came and went I panicked over my lack of diving. I marched myself down to Ben's room, a fellow dive-addict and proposed that we go diving before I headed back to the Gold Coast. He was more than willing to come with me, and suggested that we use the same dive center that him and his parents used when they came to visit. We booked our reservations and waited anxiously for Saturday to arrive.

We woke up early that morning to board the 7 am bus that would take us to the dive center terminal where we would board our boat. Cairns' diving life is so massive that they have a legitimate terminal for the reef boats. Ben and I boarded our vessel, the Silverswift and were soon on our merry way. 

The fun began about a half hour out to sea. Earlier that morning, our skipper had announced that the sea was expected to be rough, and if you were feeling seasick then to please step out to the back deck. All it took was for one person to vomit and I was immediately nauseous, so it was to the back deck for me. Luckily it was mostly anxiousness and not seasickness that was making me dizzy, and by the time we were in the water I felt fine. 

I can't even begin to explain the beauty of the reef. A lot of people told me that the reef was a disappointment, that there weren't as many fish that they had hoped, that there wasn't any color to the reef. Those people are insane. Perhaps it's because I have been given the opportunity to dive in various parts of the world but I was able to appreciate the beauty of the quantity of living coral. I have never seen so much coral in one place in my entire life; there were literally mountains and fields of coral. And the marine life . . . ugh it was nearly docile. Fish would swim straight up to us, eyeing me and my camera. My divemaster was able to feed some algae to a green sea turtle, leading it straight into my camera. The visibility was around 12-15 meters (about 50 feet) and the shade of blue that the ocean was is absolutely beautiful. I swear I'd be the happiest if I came back as a fish on the reef. There's no place on earth I'd rather be.

There was a lionfish, sea slugs, razor fish, humphead parrot fish, white tip reef sharks ... the dive was pretty much perfect.

When we were done with the dives, Ben and I warmed up on the front deck of the boat with some coffee. It was amazing to look out and see the ring of waves breaking against the reef. The difference between the calm of the reef and the roughness of the rest of the sea was unreal. Even the shade of blue changed at the break.

There are times when nature makes you still in your movements and your thoughts. It makes you realize how small you are, and how there will always be a part of the world that we will never come close to understanding. And being on the reef made me realize that. Sometimes you need to be still and let yourself be awed.  

[blogfromdownunda]

Hey guys!

Recently studentsgoneglobal.com has asked me to contribute to their website, so I will also be posting my blogs at amyroselips.studentsgoneglobal.com. I'll be posting pictures there as well! 

X

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Spring Break (Part 6)

Me:  Psst. I'm hungry.

Kristin: Pssst. Me too + bored.

Me: Psst. Pancakes?

Living in a hostel requires you to either spend a buttload of money on food, or to make your own food. Since we're broke college students, the four of us had decided to cook our own dinners. I have no idea how to cook, but when they said they wanted pancakes for dinner one day, I told them that that was indeed something I could make.

HA. Funny story about that ... Whilst making pancakes I had somehow managed to set the fire alarm off. Domesticated woman, I am not. 

Our last full day in Surfers Paradise was certainly interesting. We moseyed our way to the beach where me, Kristin and Ann Marie decided to rent a surfboard. Everything was going swell . . . until the current began to pull me out to sea. Cue panic attack to which Kristin (whom was drunk at this time) tried to calm me down. Luckily for my short-stuff self, the lifeguard came kayaking by and pulled me up on his kayak to bring me to shallow waters. Mermaid I am not. Needless to say we spent the rest of the day trying to avoid being rescued. 

By the time the sun went down Kristin and I were feeling restless, so it was off the The Beer Garden for us. It was at that watering hold where we met the local TV reality star, George Baramily from Big Brother. We had a drink with him and a chat about what the hell Big Brother is before Kristin and I turned our attention to the stage where the live band was playing. In a perfect ending to this perfect vacation, it so happened to be 90's pop punk night, resulting in the band playing every last one of mall my favorite songs. (Except ones by Patent Pending, but don't worry guys, I'm trying to brainwash Australia into Pop Punkness).

Surfer's Paradise is full of amazingly interesting characters. Its a writer's dream; the Syndeyers, Bronnie, George, the foreigners at the hostel, the guy who sold all his clothes and his guitar to get to Australia. . . this is why I came to Australia. To meet new people, to hear their stories, to get inspired and to write. 

Surfer's Paradise, you did me good. See you in two weeks. 

[blogfromdownunda]

Spring Break (Part 5)

Last night we went back to our new friends' hotel room for a barbecue. They made us burgers on this dragon of a grill as we relaxed in this beautiful hot tub on the fifth floor roof of the hotel. It was incredible; there was a lagoon pool with a bridge over it, and a playground tucked away into a corner. Ridiculous. 

We hung out with the Sydneyers until the wee hours of the morning before saying our goodbyes and promising we'd see them before they left to go back to Sydney the next day. 

The next morning's surf lesson was by far my favorite, despite it being the last. I gave Bronnie my gopro to take videos of us, and the three of us were having an awesome time surfing now that we had the technique down. Bronnie is like a fish; she took my camera out into the bigger surf and recorded herself body surfing on the way back. At the time I turned to Ann Marie and told her that I hoped that Bronnie remembered to click the record button. Looking back at the videos, well, I can't wait for y'all to hear the commentary.

At the end of the session we all said our goodbyes, saddened by the thought that we would probably never see this crazy surf girl ever again. We're sunburnt all over, even our lips, we're bruised, have sandburn and our lips are salted out, but I've never had so much fun in my entire life. If there's one piece of advice I'd take away from Bronnie's surf lessons it would be, "stay calm, no matter the size of the wave. Keep your back straight and let your knees absorb the bumps, and most importantly keep your eyes forward." (I'm getting it, Corey). 

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I think I've done it.

I think I just finished my book.

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Spring Break (Part 4)

Although it is with deep regret that I haven't run off back to Byron Bay, Surfer's Paradise isn't all too bad. This morning Kristin, Ann Marie and I woke up at 8 to go surfing. We caught the bus to Sea World and waited for our surfing instructor to come pick us up. She pulled up in her old red car with a trailer attached that read, "Surf In Paradise." 

"Hey girls!" She said as we climbed into her car. "I'm Bronnie!" She was short, maybe 5'4" with white blond hair, bleached from the sun. She had her snapback on backwards and was halvy-ing a wetsuit. She was, in every aspect, a typical Aussie surf girl. We introduced ourselves as she drove us to The Spit, a local dog beach with great waves for beginner surfers. 

(Kristin is a boss.) 

At the beach, before hitting the waves, Bronnie quickly gave us the basics:

"Knee - no like you're kneeing an a-hole in the balls. There you go! Now, knee, foot, twist, let go! To accelerate lean forward, to break, lean back. Right-o! Let's surf!" 

And so off we went. Surprisingly enough, I got up on my second try. We practiced in the white waves for about 15 minutes before Bronnie beckoned us further.

"So what are you studying in school?" She asked as we waited for another set to come by. 

"I'm a creative writer," I explained.

"That's so cool! I have a friend who writes and she's so fascinating! She always lives up in her head. Hey, what's your star sign?"

"I'm a virgo."

"Ah, I should have known!" I don't know what she meant by that and before I had the chance to ask she told me to jump on my board to catch the next wave. 

Our two hour surf lesson was exhausting but over way too soon. Later that day, after we shopped and showered, we went downstairs to play some drinking games with fellow travelers staying in the hostel. Simon the Sandman was there and we tipped our hats to him because the night before he had warned us about rain, and he had been right. About an hour after our surf lesson a thunderstorm rolled in and then left just as fast as it came. 

I guess I should explain why we called Simon "the Sandman." We met Simon the first night at our new hostel, and he explained that he was from New Zealand, but only goes over there once every 3-5 years. Instead he travels along Australia's beaches building sand sculptures. He just leaves his hat in front of the sculptures and told us that he makes up to $300 per day. Clearly I'm in the wrong field of work. 

We met a few other interesting folk that night: a couple of British guys, German girls, a Norwegian and a handful of travelling Australians, which resulted in a smorgasbord of drinking games. Let's just say that us Americans got quite the drinking education that night. 

The British guys had explained earlier in the night that they were from Sydney University, and half of their friends were staying in a room on the 25th floor of the Chevron Renaissance hotel there in Surfer's. 

"They're having people drinking in the suite before we head out to town," Matt-the-Brit explained. "You should come." 

"Seems a little sketchy," I texted Jess. "But it is spring break sooo...." 

And that's how we found ourselves on the elevator up to the 25th floor with the other German girls and half of the other foreigners from the hostel. We were so high up that our ears popped on the way down later. The view from the 25th floor was absolutely spectacular. It overlooked the coastline of the entire city, the beach in plain sight. You could see the ferris wheel and the famous winding road that curved through the city. 

We were introduced to everyone who was already there before heading out to the local drinking hole, The Beer Garden, for Brazilian night. The Beer Garden is pretty insane. Its a tavern with a club atmosphere, and right at the stroke of midnight the Brazilian band got up on stage to play us some tunes. We all danced until 2:30 in the morning before the tavern spit our laughing asses out onto the bright Surfer's streets. 

We said our goodbyes and our goodnights with a promise of a pool-party barbecue the next day, and us Americans and skeazy hostel-goers made our way back to our simple humble abode where we captured as much sleep as we could before waking up for more surfing.

More to come. X