New Zealand, Letters to Home style

Finally I get around to writing about my New Zeland trip and lo and behold, I'm too tired and bored by the idea of blogging to be spontaneously creative so here is an email I wrote my Mom about the first half of my trip. Don't worry, the email is in more upbeat terms than this sordid introduction:

New Zealand is great and with a great feature on my new camera (only $150 bucks! ) I am compiling some seriously awesome panoramic shots. I'm going to put all of them on Flickr and send out a link at the end of my trip. I'm in Wellington now and am spending one more night here before jumping on the ferry and going down to the south island. My first three days were pretty crazy because my itinerary may as well have been planned by a half retarded monkey, but it got me through the North quickly and that was the goal. I've had no trouble meeting great people at every stop. I got into Auckland my first day at 9 AM and killed time by walking around the wharves, chillin in the public library and eatuing kebabs until my bus left at 8 PM for Rotorua. I got there at twelve, checked in and PASSED out. This was the night of the 12th. I hadn't slept the night of the 11th/morning of the 12th because I had to be at the airport at 4 AM, barely slept on the plane, roamed Auckland like a zombie all day and barely slept on the bus to Rotorua. I rented a bike in Rotorua on my second day and did some mountain biking, though I was hampered a bit by a horrible terrible despicable seat, completely inappropriate attire and a very frustrating sense of direction...to be honest my couran cove expedition was more comfortable. But it was fun. My bus left at 4 PM that day and I was in Taupo by 6. I hung out with my German roomate, drank brewskis and watched Lord Of the Rings, making as many New Zealand quips as I felt the room could bear without turning on me. Day three was in Taupo and I went to a hot springs with German homie and 2 Norwegian girls. We spent the night playing drinking games until 1AM when I picked up all my stuff and stumbled down to my 1:30 AM bus pickup (half retarded monkey). Barely slept on this one but still managed to wrangle a hangover out of the experience. We got into Wellington around 7am, I had breakfast with two guys from Perth and made plans to rent a car together in the south (they've subsequently dissapeared and I have no way to get in touch with the dickheads). Slept on a couch waiting for my check in time, checked in and hit up a museum about Wellington, feeling very Bryson-esque. That night (last night) I went out with my English roomate and two NEW norwegian girls (they're everywhere and apparently love to roam in duos), woke up this morning and had an amazingly authentic Mexican burrito with English homie.



That email was written five days into my trip. 10 days left to go at that point. During that remaining time I bungy jumped from a platform suspended solely by cables in a canyon 134 meters above a river. If 134 meters doesn't sound too impressive, picture free falling for 8 seconds straight. Thats a looooong time in free fall seconds. Video of this madness can be seen here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWb-YjSTY9U

I climbed a glacier, caught a two day ride with two Dutch girls, slept in my own car two nights in a row, and celebrated Saint Patty's day with Guiness in hand in lame Christchurch surrounded by bellowing Irish. I took more beautiful pictures than I know what to do with. These can all be seen at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/44456612@N03/sets/72157623536320961/

Parrots tried eating my car at one point. I ran into the Perth guys again and made more unsuccessful plans. I slept at the airport. I got back to Melbourne.

Part of me feels guilty about writing a brief post about such an amazing trip but really all you need to do is click on the link above. Pictures are worth a thousand words. Panorama pictures are worth...man.

On and ending note, as I write this I'm sitting in a house to myself, woodfire burning with glass of fine wine in hand, watching over 80 acres of Eucalyptus forest and 3 bed and breakfast cottages fully booked for the next five days, with enough farm projects to keep the entire crew of Grapes of Wrath occupied for a month. I have the indescriminate use of an awesome thing called a moke that resembles a miniature, open air jeep made in the 1960's, stick shift of course. All to myself. I work a few hours a day for food and accomodation and earn in wages whatever I work after that. My next blog post will deal with how I arrived at this fortuitous juncture. But I'll probably take another 3 months to write about that...

Ode to the Amora Porters

I once promised to write a post dedicated to the Amora Hotel Porters. The time has come for me to make good on that promise.

As many of you know, I worked as a porter for four months in Sydney. I am currently in New Zealand, backpacking like a madman and trying to work on my Jesus look (AKA razors and haircutters have not been in my bathroom repetoire for quite some time) while I scour the countryside for glimpses of hobbits, Peter Jacksons and opportunities for absurdly beautiful panorama shots. More of this in future posts.


But back to the Amora porters.


This is Masa.

Before...

and After...

Masa came over from Japan on a student visa 7 years ago after deciding he didn't really like being part of a gang anymore. No joke. I think this realization came somewhere in between beating a guy up whose car he hit and his 37th street brawl. Needless to say he's an excellent wingman when a taxi driver gets particularly unruly. Or when our local Japanese street gang roles up and tries to demand a "protection" fee from our receptionists...Masa's speech mannerisms can only be described as a mix between Marlon Brando's Godfather and Hatori Hanso from Kill Bill and his post-Japan image makeover is of such outstanding magnitude that I suspect he could have qualified for his own lucrative reality TV deal had he landed in LA instead of Sydney.



This is Daniel Faust.




Dan must have been very tan when this was taken, but it has to be him because this was one of his profile photos...As you can see, Dan is kind of like Arnold Scharzeneggar. That is, only if Arnold was Australian, 5' 10", and looked nothing like Arnold Scharzeneggar (or Ronnie Coleman for that matter), than Dan would be like him. What I'm trying to say is Dan likes to go to the gym. And lift weights. Three years ago he was smaller than me and decided he didn't really want to be smaller than me anymore and now he weighs about 35 pounds more than me. He's got an easy laugh and a carefree demeanor. Dan could care less about his job at Amora and still happens to be quite good at it. I would estimate his advice earned me about 15% of my tips. Good on ya, Dan.


This is Nirakar (pronounced Near-a-car).





Nirakar is from Nepal and is cursed with one of the most appropriate first names I have ever come across. Early on in his Amora career Nirakar crashed (scratched) five cars. Surprisingly, management decided to ban him from parking cars. He is now cursed with with the catchphrase "Don't let him near-a-car!" (Drum hit please). Nirakar's eyes go wide at the mention of beer and droop back down to about the half way mark after the consumption of a few. His default porter stance reminds me of how a gangster might stand in a back alley with the knowledge that at any moment there might be a drive by shooting but the comparisons stop with posture; Nirakar is the aggest guy.


This is Will Riley.





Will Riley is what would happen if Dane Cook's approximate sense of humor woke up one day with a hangover and fostered a child with a jolly Australian Woody Harrelson. Anyone? Needless to say Will is a character and a mainstay in the Amora Hotel biosphere. No opportunity for a wisecrack is ever missed and he pretty much operates outside of any sort of hierarchy Amora management attempts to establish. This makes him a hilarious co-worker and a solid drinking buddy. It doesn't hurt that he refuses to share rounds, opting to just buy all the beer, all night, himself. On the few occasions I had the honor to meet Will out on the town he singlehandedly bankrupted Star City Casino, charmed the socks off a number of my female friends and explained to me the ins and outs (and loopholes) of Google's AdWords program at a level even Google's engineers might go blank at. Chance.


This is Sebastian Ricardo Camus Alvarez Conception Hurtado De La Puente*

*His real name is actually Sebastian Ricardo Camus De la Puente

Sebastian has, and uses, so many different names that his 5' 5" frame is pretty much squashed by the weight of them all. He is Chilean and I have a sneaking suspicion he is using his apparently endless surnames to either confuse the taxation department or line up back to back visas, each under a new set of names. His name tag says Sebastian and thats how he introduces himself, but three weeks before I left Amora I asked the concierge, after looking at the roster for the 6th time that day, who the hell this "Ricardo Camus" was and why he was on so many of my shifts without me having met him. Duh. Of course I should have assumed Sebastian was actually Ricardo Camus. On the other hand, its not really apparent to me why it took me over three months to ask this question. Sebastian is a world traveler, an amatuer Tarzan imitator, master Blogger and supposedly an entreprenuer with big plans for when he returns to Chile. I never could get him to tell me exactly what those plans are though, so I expect they either involve international sex trafficking or he's really worried that I'll decide to set up shop in Chile with his ideas before he does. I'm not sure which is more plausible.

This is Riaaz Variawa. He was my boss and is from South Africa and as such he tends to annunciate hard consonants at the end of words with an emphasis only rivalled by the extent to which he rolls his R's. If he doesn't like a CD that he's listening to in his car he throws it out the window. Literally. When he told me this the first thing that came to mind was "what was the shortest time a cd has ever lasted, and of course, who was it" but somehow I never got around to asking this question. His best quality as a boss was his ability to lose all boss like qualities after three and a half sips of a beer. That said, it shouldn't be surpirsing that, despite his 220 pound frame, I drank him under the table on more than one occasion. He'll probably comment on this post below now and regardless of what his retort may be, he knows the truth.

If I had six words to describe Jai Donaldson they would be "when i lived on hamilton island". These six words for Jai replaced the average person's "oh, thats funny, I had a similar experience" or "that reminds me of the time" or "oh yeah? I can do one better" phrases when introducing a story. It seemed like whenever someone told their own story, whether it was funny, tragic, about the weekend, about a dream, or about the time in Bali when they woke up in a ditch without their shoes or wallet, Jai had his own correspending and vastly superior version of the same story starting with "When I lived on hamilton island...". It normally contained more nefarious activities than the entire series of "The Sopranos" and ended with Jai roundhouse kicking both Chuck Norris and Jack Bauer simultaneously. Still, despite the consistent absurdity of so many of his stories, I never actually believed he was lying, which either makes me an idiot or Jai one of the most outrageous people alive.

Unfortunately, my ode must stop here due to time constraints. There were many other admirable and interesting people I worked with at Amora and I apologize I don't have time to pay homage. You can work your way into my blog when we meet again further down the road!

[12.7.2009] A day in the life...

Since my last post, life hasn't changed: Still working at the hotel, still living in the same apartment. I'm afraid the epic On-the-Road-esque manuscripts will have to wait until I start traveling again...

However, life is still very interesting! While standing at the front of Amora Hotel absentmindedly opening doors for guests, (and in between brainstorming the book I've decided to write and pondering the way my dress shoe heels have worn down) I decided the best way to convey this sentiment, and provide a snapshot of my current life would be through a breakdown of one of my typical days, narrated in the first person so as to annoy you and make everything seem really interesting:

WEDNESDAY

Today I start work at 10:30 am. I get up in time to make breakfast (homemade McGriddle), write down the nights dreams (A conversation in a car about District 9 that hinged on why Alien power sources are now integral in the real worlds power grid...huh?) and take a 20 minute shower during which I light a candle instead of using our terrible fluorescent lights.

My walk to work is still beautiful. I listen to music, don sunglasses and ponder. The view of the Sydney skyline almost always makes me think about how incredible it is that I'm here.

My walk to work, taken at night. Courtesy of Conni Inc.

Showing up to work involves greeting every Porter and Concierge with a solid handshake. I like this tradition. Wednesday's aren't too crazy, but seeing as check out time is 11, the lobby is pretty busy. I take a post at the door but within seconds am given keys to bring up a car from the parking garage. I drive past Pedro the Chilean parking attendant who hands me his latest caricature making fun of the front office staff. Today he chose the balding guy. When I pull up to the front door, the Australian getting into the car says "Good on you mate" four times as I load his luggage, give him his keys and wish him safe travels. He doesn't tip because he drives a Holden; the stereotypical Australian car. I hate Australian Holden drivers.

Waiting by the door again, Paul Seamen, the Assistant Managing Director, comes up to me and greets me. He asks how my day was. He asks if I own a razor. I wind up in the employee bathroom 5 minutes later with a shitty hotel shaving kit and 6 cuts on my neck.

At 12:30 I take lunch break and get ORIGINAL Japanese ramen noodles. It reminds me of Vietnamese pho but may be even better. The Sydney Morning Herald tells me about a guy planning on swimming from Japan to Santa Monica and that his plotted course is through an immense island of garbage that has formed in the middle of the Pacific. This blows my mind: 1) This guys nuts and 2) I have no idea how I have never heard about this man made monstrosity before.

After lunch I take welcome notes up to recently prepped rooms. I start from the highest floors. the first couple rooms I sit on the windowsill and look out over the city at this:

I waste just enough time not to get caught. The rest of the afternoon is spent bringing luggage up to people's rooms and parking cars. Unfortunately I didn't get to park this one:

(This bad boy pulled into our driveway the other day. Too bad you can't really see the

seat on the other side. This thing single handedly inspired me

into a "I'm-going-to-motorbike-across-Australia-in-one-of-these" phase until

I found out the cost over ten grand. Damn. "Motorcycle Diaries" would have

had nothing on me)

By 5 o'clock I've made $18 in tips. My daily goal is $20. I'm off at 7. Work is slow at this time and I chat with the other porters. Sebastian likes doing Tarzan whoops when he thinks no one can hear him and Masa enjoys throwing peanuts into the driveway in what I believe is a sign of contempt towards his employer.

At six thirty a woman comes down looking lost. The concierge is nowhere to be found. I ask her if I can help her. She's German and wants a restaurant recommendation. I've studied up on this so I give one to her. She gives me $10. I go home at 7 pm with $28 in tips; the life of a hustler.

Dinner is shrimp, which I bought from the fish market across the street from my apartment, mixed with pasta. (Shrimp are called prawns here and every time I hear the word I think of Vickus Vandermever from District 9 and get slightly grossed out). Post dinner I go out with my flatmates, drink Australian beer (not Fosters, they don't even have that here: "Fosters, Australian for ridiculously false US marketing campaigns") cheer when Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA" comes on and dance to some solid electronica. We indulge in kebabs for $5 on our walk home, watch Andy Samberg music videos in our living room and eat ice cream from a 6 liter tub. I wrap up the night by drifting off to the sweet sound of Vince on the floor mattress muttering odd cliches in his sleep.

THE END

.....................................................................................................................................................................

So that's one day in the life! Here are some other things I could have added:

I've recently purchased an awesome orange knife and a folding spoon/fork set to support myself once I begin my travels. I am very fond of these two items. Arj Barker from "Flight of the Concords" tipped me the other day. He's the one always wearing the bandanna. See below:

I'm going to see Muse in January... and hopefully Avatar in 3D very soon. We've discovered a great park by the water with free barbecues and great views. Checkitout:

You can just make out the Harbor Bridge in the background...

For thanksgiving Vince and I invited over about 12 people and cooked for all. Quite the feat considering neither of us has ever cooked more than two dishes at one time. We pulled out all the stops...plus we played our first BEER PONG games in the Southern Hemisphere:

I was once again invited to attend a function hosted by one of the tour companies we do business with. (These things are turning into a real job perk!) Free everything, plus a cool choice of bar:

And that really is it. Holiday love to all!

[11.9.2009] Underground (literally) Advertising

Back to back posts here, mostly because I felt this one should be its own post. This one was a long time coming...

Since I arrived in Australia I have been intrigued by Australian advertising. It shares many themes with US advertising of late; it is often laden with absurd references, informal, or simple. Cleveress is a given. So is sex. I haven't quite placed how it differs from US advertising but there is a general joviality and/or lightheartedness in Australian advertising, particularly TV adds, that seems unfamiliar.

Sitting in the subway waiting for a train one day and staring at an enormous print ad plastered on the wall on the other side of the tracks, I was struck by inspiration. Since that day I have photographed every similar ad in every train station I have been to, minus some purely information adds. To give you an idea of the setup down there:

Somebody is spending ad dollars wisely. Captive audience? I think so.

So, myself being the most captivated audience member in the crowd, I present to you a collection of all ads containing some sort of creative spark from the Martin Place, Town Hall, Central and Kings Cross Train Stations. There are a few major ad campaigns represented, so I'll keep those together. Some are very clever if you look closely. Its a pity the small writing on the bottles of the Vitamin Water ads isn't legible because it is ridiculous.

You can view the ads/photos on my Flickr account here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/44456612@N03/sets/

Click on a picture to see the rest included in its category or campaign. Enjoy! My personal favorite is the Waldo one...

[11.8.2009] The Game Change

Ladies and gentlemen, since my last post the game has changed!

I now:

1) Work in a hotel as a valet/porter

2) Have a nice apartment in a beautiful part of the city

Thats it. Not a long list, but anyone who has washed dishes during lunchtime at a restaraunt or lived in hostels for longer than a week will be able to appreciate how much better my life is because of these two simple changes.

Not to say that hostels don't have their value, or that dishwashing isn't...actually dishwashing is simply the worst and I cannot validate it at all. But hostel life was fun. I met tons of people, drank enough goon (remember: boxed wine) to justify starting my own vineyard and had "the backpacker experience". And of course, once I start to travel starting around March, back to the hostels it will be. However, for the time being I am happy to sleep in the privacy of my own 1/2 of a room, lounge in the comfort of reasonably plush couches and cook with the utility of my own kitchen. Rent is cheap, there is a swimming pool, hot tub, gym and bbq all within the complex. We can all overlook the fact that sometimes I have to jump the back fence and pick the back lock to get in because we don't have keys for all of us (five guys) because technically there are only supposed to be 3 of us. Minor details.

Eloir is Brazilian and delivers cafe food from 1am to 9 am so he's kind of a mystical figure in our apartment. He also brings home what doesn't get delivered. Life is good. Dougie is Scottish and just bought the shortest surfboard any of use have ever seen. He himself is fairly tall and makes "toasties" for anyone who enters the apartment. Chris is English, enjoys all things "sport" and laughs alot. Vince found consistent work with a company that sets up conventions. We all work very strange schedules and it is rare that we are all in the apartment at the same time.

I am quite content as a valet/porter for now. The hotel is called Amora and its in downtown. Five star, part of a hotel group spanning Australia, New Zealand and Thailand. Most hotels like that have separate positions for porters, doorman and valets: I think they're skimping at Amora so they lumped all those positions into one: mine. I spend my days parking and retrieving cars, running envelopes, bags, gifts, cards and newspapers up to and down from rooms. I tag, store, lift, pull, lose, find, damage and cart more luggage than I care to think about. When not doing any of these things, I open the front doors for guests and say one of the following phrases to the them:

1) Welcome

2) Welcome to Amora

3) Good Morning (Usually shortened to "Morning")

4) Good Afternoon (" " " "Afternoon")

5) Good Night (" " " "Night")

6) G'day

7) Welcome back

8) How was your day?

9) Hello

10) Take care

Sometimes I throw curveballs. You'll have to imagine the contexts:

1) Too much skipping eh?

2) How did the child abuse lecture go?

3) Don't worry, this is what I get paid for

4) I need to learn how to do a real porter whistle.

5) Humiganishsmhhhh

# 5 is when I stutter like I occasionally do and whatever comes out isn't really English. I'm also thinking about adding "Cheers" to my repertoire. I courteously nod my head every 7.8 seconds.

In short, as I have hoped to convey humourously, the job is simple yet expansive and active. These two things combine for low stress and quick, lively days. I talk to people alot. I've driven some awesome cars. Tally up the tips and decent wage and toss in a gorgeous 20 minute walking commute each way and you can see how I am a happy camper. If I save at the rate I have been I'll have enough money for amazing adventures in my last few months here. Below is a pic I took from a bridge over Darling Harbour, which is my route to work.

The Amora Hotel:

The Uniform:

The Apartment:

[10.17.2009] Forget PLACES...PEOPLE are far more interesting

Now tired of my "Places of Note" section (a touristy endeavor anyways) I have decided to create a one time list of "People of Note". The following are all real people, real sightings and humorous but hardly hyperbolic descriptions. Some may be uniquely australian, some may not. They are all awesome. Shall we?

1) Gandalf from Lord of the Rings: He had the eyebrows, the long white hair and beard and generally Ian McClellan features. I saw this man sitting in a Mcdonalds at 4 am, sporting semi Wizardly attire with a decidedly hobo-esque tinge actually stealing fries from the tray of a very irate 20 something. Accio fry.

2) Sudoku Bum: This homeless guy was making some serious headway on a Sudoku at 10pm on a Friday night. Impressive.

3) Rugby Bankers: I was walking downtown last week around 5 pm and passed a group of about 10 tall investment banker types in suites, ages from maybe 29-55. Typical scene. Except they were throwing punting and chasing a rugby ball like 9 year olds. Did Obama ever consider that rugby may have been the source of the financial crisis?

4) Liev Schrieber from "Taking Woodstock": This guy/gal was wearing the same pink dress, had the same long blondish hair and the same 265 pound frame. His/her calves belonged on Brock Lesnar, not tapering into high heels. If you don't get the references a quick google search should tell you more than you need to know.

5) Brandon Murry: I swear to god he's here. I saw him, I know it.

6) Disco Drunk Irishmen: Holding a box, yes box, of wine above one's head with one hand while adopting this pose...

...and dancing is the best way to drink anything, period.

As you can see, the neighborhood I have been staying in the last week (Kings Cross) has some very interesting characters. Don't worry, I know how to handle myself; I lived in Compton for four years.

Newsflash for the last week: I've spent too much money and earned a surprising amount of money. I discussed the global appeal of American pop culture while drinking wine with a Dane and a Frenchman. I got my first French lesson from a Belgian. I "rendered" (plastered) a house with one "builder" (construction foreman), cut gyprock (dry wall) with another, interviewed at the Amora Hotel in downtown for porter position (hey, I currently wash dishes. No position is too menial) and discovered that Australian contemporary art can be just as silly as its American equivalent. I've walked more this week than any other week in my life, including the week I walked the Revlon Run/Walk with Orly, unearthed a dormant childhood passion for trains and managed to irrevocably stain all but one of my white items of clothing. This is Vince's fault because he dropped a glass of red wine inside my suitcase. I suppose this is better than the girl next door who woke up at 6 am to find her Norwegian roomate (a guy) peeing in hers. Suitcase, that is. A song comes to mind here...

"I love you more

than I did the week before

I discovered alcohol

Would you please ignore

that you found me on the floor

Trying on your camisole?

O alcohol, would you please forgive me?

For while I cannot love myself

I'll use something else"

Have I mentioned that beer here is almost twice as expensive here, purchasing power parity taken into account? In a reaction to this sad sad fact, Vince and I have taken to buying only boxed wine and "Coles" brand "$mart buy" food products to conserve money. They are dirt cheap. I think Coles cut most of their costs by creating the simplest product packaging theme known to man..

...vibrant stuff right?

I have also discovered that frattiness exists worldwide. Here is the proof...

And finally, a whole bunch of pictures:

[10.11.2009] English Second Language Text Messaging aka "ESL SMS", Paintings and Adapt or Die

Inspired by conversation with Vince I would like to dedicate the beginning of this blog post to the string of ridiculoustext messages I have been getting from newly acquired foreign friends. So, here are a few of them, original formatting and spelling intact (ranked in order of ascending "ridiculousity"):

8) "But hey that was cool. I guess I just act like the bum I am and sleep on a bench in the park"

-Matt Pierre, Swede

7) "Hey you what are you up to today , something cool ?"

-Matt Pierre, Swede

6) "Ey man! Tomorrow its gonna be a awsome party at your hostel! Becouse a little bird told me that is your birthday! :-) see ya! / Jocke"

-Joakim, Swede

5) "Hey no worries Scott ;-)! We will come,but later than 8!Maybe around 9:30.Is it o

k?How long do you will stay at the hostel before going out tonight?"

-Kristin, German

4) Where do you gonna go tonight? Gaff, our a other club? I think we come to you now butt we dont know where your hostel is answear quickly!"

-Joakim, Swede

3) "When do you need me?"

-Matt Pierre, Swede

2) Ey gays, whats happen? I think we gonna go to "the gaff tonight! And I hope you gays come n join ous there! Before 10 pm have they 2 free drinks, free entryes and alot of swedish girls. "i think" ;-)see you about one houer! Ok!"

-Joakim, Swede

1) "of course i will take your jacket. What does it look like i love you. From yes and j"

-Joakim, Swede

Some seriously funny stuff. For example, in 2) I'm pretty sure my friend meant to write "guys" both times, which only makes it funnier. As far as I know all my friends here are straight; for starters, my swedish friends jump at opportunity to discuss their beautiful swedish wo

men. Still, if you reference 1), the aformentioned misspelling in 2) could be construed as wishful thinking...

When not being showered with Swedish bro love, I have made an effort to check out Sydney a little more. Yesterday I walked around part of the harbor, ran into an Australian Naval base, pondered waterside, and stumbled across the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Here I saw some beautiful Australian landscape paintings dating from the mid to late 19th century. My

personal favorite was "The Flood of

Darling 1890" by WC Piguenit (on right). The attention to detail requisite in this kind of painting is almost unfathomable.

Today Vince and I checked out the Sydney Museum and throughly enjoyed the "Adapt or Die" exhibit examining some of the absurd extinct creatures that once inhabited this place. Some of these things you just look at and go "Are you f****ing kidding me? That actually existed?!!".

Seriously. Some of the old mammals from this

continent put the Wooly Mammoth lineage to shame. My personal favorite was a gigantic steroidal wombat called

a Dyprotodon, classified as one of Austrlalia's Mega Fauna but which actually originated on the planet Hoth. (Gray thing to the right). Apparrently they weighed over 4000 pounds and carried their young in a sack under they're stomach. There was a cat like thing with bulging linebacker forearms and an D-line stance. (Orange thing below) And don't even get me started on the Demon Duck of Doom (actual name, on the brochures and everything, see bottom).

And of course, today is my

22nd birthday! Hello adulthood, my name is Scott. Whoa.