I'm falling... Below me is an endless river of clouds; all around me sky. The increasing swiftness of my descent is rivaled only by my rapid heartbeat. Though the wind passing my ears screams, I seem unable to produce my own. Twenty four years of making perhaps too much noise, and now in my final moments i'm ironically a mute; soundless. The calls of the cacophony of swirling atmosphere go unheeded. Tragically unheeded....Except...Laughter? Of all the sounds I might produce in these precious seconds, growing evermore so with every breath, why laughter? My pondering of some possible divine punishment and my sudden epiphany occur simultaneously! The laughter is appropriate after all. I am not falling. I'm flying. The open sky that moments before filled me with terror now showered me with unprescedented joy. Rising. Falling. Soaring. Floating. To attempt to describe the effects such an experience has on one's sense of time would be an exercise of complete futility. My jubilation is temporarily paused when my eye catches a white flash to my side... My new home in the sky; it has guests. Or perhaps, I am indeed the guest. My unusual presence is no doubt confusing to my new avian companion. For what seems like an hour (I cannot be sure), it simply stares. My new admirer is indeed a cautious one. Curious, too, for it finally decides to test out my merit at my newfound ability. Barrel rolls, endless loops, and spontaneous games of tag eventually win me the bird's favor. It lets forth a series of reassuring 'tweets' as we soar together through the sky. Me laughing, the bird tweeting. "Tweet, tweet... Tweet, tweet... Tweet, SSSQQQUUUAAAACCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" My eyes are open, and I awake on my first day in Australia. That was nearly two weeks ago. To those curious as to the sound that woke me, I quickly found out that it was a cockatoo. Yes, a cockatoo. Apparently in this bizarro America, cockatoos are a more common, and far more deranged version of the rooster. At approximately 7 am every morning, my dreams would be interrupted by these feathered hellspawn. I will come to learn that this is the first of a long...long list of strange things that seem inhabit this peculiar land.       Wait, I also went to Fiji before this. Let me catch you guys up. Fiji was fun. It rained a lot. And when the rains came, so did the frogs. But in my last, and first post, I already went on about my concerns over these amphibious stalkers. Needless to say, I turned out fine. They mostly minded their own business...mostly...Throughout the week we made some fast friends from australia who were also staying at our resort. Let's see, I'll list the highlights of the trip.          -went to an island village... Talk about a humbling experience. Since most of the villagers hang out the coastline to stay cool, there was a twenty minute period where we were standing on the boat while waiting to get off, and simultaneously being stared at by 90% of this village...it was rather disconcerting. The trip went fine though.  -drank kava, which is a ritualistic Fijian drink that numbs the tongue and makes you lightheaded. Bought a bunch to bring home, so prepare for a kava party upon my return, my friends. -everyone in Fiji is incredibly friendly. It's hard to walk past a stranger without them shouting "BULAAAA!!" which is the Fijian greeting. -Fijians are rather sexist. -drunk women are not subtle wingmen -went snorkeling for the first time in my life. So freaking amazing! I can't wait to make it to the great barrier reef. It took me a while to realize, however, that if your snorkel is completely submerged, you will begin to drown...whodathunkit? - went to a Fijian church ceremony...much more entertaining than a catholic mass Ok, that was Fiji. Back to Australia. We walked around the city more times than I can count. Sydney is beautiful. I'm not quite sure why everyone is driving on the wrong side of the road...I hear Aussies love their booze, so I guess they're all just wasted and driving on the left. But yea, the city. Fountains and parks everywhere. We stayed in an area called King's Cross, which is the red light district. I was tempted to walk into one of the many buildings with signs like "sex! No strings attached" for research purposes, but decided against it. The hostel we stayed in wasn't... HOSTILE!! Hahaha, oh my. The staff were great and helpful. Unfortunately we didn't meet anybody new, but I still have time, especially now that I'm on my own (more on that later).  We did the typical touristy things like seeing the opera house and such. I don't know how to describe accurately how expensive, yet shitty the food is here. A good lunch will cost you around 25 dollars. Glad to hear these rich Aussies have achieved the American dream before us. Oh... Bacon. I think we need to talk about bacon. Now, I want you to picture it. Crispy, large pieces of American bacon. The sizzling sound while it cooks. The intoxicating aroma it fills your lungs with. The taste orgy that graces your pallet with every bite. Now I want you to think of undercooked ham, AKA Australian "bacon". That juxtaposition from hell is something I've been experiencing quite often since my arrival here. I don't really know why, but eating Australian meat (get your minds outta that gutter, friends) has typically made me quite ill. It's like I'm paying an exorbitant amount of money to reenact the Oregon trail video game in which my family and I die miserably from dysentery. Least I got ritz crackers to snack on....sigh, I miss American food. Last Thursday was Australia day, the equivalent to our july fourth, except nobody here really understands how the holiday started in the first place. We started our day at a german restaurant, where the joy of drinking a liter of beer was offset by alexa trying to pawn off her "bacon" to me. "It's bacon, Mike!" "Back up off me, evil ham monger!"... I'm paraphrasing, of course. At night we were all able to grab a table at a restaurant by the harbor, which was incredibly lucky because there must have been twenty thousand people at the harbor to see the fireworks. We got a two liter personal tap of sangria, but since karina wasn't feeling up to it, Alexa and I manned up and drank around 95% of it. The fireworks show was fucking incredible. I've never been so close to fireworks before. The pictures I'm posting soon should help explain my amazement. As I've said earlier, I'm currently alone. A few days ago, the girls decided to book the rest of their Australia trip (about two months). I declined to goto the travel agent with them since I was sick in bed, as usual. The trip they planned was a good deal out of my price range, so here I am. They're currently traveling around Tasmania, which I assume will be like exploring the island in Lost, only inhabited by millions of these darling critters http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Tasdevil_large.jpg I took an overnight bus to Melbourne last night, which took around twelve hours. Fun fact about Australia: it's freaking deserted. The population is a very small fraction of the size of America's, and most of the people seem to live in cities that are many hours apart from one another. There is NOTHING between the cities. We were driving through perpetual darkness for the majority of the bus trip.  Currently staying in a highly rated hostel, though I'm having trouble currently determining why it's so well received. They seem to charge far out the asshole for everything. Still got seven days left here though so I suppose I'll make the most of it. Now to find a job... Cheers, Mike