King me - Nico and gang do the not-so-red center

After dropping off and having a couple fun nights out with Kevin, Cameron and Sarah in surprisingly modern Darwin, it was time to head south.  Accompanying me for round three were Andrea, a Canadian friend from Perth, as well as Ida and Elina, Finnish best friends.  Remember that skepticism I had from the start about traveling with three girls?  Entirely unwarranted.  Heaps of fun.

We stopped first at the waterfalls of Litchfield NP, taking a final refreshing dip in the plunge pools in preparation for the desert to come.  A day's driving then got us to the historic Daly Waters pub, home of the most isolated red light in the world.  This was Outback Australia; the cowboy providing entertainment ended with a poem that praised American pride after September 11 and imploring the crowd (some 50 years older than us on average) to take some of that pride in Australia and bring it to glory.  Hopeful Asian immigrants didn't seem to fit in to his vision.

Next we passed through the aptly named Devil's Marbles before hitting Alice Springs, 'The Alice', for some car repairs and Ida's birthday.  One problem though, "Why is the red center so green?"  We had assumed until then that we just weren't in the right part yet, but if the capital of the red center wasn't red, what would be?  Should probably be called the pale green center after the ubiquitous spinifex grass taking over nearly every square inch left bare by the small trees and shrubbery.

Then west into the majestic Macdonnell Ranges, culminating with a sweet hike up and around King's Canyon, site of a famous scene from the cult classic "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert".  I saw the movie at Tim's house the night before leaving on the roadtrip, and I assure you that witnessing the actor made famous by uber-serious roles of Agent Smith and Elrond dancing to Mama Mia in a blue sequined dress is a wonder to behold.

And finally Uluru.  Towering over us.  Over me.  Sitting alone with it, I began to understand the special reverence it inspires in the hearts of its native owners.  Like most other visitors, we complied with their request to not climb the rock.  Instead, we learned about the mala (wallaby) men who first climbed up in an ancient ceremony, the bark carved out of a tree to form simple but powerful spear throwers, and an actual blind mouse (marsupial) that lives underground and carries its pouch on its back.  After, we hopped over to the Olgas, standing tall in the shadow of Uluru. Against the backdrop of the mountains, we saw a kestrel dive from the heights to catch its dinner in flight - the beauty and harshness of the Outback in motion.

A thousand bungled suns - Nico and gang do the Bungle Bungles and Kakadu

"I think we're missing sunset." "It's gonna be an awesome twilight view though." "Yeah." We park. "Alright, only a few people leaving." We walk in. "Ummmm, looks like everyone's leaving." "Suckers. They're gonna miss the sweet twilight." People look at us with pity. We reach the base of the lookout.
A couple fellow backpackers warn us, "The rangers are turning people away, but if you're quick you might get a look."

We're not quick enough; sunset at Ubirr is denied to us. We retreat to the campsite behind the famous aboriginal art site and are immediately attacked by a million mozzies.

This comes as no real surprise, though; sunset just isn't our time. Our first flat tire? Sunset. Our second flat tire? Sunset.

Sunrise isn't much better. We try for one at the Bungle Bungles. Cameron and Sarah don't make it out of the tent; Kevin and I snooze the first alarm. At the second we leap from our tents and are driving within a minute. We can't find the campsite exit and probably wake a dozen families. Finally, we race off. We park and sprint up the hill, gasping for air, certain that we'll miss it. 45 minutes after we reach the top, the sun rises over the rocks. It's nice, especially when Kevin descends and pulls out his guitar, but one thing is obvious: it would have been nicer at sunset.

The days, however are great. Black, white, and orange striped Bungles are spectacular, and Echidna Chasm is impossibly tall and narrow. The drive through Gregory NP has to be one of my favorites, and the aboriginal culture on display in Kakadu is nothing short of fascinating. And, last but certainly not least, the 6 meter massive jumping crocs of the Adelaide River just take my breath away.

From Croc jumping

Nothing but awe for those ancient killing machines.

Check back soon for King me - Nico and gang do the not-so-red center.

White men can jump - Nico and gang do the Gibb River Road

"Let's jump!" "It's definitely deep enough." "Is it deep enough to jump!?" The people swimming below shook their heads. Sharing an amused look with Sarah at the childlike excitement, so did I. We knew that our French and British travelmates, Kevin and Cameron, were a little crazy, but jumping 30+ meters into Bell Gorge was taking it to a whole new level. Half an hour later they leapt. "How was it?" "Amazing. But my bum hurts."

From Broome to Darwin 2

An portly elderly man approaches us. "Good jump?" "Not bad." "I might give it a go." We all laugh at the joke. Ten minutes later we watch in awe as he plummets, framed gloriously by the waterfall. We cheer. The old people cheer louder. "Good on ya!" We have a new hero.

Now with no excuse, I join the boys for a smaller albeit slipperier jump the next day at Manning Gorge. My bum hurts a little bit too.

Check back soon for A thousand bungled suns - Nico and gang do the Bungle Bungles and Kakadu.

Editors note: Some may have misunderstood my earlier post about the photos. My mates never said that they weren't sharing their pictures to punish me; it seemed to be more a matter of selfishness than of malice.  The first one to say it was on great terms with me and deeply apologetic; he just couldn't let go of his 'babies'.  As far as I know, they didn't share with each other either.

Four wheel domination - Nico and gang do the Kimberley

"Are you sure that this is the road?" "Nope" "Are you sure that this is a road?" "Kinda looks like a car's been here before." "You see the 5 foot ditch, right?" "Yep" Cameron wakes up. "Why are we chasing cows?" "Trying to get to a gorge." "Oh" Ten minutes later: "Maybe this is just a path for cows." Five more minutes. "Might be time to turn around."

Thus ended our short-lived attempt to reach Adcock Gorge, one of the many dicey turnoffs off Australia's most famous 4wd track, the Kimberley's Gibb River Road. We didn't care though; creating our own road over jutting rocks and tenuous ditch crossings was just as fun. Four wheel domination.

From Broome to Darwin 2

Going off-road has without a doubt been one of the highlights of the trip, especially from the driver's seat. There's just no feeling like climbing up and down sand dunes until you pull up the last one and face nothing between you and the ocean. Or diving headlong into rivers that you pray aren't too deep and feeling a moment of panic as the headlights go beneath the water before breathing a collective sigh of relief as you inch up the opposite bank. Or pitching to the left and right as you clamber over boulders as big as wallabies (or an actual wallaby in Kevin's case) and landing with a thud back onto Earth. Or taking any possible road to the beach to seek shelter in the dunes from the wind and the roving eyes of rangers, finding a private spot miles away from any other sentient minds. And, of course, visiting the beautiful spots many backpackers are forced to skip, not just the Gibb River Road but also Francois Peron, Red Bluff and Gnaraloo, the back road to Cape Range, Karijini, and most recently the World Heritage listed Bungle Bungles and Kakadu.

There are some downsides though. In the past week I've gone from never having changed a flat tyre in my life to changing two. Some days we'd open the trunk and discover that everything was covered in dust. Other times we'd stumble out of the car reeling with headaches from severely corrugated roads. Once we hit a bump so hard that the car suddenly died. A few minutes of panic ensued until we determined with the help of two friends we'd met the week before, who just happened to be driving by, that one power cable had simply come loose. And dealing with the air pressure in the tyres, though quite manly, can be dangerous guesswork and a pain to constantly adjust.

But I love it. We all do. And so does King Dave - it's what he was born to do. Half the time it feels like we're in a commercial for Jeep; I'll load up some of those videos up when I get a chance.

Check back soon for White men can jump - Nico and gang do the Gibb River Road.

A bang and a whimper - Nico and gang do Broome

Some trips end with a bang, others with a whimper. This one had both.

After sleeping near some massive termite nests on the way out of Exmouth, we made our way to Karijini's stunning gorges where emerging differences in schedules and travel styles led to some frayed emotions. I tried to be fair and reasonable, but underlying frustrations and, though it was never said aloud, I think different understandings of proper respect as well, drove wedges into our fun as deep as the gorges we clambered through. Patches were attempted as we left the park but a cool undercurrent persisted on the long drive to Broome via 80 mile beach.

First came the bang. Our most interesting night of the trip materialized from thin air when we bravely followed the sounds of reggae music on an empty street to crash an aboriginal/islander holiday party. Somewhat fearful at first, our initial hesitation was put to rest as we were greeted with open arms, genuine good cheer, some funky dancing, and delicious food and drinks (though the turtle and dugong cooking in the traditional manner beneath the soil were for family consumption only). Even that, though, wasn't enough to save us; we agreed the next day that the two who had been planning on staying with me would remain in Broome as I continued on. We hoped that it would enable us to end on a positive note.

I walk to a nearby hostel, hoping to put a sign up advertising my new lift offer; I now have three spots to fill and still hope to leave tomorrow. There's someone already standing there. "Looking for a lift to Darwin?" I ask hopefully; "You're kidding me" comes the reply. "Nope." "You have room for my friend?" "Hell yah."

Within half an hour my new team was assembled. I was on a high.

The whimper came that night, the last we were to spend together. One by one, my friends told me that they didn't want to share their pictures with me as we'd originally agreed and repeated throughout the journey. Those were the pictures I had been planning to share with you; my own camera had been broken from the start. I'm sorry to say that now I have none to display. Though sorely disappointed, I hope that the incident doesn't continue to cloud all my good memories of our adventure.

Check back soon for Four wheel domination - Nico and gang do the Kimberley.

Happy little whalesharks - Nico and gang do Ningaloo Reef

"Happy little whalesharks" sang the girls in their highest voices; "Happy little whalesharks" followed the guys in their deepest. It was a wacky end to an awesome day of snorkeling with those majestic fish that are anything but little; the biggest fish in the sea, whalesharks are thought to grow up to 18 meters long. Even the juveniles we swam with - which, being inquisitive, truth to bump us with their enormous heads to figure out what we were - were 3 meters long. Awesome.

The whaleshark expedition was the finale of a weeklong snorkel-fest up the Ningaloo reef (named a world heritage site the day of our whalesharking) that also featured six huge sea turtles (one I kept up with for at nearly 10 minutes), a reef shark, and world-class coral. And twice when I seriously feared for my life: the first after swimming past two sets of breaking waves in Lefroy Bay to see what was on the other side (toes were bleeding after fighting my way back through those) and the second while bring caught in the menacing currents of innocent-sounding Turquoise Bay. The only thing that kept me from panicking was the sight of a man watching me from the shore, a stone's throw from the life preserver placed there for situations like mine. When I finally crawled, gasping, onto the beach, he said, "I didn't think that you were going to make it." When he showed me where I'd fought from, I understood why.

Though we've never resorted to the French Market ("When you steal from a supermarket," told us a French girl in Carnarvon who's brother had just been caught. "Every French person does it"), we have become quite creative getting our supplies at times. Best was at Red Bluff, when, after enjoying the stunning sunset, we ran out of gas mid-dinner and traded cupcakes for a can of butane and collected firewood (comically and illegally) in exchange for some special pizza from a group of surfers. And after camping for free on beaches all up the coast, we (despite my protests) camped one night in a park in town, were caught by the police who luckily didn't fine us, and ended up in a limestone quarry instead.

Check back soon for A bang and a whimper - Nico and gang do Broome

Did somebody order a krabby patty? - Nico and gang do Monkey Mia

Our next destination was Monkey Mia, made famous by a few families of wild dolphins that gamely head to the shore nearly every morning to interact with the locals. As usual, the journey proved more than we bargained for.
After a brief stop to see millenia-old stromatolites, which are about as exciting as their name suggests, we got some bait and took one of our trip's many unmarked off-road dirt paths; this one, uniquely, led to a beach comprised entirely of little white shells. Armed with my fishing rod and some thawing squid, Chuck and I head off into the water, into the sunset, in search of dinner. We figured we'd get thigh deep before casting the line. So we walked. And walked. 200 meters out we hit what looked to be a sand bar but was also just shells. Kept on walking; the only thing that got deeper were our feet, which sank well into the mud with every step. After a luckless hour of casts, we returned to find that the girls had prepared tea and cookies for us - we were already falling into gender stereotypes. This only got clearer later when the guys built a fire after breaking some of the biggest branches by driving over them with the 4wd. Beast.

In Francois Peron National Park, we caught some beautiful fish and spotted rays, sharks,dolphins, and turtles from a sweet lookout. It was going pretty smoothly (besides a hasty retreat from the water after a shark sighting at our beach and backing up King Dave into the camping table which somehow managed to survive - "cruuuunch" "Is that the table?") until we decided to take the shovel out the second evening to hunt for crabs. Miraculously, we found a huge one in its hole on the second try. Shocked, Chuck asked, "What do we do now?" "Hit it with the shovel!" I replied in line with our plan from the start. Whack. Crab down. Suddenly, Leila shouts, "What are we going to do with it now!?" Before I have time to respond with the obvious, "We eat it," Chuck lifts the crab up with the shovel, chucking it as far as he can into the ocean. Once we stopped laughing, I asked, "What'd you do that for?" "I don't know, I just panicked."

We never caught another crab.

Check back soon for Happy little whalesharks - Nico and gang do the Ningaloo Reef.

And special shout-out to our latest hero, Grant, an auto-electrician who rescued us on a Saturday afternoon when everything was closed to fix not just our brake lights but half a dozen other issues as well. And a couple more things Monday morning. And he did them well, providing good company and welcome advice to boot. When we tried to pay, he accepted only a token amount - "I know what it's like to be on the road". If you're ever in Broome and want to rent a car, you're in good hands with Grant. Cheers mate.

Camping on the beach - Nico and gang do Kalbarri

After a three day test run down south with Chuck and Maya to surfing and wine mecca Margaret river that featured some friendly Taiwanese who'd just bought a broken car, getting shown up in the waves by a 14 year old girl surfing champion, climbing a 75 meter tree with a wicked view, snorkeling for stingrays, and an overly friendly possum at our campsite, the full group assembled in Perth for our full departure (once I'd finished up my final project at UWA and had a surprise goodbye party courtesy of Tim).

Our first destination was Kalbarri national park, a small corner of the coast cut with beautiful gorges and clouded only by the bad weather we had when passing through.  Though the park was nice and our impromptu ballroom and salsa dance party at a hostel outside the park (with a middle-aged Australian man and a Dutch girl) was certainly entertaining, what should have been a simple day and a half drive to Kalbarri ended up being most memorable as an introduction in dramatic fashion to what were to become two of the strongest recurring themes of our trip - getting help from very friendly Australians and doing stupid things.  Though the help has come from Aussies of all shapes and forms, like the  young recently divorced tyre mechanic in Geraldton who directed us to free camping on the beach in the one spot that the rangers don't check - "I've used it quite a few times in the last couple months" - and the disembodied voice that called out to us with an offer of a covered clothesline as we hung our wet clothes on a tree in a caravan park (we found where it came from on the third try), most of it has been from elderly folks with big hearts and accumulated wisdom from several trips around the country.  We were about to meet the first of those now.

As we approached what we thought would be a free campsite at Sandy Cape, we noticed a sign requiring payment for the night.  Confused, we decided to check out the site first and drove to the far end where we thought we'd have the most privacy.  Noticing a entry spot to the beach, we decided to go for it; why have a car with four wheel drive if we're not going to use it?  Despite my very limited 4wd experience, I knew to instruct our current driver to put the car in 4 low while I locked the wheels.  For the first 20 seconds,  it was awesome.  Then the car stopped moving.

We got out and, sure enough, we'd driven far too close to the water and the tires were stuck deep into the sand.  The driver got nervous, so it was up to me to try to get us out.  I tried to back it up as far as I could, but we reached a point where the wheels were spinning, the engine was coughing, and we just weren't going anywhere.  And the tide was inching closer towards us.  The panic was too.

Suddenly, four figures appeared out of the night.  An older couple and a younger couple who'd heard our noisy attempts up at their campsites and guessed correctly what was going on.  The men got our shovel out and started getting to work while the women chatted on the side.  As they pushed and I continued to try to reverse, one asked, "Did you put the engine in 4 low or 4 high?"  "4 low, is that wrong?"  "No, that's right; just sounds like it's in 4 high."  Sure enough, the driver had put it in the wrong gear.  Fixing that, finally things began improving.

But that still wasn't enough.  After a few more minutes, Terry, the pensioner, told me,  "If you don't want the ocean to take your car, you've got to let air out of the tyres."  I'd known that reducing tyre pressure was important for driving on rocky roads; I hadn't realized that it was even more important for driving on sand.  Finally free, we thanked our saviors and went, a little shaken, to a site right next to the beach that Terry directed us to.

In the morning, we got some visitors - Terry and his wife had walked over to check on us and invite us to their trailer for morning coffee.  When we'd packed up and drove over to find them, the wife was standing on the road waving us over and Terry had his pump to refill our tires already out and ready to go.  They shared some travel tips along with the coffee, loving every minute of it, until finally saying, "What are you doing staying here listening to us?  Drive off, explore, have some fun!"  Comforted that the magnitude of our stupidity was outweighed only by the generosity of our hosts, we did.

My own reality show for a day - Nico and gang do Western Australia

As I've told some of you over the past few months, my life in Perth, though lovely, was not quite exciting enough to warrant a blog.  From the very first night of our road trip though, when we decided to drive onto a beach to camp and got stuck within a minute, it was clear that that had changed.  I've been lazy and without battery for some time (sorry!) but I'm finally ready to write again.  Soooooo here begins Nico, Chuck, Maya, and Leila do Western Australia; I hope you enjoy.  To make up for lost time, I'll start us off with a big one.

We'll go back about a month, when I finally had my rugged old Nissan Patrol 4wd - "King Dave" - ready to roll, camping and snorkeling gear and emergency car supplies filling up the trunk and straps installed on top for my surfboard and boogieboard to give us some serious Aussie street cred.  Now came the most important part - finding travelmates.  These were the illustrious backpackers with whom I was going to spend the next month (at least) 24/7, sharing petrol, beds, fun, food, blood, sweat, and a lot of cheap wine, so I could not take this task lightly.

First I put a post up on the local couchsurfing group, which had served me so well in the past - alas, got no bites (which prepared me for our mostly luckless fishing attempts since).  I then resorted to Gumtree, Australia's Craigslist equivalent, putting an ad up and responding to a few others; it was a bit riskier than couchsurfing, but had a much wider audience.  I communicated with a few that didn't fit for various reasons, mostly time-related, before finally finding a real possibility.  Contestant #1 was a German girl, friendly and a chef(!) but pretty quiet and reserved/hungover.  She was on her way to see Hangover 2, so she earned points for that.  Overall, not a bad option but I decided to hold off a commitment for the time being.

Contestant #2 was also a German girl, who was holding a bag full of meat ("It was on sale") when we met.  Good start.  We got a six-pack and decided that it would be nice to drink it outside on a bench in front of a fountain despite suspecting that this wasn't strictly legal behavior.  Sure enough, a couple of youngish cops came by after an hour or so and knew exactly what was going on.  I prepared for the worst.  "Where are you from?"  "Germany and the US."  "We know that you can drink in public in Germany; is it legal in the US?"  "Depends where you are (and if you have a brown paper bag)." [As far as I know it's only ok in New Orleans' French Quarter, but to be fair I have made good use of that exception.] "You know, if any other officers had found you, you would have a $200 fine immediately."  "That's a lot."  "But you seem like nice people and it's a quiet Thursday night, so we'll give you a pass; you just have to pour out the remainder of the open bottles."  "Fair enough."  "So, we know we shouldn't be encouraging this, but which Aussie beers do you like?"  We all laughed and chatted for a few minutes, then with a smile and a wave they went on their way.  "Gotta love Australia."  And I knew I had found my first travelmate - Maya.  Maya's foreign charm has helped us since as well, like when we were stopped by police a few days ago for a burnt-out taillight.  Also didn't hurt that she (who was driving at the time) hadn't bothered to put her shorts back on after the beach we'd just been at, leaving her bikini bottom in full view.  Needless to say, we didn't get a ticket (and they even saved us from overpaying for petrol at the servo we were at, directing us instead to a little petrol station up the road with cheaper prices).

Since I wanted a full variety of nationalities, this meant that Contestant #1 was out.  I also wanted a balance of guys and girls, so Contestant #3 was a Canadian dude.  Blind dates between two guys are always tough, so it's nice to find some safe common ground to start with, like agreeing in our first call that it was a good idea to get a caravan going with a group of girls we'd both responded to on Gumtree who were probably getting their own car.  "Can't hurt  the odds."  "My thoughts exactly."  [We ended up leaving earlier than the girls, who then passed us when we took a spontaneous detour up a peninsula to Gnaraloo on the recommendations of the old Aussie couple that had rescued us from the sand on day 1 and a Margaret River surfer chick who helped me find a sleeping Maya hidden in the bushes.]  When Chuck was game enough to join my volleyball friends and I on a night out and oozed classic Canadian friendliness, I figured he was a pretty safe bet, even though he didn't join in the dancing at Carnegy's ("I need to drink way more before I'm ready to dance").  Turns out that Chuck only needs half a glass of wine to start impersonating a kangaroo and hopping towards ones that are chilling near us on a cliff.  Though he displayed none of that (very welcome) goofiness that first night, I could tell that he'd be a good bro and welcomed him on board.  

And then there was one.

Contestant #4 was French, a self-described "creasy girl" who got points for being a fellow couchsurfer and for adding a new language to the mix.  I think that you can usually tell in the first minute and almost certainly in the first hour after meeting somebody whether you'd gel on the road, and with her I didn't quite feel it.  Still, I wanted to leave three days later and needed a fourth rider and she fit the bill, so I gave her a tentative yes but told her I had agreed to meet one more person before making a decision.  When my travelmates asked me later the reason for my hesitation, I could only respond, "She was wearing Crocs." "Ahhhh" they all nodded with understanding [Mordechai and Estee - if you read this, no offense intended.  I'd be happy to travel with both of you next time we're not continents apart.]

Luckily, by the time I returned home from that, Contestant #5 had responded to my e-mail; we met the next night.  Fresh from a road trip along the South Coast, this Swiss Girl seemed prepped for living out of a car.  I'd also had a great time traveling with half-Swiss Jenn and Jeremy in South America, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt.  When we had a fun night wandering around Freo in search of a live jazz performance she and her friend claimed to have seen advertised (even though bouncers we asked about it thought we were crazy because we most certainly were not in New Orleans), I knew that it had been the right decision to wait out Contestant #4.  With Maya, Chuck, and now Leila on board, my team was fully assembled.

Let the fun begin.

Since my internet/electricity access is limited out here, I can't post on a schedule, but I should be able to get something up (likely without pictures) every few days.

Check back soon for Camping on the beach - Nico and gang do Kalbarri. 

Why I love Rotto - Nico does Rottnest Island

1:  Quokka. Like mini-kangaroos, but cuter. You can pet them.

2:  Snorkeling at three different spots - and that didn't even exhaust all of the options. Back might be a bit burnt though (but not as badly burnt as James was tonight after spitting out the habanero pepper that Ash and I, being real men, were able to conquer).

3:  Spotted a baby stingray hanging out on the ocean floor.  Let me get within a few inches before darting away; that baby can move.

4:  No cars allowed, leaving a beautiful 20K bike ride around the island (with many beach/snorkel breaks included, of course).

5:  White sand and all kinds of calm turquoise water just a half-hour boat ride from Freo - it's like having a resort island in our backyard.

Why I love this city - Nico does Perth

1:  Doesn't matter what the weather report predicts; it's been hot and sunny with clear blue skies every day - perfect for the Camelot outdoor cinema (one of the city's many) two blocks from my villa.  I'll be heading there tomorrow for the premier of the annual Flickerfest International Short Films Festival.

2:  I can bike to work any day I want and there's always time to cool off with a dip in the ocean and jog on the beach when I get home.

3:  There are so many fine white beaches with turquoise water and dolphins diving in and out that there simply aren't enough people to make them crowded. Ever. (except for maybe the Sunday Session at Cottesloe, but that's offset by Tim's comment - see below).

4:  There are a dozen microbreweries just across the bridge in Freo

and dozens more wineries down the highway in Margaret River.

5:  Life is relaxed - nobody works too hard, sleeves are optional, my biggest concern is what kind of surfing to attempt, and the last train home on Friday nights is free for all riders.

Why I loved last weekend - Nico does Melbourne

1:  I'll be on the website of a posh downtown club after my attempt to salsa with my host's friend, a professional albeit out of costume burlesque dancer, got the attention of the photographer.

2:  On my first evening out, I was hosted for a delicious bbq and then sat back for a giant-screen backyard cinema viewing of the classic comedy Police Academy, complete with fresh air, popcorn, and home-made wine (courtesy of my host's Italian parents).

3:  Two nights later I had another unexpected American treat at a fellow couchsurfer's party - old-school S'mores.  A fellow former Jewish summer camp counselor showed the Aussies and Kiwis how it's done.  I ended up carrying some s'mores supplies (for my American-candy-crazed roommate back in

Perth) to a couple of clubs after we left the house; the bouncers thought I had some really weird new drugs.

4:  I got to use my new worldwide network of contacts from my South American travels for the first time to receive top-notch hosting from a former dorm- and party-mate in Colombia, carrying the celebration straight from Medellin to Melbourne.

5:  On the morning that I left there was an attempt about two blocks from the business school where I had been staying by some of the best Italian chefs outside of Italy to create the longest pizza in the world - a fine example of Melbourne's constant, random, and fun celebrations of life.

Why I love my job - Nico does UWA

1:  Less than three weeks into the job I'm being flown out to Melbourne for a few meetings with a long weekend attached, making me a key point-man in the communication with our sister lab there. At my last job, folks were lucky to take a business trip half an hour up I-95.

2:  I design my own hours and have opportunities to pick the work that excites me most. Today I even spent the morning participating in an industry game simulation with one of my profs. When I told him that I play to win, he responded, "Bring it." (It ended up being a complex lego-assembly operation, which Willis and I won consecutive gold medals for in TABC's back-to-back Science Olympiad victories some years ago).

3:  My colleagues are great - I'm treated like an equal by world-renowned professors, get to practice Spanish every day with a friendly Chilena and a fellow American, and one of my fellow research assistants is not only also a professional dancer but also a swimsuit model (and still quite friendly) - Come on!

4:  Our building overlooks the Swan River on two sides and is fifty feet from kite- and wind-surfing mecca Pelican Point on the picturesque Matilda Bay. Talk about a fun lunch break.

5:  To top it all off, the pay beats pretty much any standard backpacker job and it's an incredible experience for both my professional development and my resume, not to mention giving me new access to a worldwide network of smart and helpful individuals.

Shout out to the man who made this possible: OB superstar and my favorite Wharton professor, the one and only Dr. Adam Grant

Why I love my villa - Nico, Ash, and James do Mosman Park

1:  It's 3 blocks from Mosman beach and just down the road from world-class Cottesloe (where, as my friend Tim says, there are too many attractive girls)

2:  It's also 3 minutes from Perth's iconic Swan River (and my roommates have an extra fishing rod)

3:  We got a surfboard out front and and a grill out back, weights on the floor and an X-box well, also, on the floor, air conditioning in my room and ice pops always in the freezer

4:  Our neighbor has not only been ducking rent for months and leaving a broken truck blocking the driveway, but also running an illegal wine business out of his garage.

5:  I'm chillin with two British blokes in a villa with nightly beer and plans to suit up Swingers-style for a night out in the casino - come on! (if you don't get the references, click here and here)