After spending almost about a month in the land of America, I can´t help but think that I should have applied for a drop kick university. Why on earth I chose to go to such an notoriously academically rigorous school is now slightly beyond me; as I make valiant attempts to balance academisising, socialising, exercising, adventurising and cheap-skaterising. I managed to achieve the latter two during the first week of school, where in the true style of a diligent student, I skipped my last Anthropology lecture.. Why? So I could join my friends Carrie and Tom for some skiing action up at Tahoe, California's premier skiing/snowboarding destination.
I met Carrie and Tom in the summer of 2009, whilst in New Zealand doing a whitewater kayaking course. To say that they are legends would be an understatement. Between the time that I announced to them that I would be coming the California for exchange, they managed to wrangle me 3 days worth of free lift tickets, a pair of perfectly functional and rather comfy ski boots from a dumpster, and half price demo skis. They also recently bought a house in South Lake Tahoe, a stone's throw away from Sierra @ Tahoe, their home ski resort, which meant that accommodation was all sorted. It all goes to reaffirm that aged-old statement- it's all about who you know. And boy, was I glad to know Carrie and Tom. Carrie and Tom are the exemplary all-America family- they've been married for over 20 years, and have 2 sons.They earn extra awesomeness points due to their love of skiing and kayaking- both their sons are gifted skiers and boaters. Their eldest son, Tyler, is even sponsored by Pyranha (tip top kayaking brand) and numerous ski gear manufacturers. The ratio of kayaks to people in the family currently stands at 4:1.
It was an eventful journey up to Tahoe- along the way, I took numerous shuttle buses, had a quick fish and chips lunch with a new friend I made on the bus, took a tour of the massive UC Davis campus in the pouring rain, and finally got into the Muntz monster 4x4 pick up. And when I say monster, I mean MONSTER. They simply don't make vehicles like this in Australia- you could fit about 6 full river kayaks in the back of this ute/pick up/bakkie without even trying. Climbing into the front seat was like scaling Mt Everest. So we made our way towards South Lake Tahoe in the midst of some of the heaviest snowfalls that California has seen in a while. I'd never seen that much snow it my life- it was puking snow at altitudes of 500m! And instead of taking only one hour and 15 minutes to get to Tahoe, we took over three hours, peetering along at snails pace whilst ice gradually accumulated on the windows.
Puking snow creates powder. And 'lo behold, the next day, I was greeted with mindblowing powder conditions. So much powder I didn't know what to do with myself. Coming from the land of Australia, we simply never get the opportunity to ski on talcum powder- so naturally, when I skied into my first powder bank, I suddenly found myself no longer upright, flailing around in the whiteness which seemed determined to turn me into a yeti. Luckily, a nice Californian came over and rescued from my fate as the abominable snowman 2.0.
The next 2 days of skiing were filled with similar awesome conditions. Admittedly, it was cloudy most of the time, however the sheer quality of the snow made up for it. Visibility was always decent, even when the snow was falling- unlike on Mt Buller where it is not uncommon to suddenly find you cannot even see your own skis. With a heavy heart, I said adios to Tahoe on the Sunday night, after 3 days of excellence.
So back to school I went. And it was hard. It seems that Berkeley is keen to punish anyone that wishes to party/run away on skiing sojourns for any more than 2 nights. I generally consider myself a fairly adaptable person, however accommodating myself to the fact that here, you actually do your readings is something that I a still struggling with. In Australia, tute discussions with fellow students would often begin along these lines:
Angela: "So, have you done the readings?"
Rando student: "Yeah Nah, I haven't done the readings. Have you done the readings?"
Angela: "Nah, I haven't done the readings."
*Both chuckle to themselves. Tutor enters the room*
Tutor: Sooo... who did the readings this week?
*Silence in the room, everyone quietly smirks*
Tutor: *sigh* Alright, I'll summarise this week's readings...
Alas, here if you haven't done your readings, which often consitute reading a whole entire BOOK in a matter of days (for multiple subjects), you are considered a delinquent and a half, ostracised from society.
The copious amounts of reading are, however, interdispersed with numerous raging parties. The Australia Day party, taking place on the respectable school night of Tuesday, took place at Casa Zimbabwe; a massive co-op that houses over 100 people. Nicknamed 'CZ', the complex was gargantuan, hippie, organic, weed-filled pure of embodiment of the Berkeley spirit. Australians from far and wide all over the campus congregated together for fun, frivolity and Fosters, that piece of crap beer that we would never touch back in the homeland. We all brought a token international student, and pretty soon, the internationals were 'Aussie Aussie Aussie- oi oi oi-ing' like true bogans at a Frankston footy match. After rockin' it out to classics such as Eye of the Tiger and Down Under, we decided begin a game of Aussie backyard cricket. We scrambled to the the top of the multi-level carpark and started setting up, however the internationals (ahem, Americans) failed to grasp the simple premises of the game. Eventually the whole affair degenerated into a loud, racous and drunken event (as most carpark sojourns involving beer do) and people decided to call it quits on the cricket. Everyone departed the carpark, however I stayed behind momentarily with my Chilean friend Matías, who wanted a few pictures for posterity. It was at this point that I realised a cop car had pulled up, and there was a very coppish looking woman blocking the entrance to the stairwell. The interrogation began:
Cop: “So, what’s been happening up here?”
Me getting my bogan on: “Aww yeah, we’ve just been playin a game of crickit! It’s 'straya Day!”
Cop: “Cricket... did you guys use a croikey?”
Me in a perplexed bogan tone: “What’s a croikey?”
Cop: “A cricket ball!”
Me: "A cricket ball? Nah!!! We bin usin a tennis ball!"
Cop: “OK, so I don’t have to worry about broken windows or anything like that?”
Me: “Nah Nah, no worries mate.”
Meanwhile, Matías was quietly shitting his pants, as he had a massive bottle of beer stashed in his jacket. Being discovered with alcohol in a public place is an arrestable offence in America, and for us foreigners, it can end in deportation. Luckily this Berkeley PoPo bought my Aussie charm, and wished us on our merry way. Matías and descended down the stairs, where 'lo behold, another cop awaited us in his vehicle. Interrogation 2 began in the same style as interogation 1, only we hit hiccup due to the fact that this cop, in true American style, had no idea what cricket was. He hit me with a look that said: "I will deport yo' sorry ass out of this country if you're pullin ma leg". I stood firm with my big aussie grin and aussie flag draped around my shoulders. In the meantime, Matías had ducked behind the carpark barrier and dropped his massive bottle of beer, hence escaping deportation. The cop finally fell victim to my Australian charms and wished me a good night. Matías rejoined me and summed up the situation with his latino twang: "Angela! We almost got deported!"
The dramas didn't stop there. Jamie (another Aussie architecture student from Brisvegas) had brought with him a massive inflatable kangaroo who we named "Big Kev". However in a fit of violence and jealousy, the one drunken pom who had been slagging off Australia all night managed to pierce Big Kev in the genital area. Thus ended the life of Big Kev, who is now sitting lifeless and deflated in some corner of Jamie's room, collecting dust. Damn poms.
The week ended with much anticipated Stanford vs Cal (UC Berkeley) Rugby match. Stanford are our biggest rivals in every facet. The Cal Store even sells a shirt that has printed across it in huge collegiate letters: "BEAT STANFORD". The shirt would have been apt that day, for we demolished Stanford 99-0. Never have I seen such a poor showing, one sided game of rugby. I could have played better than the entire Stanford team. Needless to say, the quality of American rugby is pretty dismal. And so ends this episode of life in America. Next time, yet MORE Tahoe action and more shenanigans galore.
