STUDY abroad?

Academically, the University of Melbourne has a rather different approach to the University of Manchester. The main part being a hurdle requirement for tutorials; basically you have to attend 75% or more, or you fail the course. For someone who struggles with perpetual laziness, this does pose some problems. There is also a rather large disconnect between the academics and the students, in my opinion. The academics here are very separate, it seems, from the students they teach. The tutorials often can feel like a regurgitation of information, rather than an open platform for discussing ideas. The campus of Melbourne Uni is beautiful; a mix of old and new buildings and green open space. The University is highly esteemed too, which is nothing to be sniffed at. But the campus itself doesn’t really feel like home; my learning experience here has been less interactive than I would have hoped. Sometimes I feel a bit spoonfed; there’s definitely less independance here in terms of exploring outside the lecture materials.

So to be honest, I miss Manchester Uni a bit. I miss knowing staff by their first names and being able to stop by their office for advice or help with work. I even miss HBS, (world’s ugliest building) and not being able to get a seat in Learning Commons. See the thing is, I think Manchester spoilt me. I had two years with amazing staff and students in an amazing environment. Although Manchester might not have as high a reputation as Melbourne, (according to these stats) it’s still MY uni. In Manchester I feel more free to do what I want, to research what interests me, and to question what I’m being told.

That being said, variety is the spice of life, right? New things are never bad and a new environment breeds new ideas. Melbourne University is just different 

Missing this monstrosity 

Technically, I am here to STUDY abroad. But there also is the fact that I only have to pass this year, and it doesn’t count toward my actual degree at Manchester. So sorry, Will and Chris, who I know will read this and curse me, but I’m not breaking my back here. After all, the whole study aspect of study abroad was never my main motivation for moving here. Melbourne as a city is treating me very well; I’m definitely here for a good time, not a long time. I never intend on spending long nights in the library here; more like long nights in the pub. 

Home is where the heart is – aka Days at Downton

“Our house, in the middle of our street….”

Cheers Suggs, couldn’t have said it better myself. They say that home is where the heart is, or wherever you lay your hat. I have no hat;  but I do have a home. It’s old, it’s tired and it’s partly falling down. The people who fill it are the exact opposite; although we have been known to fall down on occasion. 

My Melbourne adventure has been made, without a doubt, by the people I live with. The ragtag bunch of weirdos, spanning 5 countries and 3 continents that I call my housemates. Always ready with a cup of tea or a late night kebab (a donner a day keeps the doctor away y’know). The people I settle down with and watch a ‘few’ episodes of Pointless with, the ONLY people who know exactly how utterly vile I feel on a Sunday morning. 

Here we all are, (minus Zuzana, who must have taken this picture). Cooking a family meal for Elsa’s birthday – although I remember distinctly being upset that I had to stop eating birthday cake to have this picture taken. I’d like to say a huge, unashamed, soppy thank you to you all! I know the house isn’t perfect, (although we are now the proud owners of our own feral kitchen mouse), but in the words of Tim Gunn, we “make it work”. 

A special honorary mention has to go out to my Melbourne Dads, Anton and Anthony; not in that picture but forever in our hearts (and living room….). In short, these guys, and the countless other amazing people I’ve met here, are making my down unda adventure what it is. So fill your glasses from the goon bag, and let’s raise a toast. To Downtown, the house with the decrepit balcony and the holes in the walls – the scene of all our triumphs and trials. God knows we need it. 

 

 

 

Getting started; aka packing my life into 23kgs.

So I decided to start a blog. Previously I’d refrained from doing this; I’d like to think it’s because I’m not conceited enough to think people care what I think/do/write. Mainly though, it was probably crippling self-doubt; CAN I WRITE? Let’s hope so.

On June 21st, 2014, I left my cosy home in a small town in Gateshead to start my new adventure. Moving. To Melbourne. AUSTRALIA. Shit mate. That’s some pretty serious stuff for someone who forgets to put the bins out on a regular basis. As a 20 year old, this is definitely the scariest and best thing I have ever done. True, I probably don’t have that much life experience to draw on (I’ve never been married or had a child, thankyoujesus) but moving to the other side of the world to everyone I love and cherish is one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. And one month into my Oz adventure and I’m already dreading coming home. Least of all, the packing.

How do you start to pack 20 years of life into a single suitcase? Well I started with essentials. Clean underwear – check. Fabulous-yet-impractical-for-actually-swimming-swimwear – check. Comfy PJs for hangover days – check. Then I was stumped. What next? Jumpers? Sandals? In the end I went for the classic “Let’s just shove it all in and figure it out later” approach. It did not serve me well. I arrived in Melbourne on July 6th, after a short stop in 40 degree Hong Kong. The temperature in Melbourne that day was more like 4 degrees. Whoops. My bag, which predominantly featured sandals, crop tops, shorts and the occasional sun dress was basically USELESS.

NOBODY EVER TOLD ME THAT SOMETIMES IT’S COLD IN AUSTRALIA.

So, like any self respecting Geordie, I braved it for the first few days. I’d been out on Black Eye Friday in Newcastle wearing much less than this, I reasoned. Surely I’ll be fine. A bit of cold never hurt anybody.

That lasted 3 days. I finally scurried away to H&M to buy a warm coat. I have been defeated, and have shamed the geordie name, I know. I have lost the hearts and minds of all the mini-dress wearing warriors who withstand subzero temperatures  just to get a few trebles. But trust me, when summer comes around my pale pasty northern legs will be out in force. I guess it’s true what they say; fail to prepare then prepare to fail; although maybe fail should be substituted with freeze in this case.

Wrapped up warm against the Melbourne skyline