Appel Farm Officially Starts!

First session at Appel Farm Creative Arts Camp started today and it has been the looooongest day of my life.

Even though I've counseled at a few camps in the past, I can not remember being more tired after a day of camp. Welcoming people and settling them in and helping them unpack and helping them make friends and making sure no one is sitting alone and trying to make conversation and trying to be the best freaking counselor ever is surprisingly draining. I think it's the attempting to be the most fun, enthusiastic, friendliest version of yourself that really drains the energy.

I've met all the girls in my bunk and it's a pretty eclectic mix. Half of them are theatre majors so they are all loud and dominating (now that rings a few bells, doesn't it...) and the other half are visual arts or music majors so are pretty intreverted and keep to themselves. I was a bit worried at first that no one was going to get along because they all had such different personalities, but they seemed to have clicked okay. We've had our first bunk meeting and written our 'Cabin Constitution' - the rules they want to live by in the bunk - and everybody appears to be on the same page. Fingers crossed it stays that way.

Tomorrow is the first day of majors and minors and my first time teaching. I've met some of my creative writing campers and heard great things about their abilities, so I'm looking forward to seeing what skills they have. I'm really excited about offering a Fashion Journalism minor, which will be run in conjunction with the Fashion Design minor. Inspiring budding writers to want to work for Vogue is what I do best.

Bed time is 11:00 PM and it's only 9:30 PM so I've got one and a half hours of day left - best get back to the ankle-biters.

Ciao for now. xo

Staff Week (in photos)

I was never much of a photo journalist, so if you have high expectations for these photos, you best drop them down a few notches.

Nevertheless, here are some photos from Staff Week at Appel Farm. These photos are from the Staff Concert on Friday and are an example of some of the seriously creative people I am lucky enough to be counseling with.

Ciao for now. xo

Some Personal Orientation

I have officially been overseas for a week. Exactly seven days ago I was taking off from Brisbane airport.

I can't believe how fast that time has gone, which only makes me conscious of how fast this whole trip is going to go. However, I can't bear thinking of going home just yet, especially when camp is yet to really begin.

Even though the kids don't arrive until Sunday, the last week has been filled with orientation 'Getting to know you / Getting to know yourself' activities. And while I'd like to think I know myself pretty well, getting reacquainted has left me drained of energy. On top of that, I've caught a cold from being run-down and I've lost my voice.

It's like college O-Week all over again... except with out the alcohol.

But while my body might be falling apart, I'm pretty excited to meet the campers and see camp in full swing. Everything is so stereotypically 'camp' and sometimes it feels like I'm living in a movie. Last night, we learnt the camp song. They actually have a camp song. And being a creative arts camp, that song has a four part harmony.

And I'm sorry to say it guys, but I've picked up the American accent. After only seven days.

Ciao for now.

5 Interesting things I've learnt about the American-Way-Of-Life

Despite the fact that they speak the same language, look about the same, live in similiar environments and have the same expectations out of life, there is a serious cultural barrier between Americans and Australians. And when you live with them, side by side, these strange diversities become even more prominent. Here are 5 interesting things I've learnt about the American-Way-Of-Life:

1. Kool-aid is not Cordial - Kool-Aid is a disgusting sugary beverage that tastes like unfrozen jelly crystals. There really is no comparison between it and cordial, despite the fact that both are water-based and full of sugar. One sip and you can feel it breaking down your tooth enamel.

2. Don't know what the Heel and Toe Polka is - Monday Night Activities in Orientation Week was a Square Dance (aka. a Barn Dance) where we learnt square dances (aka. barn dances). When the Heel and Toe Polka came on, the three Aussies were in polka heaven while the Americans had no idea what was going on. That's right, they never learnt the Heel and Toe Polka with a sweaty-handed eleven-year-old boy in 6th Grade PE class.

3. Some interesting language confusions - mallow = marshmellow, flip flops = thongs, thongs = g-string, bug spray = Rid, swimsuit = togs, markers = Textas and skipping = jump rope.

4. Would you like some fat with that? - Every meal comes with a nice hefty side of fat. Pancakes are served with bacon. Lasagne is served with swiss cheese. Brownies are served with peanut butter. Eggs are served with a meat pattie. Mmm... fatty delisciousness.

5. Jelly, Jam and Preservatives are three different things - Jelly is a weak, flavourless spread which looks a lot like coloured gelatine. Jam is a weak, flavourless spread which looks a lot like coloured gelatine but with the occassional chunk of fruit and Preservatives are practically gelatined fruit which is impossible to spread.

Ciao for now. xo

Camp Quality

Hello from the sticks!

I am quite seriously in the middle of nowhere, writing this blog in the heat of about 30 degrees, and it’s only 8am in the morning. I knew eastern America could get hot in the summer, but I never thought it would be quite this hot. However, the fantastic thing about the New Jersey sun is that while it’s hot and uncomfortable, it doesn’t have the cancerous infused UV sting of the Australia sun. And for albinos like myself, this is great. For the first time, I can stand out in the heat all day and actually TAN, WITHOUT BURNING. (And don’t worry Mum, I’m still putting on sunscreen.)

So I’ve waved goodbye to New York and civilisation and have arrived at Appel Farm Creative Arts Camp – my home for the next 9 weeks. The best part of the 2 hour journey here was being picked up in a big yellow Magic School Bus-looking school bus. My fellow Aussie – Nelly-pops – and I could not have been more pleased.

Appel Farm is quite literally in the middle of nowhere. There is not a Walmart, Denny’s or petrol station in sight, which is quite a change from the hustle and bustle of New York. The camp is quite spread out across the grounds, with each bunk house representing a different age group of campers. Yours truly has landed in Hill – ages 16 – 17.

Now, while this was the age group I originally requested to be with, I’m still trying to decide if I have just dug my own grave. I am reassured by my fellow counselors that they are a great set of girls who will keep me well entertained, but being right next to the boys cabin and with all that pubescent energy pulsing through their little veins, are also advised they can be quite a handful.

Should make for some interesting times.

The following week is Orientation and is pretty much an information dump on how to counsel and plan classes before the campers arrive on Saturday. As the only instructor for Creative Writing and Journalism, I arrived here knowing that I would have my work cut out for me. Now I’ve also been told that the Journalism program in particular is in need of great improvement. While this leaves me with the creative vision of doing whatever I please, I can’t help but feel the weight of expectation that I am meant to be the person to turn it all around.

But even without the kids here, camp is exactly what you would expect. I’m sleeping on a mattress about as thin as a slice of bread, there are bugs everywhere, Americans everywhere and last night we ate Smores around the campfire. But the kicker was when on the walk back to our cabin last night, the trees were full of fireflies, twinkling like a handful of tossed glitter.


You can't buy that in Australia.

Ciao for now. xo

Let's Hear It For New York

I am happy to report that New York is everything you could want, hope, anticipate and expect it to be. Actually, I think I might be in love. I think I might officially I Heart NY.

After managing to extricate myself from JFK airport, avoiding the ‘unofficial’ taxi drivers who cornered me as soon as I walked out the door, I found myself a nice, stereotypical yellow cab to wing me into the city. If the realisation that I was finally in New York hadn’t quite hit, it sure whacked me in the face when I saw the city skyline. Hurtling across the bridge to the West side, the Empire State Building towered bright and beautiful above them all, her disco lights iridescent against the evening sky. It caught me straight in the chest. I was in New York City.

After recovering from my sleep deprivation and with a bit of breakfast in my belly (yes... I had a bagel) I took to the New York streets this morning to see what I could find. With my hostel a few streets away from Central Park, I decided to start my Saturday just like everyone else in New York. If you fancy yourself a bit of people-watching or the occasional eavesdrop, Central Park provides a bevy of opportunity. And the best part is that Americans have a habit of speaking at full volume, so listening in isn’t even avoidable. I had to smile this morning when I had the words ‘flip flops’ actually used in a sentence. All this time, I thought it was a linguistic urban legend.

Central park also boasts men. Lots of hot, sweaty six-packed men who like to jog the length of the park without their shirts on. It’s hard not to outwardly stare or attempt to ‘accidently’ be bumped into as they run past. But if sweaty six-packs aren’t your thing so early in the morning, you can always go for one of the beer guts playing baseball in the middle of the park. Middle-aged men living out their boyhood dreams to be the next Babe Ruth – too cute.

Once I’d made it through Central Park it was onwards to Time Square. Time Square is the geographical version of a pin-ball machine. Everywhere you look there are neon lights and flashing banners and the crowds and cabs buffet you from one street to the next. Being a Saturday, the markets were on, lining the street up to Time Square with a litter of stalls selling NYPD rip-offs and Prada fakes. But in the midst of the tents and the smell of BBQ corn-on-the-cob, the city culture was undeniable. I bought a hat and the man who sold it to me crowned it on my head saying it would bring me good fortune.

You don’t get that in Surry Hills.

From Time Square, I meandered my way through the city streets, surprised at the simplicity of the city’s layout - all numbers and names which lie parallel with each other, making it perfect for women with a poor sense of direction. Everywhere I looked, memories from movies scenes and Sex in the City locations popped up one after another - Bergdorfs, Prada and Fifth Ave. I felt strangely at home.

But the star which sparkled most on this banner was the Cathedral of Saint Patrick – a historical hotspot I wouldn’t have known about had I not been romanced inside by the stunning architecture of the church. The enormity of the cathedral was breathtaking - the ceilings were so high you could barely make out the carved detailing and the stain-glass windows were illuminated with the coloured images of the Saints. I may not be Catholic, but no one could enter that Cathedral and not exit with their jaw dragging along the ground. I was all ready to get snap happy, only to find to my tourist horror that my battery was dead. Thankfully, I get to do New York: The Sequel in September so returning to the Cathedral will be on the top of my photography list.

I have seen maybe an eighth of everything New York has to offer, but from what I’ve seen today, I am utterly smitten.

These streets will make you feel brand new, these lights will inspire you – I hear you, Alicia.

Ciao for now. xo

Departures, Arrivals

Hello readers!


Welcome to Where In The World Is KH? I, KH, am currently sitting at my gate at LAX (Los Angeles airport) waiting for my connecting flight to the city that never sleeps – New York – in the big, old US of A.
That’s right – the United States of America and its glorious star spangled banner.

I am still trying to get my sweaty palms around this simple fact. I have officially left the county and am a citizen of the world. And for now, the home of Peanut Butter cups, the New York Yankees and Michelle Obama is calling me its own.

Unfortunately, after you’ve been sitting on two planes for the last 16 hours with another eight hours still to go, not to mention having been awake for over 24 hours (it’s a blessing from God to be able to sleep on planes, right up there with discernment and spirituality) you can’t quite pull as much excitement as you feel the moment deserves. I would love to be swinging from the rooftops at the moment, expressing my inner-most joy at this moment of independence finally arriving, but a). This is LA. You don’t do such things unless you’re high. b). This is LAX. They’ll put you in jail for emotional-overexertion and c). I LOOK HORRIBLE! Like a rat pulled through a drain backwards and I really don’t want to be drawing attention to myself when I’m in such a state. So I’ll just keep it all bottled up inside until I feel up to owning it properly.

So every traveller has a few horror stories to tell in those first few moments of going overseas, the type of stories that have them stressed out in the moment, but which they gingerly laugh about when reliving them later. So here’s mine - four and counting...

1. On the way to the Brisbane airport, we got stuck in a traffic jam. Deciding we might be able to take the back routes, we went bush with the GPS in order to avoid said traffic jam. What ensued were 30 rather horrifying minutes where I was sure the GPS had no clue where it was going, and despite still having two hours until my departure, I chewed my nails down worrying I was going to miss the plane.

2. I get on the plane, ready for my four hour trip to Auckland (first stop over) to find I had been seated in the front row of the plane. Sweet, extra leg room. I turn to my left and what do I see? A baby. Turn to my right – a baby. Look behind me – a baby. Look behind it – another baby. I’m sure this is what it must feel like when an army officer realises he’s surrounded by landmines ready to explode. With nowhere to hide, I was sure it was going to be a long painful journey of burping and poo emissions and crying crying crying. But happy days – they all slept and I swear one winked at me.

3. I get off the plane in Auckland and realise I have precisely 7. 2783 minutes to make it to my connecting flight. So in a fit of stress, I tear down the passage way to the transfer customs, jump the line of about 100people and dash off to the gate, only to discover the flight had been delayed as the 100 people I’d hoodwinked in the transfer line were also boarding the same flight. I kept my eyes down when they arrived for fear they’d hit me with their carry-ons.

4. Before I left the country, I got a concerned talking to by my father about the importance of security and consequently, am now a security freak. In my concern, I put a self-coded padlock on my carry-on bag and during the flight from Auckland to LA was opening and closing it every 2 seconds. Little did I know, the last time I locked it before getting off the plane, I managed to re-code the lock so I couldn’t undo it. No amount of jimmying could fix my own security problem and the whole issue resulted in a very large man with a very large set of bolt cutters having to crack my poor, pathetic bolt in half so I could get to the contents of my bag. So I figure, there’s safety and then there’s stupidity. Needless to say, I’ve bought a new padlock and have learnt my lesson.

Next stop New York. Stop after that – bed.

Ciao for now. xo

TAKING OFF SOON

Where In The World Is KH? will be officially taking off on the 18 June, 2010. I look forward to seeing you back here as you read the first of many posts on my travels to the USA to work as a camp counselor, Canada to work at the snow and wherever else my bossy passport directs me.

Until then, every drama and development in the lead-up to my departure will continue to be documented at The KH Chronicles.

Ciao for now. xo