7 Days

Apparently seven days is the amount of time I need to adjust to life in Orroroo.

After watching cricket til 10:30 (Oz vs England showdown) and crashing hard like I've done every night since arriving in Orroroo, I woke up today awash a sea of calm, like I was back home in my own bed and not on the other side of the world. I got up, got showered, scarfed down some toast, and jumped into the police truck to visit the Bowman's farm.

Gone was the apprehension, advance forethought of what I should do, what I should say, how I should behave. It was just plain and simple daily life. My homestay finally became home.

And that's what the Experiment is all about, really. It's not a Mickey Mouse tourist visit - it's a chance to step into the shoes of an ordinary citizen in town. It's about waking up and feeling as if it were going to be just another humdrum day.

Here's a rundown of my day:

• went offroading at the Bowman's and took a bajillion pics of the purple, pink, and orange shades of ochre by the creek bed
• stood aghast at seeing Midge, the Bowman's dog, chow down on a dead lamb in said creek bed
• sat down for some impromptu tea at the local IT handyman's office, where I was looking to save my pics to CD. discovered that Tim previously built homes in an opal mine, is chair of the local regional board of directors, learned to build websites on his own, and is planning on launching a strip mall in town
• had my name spraypainted onto a wall of shearer names that went back nearly 30 years
• listened to the police radio, which announced a siege in progress (to which Danny, who seems to always be on call, dashed off)
• wondered all day why Casey, my 3 yr old host sister, kept shooting me mean/sad looks
• realized that I truly enjoyed 4 yr old Ryan's company - his effervescent cheer and curiosity is refreshing
• appreciated how good at parenting Danny and Fi really are

I also came to one of my most poignant and stinging realizations today. I was disappointed by my lack of communication with Danny (bro, not host dad). Here I am, leading high school kids through Australia, encouraging them to be open, honest, and involved while I can't get my own brother to say more than "hey" before disappearing beneath his hoodie. Why is it easier to talk to strangers than it is to my own family? How is it that I'm exchanging email addys with 15 year old farm kids but can't even get my own brother's email address? {Once, I asked for Danny's email address. He told me to just call the house.} If there's one thing I've learned from this trip, it's that tomorrow is dictated by what you put into today. It wasn't ordained that my group of students come together as tight a unit as they have. It was through concerted effort and some bonding moments that we've arrived at this point. Similarly, perhaps I haven't poured sufficient effort into my siblings. Whatever the cause, I'm going to spend what little time I have when I get back home before I move to Evanston doing my best to connect those broken lines.