It has been quite some time since I've written any of my thoughts down. I've been busy, and when not busy it has been a challenge to sit my brain down and make it work or write. But there have many experiences in the past few months worth mentioning, and worth reflecting upon. In part that is because I have just completed my first year of graduate school working towards my masters degree in forestry. To say forestry is, perhaps, a bit miss-leading because my area of focus is tree (and plant) ecophysiology, physiology, climate change, and ecology. Ecophysiology, to clarify the term, is concerned with the interaction between plants and their environment, and how environmental conditions affect the physiology (biochemistry, growth, and health) of the plant. I have gained considerable research experience since graduating from St. Olaf College in 2012 -- living in Hokkaido (Japan) from 2012-13 studying elevated CO2 and forest science, and then going to Australia for a few more months of ecophysiology research. During those research experiences, I was searching for a graduate program. So forest science, and at a broader scale ecology and ecophysiology, is something that has been of interest and relevance in my life for a while now.

To be completely truthful, much of this interest stems not from "scientific" curiosity, but from a love, reverence, fascination, and respect for life, the earth, and the experience of it all. I have less interest in many of the bi-products of Western-centric science that tend to ignore the integrity of non-human living things, such as non-human animals and plants. I also have less of an interest in greenhouse studies of plants and life, which co-opt those lives for the purposes of research rather than observe free and growing organisms (ironically, my own research is precisely what I dislike -- a greenhouse "drought" study that will ultimately harm and kill my subjects). Admittedly, I have struggled with this during my first year in graduate school. My perspective is rather different from many "scientists." That being said, reflecting on a year in graduate school, it has been immensely refreshing to learn. I can never emphasize enough what a gift it is, to be told "your job is to learn, that is why you are here." Sometimes, it is hard to believe. And for that, I am immensely, profoundly grateful. That is my job -- to learn about forests, and ecosystems, and plants, and to improve myself (and hopefully, from that investment, help to protect and improve the world even if it is only in some small way.)  I have taken a wealth of courses, some of them better than others, but some of them very captivating. Among my favorites was a course in photosynthesis and photobiology (fascinating!), forest health, and soil biology. I also completed two terms of statistics, with high marks. This is an achievement I am proud of. It is a not-so-secret secret of mine that I struggle with mathematics and more quantitative reasoning. At one time, I very much enjoyed them but reached my peak of ability early, and despite a long-lasting curiosity and enjoyment of those fields, math has little love of me. Knowing that I felt uncomfortable with my statistical background, it was one of my most important goals to improve. An understanding of statistics is necessary in scientific fields, in order to explain, present, and communicate results. I have not seen the last of statistics (I am still not great, and plan to take a few more courses) but I am pleased with my hard work and improvement. Likewise, from my other courses, I have learned a huge amount (and look forward to learning more next year).

I also had a chance to present some interdisciplinary work at the OSU Arts and Humanities Graduate Conference in April. The purpose of the conference was to share work by researchers and graduate students in the arts and humanities, and especially those doing interdisciplinary work. The organizer found out about me through my professor. You may know that I am rather interdisciplinary. Sometimes, I feel a little like a chameleon, blending into science despite being a humanities person, and then sneaking back into the humanities. History was my first academic love, and it remains an important part of me. And then there is art, and writing both of which I continue to practice. Ideally, I will one day combine them all. I have been doing some philosophical/historical work on my own on the rare occasions that I had a bit of time to spare it. During the winter, I wrote a brief piece called "The Problem with Nature." This piece summarizes many of my thoughts about the use of the common word "nature" to vaguely describe the earth and life, and why I find this dangerous. My goal is to write more extensively about this topic, and to delve into greater historical research on the development of that mentality. I was actually originally asked if I wanted to participate in this conference, however, because of my art work and because they sought artists to share some of their pieces. I happily agreed, but wanted to work in this other research and so formulated my research around that scholarship, and some of its overlaps with my art work. That is because, most of what I do is connected. Most of my thoughts tie together, and whether they are expressed through scientific inquiry, paintings, history, writing, they are likely to have a similar theme. My art work often focuses on the earth, on plants or landscapes or people in them. I love to depict "beauty", or things that I find "beautiful." But I would be troubled if you said that I paint or depict "nature." (My above-mentioned essay can give you more of that background.) So I used my artwork as a platform to dissect the problems with "nature", and the ideas of my essay and hopeful further research. I have also posted the power point of that presentation here on my website. It was a spectacular experience. I was so glad to dust off my humanities work and step back amongst some like-minded folks. Despite being a shy person, I also paradoxically like presenting and public speaking, so that was also a very enjoyable opportunity.

As an aside, this past year has also brought a number of visitors out to Oregon to see me. Among them, my dear friends Lisa, Maddie, and Stuart. Lisa and Maddie are friends from St. Olaf. It is unbelievable to me that I have such wonderful people in my life, to fly out to spend time with me and explore a bit of Oregon. Prior to my friends' visit, my beloved aunt Diane ("Didi") was the inaugural visitor, which was also wonderful. My college teammate Laurel would be next, visiting for a running race, and eventually my dad and little brother.

Although I now have one year of coursework under my belt and it is summertime, I will unfortunately not be going home to Minnesota for summer "break." And when I say break, I say it somewhat sarcastically. That is because all of my field work will be occurring during the months of June (now passed), July, August, and September. My goal is to finish my "field" work (also being sarcastic, because a greenhouse is a far-cry from "field" work to me) before the start of the academic year on September 24th. This means that while I no longer have coursework, at least for the summer, I have a lot of other work before me. My research involves loblolly pine seedlings and Douglas-fir seedlings, with three provenances of each. Douglas-fir is the dominant timber species, and probably tree species in general, in the Pacific Northwest. Loblolly pine is the dominant timber species in the Southeast. A provenance is essentially a "seed source" -- a geographic location. In this case, those provenances, or locations, are a coastal source of each species, an "inland" source, and a disjunct or extreme source. These sources are correlated with low, moderate, and high drought tolerance, which I will be testing experimentally by subjecting them to two consecutive droughts. The "disjunct" or extreme sources of loblolly and Douglas-fir are locations that exhibit extreme dry conditions. I am interested in whether or not the seedling's source and environmental/evolutionary history is of greatest importance or whether the experienced conditions of the seedling during its (short) lifetime is of greatest importance in determining drought tolerance and drought susceptibility. I am also interested in what physiological characteristics are correlated with drought tolerance and drought susceptibility. This work will be done in the coming weeks and months, in the greenhouses here at Oregon State University where the seedlings are now housed. I say "now" housed because getting them here was an ordeal in itself. Normally, you would probably grow your seedlings in the greenhouse that will be their permanent home. In my case, my seedlings were sown and transplanted by myself and others about 3 hours north in Washington back in April. Up until last week, that is where they were living and being taken care of. So, I had to figure out how to get them to Oregon State University. By the way, there are 4,000 of them. This is approximately 185 square feet of seedlings. In the end, the process involved driving a 26 foot U-Haul -- with the floor packed with seedlings -- and then making a second trip a few days later to retrieve the remainder in a 6-wheel covered truck combined with a trailer. Then unloading them tray by tray into the OSU greenhouses. Phew. I must say, I am pretty darn pleased with myself for figuring out how to perform that logistical feat. And I did it without dropping a single seedling. And with some help from my dad, sister, and little brother. Actually, a great dose of help from my dad. The "Great Move" as I shall dub the ordeal occurred while my dad and little brother were visiting, which helped make things smoother. When I started graduate school, little did I know I would be learning how to operate gigantic trucks on the interstate.

Now, I am in the throes of finalizing the experimental design and perhaps sooner than I would like will be beginning the experiment itself. Yes, all that work of growing and transporting the seedlings was only the prep. I will be spending many, many, many hours this summer in the greenhouse with those seedlings using various scientific equipment to measure soil moisture, photosynthesis, plant water use and hydraulic characteristics, sugar storage, and fluorescence (often an indicator of stress). I dream of field studies -- where I am out in the woods, or prairie, or even some backyard -- observing life instead of torturing it. But my hope is that my research will yield important information about tree health in drought, how trees might survive, and how they might not. Out here in Oregon and all across the West Coast, drought has been a major concern to say the least. In will, likely, continue to increase in intensity and frequency in many parts of the world. This will have serious consequences for plants, and for forests. Still, I feel sorrow with the knowledge that my research will ultimately lead to deaths, to the (all too likely unnecessary) taking of 4,000 lives. This is, truthfully, against my ethics. I love all life, and see no living thing as greater than any other. I dislike the idea of tampering with life, and believe more scientists need to question their research practices and the justifications for their decisions. Greater caution should be met when an experiment will tamper with life (despite my acknowledgement that much has been learned from some such experiments) and for me there is no reason this caution should not extend to plants. Therefore, I remind myself to respect the lives and integrity of each seedling. And I feel gratitude to them, for what I receive. 

I am sure there will be more to tell of my research as time continues. Next, I want to talk about running!

As some know, I spent February, March, and April as a research fellow at the Hawkesbury Institute for the Environment in Richmond, Australia. At this point, I have to admit that I am woefully and hopelessly behind in writing about my experiences, and unfortunately doubt that I will be able to encapsulate much in the limited time I have. But I'll do my best! During the first month, I was getting settled in and used to the surroundings. I spent my first full weekend in Australia very ambitiously. While I frequently feel that I can be lazy and desire to have calm days painting, writing, etc. I also feel a very strong sense that I must use time to its fullest. (That being said, I still slip into wasting obscene amounts of time accomplishing little to nothing, but oh well). Therefore, faced with two "work free" days,  I headed to the Blue Mountains on the first Saturday to a popular little town called Katoomba. There was even a ukelele festival going on when I arrived! So a very curious experience from the start! My goal was to do a hike to the Three Sisters rock formations (which turned out to look nothing like I had imagined from the pictures, as is usually the case). This was my very first experience hiking in Australian "bush." It was immediately vastly different from any experience I had heretofore with forests. The predominant trees (and sometimes the only trees!) and eucalypts. These can very considerably between genotypes, but are nonetheless very different from the broadleaves of my home. Even the leaf color, and the sway of the forest with the wind felt different. I felt foreign in a way I had not felt anywhere else. I felt more foreign in the forests and lands of Australia than I had anytime in Japan, because I did not have an immediate connection to the land in Australia. I fumbled with establishing such a connection during much of my three months there. I often found myself saying to others that even the colors did not resonate with me. I did not know this land. I did not know its ways or its stories. I believe strongly that culture and land are intertwined, and I was painfully aware that I knew next to nothing about the diverse indigenous cultures of Australia. So much of that culture, like in the United States, is "covered up" by western culture through the process of colonization, and I initially felt lost. Nonetheless, the Blue Mountains are quite incredible. They are different from what I know, but they are so beautiful in their own right. Now, as I think back on them, I miss them in ways I would not have guessed. I think this is because, at the last moment and unexpectedly, the connection was suddenly there. Ironically, this came from traveling to the "outback" at the very end of my three months. As someone who loves deep green, who loves streams and lakes, and rich forest, I thought that I would probably not especially enjoy the outback. It turns out, I loved it. So I wish that I could have spent more than a couple days there. Anyways, I am jumping ahead of myself already. After going to Katoomba on Saturday, hiked the Three Sisters rock formation and through the gullies, then back alllll the way back up. I was quite exhausted, and feeling especially out of shape, after being particularly lazy and and not at all diligent about my running in the previous wintry months. I was also unedge because I was still hyper-sensitive to the many warnings of deadly snakes and spiders, ubiquitous throughout Australia. If it's in Australia, it's probably deadly. So all tall grass and low vegetation was embarrassingly suspicious to me at the start of my time there. While hiking, I did hear a rustle on the forest floor, and looked to see a beautiful lyre bird (of course, I did not know this is what it was at the time). They are about the size of peacocks, with a tale that curves like a lyre but to me at the time was strikingly like a feathery fox tail . It continued peacefully on its way. All manner of small colorful birds can be found flitting around in Australia, and of course the croaking flocks of white crested cockatoos. I spent the night in their wonderful hostel (it had taken me 4 hours to reach Katoomba from Richmond by train, even though it is a mere 45 minute drive. This is because the line for Richmond must back-track to reach the Blue Mountains line. Then someone got hit by a train and we were transferred to buses, then back to trains. An ordeal, in my typical style, for my first time on Australian trains. My housemates had also encouraged me that the hostel was very nice and I would probably enjoy my time more if I spent the night). The next day, I came back to the house in the morning by train, dropped off my bag, and then hopped back on the train this time in to Sydney. I was quite intimidated after reaching Central station and trying to navigate towards the Opera House area. I became a bit lost, but after getting a free pocket map from a tourist shop, I was actually quite proud of myself for navigating all day by myself. I stumbled into the "chinatown" area completely by accident, and serendipitously found a genuine Japanese bakery!! How long it had been since I had eaten my favorite, an-pan (red bean bun). I was so astounded and so happy and so nostalgic all at once. Sydney is a really interesting city to me. Very international, and very diverse, with a lot to offer. I walked to Darling Harbor, and was really in awe by the beauty of the area. A really great place. Then I walked along towards the Opera House, took an obligatory picture, and then went to the Botanical Gardens. Now these are simply amazing. Just so incredibly beautiful. I've never seen a "european" style botanical garden before, so I was very much in awe. It is so huge, there are so many plants, statues, flowers, lovely buildings, etc. Sydney is the closest experience I have to anything "european", oddly enough. I was really intrigued by the british style buildings and architecture. I had finally reached the botanical gardens by the late afternoon, and by that time I was admittedly tired (both from the heat, the sun and impending sun burn, the walking, and the not-being-able-to-afford-food -- an issue I will perhaps broach later). When I got back to Richmond, my housemates were impressed by how much I had packed into one weekend.

For the first month (February), I did most of my work with measuring gas exchange, specifically respiration and dark respiration, in the cotton plants that were being grown in the glass house under elevated and ambient temperatures. This was an intense learning process, coming to master the Li-Cors. I am very grateful to the visiting researcher that I was helping, for all that she did to teach me! So needless to say, I spent a ridiculous amount of time in the glasshouses, and then in the evenings did what I could to figure out data analysis for the respiration data, creating temperature curves. Data analysis is one of my definite weaknesses, so although it was challenging to do, it was an amazing learning opportunity and so rewarding. I tried to really make the best contribution I could, and work my hardest. I have no doubt that, at least during my first month, I probably spent about 60 hours during the work week on the cotton drought experiment (some 40 hours on gas exchange measurements with the Li-Cors, and then the rest on data analysis at home). Like I said, this might have been challenging, but it was absolutely worth it in the amount that I learned. As I said in my previous post, I wanted to express my extreme gratitude for the opportunity I was given, and not to squander the faith that my host professor had generously given me. Then, on the weekends when possible I tried to see what I could and travel around. I think that I accomplished a huge amount in both research and experiencing Australia, in a relatively short time! I helped to wrap up three different experiments on drought and temperature stress (in cotton, peanuts, and eucalypts) and collect quite a lot of data. I very much hope that I was a help-- and my host professor was really diligent about making sure I knew I was appreciated, so this was truly wonderful. Ah, I learned so much and gained so much confidence. I feel so lucky for the in-depth research I was allowed to participate in and the great community of researchers and technicians I was able to meet at the Hawkesbury Institute. And I couldn't believe it, but in March my dear Professor Koike from Hokkaido University came to visit the Hawkesbury Institute for a whirlwind couple of days to try to arrange a bilateral agreement between the universities. Although the visit itself was for business, I cannot begin to express how joyful I was to have such an unexpected chance to meet Koike-sensei. I very much miss him and Hokkaido University. Approximately one year ago to that date, I had helped to escort my host professor (Professor Tissue) from the Hawkesbury Institute around Hokkaido University -- now, in a a surreal twist, I was escorting Koike-sensei around the Hawkesbury Institute

I hope that someday I can write more about my time in Australia, but for now I will keep things more brief except to describe a few additional highlights that I should not neglect. The major highlight was that I made it to the Great Barrier Reef!!!! It was quite an ordeal to reach, involving two 6AM flights, a traumatizing 2AM night bus from Richmond to Sydney with drunkards and reaching Sydney alone in the dead of night to hail a taxi,  and only being able to be in the Cairns area for literally two days. I would do it all over again to see the reef. I knew that this was something that I could not let myself miss, so I brushed aside all the other difficulties. It sure is tough to be poor and to travel though! I'm only able to accomplish it because of my willingness to sacrifice all reason (meaning that I don't eat, don't really sleep, and walk everywhere in order to pay for it. Still worth it.) I think that, had the research institute been in Cairns, I might have had a vastly smoother transition to Australia, just because of the richness of the environment there. But I'm just glad I got there. Cairns itself is a town fueled and made purely for tourists. There were wealthy people everywhere. I was equal parts appalled and amused by them, and my rag-tag self felt out of place as usual. After arriving early in the morning, I checked in at a hostel, then walked quite a few miles in the hot sun to reach the only hiking loop within foot-distance (a.k.a "all I can afford"). These are the Red Arrow and Blue Arrow loops, ironically near to the airport so I was actually backtracking. The loops themselves are perhaps a mile, and 8 miles respectively (perhaps shorter or longer, can't remember.) I completed both, was exhausted from not eating or sleeping but proud to cover so much ground. The forests there did begin to intrigue me, which gave me hope. I also met my first goanna! These are giant monitor lizards -- like Joanna from the Rescuers Down Under. It was entirely unexpected. As I was nearing the last stretch of the Blue Arrow trail, which is a dirt trail as opposed to paved, I looked ahead and there he (or she) was across the path. We both stared at each other in surprise, perhaps wondering who would move, and then off he went into the underbrush. This gave me a smile. I hiked around the botantical gardens area, through some of the older growth forest boardwalks, and very much enjoyed the area. After completing the more remote hiking loops during the early morning, and then emerging towards the afternoon, there were increasingly more people in the gardens. I continued to push myself to see everything and all that I could. It was in the 90s, and sunny, and by the end I was definitely feeling tired as I made my seemingly endless trek over hot sidewalks and passed by cars and buses, back towards the hostel. In total, I know I covered at least 18 miles in that days and likely more, with no sleep and not much sustenance to speak of. When I reached the shopping center near the hostel, I was parched and probably pretty ridiculous looking. I ate three mcdonalds icecream cones, which at 30 cents each were just about all I could afford for dinner anyways. The next morning, I woke up early for snorkeling. It is a couple hours boat-ride out to the outer reef. We went to Michaelmas Cay and Hastings Reef. I had been initially overwhelmed to chose a snorkeling tour company, because there are so many companies, but I was very satisfied with the smaller, family-owned SeaStar company. I'm also glad that I chose snorkeling over scuba diving (I couldn't really afford scuba diving either, but I had been sorely tempted). Snorkeling gave me the freedom to swim and dive all over the place. Whereas when I had snorkeled in Okinawa and had not really been allowed to go off on my own (and everyone even had to wear life vests!), this time I was free to dive as deep as I wished and explore all I wanted! I especially enjoyed diving down to where the scuba divers were and circling around, reaffirming that snorkeling is more for me than scuba diving would have been. At both sites we had about 2 hours of swimming time, and I used every single second. Others went back to the boat after getting tired, but I floated and swam around and admired for as long as they would let me stay in the water, even though by the end I was very tired and probably senseless from continuously diving down as deep as I could. I was the very last one back to the boat. The reef itself was not as bright and colorful as I might have expected, but there were so many fish and coral and other creatures. I kept diving down as far as I could to the wall's edges and other overhangs, in search of reef sharks who apparently can sometimes be found there, but no luck. I was absolutely enthralled, even so, to meet sea turtles! And to be able to swim right up to them. (They just continued about their business, putting up with me as I ogled them). In the afternoon, I explored the esplanade area, stumbled into an amazing indigenous/aboriginal art gallery (I cannot begin to express how amazing these paintings were, some of them as large as walls), and as the sunset went for a little jog . The sunset and moonrise (a full moon! Bright and silvery and shining above the shadowed hills and ocean) were breathtaking -- yet again I found myself in a situation I could not believe I was living. Flying foxes swooped in the sky above me. I ate another ice cream cone, went to bed, woke up around 4AM to get to the airport, and then I was back to Sydney.

During my last month (April), I was also very lucky to go to Wentworth Falls in the Blue Mountains, to the Port Stephens area and sand dunes,  and to do the Royal National Park Coastal walk which is near Sydney. This is about 15 miles or so, which I was invited to tag along for with a group of lovely researchers. We walked the first day through forest, camped in a beautiful grassy valley near the ocean (in an afternoon rainstorm, of course, but you know), then did about 12 miles of it the second day: across beaches, up steep cliffs climbs, then along the ridge itself. I wish I would have had more time to go at a slower pace and enjoy the incredible variety of ecosystems along this whole stretch. The change throughout is a marvel itself, and a good way to throw a whole bunch of environments into one experience. Even saw some bounding wallabies in the forested section! Another major highlight for me was to go to Muru Mittigar, the aboriginal (and especially Darug) cultural center about ten miles from where I was in Richmond. I biked there, through back-country roads, and spent the day with some of their staff as they lead me through their set of activities. Their staff member, Paul, gave me a great talk about some of the history of colonization-- brief, but informative even if I had by this point managed to learn more about the history -- but even more meaningful to me was to hear some of his own opinions and experiences. He also showed me through their gardens, and taught me about some of the amazing uses for so many plants. Then during the second half of the day, their resident artist Uncle John Boney gave me painting instructions, and painted with me. (Uncle is a polite term for an older man or elder, and Aunty for women) I was sheepish about admitting that I actually do a lot of painting myself, so what he showed me was a very basic introduction tailored to the huge groups of people he typically has come in. Usually, groups of around 50 or 100 people come in! Somehow, I was there on a day where it was JUST me! AH, I felt so immensely happy and fortunate. This was perhaps my best experience in my whole time there. I think that he was interested by my attention to his paintings and (maybe I'm just being facetious) my ability to follow his painting instructions, and he even offered to teach me to paint! He said I could keep coming back and he would teach me! When I showed him one of my business cards with watercolor work, he really liked it, and said that he wanted to learn watercolor and we could teach each other what we know. Goodness, few people know how touched I was by this and how dearly I wished to accept his incredible offer. A dream come true for me, really -- to do art and to learn from such a talented artist. Alas that it was my last few days in Australia (for now) and I would be leaving the next week. I heave a heavy sigh whenever I think about this. But I do hope to return. And I've painted him a watercolor piece, in his style, which I hope to send to him. Maybe he will like it and remember me.

My final hurrah was traveling to the outback during my very last week in Australia. In fact, I told Uncle John (the painter I had met at Muru Mittigar) of this plan when he asked if I intended to do any traveling before I left. He was surprised when I said I would be going to visit Bourke (literally the middle of nowhere), and I was just as surprised to learn that he grew up in that area. A group of seven of Phd students, technicians, and myself rented a big car, sardined ourselves in, then drove 9 hours to arrive at 1AM in the desolate town of Bourke -- known as the unofficial "start" of the outback, hence the Australian colloquialism "back of Bourke." Bourke on its own was an experience. A very tiny town, with at least ten closed down and boarded up hotels, in the north west of New South Wales. It is rather isolated, and has a bit of a rough feel around the edges. It is also in the midst of an 8 year long drought, I believe. There is, apparently, a reputation for the area and the outback for crime. Part of this may be true, but part of it I do not doubt is stereotype -- in particular, stereotypes about aboriginal people, many of whom live in the outback (for a host of reasons, many of them socio-economic and which is another topic in itself that I will not go into here, but will write more about perhaps). We did a hike in Gundabooka National Park, red and hot and dry, but also surprising in the amount of vegetation there was. Here I saw the greatest variety of well-known Australian animals during my whole trip, tons of emus and kangaroos and even a bearded lizard. It was as if everything clicked -- suddenly, the connection was there, and I loved this land, different as it was.

Oh yes, and I also managed to hop over to the south island of New Zealand with my sister in April. How could I forget. ; ) How could I possibly come so close to New Zealand and NOT fanangle my way there. I'll share some thoughts about that next.

Well, there are many things I am forgetting or have left out for lack of time, but I hope that gives some idea of what I did over three months and with luck I will add more. I had my share of disagreements with Australia, but also a whole lot of incredible experiences as well. During this whole time, I was struggling immensely with decisions over graduate school. In the end, I was choosing between a PhD at the Hawkesbury Institute and a masters at Oregon State University. They were both very different offers, with advantages and disadvantages of their own which in the end balanced them evenly. I wavered back and forth for months, feeling so overwhelmed. In the end, I have decided on Oregon State, because I felt I could not sacrifice being so far from family. In doing so, as my head began to clear once back in Minnesota for a time, I realized that I should have been brave and chosen Australia. But I will make the most of it, and it is certainly not a bad place to be, and it will still work out.

Here is a quick summary of my first few days in Australia. I left Minnesota on Saturday, Feb 1st for my long, long journey by air:

It has been very busy immediately since arriving here. I landed at the airport (after what felt like a very long journey--mostly as a result of having to change planes twice in seattle/los angeles) at 6:20am and went through customs. (I'll note that my characteristic streak of luck did not spare me on the flight...the plane had some malfunction with the emergency lights so all 13 hours of the overnight flight were as bright as day. I wore my hat over my face.). Customs used sniffer dogs, a cute little beagle in this case. Then I had to figure out how to contact the driver who was supposed to be picking me up. I ended up purchasing a cheap track phone at the airport with a couple hours worth of minutes (which the worker installed incorrectly resulting in my not actually being able to use the phone for two days and defeating the purpose of having a phone, ugh). I had to borrow a phone, but contacted the driver. A rather gruff and odd man, who asked me multiple times if I was sure I was Jamie Mosel. Maybe he was expecting a guy? Anyways, I had no real idea of how far the drive would be, only a rough idea of where the university is outside of Sydney. The drive must have been about 45 minutes to an hour. I was really nervous during the drive and perhaps a bit stunned by the whole process that it had taken to reach Australia.

When we reached the campus (in what I would describe and others have described as a "redneckish" town), the driver pulled up to the administrative building and said "here you go" and pointed to a back door which ended up being locked. He left, and I was standing outside of the building confused. Luckily, a grad student walked past outside and unlocked the door for me--although in a pinch I could have gone around the front once I figured it out. I literally stepped through the elevator doors and there was my host professor walking up the stairs. So that was a very fortuitous meeting. Literally five minutes later (after dumping all my luggage in the professor's office) I was pulled into the meeting of visiting international researchers. This was at 8am or so, which felt much later to me than to everyone else! I was still wearing my Olaf sweatshirt, jeans, and boots and it was 91 degrees. Ha. I told them I wanted to appear as Minnesotan as possible. We were all supposed to introduce ourselves and I had to go first. I felt intimidated by the end and uncertain of how to describe myself. There are perhaps ten visiting researchers, a mix of primarily established professors, as well as some post-docs. Boy do I feel inexperienced!! I tried to piece together "how exactly to I fit in here? I'm no professor, and no post-doc...I barely even know what research I'll be helping with!"

Afterwards, I was shown to the offices for bit, signed a few papers, then my host professor gave me a quick tour of the immense research sites they have here. Extremely sophisticated, extremely complex, extremely expensive. Then he offered all the visiting researchers to go out to lunch. Apparently Thai food is really popular here, so even though we are in a tiny town there was a Thai restaurant. After lunch (around 1:30) my professor handed me off to the Canadian married couple who I am staying with. It turns out that the room in the grad student house was given to an international student from England and so plans were re-arranged--this I learned in a whirlwind upon arrival.

The Canadians are very Canadian. And so extremely kind. They must be in their thirties. Ironically, they are both vegetarians and both run. So I am lucky, as I am both a vegetarian and a runner! And hopefully, maybe, one day I can go running with them. The woman, named Jen, apparently likes to trail run over hiking routes and has run a 50 mile race before!! She is also a fungi researcher at the Hawkesbury Institute for the Environment where I am. Here husband, Corey, is an airplane engineer. They live in a house that is in town and about a 20 minute walk from campus. Surprisingly, I was able to navigate my way back from campus without getting lost. Now THAT is an accomplishment. They have been very helpful!

The next day I came to campus for a 9am meeting and then to hear brief presentations by the researchers at 10am. After the presentations, my host professor originally said that I could head home to settle in a bit more--I think he is very busy this week and stretched for time, so I was glad for a chance not to bother him. But I told him that I am happy to help with any and all projects, and I had gathered during the meetings that all the visiting professors might need help. I also wanted to make sure that he knew that I wanted to work hard and didn't want to seem as though he needed to hesitate about putting me to work. Just at that moment a visiting professor from Texas wanted to install some infrared heat sensors (well, really, to put AA batteries in them and hang them from bungee cords tied to sticks over some potted peanuts...but that doesn't sound as sophisticated). I got to tag along instead of going home to settle in immediately. After it was done, I admitted that I have some experience with Li-Cors (photosynthetic gas exchange measuring machines...beasts, expensive, and complicated). The visiting professor saw this as an opportunity to sign me up for taking some measurements for him, and asked my host professor later about it. So I might be helping with that. Word spread quickly that I can run those machines, and so today from 9am to 5pm I helped another visiting prof from toronto/duke university to collect data. Light curves, specifically. I could pretend to explain to you what they are but...I'm not entirely certain myself. They are photosynthesis as a product of light over time, in a sense. Towards the end she asked me if I could also do the analysis~! I said of course (glad for a chance to learn), but informed her that she would have to show me how. So this evening I didn't get back to the house until after dark, about 8:30PM. So an 11 hour day? That's pretty good. I've made some 48 graphs in one day. I have no clear idea of how to describe them, other than that they show light and dark respiration in plants, so don't ask for now! We were doing the measurements on potted cotton plants grown in a greenhouse under elevated and ambient co2 and high/ambient temps.

On another interesting note, there are white cockatoos flocking in trees and in the skies like crows. And there are crows as well, but they sound ridiculous and nothing like normal crows. There are apparently deadly snakes everywhere to be found, as well as poisonous spiders. I have yet to see any, although apparently there is a lethal spider that lives under a bench in the backyard of the house and there was a giant snakeskin near the entrance to the greenhouse. Terrifying. The first day, as I mentioned, it was 91 degrees. But yesterday it rained and misted (of course), so the weather has cooled to the mind 60s and 70s. Not as cold as home, but a surprise.

Well, there you go. There's a bit of what's been going on here. I pretty much jumped straight into things! From the moment I stepped foot on campus! People kept asking me when I arrived if I was tired. Nope! I'm pretty resilient, I would say! I've been going to bed around 10pm and waking up around 7am. It still feels a little bit intimidating for me to know how under-qualified I am compared to all these experienced and established researchers. But I keep telling them: "I have the least experience, but the most time available! So ask me to help!" Unlike in Japan, that offer has been accepted wholeheartedly and I've so far been put to work with the short-term visiting profs. It will be interesting to see when and if and what sort of other work I will be given on the projects that I was originally proposed to work on (elevated co2 and eucalypts). The professor is extremely nice, though. Although so busy, constantly running here and there. So I hope eventually he will have more time for me but until then, or at least for a few days, I have been given lots to do.