After quickly washing and packing my bag, I run to catch the train. My haste is interrupted when I spot five grazing kangaroos in the distance. One of them has a young in its pouch. Staring with my mouth half-open, I decide I’ll just take the next train.
The political philosophy class has been going on for ten minutes when I arrive. During this class, it is always the same student who has at least five questions or comments. In my notebook, I count how many times she uses the word ‘like’.
“Like, it’s just like, you know how like, sometimes like…”
I’ve counted 31 so far. On the next page, I count how often the teacher apologises. I get to seven when he says sorry for the small, for some hard-to-read letters on the slides. I take a sip of filtered Australian drinking water. The mildly disgusting taste makes my head shake.
“Did I say something wrong, Onno?”, the teacher asks.
“No you didn’t.”
“Oh okay, I misread your body language then, my apologies.”
As he continues his explanation, I Google what interesting things I can do or see in Sydney this weekend. TripAdvisor highly recommends the Opera House. The four hours of sleep kicks in as I doze off and startle awake again several times in a row.
The next slide says that it’s time for a break. The teacher confirms this and gently slaps the projection screen.
“I shouldn’t have done that, sorry.”
When I go to get some more gross water, the teacher asks if I’m okay.
“Yes I am, I flew here from Perth last night so I’ve had very little sleep.”
“Perth, how nice! Did you check out the quokkas on Rottnest Island?”
“No, I didn’t have time for that unfortunately.”
“Oh yeah, no, you’re right, way too touristy, sorry.”
