By Renee Biele
Summer still clings to my skin
And sand to my toes
My arms are heavy
With the new books I’d ordered online
The country air fades from my nostrils
Adelaide has a different smell
It twists through my nose and I want to scratch
In the heart of North Adelaide
On the very edge of the city
The smell holds something completely different
The warmth of the pavement
And the pale stench of the River Torrens
Joins with the sound of the air planes
Coming way too close
How will I ever get used to this?
A pile of course pamphlets and bus timetables littered
The bed yet to be made
University commences in a week
It was solely on my mind
Je dois étudier! I must study!
I’d learned that expression
For my coming language classes
Shakespeare was in the boxes at my feet
I stare intently at the first pamphlet
I had a week
This orientation week
To organise myself
Anxiety and excitement whirled in my stomach
But the corridor was buzzing
A pounding noise breaks my concentration
A big orange haired boy
Sticks his head through the door
An engineering shirt proudly on his chest
A beer in his hand
‘Fresher, you coming?’
‘What?’ What had he just called me?
‘Fresher, we gotta go! There is chair jousting to be done!’
‘What? My name is…’
‘Fresher. Freshman. That’s you from now on.
I’m your big brother and I’ll show you how it’s done,’
His voice boomed at me. ‘I’ve got to study…’
‘It’s O-Week!’
‘O-Week?’
‘Orientation? Come on, arts student!’
He was leering dangerously over my books
The beer threatening to spill over
‘I’ll be right there,’ I say
I take one look back
At my waiting books
But he had me by the collar
The corridor is full of suitcases
Their new home for most
With a fringe of nostalgia
Spilling from the boxes
New students like me
Moving from all over the state
Or even from overseas
Instead of packing
The boys have their office chairs
Turned around to form their horses
Packing boxes on their heads as helmets
Being pushed, their chairs hurtle
Towards each other
Their legs forward
Their foot jousts colliding
They fall back laughing
Ignoring their bumps and bruises
‘I have to study…’ I start again
My big brother only says
‘Mount up, fresher’
There was that name again
A tiny Asian girl
Legs nowhere as long as mine
Is already on her steed
Eyes behind her glasses glowing
‘Come at me!’
I am taken aback
By the fierceness in her voice
But climb the chair that had materialised
Someone pushes me before I can even take a breath
We struck each other
I am dazed and dizzy
But he already had my arm
‘To the Common Room!’
The engineering boy yells
The room is full of new students
All in their own transition
To a college life
The cask wine is cut
And splashes into the water cooler
My stomach turns
I am too old for ‘goon’
A cup is shoved into my hand
My stomach is queasy from the punch
The ‘Old Cols’ (Old Collegians) leer over us, daring us to skull
A beer is placed in front of me
Sloshing over the sides
Everyone starts yelling
The ‘freshers’ line up
The engineering boys form a supportive back line
The medicine student in front of me
Mirrors my nerves
As our turn comes
We chug!
Our eyes lock in savage competition
She finishes before me
Lets out a belch in victory
‘Med students are the best drinkers, don’t worry about it fresher’
My brother smiles and we hit our glasses in a cheer
University has been a long time coming
I didn’t want to be distracted
Orientation Week is the time for preparation
But my books could wait
For now it was O-Week!
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Très plaisant : mon petit doigt me dit que ce post devrait intéresser ma meuf