I had arrived in Australia on a Wednesday and classes would not start until the coming Monday, hence, the four-day reprieve which I used to settle all curricular misalignments with the university, including dropping and adding classes.
I had set my agenda for the remainder of the week: fix my schedule, adjust to my new environment, get myself pumped for the first day of classes, try out the buses that would get me to particular destinations, and wrest control of my palate’s yearning for rice.
A throbbing head greeted me after a heavy night of partying…but I had to wake up at seven in the morning so as not to miss breakfast. On weekdays, residents of the colleges had to prepare lunch in the morning during breakfast hour as the mess hall would close the rest of the day in preparation for dinner, when they served the “good” meal (and “good” may sound simplistic as an adjective but it’s already an overstatement in this context).
