Thank You!

Thank you to all the readers! Some of you I know, some not... Quite a few people from some unexpected countries: Sweden, Germany, India...

Thanks for all the good feedback, but most of all for READING!

Readers of the past month...

Day 40: Reflections

Here we are: forty days in Australia. We have landed, struggled and slept through jet-lag, been welcomed by family, swept up in the excitement of Christmas and New Year, then started the process of job search and interviews. We have been 'processed' by banks and government and telephone companies... And we took a peek into what life in Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane would mean. We have seen mountains, rivers, sea, forest... and seasons change in a day.

Already we are used to seeing houses with low or no walls around, we drive without locked doors, we walk down streets or around suburbs any time of day, and I am ALMOST getting used to coming to a complete STOP at stop-streets without getting nervous. 

Shopping for simple things like groceries still take double the time as my 8.5 times table need some more practice. But my eye for spotting a good special has definitely improved drastically! (Especially when it involves getting two slabs of Lindt for $5!)

I get a bit restless around 2.30pm as I know friends and family in South Africa should start waking up. I get more restless around 4pm as they REALLY should be up and about by then. 

At times I find myself thinking about the life in South Africa that we left behind. Only at times, as otherwise it would be overbearing and would keep me from looking forward. I miss my woolly furry creature, but more than that I am grateful for the happy home he has now: with kids to play with all day instead of waiting for the day to pass so we can get home.

I find myself not so much sad about leaving, but sad about the conversations I didn't have, the people I didn't spend more time with, the people I didn't get to know better while I was there and had the chance. People you see in your normal day-to-day activities, the familiar faces that fill up the tapestry of 'life'.

Then I look forward, and I see a vastness of opportunities - almost overwhelming at times. Choices that we still have to make - but where there is choice there is freedom and will, and the chance to change or build new things. I start thinking of new challenges to put myself to, new goalposts.

And I wonder if I can make time to learn some Mazurkas to play at the Polish Place. Plus maybe a Polonaise or two...

Day 39: Who is the Aussie?

Australia Day. The official word on Australia Day is as follows: On Australia Day we come together as a nation to celebrate what's great about Australia and being Australian. It's the day to reflect on what we have achieved and what we can be proud of in our great nation. 

On Australia Day, over half of the nation’s population attend either an organised community event, or get together with family and friends with the intention of celebrating our national day. Many more spend the public holiday relaxing with family and friends.

A friend of the family was terribly shocked earlier this week when asking me what our plans were for Australia day, and I initially replied 'Nothing special, I think.' Upon realising my mistake, I did remember the family mentioned having a barbeque together, although I didn't realise it was a special event barbeque. 

In South Africa that would be called a 'Braai', even if you're English-speaking, and of course it would be on a real fire. So then, I can relate to the day after all, even not being Australian. It sounds very much like National Braai Day in South Africa. Except, of course, that it is not officially celebrated, though the sentiment behind it is quite similar. 

Not surprisingly, I have found myself thinking about the Australian identity multiple times over the past few weeks. Many South Africans have asked me, 'What is Australia like?' and then a bit more cautious, 'What are the Australians like?' 

For a start, no-one has hit me over the head with a bat simply because I'm South African. To be blatantly honest, Australians living in Australia seem to like South Africans living in Australia more, than South Africans in South Africa does Australians in Australia. (Now I expect a few people would want to hit me over the head with that bat! But it is simply my observation.)

More pertinent for me, what does it mean to be 'Australian'? In an attempt to start answering this question - as no doubt it will take longer than a few weeks to do that - I first have to identify the group I'm studying. It should be easy: Find Australians, get to know them. 

The first 'Australians' I met, I immediately discarded. They are family, or extended family-in-law. Or friends of my husband. Yes, they are Australian citizens, but in my mind they are all still very much South African. The neighbours? Hm... the one is a smuggler and the other Bulgarian. Originally, that is. Friendly lady at the bank? Nope, New Zealander. Even on our morning drive up Mt Tamborine, we found The Polish Place!

Yes, we have also met the Bruce's and Sheila's - the real Australians - remarkably friendly and helpful people. But are they the only real Australians? Isn't part of the identity of Australians, exactly the fact that one in four were born elsewhere? 

And so I close with two photographs: The one from Australia, the other from South Africa. But which is which?

Day 38: Smug, Smuggler...

Ils ont découvert avec stupéfaction que leur guide de voyage était un contrebandier.
They were astonished to discover that their travel guide was a smuggler.

I cannot help to wonder where the people from French Word of the Day get their sentences from. And who picks the word, for that matter. If there are 365 new words to be learnt as a reasonably beginner French student, would smuggler really be one of them? Would I go to France, and ask where I can find a smuggler? Or look at the bus driver and ask him, are you a smuggler? Hm... maybe it would be useful to be able to deny that I am NOT a smuggler. But then I can think of a whole list of words that would need to be added to my list of vocabulary if that is the rationale!

These are some of the thoughts that made their way into my consciousness today. At some point even thoughts about rain, more rain, lots more rain and then the inevitable thoughts of floods had to make space for something else. It is quite challenging though: the water levels keep raising, some roads are flooded, others almost flooded, some schools are even closed, and anyone in a house close to water is watching the water level with a careful eye. In the Gold Coast, that is just about everybody.

Hence it didn't take long for the two red-and-yellow canoes floating up the canal, to be spotted. (Yes, floating UP, as the water levels are still raising.) As I was standing on the porch, watching the canoes, taking a picture and waiting for thoughts other than rain and water to enter my mind, I suddenly saw the neighbour frantically trying to get my attention and pointing at the canoes. Gosh, they must be hers! I hurried over to where she was standing next to the water with a long pool broom.

"They are coming this way! We can pull them up just now!" She was quite agitated. It must be terrible watching your belongings float in the river. But just as she predicted, the canoes were coming closer fairly steadily, and with some more long-handled pool equipment, we soon managed to pull them ashore.
I looked at our neighbour. She was visibly happy. No, she was beaming!
"There, you take that one now." She pushed the one canoe in my direction. What? I can't do that!! I protested.
"Finder's keepers, lovey!"

The truth slowly dawned over me.

And she looked.... SMUG!

Canoes floating up the canal

Day 37: The Entertainer

It is a good thing that I'm not an ostrich today - it would be impossible to find any piece of dry sand to bury my head in. It has rained cats and dogs, old women with clubs, men, some frogs... and still it rains. And judging by the rainfall patterns, it is going to keep on raining well into February.

The rain does not deter Aussies from going out and having some fun though! On the contrary, it inspired some inventive blokes who happened to own a boogie board, pulley system with a long rope and a short ramp, to make good use of the flood water next to the road. This to great entertainment of the small crowd which has spontaneously gathered next to the road in expectation of at least one spectacular fall. With some disjointed encouragement from the bystanders they tried again and again to achieve a passable waterski and jump off the ramp. 

Ironically enough, it would be less entertaining to watch if they simply succeeded. The true entertainer would either woo the crowd by progressively outdoing himself, OR by performing a vast array of nearly successful attempts, with each one just being the slightest bit closer to success than the previous one. Of course, the MASTER entertainer would keep this up for exactly as long as he intended, building up the tension to unbearable heights... and then finally allow the audience to let out the breath they've been holding by finishing off in one grandly executed leap of triumph.

Now the fact that I considered burying my head in the sand today - provided of course that I could transform into an ostrich - should give some indication to the outcome of The Test. The good news is that statistics can still be trusted, and as such, we maintained the 50% pass-rate at Southport and husband is now the proud holder of the Document that Defines your Identity in Australia. 

(It still defies all logic that the same document in South Africa is only good for one thing: driving. Despite it bearing a photo AND fingerprint of the bearer, it is very often of no use proving your identity. Especially to banks! They need the Identity Document, which has no fingerprint, no barcode, and more often than not a very unrepresentative photograph...)

The only really bad news today is that I came to the realisation that I'm not much of an entertainer at heart after all. I will be perfectly happy to pass my test at the second attempt, and then never repeating it again!!

Rain in Queensland

Day 35: Drive, Mrs Lamb!

Today I am struck by a bit of atypical nervousness. I went for a driving lesson. And if that was a driving test, I would have failed. Twice. That is not exactly how I envisioned the experience, to be honest.

I mean... I am generally a careful driver, I don't take chances, I give way when I should, I don't speed. Well not too much. 'Speed' is a matter of perception, really. If I consistently drove 60km/h in Johannesburg streets I wouldn't have had any speeding tickets. If I do the same here, I would lose my license, or simply not get it. It is REALLY hard to drive 50km/h downhill!

Then there's the roundabouts. We don't have them in South Africa. I remember seeing something similar in some town one day, and I think Pretoria has two, but not near anywhere I used to drive. An in any case, they're not roundabouts. They're circles. Or traffic circles, if you must. What type of name is 'roundabout' for anything? Just imagine someone saying: I'm going to take a driveabout the roundabout before I go for a walkabout!

Well in my defense, I didn't fail anything about the roundabouts. Even in a 4WD it would be hard to drive OVER them - common practice for some circles in Gauteng - since these ones are not merely paint on the road, but proper circles with lawn and trees and occasionally a kangaroo in the middle. I mean, proper roundabouts.

Then there is the parking issue - which once again, will most likely be fine as I won't be driving a 4WD. So I should be able to control the urge to drive up and over curbs. And strangely enough, the driving instructor was very perturbed when I asked about doing a reverse parking manœuvre on the RIGHT-hand side. 'Why on earth would you want to do that??' I have wondered about that many times years ago when I had to master that tricksy one myself. Of course that is for parking that side in a one-way street.
But apparently it isn't required in Australia. Smile. And neither is parallel parking. Another smile.

Then there was just the little issue of the 'Busses-only' sign. Mental note to self: If instructor instructs to go left and sign says no cars, don't follow instructions. That's a tough one. The sign can't hit me over the head for disobeying instructions.

As the instructor and I parted ways, he gave me another piece of valuable information: the South Port testing station is much more difficult than Helensvale. There are roadworks, unexpected signs, missing stop-street signs, and a pass rate of only 50% compared to 70% at Helensvale.
And yes, we are booked to go for our tests at South Port.

But that's fine, really, I know how statistics work. It means if me and my husband take the test, one of us will likely fail. So if I could get my husband to fail, statistically speaking I would have a better chance to succeed. Sigh. Not really an option... On the other hand... Let's say I were to fail, just maybe, maybe, I could get a chauffeur...

Driving Mrs Lamb...

Day 34: Living the Dream

Coming 'home' after our trip to Sydney and Melbourne, also came with a bit of a shock to the system: the holiday is over. Well at least for one of us - my husband started a contract position with one of the bigger companies in Brisbane. The shock to the system came as we were preparing for the first day at work, and realised work shirts don't iron themselves while hanging in the cupboard.
Wife suddenly have a bit less free time on her hands...

There's nothing like a bit of physical labour to get the mind going though, and I soon started musing about our recent experiences in this new country. We have seen three cities, met new people, and had a tiny peek into what life in Australia is about.

But... what does it really mean to 'live the dream'?

Life on the Gold Coast could certainly fit that description for many people: live in a spacious house with a garden, lots of waterways, beaches right next to parks with barbeque facilities open to anyone, and an extra two hours of sleep every day on the train to Brisbane. That is if you don't mind a slightly bumpy sleep, and sacrificing a bit of dignity. If you DO want to preserve last-mentioned, you get two hours of reading, working uncomfortably on a LAPtop, or daydreaming.

My view on Brisbane is unfortunately somewhat unreliable, as this is the first city that I got to experience in Australia (two years ago now), and would therefore always have that untouchable 'first-love' spot in my heart. It's not the biggest, not the bussiest, not the smallest, nor the richest, probably not the most of anything... but even strangers are friendly and they have a conservatory of music right next to a big park. That counts something in my books.

Now Sydney - there's one big and busy city! Everything seems to run on very oiled wheels - down to the double-decker, air-conditioned trains. I had the feeling there's a place for anyone and everyone SOMEwhere in that big hive, if you look long and hard enough. That feeling was confirmed one day as we waited for a train in one of the underground stations... As I was looking at the big adverts on the station wall, some movement on the tracks caught my eye. I looked more carefully... a rat! A track-rat, I guess you could call him. And judging by his size, he is quite a train wise creature, to have survived such a literal rat-race for that long!

On the opposite side of educational levels, you can take a stroll through Hyde Park, and at almost any hour of day you are bound to find creatures of a different kind: the kind that plays chess, in a park, for FUN. Moreover, you find some other creatures who find it entertaining to WATCH a game of chess in the park! And yes... I am one of them. You can not blame me when the game is accompanied by running commentary from one of the players: 

Mamma Mia!!! That's a power move! Watch and learn, kids, watch and learn... Chess is easy! You want to take my pawn? You want to take it?? Yes! Push it, push it! ... What? You put me in check??

Chess players in Hyde Park, Sydney

And then there's Melbourne. City of street musicians, charming cafés and hidden alleyways. A city where you find streets lined with old buildings - proud, aristocratic buildings. Where you find rooftop cinemas, would-be and have-been artists literally painting the streets, and Vivaldi's Four Seasons aptly accompanying the changing weather of the moment. A city where street and art meets, where people still dream of becoming more than just another piece of mechanism in a big machine. 

Where are we going to end up? Where do we want to be? Where do we want to live our dream? At this moment, it is still a question that will be answered in due time. Maybe it has already been answered, we just don't know it yet.

Maybe part of the answer lies in the words of William Hennessy: Do what you love with all your might, and so find your place in the world - joyfully, abundantly and free from the guilt that you should be elsewhere, affirmed that you are actually where you belong.

(Loosely quoted)