Good or bad the human spirit
is made to get used to things. We adapt.
Get familiar. Make routine. So often it takes change, and a break in
daily patterns and structures, for us to see things in a new light.
As someone who loves to
travel, who needs a large dose of freedom, it is these shifts in perspective
and consciousness which make me feel most alive.
Here are a few contrasts
which have jumped up and clobbered me in the last few weeks since leaving London
and landing in Australia.
The smells: one minute I’m
in the city not smelling much at all (too much cement perhaps... not helped by picking
up a cold)... the next I’m standing in a forest surrounded by towering gum
trees and late summer, early autumn heat.
They don’t say you can taste scents for nothing. I was inundated with eucalyptus. A glorious sensation and as familiar a
welcome home as one could get.
Later came my reunion with
the Aussie sea: the salty air and sound of waves crashing, calling me from the
car the second I opened the door at my Mum’s beach house in Kiama... urging me to
run onto the beach to feel sand between my toes. Ah, bliss.
Of course I’m as white as a light-house at the
moment, after the best part of two years without sun-baking... so just as
quickly the searing sunshine forced me back indoors until I could: a) escape
the midday heat (you know, Mad Dogs and Englishmen and all that), and b) find a
huge tub of sun-screen and my old Aussie cricket hat with a wide brim.
Another contrast is the
light. Australia is so bright! Seriously, every freckle and blemish on your
skin suddenly feels like it’s under a spotlight. I ordinarily admire the skin of English girls
for its purity – but could I have turned into a scaly crocodile
overnight?! It’s like the unforgiving
fluorescent lighting in nightclub toilets at 2am... where your slightly smudged
mascara takes on the look of a wanted felon.
Searing Aussie light also makes rogue grey hairs yell like Kath and Kim “look
at me, look at me”. Ooh, not good. Though past experience tells me it won’t be
long before they’ll be bleached golden by the sun; and if that fails there’s
always a hairdresser. Meanwhile I’m in
and out of the fabulously warm water so much that my hair is frequently wet; not
to mention extra curly because of the vigorous sea-salt.
I could complain this extraordinary
light is playing havoc with my one dodgy eye – whose pupil was damaged such
that it doesn’t contract as it should – but it just means I must be vigilant
and not leave the house for a moment without wearing really good sunglasses.
Yet even that reminds me, in a strangely fond way, of the reasons Australia is
called ‘the sunburnt country’. It seems
when it comes to vivid colours and natural spotlights, Australia is like a lead
actor down-stage centre in a special, while other countries hover in
comparatively subdued light like an under-appreciated chorus line. I’ve had similar experiences when sailing
around the Greek Islands or living in Tuscany, and many tell me the light in
Africa has a dramatic appeal, nevertheless this is a keenly felt contrast upon ‘coming
home’. The surprise, is that I’d
forgotten.
A trivial but fun
contrast is that I’m driving again. I
hardly go near a car living in central London.
Down Under I am zipping around happily in my old Mazda – which friends
and family cannot believe is still going, but which I heartily defend as she’s
never let me down and as the engine works that’s all that matters to me. Oh, and the air-conditioning. She and I have been companions for more years
than I can remember. It’s a shame the
on-road taxes are now so high it probably doesn’t make sense to keep her going
in Australia while I’m spending most of my time in Europe, but it’ll be a sad day
when I say goodbye. She’s cute and small
and would be perfect to drive around European cities if I could teleport her
abroad. Otherwise I rather like telling
my young nieces and nephews “no, there’s nothing wrong with my car... it’s
called manual locking... “ to which they screw up their faces in
non-comprehension, only exceeded by bemusement “the car from the olden days” is
installed with something called a “cassette player”... not a CD or iPod
device. I’d have liked to find a tape to
educate them with a bit of Aussie rock from the 80s, but no doubt they’re lost or
stored in a box somewhere (like much of my stuff, scattered around the
globe).
Another thing which seems
strange, is to be hearing Australian accents.
I know I still have the accent of my heritage... but I’m used to
listening to British accents on the street, in the pub, on the news, in the
theatre, with friends... so this is currently a marked contrast. It’s
nice. But it’s different.
The price of fruit and
vegetables is a huge shock too. Volume
ensures these products are far cheaper in the UK and, though that’s no guarantee of quality, it
does take some getting used to that a small bag of groceries from Woolworths
costs $50 whereas at my local Co-Op or Sainsburys in Wandsworth I’d pay £15 or
£20 for the same. Thankfully, my sister Rebecca
has pointed out that legs of lamb are far cheaper Down Under, and access to quality
seafood is easy, so I think for the month of May I’m going to go on a protein
load-up.
When I first got off the
plane in Melbourne – after a particularly quiet and spacious flight on Royal
Brunei’s new Dreamliner 787 - a great mate, David, picked me up and drove me to
a pretty part of Victoria, the Yarra Valley. That evening David and lovely Linda (and her mum,
Gwen) hosted an evening of music around a fire pit. Jet lag had not yet taken hold, so I lay back
on a wooden bench listening to songs on guitar and blues-harp, and looking up
through boughs of gum-trees to a perfectly clear sky and hundreds and hundreds
of stars. The flight takes a day, so it
was technically a day and a half then since I’d left the UK, and two days since
I’d looked up at the sky in suburban London, so the vision of these glistening
constellations - the southern cross as familiar as the eucalypt, the music, the
company and the beer - was a welcome reminder the sky is not only different
from one hemisphere to the next, but always a feature of
movement from the city to the outback or less populated countryside. And that
is a contrast of place which I need to feed my soul and bring me back to the
basics. I could not have asked for a
softer landing on the other side of the world.
Which brings me to one’s mates:
it’s sad to part, to leave friends behind for a time, but it is wonderful to be
reunited with the other people in your life, in your heart, who you’ve been
missing. It’s precious to find in that
place of contrast people who mean so much to you, and who are genuinely happy
to reconnect, to quickly fill the gap since you last met with stories, love,
memories, laughter and shared hope for each other’s prosperous well-being.
Where would we be without our
mates, eh?! It’s those contrasts, those individuals
who share a history and an affection with you that is unique, which is most
precious. So if I haven’t seen you yet,
I’m looking forward to it.
Hello Australia and happy
Anzac Day!
[P.S. Sorry about the unusual gap of time since my
last blog post. Moving apartments,
travelling, and a misbehaving laptop have proved distracting.
Thanks
for checking back in with ‘There’s Always A Story’. Cheers, Julie]
