The Plunge Down Under

Gorgeous Colors and Textures at Wilsons Prom

On our last Monday in Melbourne we revisited a favorite spot from our first full year in Australia, Wilsons Promontory.  Remote, beautiful and full of opportunities to spot wildlife, Wilsons Prom is one of those places that caused us to fall in love with  our adopted country.  This last visit did not disappoint.  It was every bit as gorgeous as we remembered.  

Squeaky Beach was squeaky, the water sparkled with shades of blue from turquoise to sea green to navy, and the birds and marsupials managed to reveal themselves in spite of the noise that we made along the way.  The flies were miraculously absent, and we found ourselves lingering on the beach as the sun swung toward the west, savoring the play of light and shadow on the rocks, sand and water.

 How is it that one country can contain so many corners of beauty?  I don't know the answer to that question, but I do know that we are glad we were able to visit this particular corner one last time.

Where is the Good in Good-bye?

"My heart hurts."  

Our eleven-year-old has repeated this phrase several times lately. I couldn't agree more.  Every day of the past few weeks has brought with it another painful good-bye, another marking of a last moment.  Sunday the 13th of April was one such day.

I have imagined our last Sunday at church many times over the past few months. In my mind I would sit there with tears streaming down my face, unable to join in the doxology or in the subsequent hymns.  Instead I was perfectly capable of singing, and not a single tear did I shed the entire day. 

The ache was certainly strong enough that it should have resulted in many tears.  Our church family has been for us our home away from home, a source of friendship and community in which the bonds of shared faith have far transcended any cultural and national barriers. After the morning service there was a beautiful Aussie lunch provided in the church hall.  There were many lovely touches including eucalyptus leaves on the tables, pavlova, smoked salmon and smashed avocado.  

In true Aussie style, the good-bye lunch had to include a few speeches.  I have no doubt mentioned the Australian penchant for speech-making on the pages of this blog.  For such an informal people, they do love addressing a crowd at every possible opportunity.  I have listened to enough speeches over the years that I figured I had better take advantage of the opportunity get my own two cents worth in.  I will include the text that I prepared at the end of this post.  At its conclusion you can read about my discovery that there was originally no good in the word good-bye.  Of course there wasn't.  In my present frame of mind, it makes perfect sense that the word good does not belong.

Top Ten Series: What We Won't Miss

A local parking officer issuing a fine.

Regular readers will know from my recent posts that saying good-bye to Australia has been heart wrenching for all of us.  Many of you in fact may be wondering just how long this good-bye is going to last on the pages of this blog.  It won't be too much longer I promise.  We have completed the excruciating process of moving every last item out of our house in Melbourne.  We have tested the ties of several friendships by delivering loads of goods (worthless stuff?) that we could not fit into our suitcases to various homes.  Now we exploring Western Ausralia.

Many tears have been shed over the good-byes.  We have all reacted differently, but all have agreed with the youngest family member that "Moving is horrid."  There are a few things that we won't miss however.  I hope my Aussie readers can appreciate the humor in the following list and realize that there are many, many more things that we will regret leaving behind. (And if you make it to the end, you will discover that we could only come up with nine, not ten!)

1. Aussie flies in our noses, mouths, ears and eyes.  I am pretty sure we will never be homesick enough to miss these persistent creatures.

2.  Parking Tickets.  On my way home from the post office one day in February, I passed five cars in a row, each with a $130 violation notice.  The drivers had forgotten to check the time of the scheduled street cleaning.  It was a bonanza for the city council.  R has had multiple parking tickets.  I have never received one, but then I have wasted hours of my life reading the complicated parking signs and driving around trying to find a safe place to park.  Often it seems faster to just walk.

Quok, Quok, Quokkas on Rottnest Island

I think that I have discovered my favorite marsupial today during our trip to Rottnest Island, popularly known as Rotto, or Perth's Playground.  There are many reasons to visit Rottnest, including pristine beaches, reefs that provide numerous snorkeling opportunities, and sheer beauty.  Add in a cute little creature who looks up at humans with wide eyes devoid of fear, and you can't go wrong.

The quokkas reminded me of kangaroos, particularly when they hopped.  It is illegal to handle them, although we witnessed one young girl do just that when she picked the one in this photo up and gave him a cuddle.

Biking around the island is a popular way to visit its many beautiful bays.  We didn't have enough time for that so had to resort to a combination of walking and the the hop-on and hop-off bus.  We had several wildlife moments along the way, including an osprey sitting on its magnificent nest, a giant sea turtle swimming around the rocks at the western end of the island, fur seals, and a lizard of some sort that our thirteen-year-old son desperately wanted to take home with him.

 

Hints for Visiting Rottnest on during School Holidays (Or: All the things that we didn't do).

1.  Book your ferry tickets in advance.

2.  Plan your ferry ride times so that you have plenty of time to bike around the perimeter of the island (I would recommend a full day).

3.  Bring everything that you need for a substantial picnic lunch.  Whether you are walking, biking, snorkeling or just queuing for the hop-on bus, you will be extra hungry.

4.  Carefully apply sunscreen well in advance, and insist on doing it for all children including teenagers.

But even if you happen to visit Rotto on one of the busiest days of the year, even if you have to wait over an hour for a ferry, even if you don't get the pleasure of biking around the island, even if you pay exorbitant amounts for water and extra snacks, and even if you come home with a sunburn, it can still be a spectacular day. Just ask any one in our family of six. 

Related articles

A Gem of an Island

What We Never Would Have Seen

Snorkeling on the Agincourt Reef

Good Friday in Perth

 

State War Memorial at the Kings Park and Botanic Garden in Perth

It's Good Friday today, and most of Australia is shut down as a result.  That is a big difference from any country that we have lived in previously.   We spent the second half of the day, along with half of Perth's local population, walking around the Kings Park and Botanic Garden, and then making a quick trip to the local aquarium.  It was a good family day, one that would have seemed abnormal had it not contained its fair share of squabbles and complaints.  As it draws to a close I am grateful for the laughter around the table, the discussions we have shared with our kids, and for these few days of respite here in a warm, sunny corner of Western Australia.

Before we set off on our sightseeing jaunt, I picked up a timely book for Good Friday entitled Missing Jesus: Find Your Life in His Great Story.  I was attracted by the word 'Missing' in the title.  So often lately I have felt that something is missing in my life.  Is it that familiar, impossible-to-be-fulfilled longing for home that so many expats experience?  Is it an inevitable part of the human condition that we always feel that something is not quite right, that we are missing out on something big?

Authors Charles and Janet Morris claim in their little book that the answer to our sense of missing out can be found in one person, the very person whose suffering occupies our thoughts on Good Friday.  I was immediately drawn in by their conversational style of writing and by the stories that they tell.  As the first chapter drew to a close, I was swept along by the growing crescendo of writing that ended up at the cross.  For many Christians, the cross is seen as the ticket to salvation, the event that gets them out of hell and into heaven.  Charles and Janet make the claim that it shouldn't end there.  Rather, the cross is something we need every day.  It helps to get us outside of ourselves, to the only person in whom we can truly find what we are missing. 

"Jesus is not one of many lights. Jesus is the Sun. When we see his cosmic significance it reorders our world . . . It delivers us out of our small way of life into a wide and joyous orbit of worship."

We need to continually fill up on the glory of his death, to keep taking in the sheer breathtaking wonder of the Son of God stretched out in love and nailed onto those rough wooden beams."

"The cross is not a little thing we wear around our necks; it’s the glory of God revealed, the glory of his love, the centerpiece of all creation . . . he’s not trying to keep us away; he’s drawing us in. He let his body be broken and his blood be shed so he could have us close to him. We need to take this in every day."

Morris, Charles; Morris, Janet (2014-02-14). Missing Jesus: Find Your Life in His Great Story (Kindle Locations 255--282). Moody Publishers. Kindle Edition.

As I was finishing this post, R happened to be researching our current location.  As many of our Australian friends have helpfully pointed out, by going to Perth we have traveled in the opposite direction from Pittsburgh.  In fact we have chosen the furthest spot on land possible from the 'Burgh. We will begin making our way back east at the end of next week.

 

Related articles

Christmas Carols: One of our Favorite Australian Customs

Hanging Out in Perth and Fremantle

The Pinnacle of our Trip to Perth

To my crying friend

To my crying friend,

Since I have yet to break down and cry, I am hoping you will accept this letter as a substitute.  It is inadequate, but it's the best that I can offer at the moment. The tears are so very close. They gather behind my eyelids, my chest aches, my lips waver slightly, but then all the emotion gets blocked, and I am unable to release it. I watched you cry your way through Sunday, but I remained dry eyed.  You have taught me so many things, but it seems that three years is not long enough for me to learn how to cry.

Actually I think of you more as a ‘once in a lifetime friend’ than my crying friend. I have no doubt that you are right---that we will eventually settle into our new lives and make new friends. But as I have said many times, there will be no one like you and D.

No one else will be able to open a bottle of bubbles and give a cheer in the same way that you do. I can't imagine that anyone else will be able to convey the same amount of understanding and affection with one glance the way you can. You have come to know us in a way that would take most people a decade or more to accomplish.

 

American Thanksgiving 2011

Who else would have convinced me that we could serve an American Thanksgiving dinner to seventy people? What other non-American would have embraced cranberry marshmallow salad, pumpkin pie and sweet potato casserole with as much enthusiasm as you did? With your inspiration, planning expertise and confidence, we pulled off something I never ever would have considered doing on my own.

 

There is no one else who could have made me excited to visit NYC. I’m pretty sure that no one could make nonstop fun of my navigational skills and make me feel loved rather than feel like an idiot. And who else could have helped an exhausted and irritable mother navigate overseas travel with four fractious children (three times!). Perhaps one or two people would have considered doing the long haul flights with us, but certainly no one could have done so with the injection of fun that you added to it.

 

In Ohio just before our second of three long trips back to Australia. This was the time you slept through the entire three hour ordeal of waiting on the tarmac in Los Angeles before our fourteen hour flight.

I really can’t imagine anyone else who would throw the cushions from our couch to the floor (most week-ends), put her feet up and fall asleep in our living room the way that you have.  Right now when I see your face, I see the sadness, but over time I have no doubt that happier images will be the lasting ones. You have chosen to be happy, or at least put on a happy face, in spite of the difficulties of the past three years, and that I admire about you. No misery guts, no whinging allowed on your watch.

It's interesting now to remember that you rejected me as a potential friend at first. "I don't get a good vibe from Christie," you said.  Thank goodness that I didn't know that you said that, and thank goodness that D didn't listen to you.  He persevered and insisted that you invite us over for Sunday dinner.  Eventually, I suspect, you also were attracted by the mission of taking on my wardrobe challenges and helping me to overcome my dislike of shopping.  Who else could have sorted through my clothing, tossed out what didn't belong there, and then helped me pick out the pieces that I needed?  You were determined to help me find the pleasure in shopping, and that you managed to do.  I'm not sure it will follow me to Pittsburgh however.

I have to disagree with D's comment in his good-bye speech that this is not a sad time.  I deeply appreciate everything else he said, but there is sadness for now.  How could there not be?  But we do serve a good God, and I have every confidence that He will continue to supply all of your needs.  

Farewell, my once-in-a-lifetime, blubbering, laughing friend. For me your friendship is the greatest gift of our Australia experience---the one that has brought the most pleasure and now the most pain. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

Interviews with our TCKs, Last in a Series

Our first-born, the one who stole our hearts from the moment she first opened her eyes, and the one who has embraced change with enthusiasm and courage.

There are certain moments that for parents capture the surprising differences in their offspring.  The moment that we told our four kids that we were moving to Australia was one such occasion.  Their reactions were immediate, unrehearsed and telling.  While the middle two children burst into tears over the thought of saying good-bye to friends and family, our oldest child, then eleven years of age, began to cheer.  When the din subsided, we could hear the three-year-old trying to pronounce Australia from the backseat of the car.  It came out as "Hysteria." His misnomer described well the emotions in our family circle.

R and I looked at each other in the middle of that moment and prepared ourselves for an onslaught of teary questions.  Thank goodness for our first-born, we thought.  Always ready for the next adventure, she was the one who had learned the days of the week based on where she would be going on that particular day.  That her appetite for change could only come from her father I recognized all too well. She went on to forge the way for her siblings as we made the transition down under by opening her mind and enthusiastically welcoming each new experience.  I suppose it should not surprise me, then, that she is the one most looking forward to our move back home again.

She and I caught up a week or so ago, just before the chaos of moving settled in.  Here is a transcript of our conversation.

Me:  “Do you remember when we first told you that we might move to Australia?” 

Her:  Yes, I was excited.  I couldn’t understand why everyone else burst into tears.

Me:  Why were you excited?

Her:  I thought that Australia would be a change.  Plus I always wanted to go to school.  I was bored with learning at home, and you told me that if we moved, I could start attending school.  Um, Mom, Why did you ever homeschool us in the first place?  I feel like that’s a really strange thing to do, at least in Australia.  It makes me feel like a freak.

Me:  That’s a great question, and I do have some good answers for it, but I think I’ll leave that discussion for another time except to say that when we decided to teach you at home, we felt it was the best decision for our family.  Let’s talk instead about what it was like when we first moved to Melbourne.

Her:  Well, I was really excited to come, but the first two months seemed to last forever.  It was winter, and all I can remember is that we ate lots of chocolate.  I remember going to Trampoline for the first time.  I tried the vanilla bean gelato and it didn’t taste like proper ice cream.  But I really like it now.

I was also surprised at the number of people in Melbourne.  It was so big.  In many ways it was so similar to Pittsburgh.  I thought it would be more different.  I was scared to try a meat pie for the first tie, but it ended up being delicious.  That might be because I was so hungry. 

Me: Let’s talk about your first day at school.  We really threw you into the deep end by sending you to school for the first time in a new country.  How did you cope? 

Her:  I was really, really overwhelmed.  The first day seemed to last forever.  Everyone wanted to talk to me.  The next year was better because it was year 7, and lots of girls were new.  I wasn’t the only one.

Me:  How have you changed during the past three and a half years? 

Her:  Well, I think going to school has helped me to develop more social skills and confidence.  I learned things faster and more efficiently at home, that’s true, but at school they make us do lots of stupid stuff to build our confidence—we have to talk to completely random people, for example, and get up in front of classmates and give speeches.

My school has also given me different ideas about what I want to become when I grow up.  It has helped me “dream bigger” as they say.  I used to want to be a nurse.  Now I think that I would like to be a surgeon.

Me:  What goals have you accomplished during your time living in Melbourne?

Her:  I now wear contacts, I have gone to school, I have learnt to play the flute, and I was proud of myself for completing one season of cross-country.  But schoolwork takes up most of my time.  I was really happy when I improved my performance in maths, but my other subject suffered somewhat.

Me:  Would you do this move all over again?

Her:  Absolutely.  I think it’s fun to move to the other side of the world.  The ideal age is when you are under eleven, and then the ideal amount of time would be to stay for only two years.  But I’m still glad we came. 

Me:  Do you have any fears or anxieties with respect to the future?

Her:  No, I’m looking forward to the move back to North America.  I am eager for the change, just like I was when we moved here.  Starting over will be fun.  I figure that if I could figure out how to make friends in a new school in Australia, then I should be able to do the same in America. 

Pancakes at the Big Strawberry near Numurkah, just after we moved to Melbourne

 

Swimming at Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory, April 2013

 

One of my memories of this child: she was so determined to move up in her maths class, that she had her textbook and notes spread out while our bus driver took us flying over the sand dunes north of Perth. She only gave up when the textbook went flying to the front of the bus during one of the descents.

Thanks to our eldest, four of us climbed the Sydney Harbor Bridge

Other posts in the "Interviews with our TCKs" series:

An interview with our eleven-year-old

An interview with our thirteen-year-old

An interview with our seven-year-old

 

 

The End of a Season

Today's post was inspired by April's prompt from the Expat Blog Writing Challenge:  

"Seasons Change."

                                

When I was growing up, my grandpa and his second wife lived with us for several months out of the year.  The thing I remember most about Grandma Gertrude was that she had a poem or quotation to fit just about every occasion.  It was amazing to me how much she could recall. Even as Alzheimers ravaged her brain and wreaked havoc on her short term memory, much of what she memorized as a young girl remained intact.

By the time I reached school age, memorization had fallen out of favor as a method of educating young people.  I suspect it is even less common today.  I certainly am unable to pull out a poem every time I feel the need to express my thoughts or feelings the way Grandma Gertrude could, but there is one poem from my early years that comes to mind every autumn, "Reluctance," by Robert Frost.  From the first time I read it, I thrilled to the images and emotions expressed in each line.  I memorized it not because it was required, but because I loved it.  Perhaps that is one reason it has stayed with me.

The following lines have been running through my head these past few weeks, not only because of the change we see in the leaves around us, but because a season of our life is ending.  I know that good things are ahead in our future, but for now, at this moment, I echo the thoughts of Robert Frost:  It is impossible to yield with grace to the end of a love or a season.  To do anything but mourn the change would be nothing short of treason.

 

                             Reluctance

 

    by Robert Frost

 

Out through the fields and the woods

And over the walls I have wended;

I have climbed the hills of view

And looked at the world, and descended;

I have come by the highway home, And lo, it is ended.

 

The leaves are all dead on the ground,

Save those that the oak is keeping

To ravel them one by one

And let them go scraping and creeping

Out over the crusted snow,

When others are sleeping.

 

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,

No longer blown hither and thither;

The last lone aster is gone;

The flowers of the witch hazel wither;

The heart is still aching to seek, But the feet question ‘Whither?’

 

Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things,

To yield with a grace to reason,

And bow and accept the end

Of a love or a season?

Losing the Plot and Other Favorite Phrases

A couple of weeks ago, I completely forgot to pick the girls up at school, for the first time ever.  I organized the pick up time and location with them before they left in the morning, and then never thought about it again until 4pm when my phone started ringing.

A few days later I completely forgot to go to the parent/teacher interview for our youngest child.  I had entered it onto two calendars.  We had discussed it over breakfast this morning.  I thought about it later in the day but then it left my brain until 7pm when someone asked me when I was leaving for school.  The interview had been scheduled for 6pm.

In the meantime, I had misplaced my mobile phone.  So I did what everyeone else probably does who still has a landline phone.  I picked up the receiver and dialed my mobile number.  When it started ringing, I looked at it wondered, "Now who would be calling me at dinnertime?"  Ouch.

Perhaps even worse than all of these examples is something I did last night while preparing dinner and carrying on a conversation with my older daughter.  I placed the block of cheese that I was about to grate into the top rack of the dishwasher and forgot about it.  I looked for it for a while, then gave up and decided we didn't need cheese with our dinner.  Fortunately I discovered it before turning the dishwasher on.

Am I losing the plot, I wondered?  That is entirely possible, but hopefully it is due to the stress of orchestrating an overseas move rather than to anything more nefarious.  At least it gives me the opportunity to share a handful of favorite phrases we have grown accustomed to hearing during the past four years.  So many of them have an earthiness to them that transports you right to the moment being described.  They contain combinations words that you can handle, taste, touch and visualize.  I have been making a list on my phone for the past year of interesting phrases I have heard in conversation.  Here are some of my favorites.

2.  Knickers in a knot.  A mum was explaining her long wait in the E.R.  The couple waiting in front of her were fed up with the delay and complaining to everyone within earshot:  "They had their knickers in a knot," she said. (knickers = underwear).

3.  Dropped the bundle.  A fitness mum related to us that her son had achieved some poor results on his recent report card.  "He started off the year well, but dropped the bundle midway through," she said with a shake of her head.  In another example, some parents of our local primary school complained that it was the staff who had dropped the bundle rather than the students.  The school year was one quarter finished before they managed to allocate the student leadership roles.

4.  Spat the dummy.  In the schoolyard, a mum told me once about her husband's frustration over their children's failure to pick up around the house.  "Last night he spat the dummy," she said as she described his tirade.  Whenever I hear this phrase used, I picture the Simpson's baby exhaling a pacifier from one end of a room to another.  

5.  Threw a wobbly.  Here's another description of a tantrum.  In my notes for this phrase, a mum told me about frustrating airport delays they had experienced when traveling overseas.  Her son, normally a quiet and compliant first born, reached the end of his tether and threw a wobbly at the customer service desk.  In this instance his shenanigans worked in their favor and they were rescheduled right away.

6.  Dodged a bullet.  During bushfires this past summer in western Victoria, the beautiful tourist town of Halls Gap was in danger.  I checked in for updates throughout the day, and was relieved to hear on the news that the town had dodged a bullet thanks to a change in wind direction.

7.  Gobsmacked.  The tour guide at the National Museum in Canberra told us about the reaction of Captain Cook and his crew when they first came into contact with kangaroos.  Nothing had prepared these European explorers for this kind of animal:  "They were gobsmacked," she explained.

8.  Stickybeak.  This lovely phrase describes people who poke their noses into other people's business.  We hear it used frequently in conversation around these parts.  I always picture the honeyeater outside my window with its long bill sipping on nectar---looking like it is "stuck" inside the flower.

Eastern spine bill (a variety of honeyeater) from wikipedia

9.  Have a squiz.  This phrase is a genuine Aussie one---it probably originated as schoolboy slang in the first two decades of last century from the combination of quiz and squint.  It means to take a close look at something.  Take a squiz of these papers and let me know what you think.

10.  A dog's breakfast.  This phrase refers to something that is completely botched up, i.e. a burned omelette fit only for the dog bowl.  Last year one of my writing colleagues used this phrase to describe the conflicting information provided in the evening editing class that I was unable to attend.  "It's been a dog's breakfast," she sighed.  "Be glad you aren't taking the class."

11.  Scarcer than hen's teeth.  I heard this phrase used at lunch recently, in the context of the paucity of rental properties in Melbourne.  The property boom has made them scarcer than hen's teeth.

12.  A whip round.  A collection of money from a group of people.  A teacher was telling me about the hyper parent reps in her classroom.  Looking for a silver lining, she said, "They had better at least organize a whip round for my Christmas present."  I have been subjected to many whip rounds during our four years in Melbourne--most of them have taken place at school pick up.  I am only too happy to participate because it means one less thing for me to do, but last year our son's primary school curtailed the practice.  Apparently the burden had grown too great for some of the parents.

13.  Soggy under the hoof.  I include this phrase because the example I hae written down for it is a perfect illustration of Melbourne pessimism when it comes to the weather.  I was at the newsagent on a glorious spring day.  After we exchanged pleasantries, the agent said, "Enjoy the sun while it lasts.  I'm sure it will be soggy under the hoof again soon."  As he said it, I could feel and hear the squeak of feet sinking into spongy grass.

14.  Standing around in a paddock.  While we warmed up one day at fitness, the mums discussed which sports were the least painful to cart their offspring to on the weekends.  A key consideration was the availability of good coffee nearby.  Milo cricket was high on the list as there are several coffee sources within walking distance of the cricket ground.  The worst, all agreed, was footy.  With not a single coffee machine in sight, one mum further complained, "It felt like we were standing around in a paddock for hours."  I pictured and smelt boots sinking into fields dotted with manure, and I shuddered in sympathy, not sure which part was worse.  The cold, smelly field or the lack of coffee?

I hope you have enjoyed this tour of colorful phrases.  Please let me know if you have a favorite, but even more important, please assure me that losing the plot is a temporary condition that is normal for the stage of life I find myself in at the moment.

On Quantifying Love and Grief

When our youngest child was four years old, he had two obsessions:  his daddy and numbers.  I suppose it was only natural that he would try to combine the two.  He loved his father with an unusual devotion, one that was apparent to all who spent any amount of time in their presence.  If R wasn't home to tuck him into bed, this boy would cry himself to sleep.  There simply was no substitute for his dad.

I had no idea how he would cope with the four month separation we all endured as part of our move to Melbourne.  Surprisingly, he settled down after the first few days and seemed to accept the temporary absence of his favorite person.  It helped that he got to see his dad's face through skype every day, sometimes both at morning and at night.  

Once we were reunited, he followed R everywhere.  It got to the point that I had to take him away from the house in order for R to have any meaningful interaction with our other three children.  One day, he said to me, "Do you know how much I love daddy?"