I’m sitting in at one of Perth’s iconic landmarks, the Swan Bell Tower. It’s a rather long story as to why I’m here but given that this is my first blog post back in Perth, I can’t really think of a more iconic place to write it really. I’d forgotten about how intense Perth’s weather is. Overwhelmingly sunny one minute then determined winds straight off the vast Indian Ocean take over the next minute. It’s powerful, and I like it. Honestly, I’m feeling some pressure to write this blog post, and perhaps that is why I’ve been putting it off. Everyone is waiting for the answer to the inevitable question, so what’s it like to be home?
I don’t really know how to answer it, though. It’s good. It’s different.
Leaving Australia the last time was really about spreading my wings finally and leaving the nest. I had to let go of everything I knew and flow down that often tumultuous river called world travel… and life. Yes I was enlightened, yes I became more aware of who I am, yes I learnt a lot of lessons and overcame a lot of challenges, yes I found gratitude in every waking moment, yes, yes, yes. If you’ve been following my blog at all, you know all that already. So after all that, I find myself back in a place I call home and I remember every street and every café and everything feels very familiar. But everything is different. Well, actually, Perth is notorious for being a little slow and backward so I can’t really say that Perth has changed at all. But everything is different, because my experience and my perceptions of it are different. I was watching a documentary briefly on kanagaroos the day after I arrived. The Australian animal. And what an incredible animal it is. The way it moves, iss behaviour, the way it has adapted to living in its natural environment. I’d never even noticed, my whole life, how bloody cool this endemic marsupial really is. I feel like a tourist again in my own city, learning and absorbing it all again for the first time. I feel grounded. I feel lighter.
I started realising how severely my perceptions had changed at Hong Kong when I heard Australian accents. For a long time I’ve been the only one, and actually, as I’m frequently told by my Australian friends and family, I don’t even sound Australian anymore. I’m speaking some universal dialect I guess. A bit of German, Norwegian, Brazilian Portuguese, American, British and Australian; a linguistically mixed bag. The biggest reverse-culture shock came from hearing kids, though. After interacting with thousands of American children, hearing little Aussie ankle-biters was endearing beyond all belief. Adorable. I sat on the plane observing all the Australians with their distinct crows-feet eye wrinkles from the deathly southern hemisphere sun, their relatively lax dress sense and the softness and upward inflection in their voice talking to tourists sitting in the seats next to them. I remember thinking, these are my people. I’m so charmed by my (maternal) family and how they truly embody all that is Australian, and again I think, these are my people. It makes me hungry to re-establish my roots here. But I can never lose my global-citizenship passport; it’s tattooed on my soul. In some ways I feel like an outsider now, but in others I feel more connected because of the openness and objectiveness and general awareness I have to my ‘sense of place’ here… at home.
So what’s it feel like to be home, you reiterate? Well it excites me. Tele is riddled with un-PC jokes, live coverage of the Queen’s visit, science and cultural education shows that use the word “groovey”, ads which subliminally educate our youth about healthy lifestyles and broadcasting stations use roman numerals for dates. I feel confused. Housewives run the check-outs at supermarkets and middle-class white men and women are the labourers and workers at the airport instead of Mexicans, the illegal or the illiterate. I’m surprised. Australia has half-flush to save water toilets and power-saving switches on power outlets to conserve energy and bigger, more developed countries don’t. I’m disappointed sometimes. I’d idealized Australia as a clean and beautiful country, and whilst its natural beauty is amazing the streets and beaches are dirtier and more polluted than I remember and there is little attention to detail in planning and architecture. I feel nourished. I am eating raw, home-grown and local food again and my body and conscience are thanking me for it. But above all I’d say I’m just feeling happy.
I am turning 23 in a few weeks (11/11/11) and I am so grateful to have seen and done and lived and loved all that I have. My spirit feels young and unburdened by the pressures of life. Conversely, my soul feels old and wise and content that I can thoroughly enjoy my youth with all the freedom of a 23 year old. Being back in Australia is just the beginning of a whole new adventure.
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