thoughts, part III.
what is it about australians – when you meet them overseas – that you are somewhat drawn to them? I can’t figure out what it is; is it the accent, the familiarity of a fellow aussie, their friendly nature or the warm smile that emerges when they talk that only australians tend to have?
on this trip, I’ve not travelled with anyone, nor caught up with anyone from home since I’ve been overseas – funny that, no one seems to ‘pop in’ to africa. oh wait, I met an awesome aussie, hollie, on my turkey trip who I then met up with in germany, but not an organised ‘oh I see you every weekend back home but we’re in the same country, lets meet up’ way. and that’s okay, it’s makes it more my trip, doing things by myself. it forced me to meet a huge bunch of interesting people in europe at bars or restaurants or tourist spots; not just drunk twenty-something’s in hostels. you get the amazing opportunity to be utterly yourself, not the person you might be around ‘this’ person or ‘that’ person.
whenever I go overseas, starting with my trip to italy with alex in 2009, there’s always bring one thing I bring with me – a book called “why you are australian” by nikki gemmell. she married her australian husband, moved to london and then had three children there, takes them to australia for 3 months & puts them into local public primary schools, then has to try to convince her husband that for the sake of their children, they should return ‘home’ to raise their kids; because nothing compares to an australian childhood. the general gist of the book is her writing a whole bunch of letters who her children explaining her choice of giving them an australian citizenship over an english one. I’ve included some of my favourite parts of the book:
overseas, if you’re rich you can buy opportunity. in australia, you can earn it. I love the idea of a country that says you can be whatever you want to be, no matter what your background, as long as you have the ability and work hard enough.
the first time I finished reading it, I was sitting on a train somewhere between venice and verona, and remember tearing up because of how much I love my country; I could understand the dilemma of loving where you come from but having the desperate urge to travel and stay away as long as possible; and I was only 18. I won’t spoil the plot but it is my favourite book. I’ve underlined my favourite parts, it’s filthy, pages have been turned over and permanently creased, the paper cover is torn and the hardback is covered in scratches and pen marks.
the smell of eucalyptus as the day softens into darkness. a tall night sky. stars! buttery, meltingly fresh fish. fruit, in its correct season, that tastes fabulously of the last, that tastes as it should. the scent of frangipanis and gardenias. the sound of a lawnmower on a lazy saturday afternoon, rain on the tin roof, the smell of water on hot concrete, wearing the marks of the sun long on my skin, sunscreen at the beach, the spit of salt in the air, the heady scents of summer, a cool breeze through the gum leaves, the deafening sound of cicadas.
I guess me taking the book with me every time I’m overseas gives me subtle reminders that no matter how much I love the country I’m currently visiting, it’s not my home. not that I’ve really fallen for a place other than australia. I suppose I could definitely see myself living in london for a little while – the city is incredible and has such deep history, incredible coffee and bars, wonderful restaurants and just generally a great scene. it’s so like melbourne, and maybe that’s why I’ve identified with it. but until the weather improves (ie. becomes like australia) I couldn’t live there for a long period of time. the cold would snap my bones, I couldn’t survive the blisteringly cold winters or the ‘spring’ days where the sun never breaks through the overcast cloud. I love london, just like I’ve loved bath and paris and antalya and berlin and vienna, but not enough.
give me the fierce and unforgiving heat of australia any day.
where playing barefoot is a signifier of freedom not impoverishment. where a backyard’s a given and not a luxury. where sunshine and fresh food grow children tall… where you learn that beautiful australian crawl… where you learn confidence and optimism and enthusiasm and reach.
being in kenya I’ve seen so many children who I wish I could give them the gift of my own childhood. where I played outside barefoot, not because I couldn’t afford shoes but because who needs them when you’re running around in the grass – only needing to be careful of dog poo and bees. not like here where kids are barefoot because their parents can’t afford to supply dinner that night, let alone a pair of shoes. kids walk over glass, sharp rocks, ‘flying toilets’, goat/sheep shit; literally everything. and yes I did similar things when I’d play with my cousins at my grandparents farm, but the difference was I wore gumboots or proper closed in shoes (mainly to avoid the stinging nettles and snakes hiding in long grass).
infact kids in australia today could benefit from the gift of my childhood. get rid of the computer games and the tv shows, get them outside in the fresh air. almost every afternoon as a child for me was spent outside playing with my sister and my dogs, where mum had to drag me inside to shower before dinner, where you’d collapse into bed exhausted at how much you crammed into that day. kids in australia could learn a thing or two from kids in kenya. get outside, off the play station, let the sun hit your skin and make your bones strong. if kids here are happy playing with wires for skipping ropes, at least kids at home with proper skipping ropes have got more than these kids have.
because it is not my land and never will be. because I’m not living in the place I’m meant to be living in. living overseas has taught me that whitefellas can have just as fierce an attachment to the australian soil as aboriginal people.
I was extremely lucky meeting susie, a fiercely independent and hilarious 22 year old australian from brisvegas. she graced me with her presence for 3 brilliant weeks during august when she was teaching music at our host mums school. it’s not every day you basically meet your other twin (meagan you’re still the first and you would love susie), especially in a country like kenya. finally, I could speak ‘australian’ and there was someone there to understand what I mean when I said bogan (constantly trying to explain to canadians & americans what a bogan is and the only parallel I could draw was ‘redneck’ and that still doesn’t quite bring kath and kim, short shorts or jeggings, ugg boots and flannies together), someone who understands that being open about bowel movements is not unusual, someone who didn’t look at me funny when I said certain words.
the originality and vigour of the australian language. esky, servo, ambo, tradie. battler – and at the other end of the spectrum, bludger. trackies, arvo, barras and blowies. a southerly buster, yakka and woop woop and nipper.
a total breath of fresh air. and that’s the thing, you meet so many people on your travels who teach you so much, who surprise you all the time, but meeting someone exactly like you with the same level of crass humour and sarcasm and not having to watch what you say is incredibly calming – soothing almost – like a hug from ya mum.
I’ve decided that I’m a hugely patriotic australian. actually I haven’t really decided it, I just realised it more than ever before. I didn’t feel like my room here in nairobi was my own until I sticky-taped the australian flag mum sent me on my wall next to my bed (not that there’s a flag stuck in my room) but its the little things. I love meeting other people who are proud of where they come from. I’m pretty sure I’ve already written this, but I love being in kenya because everyone is so proud of their country. sadly being proud doesn’t directly translate to taking care of the country – people still throw rubbish everywhere – but hey, a perfect world has never and is likely to never exist.
I can’t wait to come back to kenya, especially now that I’m planning to start a project ensuring children get sponsors to go to school each and every year (but more on that in the coming days). but I could never live here. stay here for a long time to see this project get started, yes, but not forever. infact I could travel forever, but I know australia will always be my home. why would you want to live anywhere else when we’ve truly got it all?
I realise now I definitely could have taken a gap year straight after high school and not waited until I had got some sort of qualification (even though then I was only going to take 2 years to finish my commercial cookery certificates, not spend 4 years learning how to save lives and take care of people when they’re sick). I didn’t then because I was certain I would fall in love with somewhere overseas, never return, never go to uni. I don’t regret a thing, not even a little bit, I’m so proud of have finished and completed what I did in those four years.
but isn’t that always the way… if only you knew then what you know now.
I’m a photophiliac, a lover of the light. lock me in the sunshine.
travelling alone 