Pic of the day May 13, 2006

I have to say that the longer I live here in Australia the more I fall in love with the place and the less I think about the places I have left behind. I suppose the same can usually be said about any move (why else would you do it?) but there's something very special about this country and especially the city of Melbourne.

Don’t get me wrong; being so far away from the emotional attachment of family and friends can be quite a reality check. Especially when once considers the actual logistical challenge of returning to the US. The initial trip involved an overnight layover in Tokyo (via Japanese Air, a company I highly recommend), which split up the trip nicely and eased our cabin fever but added nearly half a day to the trip. The return we figured from door (mum’s) to door (our’s) lasted a total of 32 hour and involved two car trips, two shuttle busses, three stopovers and four flights. It was hard going and it literally sucked the enthusiasm of returning home leaving us numb and completely exhausted. And believe me, no amount of free bloody marys or in-flight movies can take the edge off that epic journey and leave on peppy and refreshed on the other side.

There’s really nothing one can do about family. Phone calls and emails to keep in touch. To keep updated. For family it can be excruciatingly far. It’s the kind of distance that can keep one up at night if you let your mind wander to deeply into it. Hopefully they will understand and adjust. We hope to visit more often. It’s been three years plus now. The longest period yet.

It seems these days we need excuses. Not holidays or birthdays but real excuses. Life changing events. None yet big enough but surely one soon. In the meantime we toss around the idea of meeting every two years in some exotic location such as Egypt or Brazil. But until mum retires we are each at the mercy of opposing school holidays. Oh, the perils of teaching.

Friends, thank goodness (at least mine) are a bit more transient. Not all but at least enough to ease my guilt for not catching up as often as I should. In fact nearly every single friend I ever made in Kansas City no longer lives there. They’ve scattered on the winds of time far and wide. Some have, well two to be exact, even made an effort to come visit us. Some have threatened and the rest I have threatened. As always, the door is open and the bar-b-que is hot!

…Back to Melbourne. Sometimes it just feels so comfortable. Such a small town feel with all the trimmings of a world-class city. I almost feel like holding my breath for fear of waking up one day and finding myself in a little inverted America. Slowly, very slowly we’re edging that way.

So, I was having a conversation with this guy at a party last week and the subject of some recent muggings at a nearby train station came up. This is an extremely rare occurrence, which is surprising in a city of nearly 4 million, and we began talking about whether or not we ever feel unsafe living in Melbourne. Both of us agreed that we never do feel threatened apart from the odd, uncomfortable drunken argument outside a late-night pub (it seems like pubs never close here on Friday and Saturday nights) or overly aggressive junkie begging change to score.
On the contrary, I reckon that nearly every day I lived in the US I felt some level of anxiety or even outright fear be it in the big city or the small town. I’ll tell you, passing by a ranting crack head on the way home from work at 1 am in Kansas City with a pocket full of cash tips is just as scary as driving into a Mc Donald’s parking lot in Rice Lake, Wisconsin filled with drunken red-neck kids leaning against their Ford F150 pickup fuelled on cans of Old Milwaukee and Copenhagen chew itchin’ to fight a skater faggot.

Fights and aggression, god I don’t miss that one bit. I’ve seen one fight in the four years I’ve lived in Melbourne. One! Hell, the last time I was in Chicago…five hours! Five hours and I’m in the middle of a table-upending, glass-crashing bar brawl!* Holy Shit I thought. No, I don’t miss this.

* It did happen to be an Irish bar, during the Irish festival season and I was probably one of the three percent in the place without an Irish accent. But, being that such a great slice of our population, not to mention Chicago is of Irish descent, I think the anecdote still fits.


Anyway, what I men to say, in a long, rambling way is that I think I’m here to stay.

But I’d love visitors!