Australia: My New Home-Away-from-Home-Away-from-Home

When planning to travel abroad, people will tell you that you will become homesick at times, but that “it will be okay” and “you’ll make so many great memories” and “make so many new friends,” but they will likely neglect to mention how long it may take for all of those things to become true.

Now that the novelty of being in Australia has finally ebbed, the UNSW-organized meet and greets have ended, and everyone has gotten settled into their respective routines, I have found myself with a lot of free time that is either filled with studying search algorithms, cooking or, especially this week, yearning for the familiarity of home.

Whether that home is my home in Northborough, MA or my home-away-from-home in Troy, NY, I have found myself thinking about even the smallest aspects of my life back in the US that I never would have imagined missing:

• calling my family at least twice a day to catch up on random events, always including the current location of our cat, Henry
• meeting up with friends at the dining hall for dinner, after an often excessively long text exchange to find out the exact time when everyone can make it
• spending too much time trying to come up with insanely annoying puns to “wow” my friend Spencer, only to be completely destroyed by his immediate rebuttal
• going to Domino Club on Wednesday nights to do almost anything but set up dominoes (shhhhh)
• having “Flex Dollars” to spend on kombucha at the campus cafes (I actually have to spend real money here! 😮 )
• not having to scour the grocery store in vain to find comparable foods to those back home
• and being able to access SNL videos on youtube (They blocked their channel to Australian viewers!)

But this week, I decided that it was time to start finding my own comforts in my new home-away-from-home-away-from-home and what better time than the weekend of one of Australia’s most coveted (and controversial) holidays: Australia Day.

January 26th commemorates the day that Captain Arthur Phillip arrived at Sydney Cove and began the British overtaking of the Australian landscape. For many Australian people, it is day of celebration, inviting parades, fireworks, and, most importantly, barbecues.

Yet, for the Aboriginal people, the 26th is a day of tragedy, marking the date that their ancestor’s civilizations were invaded. The British separated many Aboriginal families and disparaged the Aboriginal culture in order to make way for colonization.

Right before the weekend began, I had innocently asked a local what she was doing for the long weekend, and she surprised me with a long discussion about her decision to no longer celebrate “Invasion Day” (as the Aboriginals call it). This comment tested my conscience, making it difficult to decide whether or not to participate in the celebrations.

But with no plans in the works and a three-day weekend ahead, my roommate, Emily, and I decided to venture downtown, passing by an Aboriginal meet-up in Hyde Park on our way to the Australia Day streets fairs.

Look at that falafel!

Sydney Harbour was bustling with people, food, and entertainment, including a long line of Mediterranean food trucks! After grabbing a quick gyro lunch, we took a visit to an art display titled ALWAYS at Barangaroo Reserve, which served as an homage to the Aboriginal people as the “traditional owners of the land.” While this sculpture was an exhibit specifically put on for Sydney Festival, the theme that it represents is visible all throughout Australia every day of the year.

About three weeks ago, at the beginning of my exchange student orientation, Brad, the international program director, recited something similar to the following statement:

“Before we begin the proceedings, I would like to acknowledge and pay respect to the traditional owners of the
land on which we meet; the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation.”

When I first heard this, I was a bit confused, especially without much prior knowledge about the history of Australia. It seemed rather out of place, especially in a university lecture hall. But then I heard it again, and again, and again, being said before almost every event that I have attended, including the Australia Day fireworks display in Sydney Harbour.

Australia Day Pre-Fireworks Display

This custom is called the Acknowledgement of Country, and it stems from a time-honored Aboriginal tradition. It was only passed on to non-Aboriginal people as late as the 1970s and was made a permanent practice before parliamentary sessions in 2010. Now, it is commonly stated at event openings, public addresses, school assemblies, and even certain news broadcasts (sbs.com.au).

After hearing it many times during Australia Day, the Acknowledgement of Country began to sound a bit redundant and started to lose its meaning, but the intent was there, and the formality became something that I was beginning to appreciate.

Along the Spit to Manly Walk

Spit to Manly Walk

As for the rest of the weekend, Sunday consisted of a spontaneous trip to Manly Beach, just north of Sydney. Upon recommendation of one of my friends in the UNSW Running Society, I took an early bus to the Spit Bridge, about an hour long trip, and ran the 10 km Spit-to-Manly Walk, arriving at Manly Beach with a sweat-soaked hat, an empty hydration pack, and a partially smushed peanut butter and banana sandwich.

To add to my disheveled appearance, soon after my arrival, a man sitting on a curb decided to throw his Fla-Vor-Ice at me while I was crossing a street, leaving my legs covered in cherry-flavored sugar! Although I was a bit shocked (understandably), my legs were already so pink and sweaty from the heat that it barely changed my disposition, and I continued on my way.

As with almost every other suburb of Sydney that I have been to, Manly had a beautiful weekend market, which provided so many opportunities for impulse buys, but I emerged empty-handed (thank goodness), only with the knowledge that I would be back at a later date.

On the ferry ride back to Sydney, I met a nice, retired couple from Georgia, Suzanne and Robert. They had just arrived in Sydney and had decided to pop over to Manly before embarking on a month long cruise around Oceania.

Suzanne promised me that as soon as I get out of school, I’ll only have to work thirty-five years before I can live like them and travel the world. Thirty-five years certainly sounded like a long time, but I like to think that I’ve already gotten a head start with my past employment at C’est La Vie Bistro and Evviva Cucina 😉

Rounding up the week with one more exciting event, Emily and I took a trip to the Sydney Lyric for a Wednesday showing of The Book of Mormon. To my initial surprise, the entire cast spoke with American accents, despite the majority of the actors being from Australia, but the reason became clear after the emphasis placed on the Mormon faith’s “All-American-ism.” While the humor was a bit off-color, I found it hard to stop myself from erupting in laughter, especially with Emily practically crying next to me.

During intermission, a man behind me asked his friend where Salt Lake City was and why it was so important to the show. Since his friend didn’t have a clue, I took the liberty to enlighten them with my knowledge and was greeted with a “Cheers for that” and a smile. Glad that my American status could finally be put to good use 🙂

From the Australia Day assemblies to the Sunday Manly crowds to the congregation at The Book of Mormon, there have been many moments since my arrival in Australia when I have been surrounded by a sea of strangers.

Especially this week, this isolation has made me want to buy a ticket home just to get a hug from a someone close. But on the other hand, it has made me appreciate the few friends that I have made here so far and the many that I hope to make after the start of the term.

Christy, Emily, and I

For now, Skype and texting will just have to suffice 🙂 My new home-away-from-home-away-from-home will hopefully allow me discover a few new things about myself and everything that Australia brings, even if that means being woken up by birds that sound like dying cats every morning at dawn.

And now with 35 years stuck in my head, if nothing ends up panning out here, what’s another four months in the grand scheme of things?