Home Down Under (Part 3 in a Series)
I can't tell you what a relief it is to finally be able to blog without a timer telling me I only have four minutes left on some public machine. I arrived back in Sydney a few hours ago after a short and much-needed trip to Cairns and Port Douglas with my mom and dad. This weekend gave me a lot to think about (it doesn't take much), which is why I'm always happy to be able to sit down and spill my thoughts out onto the internet.
I'll start back at the beginning since I didn't go into too much detail in my last two posts. (I also lost my reading glasses last week, a convenient excuse to blog and not pore over the heavily intellectual and academic readings I should get to for class.) I know it sounds cheesy but I was excited for these two weeks. Of course, I've had a great time living down here traveling around the world and meeting fascinating people. The flipside has been, unfortunately, a strong dose of reality. Don't get me wrong, I've made friends in Australia but I miss closeness. I try very hard to be independent: I made the decisions to study here, travel to Thailand, and stop in New Zealand by myself. I've never been one to accept an invite to a party based on who else will be there and, if there's a movie I want to see other twenty-somethings wouldn't be caught dead at, I have no problem going alone. However, I've missed the people who have known me for more than 3 months being a part of my life, a category my parents obviously fall squarely into. Is it wrong to admit I received my first hug in Australia just last week in the airport? I hope not.
With the exception of Thailand, I hadn't eaten out much since I left and these past few days have been a very welcome change. Forget the fact that service in Australian restaurants is definitely not what I'm used to in the states, I ate very well in Port Douglas. (In fact, I'm running into the kitchen right now to grab a snack...) Since tipping is only starting to become more common Down Under, dining is a much more leisurely (read: slower) experience in Australia than most New Yorkers are comfortable with. Nevertheless, to sit in a nice restaurant in Australia and have the waitress bring the bill to someone else is something I plan to take full advantage of for at least another couple of days.
Yesterday, I visited a small community in the mountains above Cairns called Kuranda. Now, I haven't ventured off Australia's eastern coast much. I haven't had a lot of interaction with the land's first inhabitants, the Aborigines, so you can imagine my shock when I saw, maybe, about five in one day. The town was lined with shops selling digeridoos, boomerangs, and forms of Aboriginal artwork and yet the few I saw were smoking in front of restrooms and driving pick-ups. My mother asked why they didn't sell their own work. Why are there billboards and brochures everywhere advertising trips to communities filled with smiling Aboriginal people and so few Aboriginal people visible in public? The only answer I had was along the lines of what I learned in class. I told her to think about how often one sees a Native American walking around New York City or anywhere else for that matter. This is not a group of people that has had it easy.
Another striking contrast I noticed was the enormous age gap between most of the people I spotted. Since northern Queensland is so isolated, it's mostly a destination for foreigners traveling around Australia. Nearly every person I encountered was either honeymooning or retired. Most other places I've been to were packed with backpackers, students my age traversing the globe. I'm sure had I spent more time in Cairns I would have found this but I felt strangely out of place. I wondered in our hotel if my parents did as well since there were few travelers in Port Douglas around their age, especially Americans with a twenty-something son in tow.
This weekend was yet another good, hard slap in the face for me. Not only am I fortunate to have parents that sat on a plane for 22 hours just to visit me, I'm in a very good place in my life. Just thinking back on these past few years, I have absolutely no reason not to be excited about the future. Meeting honeymooners from Canada and pensioners from England in one false swoop (fall swoop?) reminded me just how many odds are stacked in my favor. I'm young and, as eager as I am to do a lot of things, I have no right to be in a hurry. My parents had been in Sydney for about six minutes before I reminded my mother I haven't been to Europe yet and I immediately regretted it. It was a stupid thing to do.
My relationship with my family is certainly not perfect but it's the best one I've got. I've got a brother who looks up to me and parents who support me. Sure we fight, but we'd be unusual if we didn't. I pick on my dad more than I probably should (He knows it's in good fun, I hope.) but some important things hit me between the eyes having Mom and Dad here. First of all, just the fact that my father hates to fly and they came all this way, I think, says a lot. Second, having been here for a while now has given me an edge I suppose I only maybe have when I'm at Rutgers. I could've led my parents into the most dangerous neighborhood in Sydney and they would have trusted me simply because I'm their son and they've never been within 6,000 miles of this place. If the honeymooners and seniors enjoying Port Douglas represent bookends of what I hope will be my life someday, how could I not think about the fact that my parents are a lot more human than I ever gave them credit for. The only thing perhaps more frightening than the idea of turning into my parents is that I will be responsible for them someday. I only hope I can be half as good to them as they have been to me.
Leading them through the streets of Sydney also, it occurred to me that I have a very different idea of what this trip is to my parents than they do. I told them straight out I was afraid they would leave here unsatisfied. I was convinced that, after a year of meticulous planning, their Australian vacation might be a let down if I didn't take them to the right restaurant or to the best beach. If I didn't pack the day with all the most important activities in Sydney, the thousands of dollars and hours Mom and Dad invested into getting here might be for nothing. That notion went out the window at about some point on our second evening when I realized they just couldn't keep up with me. Running from site to site might have worked for a twenty-year-old in Thailand (even though some days I just wanted to collapse in bed and not move), but I was their draw. I was the reason my Mom and Dad came to Australia. We could've spent an entire day eating ice cream at the Opera House and they would've been thrilled to just sit and listen to my stories in person. To give you an example, my mother told me her favorite part of Sydney so far has been seeing the bubbler I featured in my second episode.
The worst part of my last seven days, by far, was having to go food shopping tonight and cook for myself. Yes, I know, I have to be independent. I have to face up to my responsibilities some day. Honestly though, I've never let my family stand in the way of my need to do things for myself. (Well, maybe there are a few things...) I might be able to call home from here almost as easily as I could from the other side of the ocean, but when push comes to shove and I set off the smoke detector while making chicken parmigiana, there isn't a whole lot Mom can do about it from New Jersey, is there?
The bottom line is that I'm very, very fortunate. I'm sure saying goodbye to my parents when they get back to Sydney from Melbourne will not be easy. At least, I'll have a few nights in the hotel and a trip out to the Blue Mountains at the end of the week before they have to get home. I also know that, despite everything else, it will feel great to walk in my house come December. My dad, I'm sure, will be kind enough to bring in my bags for me since I'll be carrying my dog, a seven year old shih tzu named Sammy. Did you think they'd leave him at home when they go to get me at the airport? (He'll be hiding under my brother's shirt, take my word for it.) Clearly, you don't know my family very well.
Aussie salute! (That just means I'm swatting away the flies.)
Jason
P.S. I received my failing paper back last week in tutorial and my revisions did the trick. If I'm not going to let myself get carried away my perfectionism this semester, I definitely need to remember that the grading system at Macquarie is much stricter than at Rutgers.
P.P.S. Thanks to Suzanne for the fun fact about Australia's coat of arms. You'll know what I mean if it makes into the final cut of Episode 6.
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